A/N: This is my second story and the first one for Harry Potter. I tried my best to get right grammar and stuff but please respect the mistakes I make because I'm not English or American or every other country were they speak English :D!
I use to much , - thingies.
I dictate this story to someone; I guess it's Bree-utiful. Because your chapters where Hannah gets less and less buddies each day, is just B-E-A-utiful! I think the baby girl in this story will become a Hufflepuff, just to annoy her father.
Enjoy :D
"Bust a Move!"
I'll Keep A Part Of You With Me,
Healing Of The Broken Plastic Heart
Little light was shown through the lace curtain in front of the large window in the small bedroom. It was too early for the thick grey curtains he hated, but too late to leave the window open. Somewhere in the dark blue twilight sky, the sun had left while a round pearl-like moon still hang as a protection for the stars. As a protection for his little girl.
The slender young man, more bone than skin, sat up in the large bed in the middle of the room. He was alone with her, his mother had left. Only because he cried she had to go, he made her leave. His father never showed his face, hadn't done it for a half year.
Tears were shown in his dull eyes; even the most beautiful girl he had ever seen couldn't remove the pain he had been feeling for so long. She looked just too much like him.
His mother had cried too. Cried because his father wasn't there to see their first grandchild. She cried because she was happy, proud. She cried because her son named his daughter after her. She never cried because her granddaughter looked like the man she never accepted into her son's life. The blonde cried because of the latter.
His daughter's small head against his chest, sleeping with her eyes closed. Like an angel, so perfect she was.
The man prayed she would open her eyes, so he could believe she looked even the littlest bit like him. But she was finally asleep; he could not find it in his heart to wake her up. His angel.
He stroke her face with his thumb, wrapping the grey blanket tighter around her, trying not to wake her up. He needed to be in complete silence, but still not alone. He had been too long without the person he loved from the bottom of his – now broken - heart, that feeling of loneliness he never wanted to experience again. But there wasn't much he could do.
He tried to stand up from the bed to lay her in her crib, so he could get some sleep too, but the scars from the war made it hard. They caused too much pain. But that pain wasn't the same compared to the pain his heart. The pain of failure, misery and the simple pain a broken heart.
Failure. The thing he had been haunted by for his whole school career. He had to live up to the expectations from the people around him.
Misery. The look in his father's eyes when he was told that he would be a grandparent, but not in the way he expected, was just the tip of the iceberg.
A broken heart. From the first night he suffered from it, when he found out he was just a bleed-to-death desire. Even now, with new life in his arms, the painful wound still stung. He could only pray it eventually would fade away, with all the memories attached to it.
Once more he stroke the small black hairs on her head, they were so familiar. She looked so like her other father, it was hard to believe she was only three hours old.
Her skin was pale, not reddish like a newborn's should be. Her hairs were dry, while his were wet from the sweat. Her cheeks were red and warm, his were cold and the same as the rest of his skin; sallow. He wasn't feeling well, an upcoming fever due to the stress and insomnia.
He stared out the window, catching a glimpse of owls, circling around the tower of his manor. His mother had probably contacted all the people who knew about him being pregnant and hoped it would be a good delivery without any complications. Maybe she contacted his father.
He hoped she didn't. His father walked out on them because of this situation, so he wouldn't be a part of it. Too bad for him.
Before he realised it, tears ran over his cold cheeks. He had been abandoned by his father - his living role model – and his loved one. His mother was the only support he still had. But even the love his mother gave him couldn't remove the pain. He didn't need motherly love and support, he needed the feeling he was loved by someone else besides his parents. That he could do raise a baby on his own. The thing he doubted the most.
His daughter needed a family; he would never suit as the perfect family. He hadn't a real family for the past half year. He only had his mother, she only had him. His daughter needed a mother, a father, brothers and sister, grandparents, godparents and friends. All the things he couldn't give her, he couldn't even be a decent father for her.
From the moment he found out he was pregnant, he knew he couldn't be a father. He never had a good example; his was always busy working for the ministry.
His angel like daughter wouldn't grow up with a parent who was always busy. No, she deserved a father who was always there for her. But from his condition and feeling at the moment, he knew he couldn't be as the super parent she deserved.
The man managed to get up from the bed, with his daughter still close in his arms. Slowly he walked towards her crib next to the window. It was time to close the windows, so the both of them could drift off to a peaceful sleep.
He laid his daughter in her crib, letting his lips touch her forehead and her hairs. His hand felt the fabric of the curtains and he hid himself from the world around the house by closing them. When he turned around to let himself collapse on the bed, his grey eyes fell on the letter on the ground in the corner of the room. It was the remaining of his letter.
He picked up the valueless piece of paper from the wooden floor. He stared at it. He stared at the first sentence; he could not tear away just like the signature and his own name. A part of him stopped him from throwing it away. Probably waiting for revenge, one of the good things in human nature. In the vague moonlight the goodbye letter was even sadder.
'I did love you in a certain way. But not in the way you loved me. You thought I was the one, while you were nothing more to me than a fling. Now I realise what a fool I was, toying with your heart while I only stayed for the desire to be someone else.
I saw it in your eyes, that you loved me the way I loved my wife. In the way everybody should be loved. In the way you should be loved, by someone else than me.'
He could still read it, even in the darkness. It was like the words were printed into his memory. Even though they're meant to reveal the bitter through and hurt him, they made him love the writer even more. What the blonde hurt too much inside.
Everything hurt right now. The pain from the delivery, the pain from his absence father but the pain from his broken heart was the pain that hurts the most and it would never go away.
The fact that it wasn't normal for man to give birth, was one of the things that helped him made the decision of giving her away to the other person responsible for her existence. Harry Potter.