Lacuna

Here comes the rain again
falling from the stars
drenched in my pain again
becoming who we are

As my memory rests
but never forgets what I lost
wake me up when September ends

~~~~~

Lacuna
Chapter Two
~~~~~

The letter fluttered from Harry’s suddenly numb hand, and landed some feet away, the words of Narcissa taunting. Breathing was suddenly difficult, and everything seemed to fade out.

“Harry,” a soothing voice whispered in his ear.

“It’s not true,” Harry whispered, blinking his eyes open. He found that he was now leaning against Sirius. “It’s not true, Sirius.”

Sirius shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Let me see the paper.”

“Okay.”

Harry was led to Sirius’s office where Remus sat in waiting on the couch. He stood upon their entrance, his brow knitted in worry. Sirius and Remus exchanged a look and sat Harry down. Remus handed him the paper.

Harry Potter’s Husband Found Dead by Mother

it screamed across the front page. It was all Harry needed to read. He threw the newspaper aside and buried his face in his hands. It just was not plausible. Draco was not weak. He would not kill himself just because he was grief stricken. He would be able to pull through. He wanted to cry, but felt too numb to.

“Harry,” Remus said quietly after the silence had become too much.

“It’s not real,” Harry stated firmly. “Draco would never kill himself.” He looked up, staring at the other two men harshly. “You both knew him well. You know he was much too stubborn. He would have found another way to deal with his grief. You know it.”

“Harry, it’s hard to say what anybody would do in such a situation,” Sirius explained gently. “Draco was having a very rough time dealing with it. He thought he saw you being murdered. He was traumatised by it, and he was in shock for days afterward. I don’t know about anybody else, but after it happened…” Sirius shook his head and looked to the floor. “I didn’t see a trace of Draco anymore. It was like you had taken him with you.”

“BUT I DIDN’T GO ANYWHERE!” Harry was on his feet without his realising it, and he was surprised when Remus pushed him back down.

“He didn’t know that, Harry. None of us knew that. We all thought you had gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry apologised immediately. “But Sirius, you said to me once before the battle at Hogwarts that you would take care of Draco if I died. Did that only go for that battle? Was it a one time promise?” “Harry, I know I failed. I could have tried harder.”

“Sirius and I both tried taking care of Draco,” Remus was quick to defend. “So did Ron and Hermione for that matter, but he didn’t want to be cared for. He shut us out completely.”

Harry thought about how he saw Draco kill the men who had kidnapped him. Draco had said that he was going to go to his mother’s that night, and that certainly added up to what Narcissa told him in the letter. But it certainly did not account for what the rest of the letter said. Maybe the mini-break was the truth, but something was off. Draco could not have committed suicide. It just was not in his nature to do something so final. It was wrong.

“I don’t believe Narcissa,” he declared finally after some minutes of silent deliberation. “I want somebody to check on the body. I want somebody to interrogate the healers, and I want to be there when they do it.”

“Harry, don’t do this to yourself,” Remus pled. “It’s already difficult enough, isn’t it?”

“Remus, to all appearances, I was dead. Nobody thought to check the body for any glamour charms or permanence spells to see if it was a Metamorphmagi in disguise. If somebody had thought of that, we wouldn’t be in this situation. Draco would have known that it wasn’t me who died that day. Sirius, you must have some contacts that will do this for you. I need to know for myself if it is really Draco we’re burying, if it’s somebody else, or if it is anybody at all.”

Sirius nodded. “I’ll see what I can do, Harry. In the meantime, I think you should get cleaned up, get something to eat, and rest a little. It’s going to be exhausting these next few days, no matter what happens.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Harry replied in kind and quickly left the room. He returned to his bedroom and went into the bathroom where he ran the water into the bathtub. Slowly, he stripped of his clothing, trying very hard to think of nothing except how good the water would feel against his skin, and how nice the soap would be. When the tub was full, he climbed in and leisurely submersed his body into the hot water. He tried very hard not to think about anything, but before long his mind was slipping back to Draco and how his cold body was probably lying in an even colder room somewhere waiting to be buried. Harry’s breath caught in his throat, which had constricted. He tried to stop the sob from escaping, but soon his body was wracked with sobs and he could not stop the sound. He was crying and he could not stop. They were choked cries full of sniffling, and cries of absolute pain.

Harry wanted to stop. He felt like a fool, because he was sure that Draco had never cried like this when he thought Harry was gone, but his sobbing would not stop. The sound felt like it was cutting his ears, so he went completely under the water so that he would not have to hear the pitiful cries anymore. The water seemed to dry his tears; either that or it was the lack of air that prevented him from crying anymore. After all, he could still feel the cries of agony inside his heart. Finally, the desperate need for air was too much and he shot out of the water gasping for breath.

Sound hit his ears once more and he nearly winced with it. He could hear the pounding of his blood in them, and thought himself unworthy to have it still pumping while Draco did not. Somebody was calling his name again, but he did not want to listen, so he chose not to respond.

“Harry!” the door burst open. Hermione blushed and turned around. “I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t know you were in the bath.”

“It’s fine. What does it matter?”

“Well… Harry, I’m sorry about Draco. I just… can’t believe he would do it.”

“Neither can I,” Harry said tonelessly, grabbing at the shampoo to lather up his hair. The tears were still fresh in his memory and he hoped that his face was not splotchy with them. He sniffed.

“Yes, Remus and Sirius said that you don’t believe he killed himself. Sirius is calling people to see if they know anything. I think he’s setting up an appointment for tomorrow for you two to go check it out.”

“Good.”

“But Harry, that’s not why I’m here. Well, it is partly, because I just read about it in the paper this morning, and I was going to come, but then somebody came to my house looking for you. I was really confused, but…. I’m rambling. I’m sorry. But Harry, they’re from….”

Harry dunked beneath the water to rinse the shampoo out of his hair so he missed what Hermione said. “I’m sorry, they’re from where?” He spit water from his mouth and rubbed it from his eyes.

