Hello guys, welcome, welcome. Old and new. This is the beginning of a revision project for this story that I am working on, as to improve, update, and move forward with this story. As such, if you are a new reader, feel free to continue reading if you wish, but just note somethings may change. For old readers, thank you for your kind support. I will be marking the revised chapters with an (R) from now on. And it will be explicit in this introduction. As always, I hope you enjoy the story.
Papa, Who's Mama? Chapter 1: (REVISED)
"The war is over!" Those words. Those four, simple words. Ringing in Harry's ears now just like they had half a decade ago. Often he finds himself chuckling out loud at the nostalgia whilst reading a letter, enjoying a cup of tea amidst a lengthy book. The rarity and quaint peace always pop the same question.
"Surreal how things worked out, right ol' champ?"
Always the same. After all, it was surreal. No branding scars from the many battles fought. No tombstone carved with his name. Which, was an unexpected surprise. He thought for sure, an assortment of them were to follow the infamous lightning bolt. Or, if not that, then death was a certainty. On the contrary, he was very much alive. He was breathing, living, and, overall, happy. Though he knew of the disapproval, loathing and confusion of the overarching magical community for his decisions in the aftermath of the war; it was for the best. It's not as if their opinions would be better if they knew the reasons. Gone would be their respect and admiration. No longer their hero. He'd be casted away as the evil spawn of Voldemort who happened to save all their selfish arses.
"Don't think about it, Harry. You promised not to. It's over." He hissed to himself.
He swept up the little pile of dirt and threw it out. But the thoughts, still lingered in Harry's mind and every so often, would resurface again. He sighed, put the broom back into the kitchen cupboard, walked across the oak floor and all but threw himself onto the couch, clutching his head.
"Don't be so hard on yourself. You can't help it. It's part of your history." A voice said to him.
"That I should just forget!" Harry growled out loud.
"You can't forget. Not even if your tried. You have them." The voice reasoned. His eyes instantly went to the wooden mantel littered with pictures above the stone fireplace. His anger faded as he went down the line of pictures, and a small smile soon graced his mouth.
A stunning baby girl with unruly raven hair, a button nose, and adoring onyx eyes was smiling brightly. She was wearing a willow green silk dress, a white bow placed in her hair. Next to the girl was a boy beaming the same features as his sister, except with a pair of glowing green almond shaped eyes. He was wearing an ivory shirt with black pants. The boy, unlike his sister, had a slightly confused look on his face.
Harry chuckled. "Their first picture."
They were sitting on a checkered picnic cloth with a filled basket in the center. Harry's heart couldn't help his heart swelling at the memory, recalling their loud laughter and infinite smiles.
His eyes moved to the next frame and laughed a little harder. Their baby faces has matured ever so slightly, both taller and longer in every regard. Both sets of hair had reached their shoulders and down. And both had looks of pure horror, tears and all on their facepaint covered faces.
A lion was giving its earth trembling roar in the background and they were pointing, never having seen anything the caliber of terrifying before. Both sporting brown shorts, with matching monkey t-shirts.
The last picture was taken in front of the cozy, small stone, ivy covered cottage, the 'sold' sign right on the side. It was the day they bought the house. It was of the three of them. They all wore the brightest grins, the twins with their arms to the sky on both sides of him.
"Such silly geese," Then he looked at the resemblance of them all.
"Definitely can't play the adoption card with them." He laughed. They were undeniably his, especially the boy. But he always couldn't help but think his girl looked a lot like….
"Yes…she certainly does." He thought, smile losing its spark.
"See, you can't forget, Harry dear. If you forget that portion of your life, you forget them as well."
Whilst he hated admitting it, the voice was right. Forgetting his past would be to forget why he cherished his children so much. Why he'd pay any cost to protect them. He couldn't do that. His children were his everything. His life, his world, his kindred spirits. They were the reason he hadn't completely broken down after the war, and kept some semblance of sanity. He couldn't forget them, not after the amount of happiness their lives had restored in his. Not after everything.
War comes with prerequisites. Dismay, sorrow, bloodshed. They are unavoidable to everyone involved, especially to the soldiers on the front lines. Especially to Harry Potter, savior of the Wizard World. There had been so many dead, so many wounded, so many casualties. He wasn't sure if he was saving anything. The more he attempted, the more died it seemed. He barely ate or slept during or after, and was sure he looked almost dead. All in the attempts of restoring what was lost. Yet, despite this, everyone had paraded his with questions, pictures, and other bullshit. Some blamed him for the war, pestered him, screaming that he should pay for the damaged, while others followed him as if he were the oxygen they needed for breath. The officials constantly urged him to take this step, say thing, go here until finally he snapped. He screamed at the world and slammed the doors to hims, his mind, and his heart. The only person who had the capacity to calm him down and make him return to his senses, was in a comma. So, with nothing left but hope, Harry waited patiently by his bedside. For seven months, he slept there night and night, helped the nurses with his potions and general wellbeing, held his hand and whispered how happy they were going to be when he awoke.
The nurses constantly said "Harry dear, go and get some sleep. Eat up. Rest a bit. We're all very worried about you. You're deathly pale." He simply shook his head and stubbornly stayed.
"Not that it mattered in the end…" Harry mused, outwardly, devoid of emotion, but his eyes glossing over at the memory of the day his lover woke.
"Maybe Spinners End? I know you never liked it much," Harry hummed in thought. "But I think it'd make for a nice home. Or maybe a cottage by the beach. But you hate the beach. Hmm." He turned to the window, deep in thought.
