“I'll get it,” I say, allowing a slight spring in my step. Why? Easy. My life could never be more together. Unlocking the bolts on our door, my first thought is that our postman has shrunk. Where once he surpassed chin at height level, now he is looking up.

I don't actually know how to start the second part of this story, but I think after all that mounting tension, I'll have something that is a little light. We had a good time the first eight weeks of this year, so I'll spread it around. I remember this particular day being a very, what I would call, 'up and down day', but it was still memorable, and this story, this true story is going to need that.

“Wait, Ron! Let me explain,” I shout, restraining him from knocking Malfoy out. “He could have turned us in to the Death Eaters but he chose not to!”

“Only to save his sorry skin,” my best friend yells, waving a fist and swearing. (Hermione covers her children's ears.) “He didn't want to do any of that. . . Harry, you know he hates-”

“So, he could have still said sorry,” Scorpius whispers, trembling, teddy bear close to his chest. “He could have at leasts said sorry and given me a hug.”

Sighing, I go on. “Hey, I'll go and get you some water, and you meet me in the spare room, ok?”

He looks up, smiles, and nods.

“Excellent.”

The familiar hated bite of ice is thawing inside me, and I stare at his expression more. No life. I mean, I know he's alive. . . I can see his chest inhaling and exhaling, rising and falling but it's slow. I know his heart is in there somewhere. . . . .

“Did you find our baby?” She's been crying. I can hear it in her voice. Brave Ginny has surrended to the genes of a worried mother.

“No, but I think I know where he is. We're going to the Malfoys!”

“What? Why??”

“No time. Come on!”

“Shut up.”

“Have I touched a nerve?” The irony about this whole operation is that I've actually picked up loads of things from Malfoy. It really is as though we've switched roles. He would have asked me that years ago. “Go on then. Prove to me that you can hurt me.”

Wait just a second, you scrawny git!”

“You called?”

“Fine, fine! You can help me, just don't call me a coward,” Draco rages, “- ever again, you got that?”

“Well, I do,” I say, but with a hint of contradiction, “-but I am an adult. You can't tell me what to do.”