“They’re from Australia. Well, not really, but they just arrived from Australia. I brought them here, Harry. It’s the oddest timing that they should arrive now, and I can’t believe it, but it’s a true miracle, Harry that they’ve come on this day. Get out of the bath so that you can meet them.”

Harry sighed. He did not want to be around people today. He wanted to be by himself. But he complied with Hermione’s command and quickly dressed while she went back into the bedroom. When he emerged, she gave him a firm hug. He clung to her, pressing his cheek against her head. “I don’t know what to do with myself, Hermione. I feel like my whole life is over.”

She pulled away, worry etched into her face. “I hope that what these two men have brought will help cheer you up then, Harry. I really, really hope that it will make you happy because she’s beautiful.”

“She?”

Hermione nodded, a small smile lighting her face. “Come, and everything will be explained.”

Hermione took Harry’s hand, and he was led to the first floor in the living room. Remus was there, facing the fireplace, holding something in his arms, while two men sat in chairs, one whom was familiar. This one stood and smiled at Harry in a way that made Harry want to hex him. It reeked of the words, ‘I’m so sorry for your loss, but I have something to cheer you up.’ Harry hated him in that moment. What could he possibly want right then other than Draco? Besides, the man who tried giving him and Draco a baby was certainly the last person on earth he wished to see. It only added to the pain.

“Healer Widduling,” Harry greeted instead, forcing something that resembled a smile onto his face. They briefly shook hands. “What brings you here today?”

“Mr. Potter… I am sorry for coming on such a day. I’m sorry to hear of Mr. Malfoy. Truly, I am.”

“Thank you.”

“If I could have forestalled this meeting in any way, I would have. However, I don’t believe that we could have waited. I felt this had to be cared for as expediently as possible.”

Harry sighed, sitting down across from the healer. “What is it?”

“I’ll jump right into it then. Recently, this young man called me to Sydney…” Here he pointed to the man beside him. He looked worse for wear, his face needing a shave, and bags beneath his eyes. The only thing he seemed to have done to prepare for this meeting was to dress nicely. Even his hair was out of order. “You’ll remember Tiada as the woman who carried your baby.”

“Of course,” Harry swallowed.

“This is Tiada’s boyfriend, Mark. Some months ago, about the time Tiada told you of her miscarriage, she used extreme force to make Mark move out of the country, and by extreme force, I mean that she used the Imperius curse.” At Harry’s questioning look, the healer held up a hand. “I will explain why in a moment. They moved around for some months, but when it finally became apparent that Tiada would not be able to keep moving any longer, they settled on Sydney… where she gave birth to a healthy baby girl.”

Harry blinked and swallowed. “She… she had another baby? That wouldn’t be possible with the timing. Was the baby extremely premature?”

“No. The baby was, in fact, a month premature, but quite healthy. She was born about three weeks before the due date I gave you and your husband.”

“What are you saying?” Harry whispered.

“What I’m saying, Mr. Potter is that Tiada lied about having a miscarriage. She carried your baby near to full term and gave birth to a little girl. Unfortunately, the birth had many complications and Tiada did not survive. When she died, the Imperius curse lifted from Mark, and he realised what he had done. He contacted me two days ago, and I travelled to Sydney promptly to sort things out for you and Mr. Malfoy.”

“Why…” Harry swallowed, looking anywhere but at the healer. “Why did she do it?”

“She grew attached,” Mark spoke up, leaning forward. He had a soothing voice. “Tiada has always had problems, but early in the pregnancy she couldn’t even discern that it wasn’t really her baby. I tried telling her that it wasn’t, but she would not listen. She came up with the plan by herself, but knew I wouldn’t go along with it, so she put the curse on me and then told me what we would be doing. That’s when she told you that she had a miscarriage.”

Harry sat back and closed his eyes. He was experiencing information overload. First Draco’s death and now a baby that had not died. “I’m sorry,” he apologised after a few moments. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the healer assured. “We know that today has been particularly rough for you.”

Harry sat in silence for a few more minutes, and finally, taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes. “Why didn’t you know that she had problems like this, Healer? Couldn’t you have looked it up?”

“We always look up the mental health of our clients; potential parents as well as surrogates. However, there was nothing on file for Tiada. She had never sought out any help. For our oversight, we’re truly sorry. In the future we plan to be more careful. I’ll be employing a psychologist to determine the mental state of those willing to be surrogates to avoid future problems like this.”

The news began to settle into Harry’s mind. There was a baby girl waiting to see her father for the first time. Urgency spread through him like poison and suddenly he was standing. “Where is she? Does she have a name yet? I want… I need to see her. Is she here?” Harry stopped a whimper before it escaped. “Please!”

Hermione came to his side and rubbed his back soothingly. “She’s here, Harry. Remus has her.”

Harry looked over. The baby was what Remus had been holding when he entered the room. She was in a pink blanket and to all appearances was sleeping soundly. “She doesn’t have a name yet,” Remus said as he carried her over. “They saved that for you. I can’t tell who she looks like,” Remus smiled at Harry, who took a deep breath readying himself to look at her.

“Oh,” he breathed, suddenly overwhelmed as Remus started handing her over.

He quickly closed his eyes and took a step back, his breathing erratic now. He fidgeted on his feet. “Oh, I… I… Bugger. Are you sure she’s mine?” he asked, his eyes still squeezed shut.

“One hundred percent,” Mark replied quietly.

Hermione laid her hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Open your eyes, Harry. Look at her.”

Slowly, Harry blinked his eyes open, and saw that Remus had tilted her in his direction so that the blanket was no longer blocking his view. Breath catching in his throat, Harry took yet another step back. “I… I can’t believe this,” he whispered, now unable to take his eyes from her. “She’s Draco. She looks like him.”

“Yes,” Hermione agreed with a smile, “But I think she has your nose.”

Harry slowly touched his nose. “Maybe,” he granted. “I like her,” he said louder now, and felt silly when everybody laughed. He blushed.

“What’s going on?” Sirius entered the room, staring bewildered at the baby girl in Remus’ arms.

“Can I hold her?” Harry stepped forward now.

