"Daddy," she said, "Tell me a story." A raven-haired, green-eyed, bundle of mischief crawled into her father's bed.

There was a thunderstorm going on outside, and she was frightened of them. However, a story from her father seemed to cheer her up while putting her back to sleep.

Sighing, her daddy blindly groped to darkness for his glasses. Upon finding them, he shoved them on and looked down at his small daughter.

"What story would you like to hear, Ms. Freya?" Harry Potter asked.

"Tell me about how you met me, Daddy! I like that story. There are dragons!"

"There's a dragon, baby girl," Harry said as he ran his hand through his unruly mane. He sighed as he collected his thoughts. His beautiful Freya had been asking for this story more often than usual. He frequently thought if Freya should meet her other parent.

"Once upon a time…." Freya prompted.

"Sorry, sweetie," Harry apologized, "Once upon a time in a land not so far from here. In a land a short broom ride away, there lived a little boy."

Harry relayed his life history to his daughter, accentuating the part with the dragon.

"…..And, the dragon came down from the heavens in a fiery blaze. The dragon swept the little boy off his feet and carried him away…."

Freya fell asleep near the end of Harry's embellished and slightly modified life history. He finished anyway even though he was speaking to an empty house and a thunderstorm. He finished because it put his life back into perspective. In those few fleeting moments when he mentioned coming to America because being so close to the battlefields where his friends and families had laid down there lives for him and the move to New York to LA to a small Texas town, and to Spencer, his final destination, he relived so many special memories that he could never quite do justice to unless he was telling Freya. He knew in his heart of hearts that Freya shouldn't know some parts of his life, but instead of skipping over them completely, he skimmed over them and promised to tell her more when she was older.

After he finished, Harry scooped Freya up and carried her into her room. He laid her on the bed and tucked her in. Harry placed a kiss on her forehead and watched her sleep. He couldn't help noticing that as she slept she looked so much like her other parent.

Right then, Harry made a decision. He decided that no matter how much it might hurt him it would hurt Freya much more if she never met her other parent. He sneaked quietly out of her room, and sat down at the coffee table with a piece of paper and a pen. He knew he only had one shot at getting this letter right. He sighed once more, and put pen to paper.

To You,

I don't know if you know, but there was a great thunderstorm this evening. Our daughter climbed into my bed, as she's wont to do during thunderstorms, and asked me to tell her the story of how she and I met. As I relayed my vast life history to her, the modified and embellished version, I thought about you. I thought about whether you two should ever meet again.

When I put her to bed just now, I noticed that she looks like you enormously when she sleeps. She might have my hair and my eyes, but she has your demeanor. Sometimes she does things, and they make me cry. She is so like you that sometimes it's not even funny. As I watched our daughter sleep, I decided that no matter how much seeing you again hurts me our daughter has the right to know her other parent.

As you may or may not know, the local festival is the end of next week. I think it is the ideal place for you and Freya to reunite. It's public, very public.

Contact me as soon as possible. Letter is preferred, but if you must call my number is 555-0117.

Sincerely,

Harry J. Potter

Harry ran his hands through his hair as he looked at the words he'd written. Did he really want to see Freya's other parent again? Did he want to inflict all that pain on himself again? No, he didn't, but Freya, should meet her other parent, right? He wasn't so sure anymore. Mustering all the Gryffindor courage he had left from his school days, he slipped the letter into an envelope. He stamped and addressed it before going back to bed. Needless to say, Harry Potter had a fitful and memory-filled sleep.

The next morning, Monday, Harry walked Freya to pre-school. Even though the girl was extremely magical and would no doubt be accepted into Hogwarts, Harry wanted her to be without prejudice; therefore he enrolled her in a common pre-school that was held in the basement of a local church. When he'd detached her from his leg, he walked to the post office to the mail the letter.

As he walked, he repeatedly asked himself if he knew what he was doing. Instead of a straight answer, he was faced with a random collection of images from memories past. He saw Freya playing on the beach as her parents watched her from farther up. He saw her cuddled up against her additional blood relation as small earthquake hit their small apartment. He saw the sparkle in her eyes when the arrived in the small Texas town. He saw her tears when the left in the dead of night so many fateful years ago to come to Spencer. He saw himself perform a small Memory Charm on her so he could wipe clean the images of a parent other than himself. That image him disgusted him more than anyone could ever imagine. He leaned up against the closest inanimate object. Was he really going to do this? When he realized the thing he was leaning up against was a blue mailbox, he decided that fate wasn't going to let him run away and he slipped the letter in.

Several days later, Harry received a letter in the mail. It was the response he'd been dreading. What had he been thinking? He decided to read it when Freya was at pre-school. With slightly trembling hands, Harry opened the letter.

Dear Harry,

To say I was surprised at finding your letter in my mail would be an understatement. I was shocked to the point of needing revived. However, that is not the purpose of this letter. I would of course like to see my daughter again. The festival next weekend seems to be the most opportune time. Thank you for this opportunity, Lumiére.

Love,

Drake

Harry dropped the letter on the counter. So, Draco Malfoy was really going to be in Spencer next week. Harry reread letter, and this time he winced at the old nickname Draco had used. Draco used to call Harry Lumiére because of his favorite character in Walt Disney's "Beauty and the Beast." What other old nicknames and such was Draco going to dredge up next weekend? Harry was going to have to prepare himself for the worst.