Just Listen

—Prologue—

The crackling of the dying fire filled the quiet room as a cake-coated paper plate was recklessly flung into the embers.

I scooped down to grab another of the offending items off my newly carpeted floor and tossed that one with even greater force into the fire alongside its comrade. Wincing, I straightened up and looked around at my devastated sitting room. Loosening my noose-like tie, I reasoned that I could easily repair the firework dents in my walls and could have dried the spilt champagne and Butterbeer with a flick of my wand.

When I'm wallowing in self-pity, however, I prefer to do things the stubbornly hard way. Sinking down into one of my new "magically enlarged" couches, I gazed around at the uncanny representation of what my life had been like for the last thirteen months.

If you're wondering, 'What could have possibly happened to that poor man to leave him in such straits?' then you have obviously never been involved in wedding preparations.

Try wedding preparations for an immediate family of thirty-one—and that's just the bride's side. Now, I can complain for hours to anybody close enough to hear about how much this wedding is costing me…although I won't do that yet; it's much too early in my story to send you into a catatonic state of shock. I could also complain about how much work I've done, or how little sleep I've gotten, but really, I wouldn't be telling you what's truly bothering me.

If you're a father, you'll understand the story I'm about to tell you. The first time you hold your newborn baby girl in your arms, you promise her that you'll protect her for the rest of your life and more. But no matter how much love you give her, its love that will eventually steal her away in the end.

There's a time when you worry about her meeting the wrong guy, the kind of guy that wants only one bloody thing. And you know in absolute vivid detail what that one thing is, because it's the exact same thing you wanted when you were their age. But then they get older, you stop worrying about them meeting the wrong guy and start worrying about them meeting the right guy.

I raked one of my awkwardly big hands through my thick red hair, and, sighing, leaned back into my favorite chair in my, now, all too empty house.

God, I miss her already. She's been gone two sodding hours. How am I going to live without her all the time? Well…I lived without her while she was at Hogwarts; I'll manage again somehow…why is her mother taking this so much better than I am?

With a little shake of my head, I leaned forward onto my knees. Her mother has always been the level-headed one anyway. But wait…before I let my mind wander too much; let me tell you what hell I've been going through for the past year. If you think I'm overreacting now, just listen. Just listen…