“Of course,” Remus placed her in his arms. He looked on for a moment as Harry stared in wonder for a moment before leaning down and whispering ‘hello’ against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open to reveal large, round blue-green eyes clouded with sleep. Remus smiled at Harry’s small laugh and then took Sirius by the arm to explain. “If you have no questions,” the healer said, standing, “we’ll be taking our leave now.”

Harry looked up. “Oh… yes, thank you, Healer, and Mark. Really, I appreciate this.”

They both nodded, pity-filled looks on their faces, but Harry did not notice. He was looking at his daughter again.

“I’ll show you out,” Hermione offered and left the room with the two men.

Harry was left alone now with the baby, who yawned widely. He smiled, but felt a sharp ache rip through him. Hermione re-entered the room and came to look down at the little girl. “She really does look like Draco. Mark said he could have sworn she smirked at him yesterday.”

The two chuckled slightly before going sober. “Draco always said that we were going to have a girl first. It’s what he wanted so badly. And now… we have a girl, and he’s not…” Harry’s throat closed up. “He’s not here to see her. I know what it’s like to grow up without parents, but what will it be like for her to know that her daddy never got to see her?”

“I’m sure it will never be too easy for her, but she’ll have you at the very least. She won’t grow up the way you did and I think you can take comfort in that, Harry. You’ll make sure to tell her how much her daddy wanted a little girl, and how much he loved her already without ever meeting her.”

Harry shook his head. “I’ll never get good at this. I never would have thought to say that, and I’ll probably forget it when the time comes that she can comprehend what I’m saying.”

”You’ll do fine, Harry. And you’ll have plenty of help. However, I think you should take this one step at a time.”

“What’s the first?”

“Give the poor child a name,” Hermione smiled.

“Oh,” he grinned sheepishly. “That’ll come in useful.”

The baby began to fall asleep again and they watched her, both thinking on names. However, Harry kept coming up blank because he and Draco had never really agreed on any name. There was only one that came to mind and the more he thought on it, the more he liked it.

“Ayida,” he whispered. “Draco really liked Ayida.”

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, pulling the blanket more snugly around Ayida. “What about a middle name?”

Harry looked stricken. “We never talked about middle names!”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry. You named her something that Draco wanted, give her a middle name you like.”

“I don’t know what I like.”

Hermione sat on the couch, looking thoughtful. “Well… your mum’s name was Lilith or Lily?”

“Lilith… Ayida Lilith?”

“I think it’s beautiful, but it’s up to you, Harry.”

There were no other options in Harry's thoughts. And he did like the name. He leaned down and ran his nose through her brown tufts of hair, inhaling her sweet scent. Tears began welling in his eyes, the thought of Draco never able to see their daughter filling his head. “Your daddy loved you,” he choked out and kissed her forehead, “Ayida Lilith. And so do I.”

Hermione coughed to clear her throat as she stood, tears making her eyes glassy. “There’s shopping to be done, Harry. If you want to stay home, that’s fine. I’ll be fine picking up things for Ayida by myself.”

“I’ll come,” Harry nodded. “I want to pick out some clothes for her. Draco and I never did get around to it.”

“Do you have everything you need at your flat?”

“I think so. We might need nappies and formula.”

“That’ll be our first items to pick up then. I’ll go tell Sirius and Remus what we’re doing.”

Hermione stopped in front of Harry and Ayida, staring down at the baby girl before looking up to Harry. She cupped his cheek in her palm and reached up to kiss his cheek. “You’ll do great, Harry. It might be difficult, but you’ll do great. I’m sure of it.”

She left the room, leaving Harry alone with his daughter. So much despair had filled him not even an hour previous, and now he felt that some of it had vanished. Draco was still gone, but he left his daughter for Harry, and for now, that was enough. “You’ll be fine with just me, right, Ayida?” She continued sleeping.

“I hope so too.”

Harry decided that they needed to stop at his flat for a carrier that he could wrap around his shoulder, and Ayida could lie comfortably in it as he shopped. Hermione kept smiling at him whenever he suggested something and it began to annoy him. When he walked through the front door to the flat, she had her hand on his back as if it would make walking easier. He wished she would stop.

“I think it’s in the nursery,” he said, stepping away from her.

“Do you want me to take Ayida?”

Harry clutched her more closely to him. “No, I’m fine.”

She smiled at him again. He turned so that he wouldn’t have to see it. Glancing into the living room as he passed, his eyes went to the mantle, a habit he had gained in the past couple days. Instantly, he noticed that there were pictures missing – the one of him that he had been looking at, and one of himself and Draco. He stepped into the room and stared at the mantle, confused.

“What is it?” Hermione asked, following him.

“There are pictures missing. I know that they were there when I left yesterday.”

Hermione walked to the mantle and studied the empty spaces. “Are you positive?”

“Yes! They were there!”

“Go check to see if anything else is missing.”

Harry went into the kitchen, looking around. It looked as if it had been cleaned. There had been quite a few dirty dishes in the sink. “I left dishes in the sink from when I had you and Ron over two days ago, and more that I used afterwards. I never cleaned them. Why would somebody come here, take my pictures and then decide that they needed to do dishes?”

Hermione shook her head, bewildered. “I’m going to check my bedroom,” Harry hurried from the kitchen and down the hall, Hermione on his heels. On first glance, there was nothing amiss that Harry could see. He looked around as Hermione neared the bed.

“Did you and Draco always share one pillow?” She pointed to the empty space where Harry’s pillow should have been. That’s when Harry noticed that the bed had been made.

“They made the bed!” he exclaimed bemused, “And took my pillow!” He looked from the head of the bed, to the foot where he had left the note. It was gone. He hurried around the end and saw that the note had fallen to the floor, face down. Hermione walked to the dresser and then to the closet, which was left open. She sifted through his shirts. She then opened the other side of the closet where Draco’s clothes were. Most of them were gone.

“Harry,” she said quietly. “Did you get rid of Draco’s clothes?”

“No, why would I?”

“They’re mostly gone.”

“What?” Harry rushed over and saw that she was right. “Are any of mine gone?”

