A/N: I'M BAAAAAAACK! Did you miss me? After a long separation, I have decided it's time to get back to writing! My updates won't be speedy, since I still have a month of school left, and I'm also currently in the process of searching for a new computer. But who cares! I'm writing again! YAAAAY! (cue the thunderous applause) And to celebrate, I'm starting a new story! It's all Harmony, and it'll be mostly in Harry's point of view. Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I'M BACK! But I still don't own Harry Potter.

Harry Potter sat in the living room of his London flat, a near-empty glass of his favorite Scotch clutched in his hand. He gazed into the fireplace as the fading embers flickered, barely filling the room with their dim glow. His mind was cloudy, but not extremely so; he'd only had one drink, and had no plans to add to that. The alcohol had been a treat of sorts, as well as an attempt to calm his mind.

It had been a year. One year, to the day, since she'd left him. No excuse, no warning... she just left.

According to the note he'd found on the kitchen table of his flat, she was restless. She wanted to see more, to do more. He supposed he couldn't blame her for that; he had been rather stubborn in his insistence on settling down. But after seven years of living life on the edge, one of those years spent running around all of Great Britain, searching for Horcruxes, never knowing which day might be his last, he thought he'd earned the right to a nice, quiet life.

Unfortunately, to her, a "nice, quiet" life was synonymous with "boring." Harry had known that from the beginning. Ginny Weasley was a free spirit, and could not—would not—be contained, not even by her long-term boyfriend.

Still, he tried. He showered her with attention, bought her lavish gifts, told her how much he loved her at every possible opportunity. And for a while, he really thought it was enough. She always seemed happy, and though he knew she hated to stay in one place for too long, she did... and he thought that maybe, just maybe...

But, no. She wasn't happy. She left. And he let her.

It wasn't that he didn't care. On the contrary, he'd spent more nights than he'd care to admit sobbing into his pillow, wishing things could have been different. He knew better, though. There was nothing he could have done to stop her. Even if he did manage to convince her to come back to him, soon she would get bored, and leave again. And no matter how many times he might bring her back, she would still be the wild, restless, amazingly independent woman she'd always been.

So, he tried to move on. He took small steps, took life without her one day at a time. Little by little, his broken heart mended. Before long, he stopped his pathetic crying. Soon after, he managed to start sleeping better. Within a few months, the sadness had left completely, replaced first by emptiness, then loneliness, and then acceptance. He realized that they wouldn't have been really happy together. They wanted different things, and would each be holding the other back from their goals. And though he loved her, he was certain it was better this way, and in the long run, they would both be happier.

Eventually, he found himself content with his life. At least, for the most part. He even started dating again. Nothing serious, but he felt proud that he'd been able to take that step. And with time, perhaps he would be ready for another serious relationship, maybe even marriage. Harry didn't know what the future had in store for him, but day by day, that future seemed a little brighter.

The last of the flames died with the last hour, and the clock on the wall chimed the hour. Midnight. He smiled as he gulped down the remainder of his drink, setting the emptied glass onto the coffee table. A new day, a new start... a new life.

With a contented sigh, Harry stood, and made his way toward the bedroom, ready for a good night's sleep.

Then something grabbed his shoulder.

"Gah!" he cried out, whipping his wand out as he turned to face his attacker. That "attacker" turned out to be Molly Weasley, and he exhaled with relief. "Bloody hell, Molly, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Language, Harry," she scolded lightly, and he suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Even if he wasn't really Molly's son, she was close enough to family that he didn't think she'd think twice about smacking him.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Anyway, how'd you get in here?"

"Apparated," she replied shortly, then sniffed. "Have you been drinking?"

His face flushed. "I had a drink, but that's all. I promise I'm not a drunk," he added with a slight laugh.

"Hmm," Molly narrowed her eyes in disapproval, but said no more on the matter.

"So, what brings you here?" he asked, then noticed the rather large basket hanging on her arm. "What's that?"

Her eyes grew sad, and she took a breath. "Sit down, Harry." He did so, warily, and waited for her to explain. "I'm afraid I have some... some terrible news."

"What is it?"

Molly's lip quivered, and her eyes filled with tears. "Ginny's... gone."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean, 'gone'?" The sadness in her eyes magnified, and suddenly it dawned on him. His heart sank. "Y-you don't mean she's..."

"Dead," she choked out. "Almost a week ago."

"But... how?"

"Flying accident. She went out flying in a storm, and... the lightning..." Molly broke off in a fit of sobs. She carefully set the basket on the floor, and took the seat next to Harry. He wrapped his arms around his surrogate mother and did his best to comfort her, while also feeling like he might lapse into tears himself. Ginny was... dead? It seemed too horrible to be true. And yet, here was her mother, bringing the news to Harry, even though he'd barely spoken to any of the Weasleys in the past year. It had been too painful.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, Molly," he whispered.

She shook her head. "Oh, Harry... I am the one who should be sorry."

Harry swallowed thickly. "Ginny and I have been broken up for a year. You knew that... didn't you?"

"Yes, of course, dear, but—"

A loud noise interrupted her, filling the room. Harry started, then frowned as he tried to identify the sound. It was somewhat familiar, as if he'd heard it before, but he couldn't recall where or when. He got his answer, though, when Molly jumped up and crouched down beside the basket. She lifted the cover, and reached inside...

"There, there," she cooed, drawing a small bundle close to her, and kissing it. "It's all right, sweetheart. Nana's here."

Harry watched, bewildered. A baby? Why would she have brought a baby with her to see him? His confusion increased with each passing minute, but he waited patiently as Molly soothed the crying infant. When the wails ceased, the woman sighed, and returned to her seat, still holding the bundle in her arms.

