Rosalin's Point of View:

I had been in this city for far too long. I knew every bit of it, inside and out, and it still did not feel like home to me. I ached for England, but I could never return there again.

It had all started eleven months ago...

I had been ripped from what I thought was death. It was not what I was expecting, but it was just dark and silent. Part of me waited for Harry to come and welcome me, but I figured Ginny had welcomed him. I was forgotten.

All of a sudden, my eyes opened again. It was a blinding shade of white and I gasped as I could breathe. "Is this the afterlife?" I choked, but my throat was dry. I couldn't see anything as my eyes adjusted. Maybe Colin had come to collect me.

"No," a male voice had said, but my blind eyes couldn't tell me who it was. He didn't say another thing for a few moments, as I adjusted to the environment. It was very cold wherever I was and I knew I wasn't wearing a lot of clothing. As sight returned, I saw that the man I was with was Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic.

"Oh, my... God," I said, bringing my hand to my forehead in pain. I was alive. "If I'm not dead, than where the hell am I?"

"You are in the morgue of St. Mungo's Hospital," he said. "And you survived the attack."

I'd figured that out and I thought I was going to be so sick. So many questions went through my head. "Did... did Harry survive?"

He shook his head. "I'm so, so sorry," he said, looking away.

Tears burned my eyes. I didn't know how I was supposed to do this without him. "Why am I in the morgue?"

"Well," he said, taking a deep breath. "The public believes you to be dead. Your family believes you to be dead. Your friends-"

"Think that I'm dead?" I asked in surprise. "Why?" I wasn't in a rush to see any of them, actually, other than my father, but that was weird. Peter and Nina still hated me, and I didn't think I could face my siblings.

"Because your relationship with Harry was found out and you're facing some terrible accusations," he said. "You're... you're not going to be allowed up there again."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I'm going to take you somewhere very far away and you're going to start a new life," he said. "You can do it. I've seen your resumes. You're a very strong person and I honestly believe I'm doing the right thing. You will never have a life if you go out there. You will be constantly attacked by the press and fans. You will not have a job at Gringotts nor a spot at Hogwarts. Your family's been torn apart and your best friend from Hogwarts does not want anything to do with you. What life do you have here?"

My eyes burned with tears but I could not shed them. I was far too numb to think about anything rationally. "I don't..." I admitted.

"How does Halifax, Nova Scotia sound?" he asked. "Small city, on the coast... speaks English. I've authorized you to have a good amount of money in the bank from Harry's vault, about as much as I can get away with. It's enough to live comfortably for a few years while you figure out what you want to do."

"All right."

"We've got a few rules to go over first. One: no magic. You have to live as a Muggle. There's not a strong magic community so you aren't likely to be recognized. Two: You may never try to contact your friends, family, or anyone you came into contact with in the past eighteen years. It is of the most importance they think you are dead. And three: If you need help, contact me. I will leave you a coin that will alert me if you're in trouble. I will come do what I have to."

I nodded. He handed me a bag of clothing and told me to change, he would be outside.

I put on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt that definitely did not belong to me, and that felt sort of symbolic. I would never wear my old clothing again. The only thing I had on me was the necklace he had given me for Christmas. A rune that meant love and an owl.

When I was done changing, Kingsley produced a port key. It was Harry's watch, which I desperately wanted to take. We held tightly onto it, and it was a terrible trip. Of course, I should have known it would be, travelling nearly 2500 miles in only five minutes.

It was the first day of my new life.

Of course, a lot had changed since then. Kingsley had set me up with an apartment, a small one bedroom flat near the water. It wasn't much, but I had made it my own. I worked at a book store part time to bide the time. My apartment was paid for, I assumed by Harry's money, and the money in the bank account Kingsley had set up had enough money for three years at the rate I was spending.

It wasn't that my memories had been erased, but they were faded. They did not wrack me with grief. I had lost the best person in my life, and some nights I did ache for his touch, but I carried on. I missed my siblings the most, but didn't cry very much.

And then came May. It was in the beginning of the month that I had started to feel unwell. I was really sick, throwing up all the time and generally not wanting to get out of bed. For a few days, I attributed it to my body adjusting to the new food of Canada, which wasn't really that different, but I didn't want to dwell on it. I had to take a day off of work to try and get enough energy.

While I laid on the couch of my small, second floor apartment, the thought of pregnancy crossed my mind.

Could I be pregnant? I knew anything was possible, but how big of a possibility?

I hadn't had a period since I'd been in Canada, but I had written that off from the stress and grief of everything I had experienced. I'd been losing weight from throwing up, and I'd been exhausted. Those were definite pregnancy symptoms.

As soon as I felt well enough, I brushed my hair and went to a pharmacy down the street from my apartment. I picked up three tests, in case I needed more than one. I was not leaving my apartment again if possible.

Waiting for the first test seemed like it took a month. But when the line showed up, I began to cry.

Harry was still with me, even when he was gone. Forever, a part of him would be with me. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or terrified for the future.