“Not that I could tell.”

He went to the other side and began sifting through his clothes. He went through them three times before he realised that there was something missing. His favourite flannel was gone.

“I don’t understand,” he walked backwards and sat down on the bed. “They took my pictures, did my dishes, made the bed, and took my pillow, my flannel, and Draco’s clothes.”

The two sat in silence for some time, pondering what might have happened. They stared at each other and after a few minutes, a light seemed to come on in both of their heads. “Narcissa,” Hermione whispered just as Harry whispered, “Draco.”

“Maybe it was Narcissa who came here after she found Draco and took his things.”

“And did my chores, Hermione?” Harry squished his eyebrows together. “That seems unlikely. I think it was Draco.”

“When would he have come?”

“Last night. He came here before Greece to get his clothes. He came here again last night when they returned. He came here, saw that there were dishes, did them, and then came in here, made the bed, took my pillow, and my flannel. Then he took the pictures.”

“Why?” Hermione was flummoxed.

“I don’t know. But it’s the only thing that makes sense. He and I are the only ones who can get in here. When I got back here for the first time, it seemed like he had been doing nothing but cleaning. So last night, he did the dishes when he saw them. He was probably really confused. He was going to stay at Malfoy Manor again, but he wanted something from home that reminded him of me. He took my pillow, which is strange, but it’s something Draco would do. Then he took my favourite shirt, which I just wore a couple days ago. It probably smelled the most like me. He took it for the smell. He always liked how I smell for some reason. And then… the pictures. Of course he wanted pictures of me. It makes sense.”

“But why would he take those things if he was planning to kill himself?” Hermione asked.

Harry felt his lip tremble. “He was not planning on killing himself, that’s why. Who would take pictures with them if they were planning something like that? He planned to wake up this morning. Narcissa is lying. He was here!”

”You don’t know that any of this is true, Harry.”

“No, but I know Draco; and I know that he would never kill himself.”

Hermione came to sit by them and she smoothed down Ayida’s hair. Harry stared off for a few moments, trying to collect his thoughts, but they kept going back to one thing. “I should have stayed. I never should have gone to stay at Sirius’. If I had stayed, Draco would be here right now with me and Ayida.” He stood, handing his daughter to Hermione. He stalked from the room back into the kitchen.

“I SHOULD HAVE STAYED!” he screamed and swiped things from the counter.

Hours later, after he and Hermione had picked up everything they needed, they went back to Harry’s flat at his insistence. He thought that if Draco truly were not dead, he would come back. Hermione stayed and made them dinner, and just as they were sitting down, a knock sounded at the door. Harry jumped up and swung the door open. He was almost disappointed to see Severus Snape.

“Come in,” he stepped back, allowing the older man to enter.

“I heard of your daughter,” he said stiffly. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. She’s sleeping right now.”

“I didn’t come to see her. I came to tell you to call off seeing Draco’s body tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll be a waste of your time.”

“Because he’s alive?” Harry asked hopefully.

“No, you fool, because I went to check on it today and it was a waste of time. It was Draco.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Harry shook his head.

Snape sighed. “If you wish to keep holding onto pipe dreams, boy, go ahead, but what I am telling you is the truth. Draco is dead.”

“If that’s all then,” Harry said stiffly, opening the door again.

Snape looked hard at him before he turned around and left without another word. Harry slammed the door behind him and fell limply against the wall. “I can’t believe that,” he whispered, and then covered his face with his hands, because deep down, he knew that if Snape believed it, it had to be true.

***

Fourteen months later…

“Harry, guess what I’ve got!”

Ron ran through the door into the dining room, flapping a long envelope around. Harry did not turn around, as he was busy keeping Ayida’s food on her tray. She had a certain problem of throwing it around, and Harry had needed to acquire even better reflexes with the use of his wand. “New friends?” he asked hopefully, a small grin lacing his mouth. He flicked his wand as Ayida sent a small handful of peas at him.

“No! You utter prat! What have you been banging on about for two months now, driving us all raving mad might I add?”

“I thought I’ve been complaining about your need for new friends,” Harry continued to tease.

“The tickets!” Ron ignored him.

Harry spun around, ignoring Ayida as she made to throw another piece of food. She screamed at him. She tended to think it was a game. “Hold on, sweetie,” he said absently over his shoulder. “The tickets? The tickets?!”

“The tickets!”

Harry grabbed the envelope from Ron’s hand and tore it open, quickly reading. “I can’t believe you pulled it off, Ron!”

“I told you I would,” the redhead smiled, who had been hired in the Magical Games and Sports division five months previously, and had already been promoted once. “I thought they would be a nice birthday present, and I know how much you love those stupid Appleby Arrows.”

Harry looked up and grinned. “You’re just sore because they slaughtered the Cannons last month.”

“I am not!”

“Sure,” Harry nodded, sceptically. “I can’t believe I’m going to this game! It’s sure to be brilliant. All games between the Arrows and Wasps are. You are coming with, aren’t you?”

“I don’t think I’d let you go without me. Hermione said she’d watch Ayida for you.”

Harry clapped Ron on the back. “Thanks for this, mate. This is truly brilliant.”

“It was nothing. Besides you deserve it.”

Harry paused, and put the tickets back in the envelope, the euphoria quickly wearing off. “Is that what this is, Ron? Pity?”

“I… no.”

“Because I’m really sick of people pitying me, Ron.”

“Harry, I do not pity you. You deserve it because you never have any fun. You’re always with Ayida – not that that is a bad thing – and you never come out for any drinks. You just never have fun. You’re always so busy being Daddy that you never seem to be Harry. I thought that this could be something fun for you to do with a friend. Besides, you want this.”

“I do fun things,” Harry defended meekly.

“Not really.”

Harry sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry. I feel like I’m always on the defence with people the past several months… every time I go out.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

Ron looked lost, as if he were at a loss for words. “I know, Harry. It’s okay.”