"So... who's this?" Harry asked, not caring if he was being blunt.

Molly looked at him for a long moment, then said, "This... is your daughter."

Harry's insides turned to ice. "My... my..."

"Ginny came to me a few weeks after the two of you had separated," she said quietly. "She was in hysterics, couldn't seem to stop crying. But between sobs, I heard her say two words: 'pregnant,' and 'Harry.' It wasn't difficult to figure out. And eventually, when she'd calmed down, she confirmed it. She was pregnant with your child." Molly sighed. "It was hard on her, partly due to her personality—you know better than anyone how restless she gets—but also because she didn't know how to tell you."

He stared at her. "So she just... didn't?"

"I told her that she was being unreasonable," she sighed, "that this was something you had the right to know about. It wasn't until she actually had the baby that she agreed. But she said she wasn't ready to see you yet, so... she wrote a letter. I thought she'd sent it, but after the accident... I found it in her room, shoved to the back of a drawer in her desk, along with a second letter."

Cautiously, Molly shifted the sleeping infant, then reached into a pocket, pulling out two envelopes, both with Harry's name written on them. One was sealed and still quite clean, the second appeared to have been opened and read many times. At his questioning glance, Molly said, "I think she reread it constantly, perhaps trying to decide if she should really send it to you."

Harry took the letters, beginning with the opened one, and read:

Dear Harry,

How are you? I hope that's not a silly question. Whatever has happened between us, I want you to be well. Anyway, to get to the point, there's something I have to tell you. A few days ago, I had a baby. A daughter. Your daughter. Yes, you read that right. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to tell you. I didn't know how, and I wasn't sure what you'd say. But you deserve to know, so I'm telling you now. I don't know what you want to do, or what happens next. I don't even know what I want, really. But you know now, and I'm open to discussing it. Maybe, if we can talk about it rationally, we can come up with some sort of plan. Please write with your reply, or just stop by the Burrow any time. I'm sure Mum would love it.

Sorry again,

Ginny

P.S: I named her Lily. And she has your last name. I hope that's all right.

P.P.S: She was born on May 2. Kind of ironic, don't you think?

Harry's eyes stung with tears, but he forced them back as he glanced at the tiny girl. It was too dark to tell what color her hair was, but he could see that she had a lot of it. Not too surprising, considering she was now almost five months old. Lily Potter. His daughter.

Swallowing hard, he moved on to the second envelope, this one much larger and thicker than the first. He broke the seal warily, and pulled out several items. The first was Lily's birth certificate. He glanced over it. Lily Marie Potter, daughter of Ginevra Molly Weasley and Harry James Potter. Born at 3:57 AM, May 2, 2002.

Harry set the certificate on the coffee table, then turned his attention to what looked like an identification tag from St. Mungo's, with Lily's name and information on it. Next, he looked at a photograph of Ginny, holding the newborn girl in her arms. Harry's eyes pricked again, but he blinked hard, holding them back. The last item was legal document, stating simply that in the event of Ginny's death, Harry had full custody of his daughter, but also had the rights to sign away that custody, if he chose. The thought made Harry sick. Even though he'd only met his daughter moments ago, he knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he just gave her away. She was his flesh and blood.

Sighing, Harry opened the second letter:

Dear Harry,

If you're reading this, you're either snooping, or I'm dead. No doubt Mum is there with you, and you know about our daughter, Lily. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. I can't give you any real explanation, except that I was afraid... and I wasn't ready to take responsibility for it. It's unfair, but... I was certain that you'd insist on getting married and raising the baby together. In fact, that's probably exactly what you would have done. And that's a good thing, really. It shows how much integrity you have. But I was selfish. I didn't want to be tied down. Now, though, I've had somewhat of a chance to be Lily's mother, and even though I think we could have been smarter about protection, I'm so glad she's been part of my life.

I honestly don't know why I'm writing this letter now. I'm not anticipating an early death, and I promise I'm not suicidal. I guess being a parent is forcing me to be practical. Scary thought. In any case, I felt like I should write this, and I've put a few must-have items in with the letter. I've made a copy of her birth certificate, just in case, and there's also her hospital ID tag, something legal that I had Percy help me with, and a picture Dad took of the day Lily was born.

That's everything, I think. I hope you have a wonderful life, Harry. You deserve it, after all you've been through. And I hope someday, you can find it in your heart to forgive me, even if I'm not there to appreciate it.

All my love,

Ginny

P.S: If you do decide to raise Lily, just do me one favor. You can tell her whatever you like about me, and about us, but please make sure she knows how much I loved her. And you. I do love you, Harry. Always have, always will.

Harry couldn't fight it any longer. The tears came spilling out. All that time spent trying to move on seemed suddenly meaningless. He'd never stopped loving her, had he? And now she was gone.

"Oh, Harry," Molly whispered. He looked up at her, and was momentarily surprised to see her arms empty. Glancing at the basket—which he now noticed wasn't really a basket, but some sort of baby carrier—he saw Lily sleeping soundly inside it. He turned his eyes back to Molly, who held out her arms. With a great sob, Harry fell into them, clinging to the only mother he'd ever known.

He didn't know how long he sat there, crying on Molly's shoulder. It might have been minutes, or maybe even hours. Time seemed of little importance to him at that moment. When he had settled down, Molly whispered something about staying the night, and Harry nodded dumbly. He was dimly aware of her guiding him into his bedroom, assuring him that she would take care of the baby for the remainder of the night. Thanking her profusely, Harry collapsed onto his bed, and soon fell into an exhausted slumber.

A/N: Thoughts? Review, please!