Relief came from that I knew I wouldn't be alone anymore. Harry would be with me wherever I went, because I would have a baby that was part of him. It amazed me and brought me hope. I had a reason to live again.

Terror came from the fact I would be raising the baby on my own. Money wasn't a source of concern, as I had more than enough to keep us going for awhile. But doing it all alone, without a family, was scary. Could I do it?

I didn't really have a choice.

So I did everything I could to make sure the pregnancy would keep on. I locked away as much grief as possible and worked towards making myself healthy.

I made my own food and was actually getting better at cooking. Most of the time it was pasta or chicken and rice, but it was a lot better than stopping to get the fried food that was sold next to my work. I walked fifteen minutes to work instead of catching a bus.

I had not expected to be happy, but pregnancy was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I planned on being depressed, lonely and angry at the word for taking away who I loved.

I was lonely, but I was friendly with a few people at work. They didn't really ask questions about the pregnancy, so I liked them enough. They were no Nina and Peter, but they were still nice people. My closest friend was a girl named Mila.

Mila was twenty five and a writer who worked in the bookstore to pay the bills. She was a little eccentric; she had a lot of piercings and tattoos and part of her hair was dyed green.

But she didn't ask a lot of questions and always offered me a ride home from work. Especially as I got bigger, she made sure I wasn't working too hard.

I got pretty big, too. According to my scale, I gained thirty pounds. But it all went to my stomach. My doctor told me that I was in the normal range and I was doing fine. My baby would probably just be big and it might be genetic.

I didn't think it was genetic, as Harry hadn't been a particularly large man and I wasn't a very big person either, but as long as I was normal and healthy, I didn't really care. The baby was healthy too and I got to see it on screen twice. I didn't want to find out if it was a boy or girl, because I wanted the surprise.

And a surprise it was. In the middle of a snowstorm two weeks before I was supposed to have the baby, I went into labor. Mila had offered to come with me if I wanted someone, and I had declined at the time. But when it actually came to be, I wanted someone there with me.

She came with hot chocolate and sandwiches since it was lunch time. I wasn't very hungry, but she told me to eat up, because they might not let me eat in the hospital.

"How do you know all this stuff?" I asked her. She didn't have any kids, but she'd been with her boyfriend, Stan, for 'nearly forever' as she had put it.

"I gave a baby up for adoption when I was sixteen," she said. "It was almost ten years ago and I still feel like it was yesterday."

"I didn't know." I said, feeling bad I might have dug up something she didn't want to talk about.

"No, you didn't," she said. "But I appreciate that you asked. His parents named him Kevin and he's nine now. They send me a picture every year."

"That's nice of them." I said. I ate my sandwich; chicken salad with grapes and walnuts.

"So, do you want to talk about the baby's father?" she asked, "Or is he mysterious?"

"No, I know who he is," I told her. "But he's not here... and it's not that he's neglecting us or stupid or something... he died."

"My God, I'm so sorry." she gasped. "That's terrible. I... Rosa, I'm sorry."

I nodded. "It's in the past," I said. "And I've got part of him here with me." I wrapped my arms around my large stomach, knowing it wouldn't be there very much longer.

She told me to rest, so I took a nap for an hour. When I got up, we went to the hospital and things started getting blurry.

About four hours later, they placed a very unhappy, pink, little boy in my arms. He was gorgeous. He had so much hair, and it was all dark and wild. I buried my nose in his hair, smelling it. He looked so much like Harry and it was such a painful, happy thing.

I didn't have a name for him, but I was working on it.

Finally, after three days, I settled on a name. I wanted to name it after a few different people- my father and Harry.

My father had passed away almost six months ago, from the brain cancer. I had been watching newspapers and knew it was coming, but seeing it in print had hurt. In the article, it had not even mentioned me, which I felt so sad over. But I didn't particularly like his first name. His middle name was William, which was a lot better.

So my boy was William Harry. William Harry Potter.

After our initial meeting, he was a lot happier. He was a content baby who was fine with lazing about most of the time.

With only one set of arms and one head, sometimes it got harder, but mostly I managed it on my own. I was able to take eight weeks off of work after having him, so I took advantage of that.

Mila was still working, but she loved to spend time with us, especially William. She had invited us out when he was about three weeks old for lunch. It was just before Christmas, so the restaurant was packed.

As we sat and ate, I was pretty absorbed in my food. I'd been up half the night and I was exhausted. As the bill came, I got more alert. Across the room I had spotted a man, with very familiar black hair and green eyes.

We'd locked eyes for a moment, and then the man was gone.

I was up in an instant- after him. When we got out of the restaurant- I called after him. "Harry!" I shouted. "HARRY!"

But no one was there. Mila came after me, concerned, but I tried to play it off as exhaustion.

Part of me still clung to the hope I was wrong.

Author's Note: So, yeah. I didn't plan on this. My (personal) end of this story is at Tonight's last chapter, but I guess this can be seen as an alternative ending. I fell in love with the idea when it was suggested to me in the reviews for Tonight. Probably will be no longer than 5 chapters long and it will get more interesting :) Please review!