Ayida started screaming then, waiting for Harry to come back to ‘play’ with her. He turned around and smiled at her. She had grown plump and blonde in her first fourteen months. Her eyes had turned the same radiant shade as Harry’s, and her skin was milky white. She still looked remarkably like Draco to Harry, but most people said she looked like Harry. Mrs. Weasley, to be fair, said that Ayida had a nice mixture of both parents.

“I hear you, sweetie,” he smoothed her busy hair. “You’re putting those loud vocal chords your father gave you to good use, aren’t you?” She grabbed the spoon he had put in front of her earlier and banged it on the tray. “Ah,” Harry mock sighed, “it’s music to my ears, Ayida.” She giggled and banged harder.

“Yeah… sounds great,” Ron grimaced. He clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Listen, I have to get back to work, but I’ll see you at that game tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course. I’ll be over at your place with Ayida around noon.”

“Brilliant. See you then.” Ron approached Ayida and placed his large hand on her head, messing her already unruly blonde locks. She giggled up at him. “I hope you’re ready to spend the day with Aunt Hermione. She’s a right devil, she is.”

“No better than your Uncle Ron,” Harry put in, pushing Ron from the room. “Go on, then.”

Ron waved and left in a flourish.

*

Harry woke early – an hour before Ayida – to begin preparing for the day. He still had not mastered packing his daughter a bag for when she went somewhere for the day, and so needed a little extra time. It seemed to be a sort of art that he could not master. He always seemed to pack too little. Ayida was a handful after she was changed, fed, and if she was still tired, she waited to move away from Harry until she was clothed. She was walking at high speeds, most of the time not caring where she went, and running into furniture. Harry had been correct months ago when he feared the day she began walking. It was almost like his worst nightmare come to life. Almost. He supposed that he had already lived his worst nightmare.

However, no matter how much trouble she gave him, he would never complain. He enjoyed every waking minute of it. It kept him busy, and being busy meant that his mind was off Draco and his grief over losing him.

By the time Harry had the two bags for Ayida packed, and was ready to go, Ayida was gearing up for lunch. She usually whined continuously until she was fed. Meals were her favourite time of the day, so Harry could feel a headache coming by the time he got to Ron and Hermione’s.

“Lunch?” Hermione asked astutely as they walked through the door.

“Yes! How did you know?” Harry plunked the bags onto the floor and placed his daughter in a booster seat Hermione had bought specially for her.

“I heard her whining from your house,” she smiled. “I made sandwiches and opened a bag of crisps for you and Ron,” she gestured to the table, which was laid out with food and drinks. “Ron insists you have at least one beer today, so I put some out.”

“Where is Ron?” Harry asked as he sat in the seat across from Ayida. She screamed at him, obviously expecting him to put the food in front of her. “Ayida Lilith! Be patient!” he scolded getting up from his chair.

“Don’t worry about her, Harry,” Hermione pushed him back. “I’ll feed her. Ron’s lollygagging somewhere in the house. He’ll be out in a minute.”

Feeling particularly hungry himself, Harry grabbed at two tuna fish sandwiches and a large handful of crisps. He passed over the beer and poured milk into a glass. He knew that Ayida did not know the difference, but he did not like drinking in front of her. He was a lightweight. He would be slurring his words within the first few mouthfuls, and he did not want Ayida to be scared because he was acting strangely.

“Hey, mate!” Ron greeted cheerfully. Harry was finishing off his first sandwich and saluted him.

Harry, who wanted to finish his crisps, put one down reluctantly and nodded. He wiped his hands on a napkin and stood to say goodbye to Ayida. “Be good,” he said and kissed her forehead and then her cheek. “She’ll be ready for a nap within a half hour after she’s done eating,” Harry told Hermione. “Send me a message if anything goes wrong, or if you need something else from my house and don’t know where it is.”

“Harry, everything will be okay, and I’m positive you brought everything that we’ll need, and possibly more.” She eyed the bulging bags with a raised eyebrow. He had overdone the packing, thinking that he did not want to forget anything this time. “Now go have fun. I won’t be bothering you until you get home, and then only to know of how much fun you two had.” Hermione smiled and kissed both Harry and Ron on the cheek.

“Bye, Munchkin,” Ron patted Ayida’s head and led the way out of the house.

“Oh, Harry?” Hermione called out to Harry, as he was halfway out the door. “You wouldn’t mind if I brought her to see her grandmother, would you?”

Harry turned slowly. “You want to bring her to see her grandmother?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Narcissa?”

Hermione shook her head, an amused smile on her face. “I don’t think I’ll ever pay a visit to that old croon. I meant Ayida’s grandmum, if that makes more sense.”

“Oh! Molly… no, I don’t mind. I’ve never heard anybody refer to her as grandmother. Sorry, Hermione.”

Hermione shook her head. “Have fun, Harry.”

The trip there was a blur for Harry. The brief mention of Narcissa unsettled him as it always did. Harry saw her once a month when she wanted to visit with Ayida, but otherwise never contacted her for anything. They were two very different people with very different opinions. The only thing that they agreed on was their love for Draco and Ayida, and even that Harry had questions about for Narcissa. Harry would go to the ends of the world for Draco, while it seemed that if Draco had ever done one thing wrong, she would turn her back on him. It irked him.

Not only that, but he knew that Narcissa knew something about Draco’s death. It was something in her eyes that told him, but he had no way of proving it. All methods of investigation had stopped months ago because there had been no leads. There had been nothing to suggest that Draco had disappeared or had been murdered. There was no evidence against the supposed suicide. To all appearances, it had happened. Harry had believed so strongly that the suicide was a set-up, but his convictions slowly weakened as time progressed. If there was no way to prove Draco had died another way, or wasn’t really dead at all, then there was no other explanation other than that he was dead and had done it to himself.

Harry was tired of wondering and the loneliness he felt at night threatened to consume him every time he reached over and felt that empty space beside him. The ache inside was so deep and so sharp it made breathing painful. Though his convictions were waning, there was something deep inside that said that Narcissa had the answers to stop the pain. If only he knew how to broach the topic. But he hardly knew how to speak to a woman of her class. He felt so inadequate next to her.

