I watch her wild black curls dance and sway in the wind as she plays in the pile of leaves outside our home. It is an unusually warm autumn day, but I can hear you scolding me for allowing her to play outside without a sweater in November. You love her so much. A small smile crosses my lips.
She is laughing and the sound is perfection to my ears.
"Watch, Daddy! Watch me jump!"
"Are you having fun, Anna?"
"Yeeeeesss!" A bright smile flashes across her four-year-old face.
I am pleased that I can give our daughter the childhood I never had.
It is later in the afternoon now, and little Anna is taking a nap. I sit on the sofa reading a book, enjoying the quiet.
Thoughts of our daughter interrupt my attention and I put the book aside. She is so like you, and yet so like me. A perfect combination. She has your nose (thank Merlin) and my eyes. She has your innocence, and my cunning.
I gaze up at the mantel, to our wedding photo. I had never seen you more beautiful. You are smiling at me and your small hand is caressing my cheek. What did I do to deserve such love?
I look around at the other photos you placed around the room. How do you do it? How do you take an empty room and make it feel like the first home I have ever had?
There are the pictures of you during your pregnancy. You were radiant. There are pictures of us in St. Mungo's when she was born. Our tiny miracle.
She is stirring, I can hear her.
"Mommy?" she yells down the hall, and I wince.
She comes walking out a moment later, rubbing her eyes.
"Daddy?" She looks scared.
"Come here, sweetheart."
She runs across the living room and climbs into my lap.
"Daddy, when is Mommy coming home?" Her dark eyes plead with me. It has been 4 months since you disappeared. I pray to everything holy that you are safe... that you are alive.
"I don't know, Anna," I shake my head. "I don't know."
She furrows her eyebrows (so like you!) and looks down at my lap, as if thinking. Suddenly, her head snaps up and her eyes widen.
"Maybe she's playing hide 'n' seek!" She smiles at the guess. I wish it was that simple.
Gods, how I wish it was that simple. The aurors have looked everywhere, practically told me to give up hope, but I never will.
Because there is hope everywhere I look. And as our daughter wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me on the cheek, I hold her close, and it's almost as if you are here again.