It was night, all the nurses had retired, except of course, Harry. He turned back to the sleeping face of his lover.
"I wish you were only sleeping…" His lips started shaking, the tears coming quickly. He reached out for his loves hand, clasping it. "I'm so-sorry." He whispered after a while, wiping the tears away from his face. "It's selfish of me to cry. Where were we? Right. Houses." He smiled softly. Harry laughed a little before his heart stopped in his chest. He starred down at the hand he was holding. It was twitching. It was twitching! Harry bolted up out of the chair and pressed the button on the bedside table for the nurses to come. He pressed it insessently, over and over again. The nurses were there within seconds.
"Harry, what is it?" Anne Pilling, the main nurse asked hurriedly.
"HE'S WAKING UP!" He beamed, holding up the hand clasped in his softly as proof.
What followed next was a series of potions, procedures, test, and medications. As he had for seven months, he paced and waited patiently. He was preparing what to say, what to do, how to make light of the situation. How to explain to him what had happened. But nothing could prepare him.
"GET AWAY FROM ME HARRY POTTER!" The screech bellowed as he came to. It was beyond angry, very raspy. Honestly, he doesn't remember what happened next exactly. He vaguely remembers being baffled, trying to explain who he was, asking the nurses what was wrong with him, all whilst his lover screamed for him to get out.
"The curse seems to have caused amnesia, Harry" Anne explained. "He doesn't remember anything about your relations…"
Harry ran his fingers through his hair and leaned back into his living room couch. Needless to say, depression followed, worse than before. Afterall, his hope was gone.
"Or at least that's the way I saw it."
Not shortly after did he find out the news. The news about the twins. He was shocked more then anything. After all how was it possible? A wizard getting pregnant? A male? They must have been joking, right? Haha! April fools! Right? Right? Harry chuckled and stared down at his stomach. Remembering that as he thought it was a joke, they both kicked him. If there was one thing he was really quite terrible at ignoring, it was pain. "Especially if the pain is inside of me." He thought, snickering to himself.
At first, he thought perhaps an abortion was the best idea. After all, the whole of the wizarding community was wondering what the bloody hell was keeping him locked up in a hospital for seven months as is. They were already shouting or shunning. They'd despise him if they knew that he wasn't married. Hate him if they knew he was pregnant. And absolutely loathe him if they knew whos children he was bearing.
Being gay was common enough, so aside from the depressed witches, coming out wasn't hard. But either way his lover wasn't exactly a well loved person in any company. Which had brought up another fear which made him consider the possibility. Could he handle it? Having the children of a man he loved and had completely forgotten him? What if he ended up hating them? But, just because someone else lost something, doesn't mean you get to be irresponsible. So, he'd solemly made up his mind. He'd have the babes.
Oh god, it hurt having them! Being cut open like that isn't exactly a pleasureable experience and the hours of testing and medicine! Ugh! The medicine had tasted like absolute shit! But it was well worth it in the end. Besides, Hermione and Ron were there every step of the way. He had long told them about his old lover and, despite being rude and depressed these past months, they came. They were there to support him just like they always had been. The nurse gave him his boy and girl.
"They look so much alike." Harry smiled.
"They are supposed to Mr. Potter, their twins. One very beautiful, healthy set of twins." The nurse informed him.
Holding the twins in his arms for the first time, his lonliness disappated into nothingness. The void the war left finally seemed to fill. He was whole again. And staring into their eyes, he cried tears of happiness for the first time in years. They were just so gorgeous. His lover may not remember being with him and may never know that these were his children but he just swam in the thought-
"We made them. These two beautiful, wonderful, brilliant beings. We made them."
After he had stopped crying the nurse tried to be serious but laughed and said "Mr. Potter, would you like to name them?"
He blushed and nodded. He thought about it for a while before saying "For this beautiful treasure, her name will be Arcelia Tiassale Potter. And for this handsome and beloved child, Davion Tiassale Potter." He smiled brightly and turned to Ron and Hermione. Hermione was turned away, crying and mumbling how wonderful this all way and Ron had tears in his eyes but straightened up when Harry turned.
"What do you think Ron and `Mione?" He asked, smiling.
"`Bout what, mate?" Ron asked. Hermione turned around, her eyes a dark red and slightly puffy.
"Their names are absolutely beautiful Harry. Just gorgeous." She smiled. She elbowed Ron.
"Oh! Um er, yeah, Harry. They got really pretty names!" Ron's face was very flushed and Harry laughed. Ron was never good at things like that.
"Not good at all," Harry chuckled, pushing himself off the couch and looking around the room. Yes, it's been a very, very enjoyable four years with him children.
He'd made the firm decision to move back to the muggle world. Life would be easier that way. Peaceful. Simple. Exactly what he'd always wanted as a child. Whilst he knew, predominately from Hermione's incessant comments, that he'd eventually have to go back, he didn't want it right now. Right now was simple. Harry could do with some simple for a little.
He looked up at the clock.
Quarter till 5. Arcelia, Davion, Ron, Hermione and their kids will be back any minute. So until then, he wouldn't worry about what lay ahead for right now, he needed to worry about all the people coming and dinner. Now where was that spare table and chairs? The attic, right?
I hope you guys enjoyed the revision. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to mail me. Or if you wish to review, please do put your concern in there and I will let you know. I'm not thinking of changing much to the plot, but the revisions might affect future plot development. We will see.
Thank you guys,
~Rising Nightengale