“Harry! For Merlin’s sake, don’t disappear on me, you wanker!” Ron playfully cuffed the back of his head. “You’ve had that stupid, blank look on your face since we left. What are you thinking about?”

“Narcissa,” he said quietly, blinking. They were at the stadium; he realised, on the way to their top seats.

“Well, stop it.”

Harry tried, but as they sat in their seats in the top box, he found himself turning around, remembering when he had first laid eyes on Narcissa Malfoy. It had been in the summer before fourth year at the Quidditch World Cup. Draco had been with Lucius and Narcissa. But, of course, at the time, Draco had merely been Malfoy, their most hated schoolmate. Harry remembered how Draco had sneered at them and sat down smugly in his seat. And he remembered how Narcissa looked as if she had smelled something unpleasant. Draco, Harry had thought at the time. She had smelled her son.

He laughed at the memory now, turning around in his seat. Draco, of course, had always smelled quite pleasant, and would have been aghast to find out if he smelled anything but. Harry wanted to tell Draco of that time when he had first seen Narcissa. He knew that he already had informed Draco of it, but it had been when they were enemies. Maybe he could do it now in a friendlier way. The small smile disappeared from his face.

He was doing it again. Sometimes, he forgot that Draco was gone and thought of things that he could tell Draco or something that they needed to talk about, like Ayida. But Draco was gone, and Harry knew this.

“What are you on about?” Ron was standing up, leaning forward to look down at the pitch, so had not noticed the sour look on Harry’s face. He sat down and looked at Harry, who had turned his face neutral. “You laughed.”

“Oh, I just remembered the first time we saw Narcissa Malfoy at the Quidditch World Cup.”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop thinking about her? Honestly, you’ll give yourself a bloody stroke thinking on she-devils like her. I’ll tell you what… you need something to drink. I’ll get you something.”

Ron left for a few minutes and only missed the teams flying out onto the field. He came back with two butterbeers in hand, one of which he handed to Harry. “Thanks,” he tipped the bottle towards the redhead and took a drink.

The game soon started with the Applebys taking the lead within the first five minutes. Harry was on and off of his feet yelling and screaming for his team. He avidly watched his favourite player Matthew Pickleworms, who was a Chaser, and had played for the Applebys since he left Hogwarts nine years ago. Two hours into the game, Pickleworms had scored six times to help keep the lead for his team. Ron was cheering for the Wasps, so by the time the Applebys Seeker had caught the Snitch, was sitting dolefully in his seat. Harry was cheering like a maniac as the Seeker took a victory lap with his team surrounding him. As the team descended to the ground, Ron stood and pulled on Harry’s arm.

“Come on; let’s go sit in a pub.”

“So you can sulk?” Harry grinned, following behind his sulking friend.

“No, so we can say you got away from responsibility for more than three hours.”

“Okay, but only this once,” Harry ribbed.

At the bottom of the stairs, Ron paused from the path everybody else was taking and turned left around a different corner. Harry frowned and followed him. “Where are you going?”

“To see if we can see anybody famous,” he called over his shoulder.

They did not have far to walk before they came out at the pitch. There were reporters flashing cameras and Harry immediately shied away from the lights. Ron looked back at him and stopped walking, instead craning his neck over the crowd to see the players being photographed. Harry began to get tired of waiting after a few minutes, and was about to suggest to Ron that they leave when somebody he recognised came tumbling through the crowd of reporters.

“Oliver Wood,” he said in amazement. Wood was dressed in an Applebys uniform, as he had been traded from the Wasps, to the Cannons, to the Applebys. Harry did not recall him playing in this game however.

Wood stopped and looked over. His face split in a grin. “Potter! Why, it’s been absolutely ages since I’ve seen you… in person at any rate. You’re usually all over the papers, aren’t you?”

“Well…” Harry was at a loss for words.

One reporter, it seemed had caught wind of his name and turned to snap a picture. He cringed inside, but did not show it externally. “And Weasley!” Wood exclaimed. He shook first Harry’s and then Ron’s hand. “I hear you two did a fantastic job of captain for Gryffindor when you got the chance, what with all that went on back then. No more Quidditch for either of you then?”

“Ron works for Magical Games and Sports in the Ministry, and no, I haven’t played in quite a while,” Harry said wistfully, looking up. “I’ve thought lately that I might like to get into it again, but I have a small injury to my arm from the war.”

“Ah, that’s rotten luck. I broke my hand in practice two days ago,” he held up his hand. “The Healer said I can’t play until it’s not so stiff.”

More reporters now noticed their conversation and were snapping pictures. “Listen! I’ve just had a great idea. The team and I are going to celebrate at my house. Why don’t you two stop by and I’ll introduce you to them.”

“Really?” Harry lit up. “That sounds great! Ron?”

“Yeah,” he nodded enthusiastically.

“You two are Appleby fans, right?”

“My favourite team!” Harry confirmed nodding earnestly.

“Mine too!” Ron lied.

“Really?” Wood asked sceptically. “Aren’t you a Cannons fan?”

“Was,” Ron waved him off. “They’re useless though, aren’t they?”

“Quite,” Wood grinned. “Anybody have a piece of parchment?” he suddenly called out. A reporter near them handed him a sheet from a notebook and then handed him her quill, blushing. “Thanks, doll,” he winked. “This is the Apparition point at my house. It’s probably safe to go now. You won’t be the first ones there.” He folded it up and handed it to Harry. “Open it away from prying eyes. We don’t want just anybody there.”

“Right.” Wood began walking the way they came and began turning left as Harry and Ron continued on their path.

“Good game today, right boys?” Wood grinned. Harry turned back to agree, and stopped walking when he saw who had come to meet Wood. It was Matthew Pickleworms. He never thought he would become star struck by another person as he knew how annoying it could be, but he truly admired Pickleworms. Harry felt his eyes slowly move down Pickleworms body, noting much too clearly how utterly naked he was. He seemed to have just stepped out of the shower and had only managed to slip on his boxers. He was fit… very fit and tan. The complete opposite of Draco, he could not help thinking, and yet…. Harry averted his thoughts and his eyes.

Harry purposely kept his eyes on Wood. “Great,” he nodded forcefully, smiling weirdly.

Wood raised a brow and looked to Pickleworms and back again. He grinned. Harry tried very hard not to notice Ron’s snickering or Pickleworms’ eyes, which were staring at him. “See you at my house then, Potter,” Wood snickered.

Harry nodded stiffly and turned around, just restraining himself from running. “Harry Potter,” both he and Ron heard Wood say. “I think he’s always been like that, a blushing little schoolboy.”

Pickleworms said something in a deep voice, but they had turned the corner and could not hear. Ron walked beside Harry, smiling and glancing over at his friend, but not saying a word. When they were getting near the Apparition barrier, Harry stopped, nervously running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t think I should go, Ron. You go on. I’ll catch up Hermione and Ayida.”

“What?” Ron was aghast. “You can’t bail on me, Harry. It was you he was inviting, not me.”

“That’s not true! He would have invited you if I hadn’t been there.”

Ron studied him for a moment. “You just don’t want to go because you’re attracted to Pickleworms. I know he’s your favourite player, and who knew he was so damn attractive up close, right?”

Harry furiously fought down a blush, but to no avail. “That’s not true,” he muttered. “I just don’t think I should go. I don’t like spending so much time away from Ayida.”

It was true, Harry thought miserably. He had always thought that Pickleworms was attractive, but never had focused on that. Pickleworms was a serious Quidditch player and was to be taken seriously. Harry hated it when girls ran after famous men just because they were good to look at. The thought had never really crossed his mind… until now. He did not want this. It was too soon.

“Besides, what’s the harm in looking anyway, Harry? You’re single now, much as I hate to say it. Draco would have wanted you to move on and be happy, wouldn’t he?”

“It’s only been fourteen months,” Harry whispered.

“Yeah? Well, I have a good feeling that when it’s been five, or ten, or even twenty years, you’ll have the same excuse. This is the first time you’ve said it, and it’s already old.”

“Ron, I’m not even used to living without Draco yet. I still expect to see him come out of the shower every morning I wake up and he’s not in bed. I still want him to be there.”

“And you always will, I expect.”

At Harry’s stubborn silence, Ron sighed, shifting his weight. “Look, Harry, I’m not telling you to pull the whole ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am’… or sir, in your case…” He shook his head. “I’m telling you that fourteen months is a long time, and it’s about time you get out there. You might find that he’s a complete wanker. Or you might find that he has looks and class just like yours truly.”

Harry laughed and Ron clapped him on the shoulder. “Seriously, mate, it’s not a date. He might think you’re an ugly sod for all we know. He might not even be interested in the male species.”

“Ron, I don’t know…. This seems a little silly.”

“We’re going to an after-party, Harry. There’s nothing silly about it. If you don’t want to think about other men yet, just go there for the alcohol.”

Ron began bouncing on the balls of his feet, and Harry could sense a whine coming. “Fine,” he relented. “But I’m not speaking to Matthew Pickleworms.”

“Suit yourself,” Ron shrugged. “Maybe I’ll take my chances with him.”

“Ron, you have a wife.”

“And she doesn’t need to know.” Ron winked, turned around and began walking to the barrier, his shoulders shaking in laughter.

“You’re a sick man,” Harry muttered, following in his friend’s footsteps.

There were few people at Wood’s large house when they entered but it had been well prepared for a party, as if they had been expecting the win. They followed a long hall to where the music originated. It was the living room, the couches were pushed aside and a bar sat at the end of the long room, a bartender standing behind it. “Wow, they pull out all the stops here,” Ron grinned. “What do you want to drink?” he asked Harry.

“Mead is fine.”

“Two mead!” he called over the loud music.

The bartender produced them in a flourish. Ron gulped down half of his before the glass even touched his mouth, while Harry sipped at his. He almost admired Ron’s ability to down alcohol, and wished he could drink more. His nerves were getting the best of him and needed something to do. He was afraid he was going to turn to drinking the whole night. “Ron,” he nudged the redhead, “make sure I don’t do anything too stupid if I get really drunk, all right?”

“Sure, thing,” Ron winked. It was the kind of look Harry did not trust from his friend. He wondered what sort of things he was going to be allowed to do under Ron’s watch.

Within minutes, the team began showing up along with a crowd of people. Harry nervously stood by the bar, hoping Ron would not leave him, but soon enough, somebody Ron knew from the Ministry waved at him and he disappeared into the crowd. Within moments, anxiety was overtaking Harry. He had not been in a large crowd like this since he had been with Draco. They had gone clubbing together occasionally. It was where Draco taught Harry how to dance better. At times, they would get weird looks from people as Draco ballroom danced with his husband, but they would always be oblivious. Harry remembered those times with a small smile, wishing desperately for his husband to be there to relieve the anxiety he felt. Being in a crowd of people who knew who he was, was even more stressful than any Muggle crowd he could possibly be in.

“Oi, you’re Harry Potter!” a man younger than Harry yelled out. A few people around them looked around at him interested.

“Er – yes, I am.” Harry slowly began to edge away, but the other man moved forward too quickly and leaned on his shoulder.

“My name is Jonas. My mum is right obsessed with you. She thinks you’re one of the most gorgeous men in the Wizarding world. She’ll have a heart attack, me thinks when I tell her I met you.”

“Oh… well, tell her I say hello and that um… I’m really quite ugly in person.”

Jonas laughed, leaning his body forward. Some of his drink dumped from his glass. Harry wondered when he had started drinking that day. Suddenly, he became quite serious and raised his glass in front of Harry’s face as if he were toasting somebody. “She also says it’s a shame that you’re a shit packer.”

“Ex… excuse me?” Harry stuttered.

“Yep. She says it’s disgusting. I don’t think it’s so bad, meself, but that’s me mum for you. I remember when everybody thought you had died, and then you were suddenly back from the dead. Oh, she was unbearable for that month. But when you came back and then your husband was dead. Oh, how she laughed. Irony, she called it… don’t know if it was really, because I don’t know what it means. I don’t think she does either. She’s not very smart. Still, you’re probably better off without that Malfoy bloke anyhow. Can’t imagine he was much good.”

Harry felt his eye twitch as he felt the rage inside of him boil. The people around them were watching him with large eyes, waiting for him to say something. However, he was spared from saying anything. Somebody took hold of Harry’s arm and pulled him from Jonas’ grasp.

“Somebody get the sod out of here,” the person growled in a low voice.

Harry finally blinked himself back into reality and looked up. “Oh, God,” he muttered, and looked away blushing. It was Pickleworms. Harry had not realised how tall he was until now. He was over six feet tall, at least four inches taller than Harry. Once Pickleworms had manoeuvred them far enough away from Jonas and his onlookers, they stopped.

“All right there, Potter?”

“Fine,” he muttered looking anywhere but at his face.

Pickleworms moved his face around until he could see Harry’s eyes. “Scared to look at me?”

Harry laughed nervously. “No.” Taking a deep breath, Harry looked up and smiled. He tried not to like what he saw, but it was difficult. He had creamy brown almond shaped eyes, short and spiked, brown hair, and a strong build. Harry expelled his breath, losing his internal fight. Harry liked what he saw, and he did not like that he liked it.

“That’s better. Now I can introduce myself properly.” He held out a large, brown hand. “Matthew Pickleworms, and you can call me Matthew, Matt, whatever you like. Just don’t call me Pickleworms. I hate that.”

Harry slowly took his hand and shook it. “Harry Potter…. Potter-Malfoy, actually. You can call me Harry though.”

“Good because Potter-Malfoy is a mouthful,” he teased. He bit his lip then and looked around. “Look, do you want to get out of this room? I noticed before that you look kind of nervous in this big crowd.”

“Comes with the territory of being Harry Potter, I suppose.”

“So… do you want to?”

Harry looked over and caught Ron’s eye from across the room, who was nodding and winking. Holding a sigh in, he nodded. “Just lead the way, Matthew.”

They went into a study down the hall, where Matthew poured them each a glass of scotch. Somewhere along the line, Harry had put down his mead, but didn’t remember doing so.

“I’ll be honest from the get-go,” Matthew began, sitting beside Harry on a leather couch. “I was put up to talking to you by Wood and your friend. I didn’t think you would want me to though, but… you looked out of your mind with rage back there….”

“Yeah, um… thank you for that. I didn’t know people thought like that.”

“He’s drunk. I’m sure most people didn’t laugh when they saw your story unfolding.”

Harry shrugged. “Let them laugh if they want to. But I know they wouldn’t like it if the same thing happened to them.”

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, and Harry shifted uneasily, taking long drinks from the scotch. They kept looking up at each other and glancing quickly down. Harry wanted to flee. He did not know what Matthew expected, but he hoped he did not want more than simple conversation… if there was any conversation to be had. They were both rather silent, he agonised. It was so awkward.

“Awkward, right?” Matthew read his thoughts. Harry laughed nervously into his glass, drinking more. “I know what you’re probably thinking right now, Harry. You think I brought you in here to snog you or… or take advantage of you in some way.” He gave a short laugh. “Sounds cheesy, but… well, that’s not why I asked you to come in here. I thought it would help to be out of the crowd. Truth be told, I’m not in the mood to be in there right now.”

“Me neither.”

“So am I doing you a service?”

They stared at each other, and Matthew looked hopeful that he had done something right, so Harry nodded. “Yeah, I appreciate this. I didn’t really want to come, but Ron talked me into it.” He purposefully left out the fact that Matthew was the reason he did not want to come. Harry bit his lip. “This is kind of a relief. And since you’re being honest with me, I’ll have to tell you something.” He gestured with his glass. “I’m a lightweight, and if I keep drinking like this, I’ll be drunk in two minutes.”

“You’re already slurring your words, so maybe you should quit while you’re ahead?”

Harry nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“Water?”

“You don’t have to get up for it.”

Matthew snapped his fingers and a house elf appeared. He ordered water and they each had a glass within minutes. “I sometimes forget about house elves,” Harry admitted sheepishly. “I don’t have one and neither does anybody I’m usually with. My friend Hermione, Ron’s wife, started an organisation for the better treatment of them. She’d murder me if I got one.”

“She sounds… interesting.”

Harry nodded, sipping his water.

Ron came into the room then, a note in his hand. “Harry, Hermione and Mum sent a note.”

Harry was up from his seat in a flash. “What’s happened?” he demanded.

“Your knickers aren’t on fire, are they?”

“No.”

“Then calm down. Ayida is screaming, and she won’t calm down. They think she just wants her dad.”

“I’ll go then. Are you coming or staying?”

“I’ll stay a little longer. Tell Hermione I won’t be late.” He waved and disappeared.

“Your daughter?” Matthew asked, standing up.

“Yeah,” Harry said distractedly, setting his glass of water down.

“I’ll walk you to the door.”

“Oh, you don’t need –”

“But I want to.”

Matthew took Harry’s forearm and gently led him out of the room. When they got outside, Matthew turned Harry towards him. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. Instead, he closed his mouth. Harry stared interested at him. Instead, Matthew placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder and gently squeezed. “It was good to meet you, Harry. Maybe I’ll see you at another game sometime?”

Harry hesitated again, wondering if this was a hopeful opening to see each other again. He wouldn’t know, as he had never really dated before. Throwing caution to the wind, he nodded and smiled up at him. “If you go to the Quidditch Cup, I’ll be there.”

“I’ll send you the tickets personally.”

Smiling, Harry began to turn away. “Have fun tonight.” With that, he Disapparated.

By the time he took a screaming Ayida into his arms, he wondered what had just happened, and how he could stop anything from happening before it developed. He cuddled his head against his baby girl and rocked her. She quieted quickly. Could he take the chance by letting Matthew get close? Would he ever be ready to let somebody else in? Surely Ayida would be enough.

Then he wondered if the love of a little girl would be able to sustain his loneliness for the rest of his life. And he wasn’t so sure.