Four Years Later

"Marcello! Marcello where are you? Come on its time for breakfast." Conswella called from the entrance hall of the mansion she had made her home for the past four years. Harry Potter had been surprisingly sympathetic and helpful to her after the mess 4 years and 9 months ago. "Marcello! Don't make me have to find you!" She called again walking up the stairs and down the hall to her son's room. She surveyed the room searching for any clues as to where the boy might be. Seein nothing obvious she stepped further into the room. The usual hiding places were checked first: under the bed. No Marcello. In the closet. O for two. Where on earth could that boy be?

Conswella backed out of the room slowly shutting the door with an audible click exaggerating steps in away from the door before quietly creeping back. She pressed her ear to the door listening for signs of movement. Nothing; he really wasn't in there. Well then time for plan B.

"Alright," Conswella said drawing out the word dramatically adding a sigh for effect, "since I can't find Marcello I guess I'll have to return all of his birthday presents and cancel his party…" She said stepping down the hall with a smile. She had barely taken a step before she heard the little feet pattering. Bingo.

"No!" Came the voice of the little boy accompanying those feet. Conswella couldn't help but laugh as she felt him collide with the back of her legs arms clinging to her like tiny vices. "I'm right here! You can't give them back! They're mine!" He said loundly his voice high in pitch and adorable as four year olds often are. She angled her body slightly to look down at him smiling.

This little boy, conceived in violence, and born under less than ideal circumstances, had become her whole world. She took in his small still rounded face and large green eyes a shade or two off from hers, and his jet black curly hair, his toothy smile filled with tiny baby teeth. To her he was perfect, a precious gift she hadn't imagined she would ever have after that fateful night. She bent down and scooped him up into her arms kissing his cheek.

"Wouldn't dream of it. But it got you out of hiding now didn't it?" They both laughed as he stuck his tongue out at her. "So birthday boy, can we eat breakfast now?" She asked, he nodded and they proceeded down the stairs leading to the kitchen.

"Mummy?" Marcello questioned as they neared the bottom of the stairs.

"Yes my little trouble maker?" She quipped

"When in Uncle Blaise coming?" he asked. She paused for a moment. She honestly didn't know when Blaise was coming. Or if he'd even be able to come at all with the war escalating he might not be allowed to steal away. She hoped he would.

"I'm not sure… but he'll probably get you something before the end of the week if he doesn't show up today. " She reassured him.

"Okay." He said wriggling a bit indicating he wanted to be released from her arms. She felt a pang as she let him go missing they days when she could hold him for hours on end and they were both content to keep it that way.

" And I'm sure you've swindled a few dozen more gifts that will 'magically' appear again this year as well. Am I right?" She said as she let him down. He gave her a little mischievous smirk before letting it fade into an oh so innocent smile as he slid out of her arms. She rolled her eyes and looked down at her son with an eyebrow raised as she watched him take a few quick steps backwards while keeping eye contact with her before slowly turning slightly on his heel,

"Race you to the kitchen!" he said taking off running. She laughed and soon followed in pursuit. She arrived in the kitchen to see him jumping around in victory "I win! I win! I win!" He sang smiling at his mother, "I'm the fastest ever!" He proclaimed loudly. Conswella laughed.

"The fastest, with a head start." She laughed "But it is true, even I, Conswella Ashara Giamatti must concede to your great speed!" She finished with a dramatic bow winking at her son. Marcello laughed but paraded around proudly for a few more moments before he was scooped up by his mother again.

She took him into the kitchen to his "Party" which generally consisted of the two of them, and Blaise, plus a mountain of specially wrapped gifts.

Surprisingly, not all of the gifts came from her. Blaise sent a few ahead for her to wrap but he liked to hand deliver his gifts usually. The surprises began 2 years ago, just a couple of extra boxes she noticed among her gifts to her son. She'd not thought on it too much at initially, it had to be Blaise, who else? But once they were opened, Blaise confirmed they weren't from him.

At two, Marcello's attention for his gifts lasted about as long as they were in eyesight and hands length so it was no great feat to remove the extra items from the room. She left Blaise to play with Marcello while she walked to the study of her home, all the while pondering about her sons extra gifts. She didn't ponder long however, for perched on a chair in the study was Harry Potter's snow white owl, in her beak a message.

Conswella had never become friends with the Potter heir but over the years they had come to an understanding and had a deep respect for each other. He had done much for her, gifting her with the home in which she resided. The house was apparently once a residence of the Black family, inherited by him either from his deceased godfather or his parents, she was never sure. Nonetheless, he offered it to her as it was protected under the fidelius charm and far away from the memories that haunted her.

She had balked at him at first, not wanting to accept his charity or feel as if she owed him anything more for his unasked assistance. Blaise was more than willing to help her and that was fine with her. Potter however held a persuasive argument. The house had been restored for him in case he was ever in need of a safe house no one but he knew about, but he had hopes he would never have to use it. She could stay there away from everything, provided she keep it up, or, her had pointed out, she could stay with Blaise who, regardless of his position in the war had irrefutable ties to death eater families, it would only be a matter of time before, her father, or Snape, or even Draco found out about her situation; in her mind the choice was obvious. After negotiating the addition of Blaise into the wards, on the grounds that he was at the time in fact, not, a marked death eater, and that Potter could and would still make use of his safe house, she relocated immediately.

Potter only made visits to the house a few times a year, and when he did she did not always see him, she would just see the signs he left, an open book in the library, a chair out of place, the addition of items to a room. The few times they had spoken it was usually about serious subjects such as the war, certain life decisions, and certain choices in companions. That, was what made the appearance if the owl, on what Potter surely knew was her son's birthday, a bit strange.

She took the letter from the owl tentatively, turning it over she read:

Conswella,

I hope you don't mind that I sent your kid a few gifts. I'm sure he has plenty, but what's a few more right? Friends can spoil their friend's kid right? I'd have you tell him happy birthday for me, but he's 2 so I'll just say, please let him keep the toys.

Harry

Correction. Potter, or Harry as she insisted he call him, quite obviously thought of them as friends, despite all things to the contrary, but hey, this time shed let him have it. She gave the owl a treat from the desk and sent it on its way.

After that, Potter made more appearances around the house, or at least more noticeable ones. He and Marcello had been introduced quite by accident. Marcello had ventured into the bathroom that Harry was utilizing in the wee hours of the morning. Around 3am to be exact. Harry was startled to find himself under inquisition from the small child as he emerged, thankfully towel covered from the shower.

Conswella, who had been making a small cup of warm milk to hopefully coax her energetic child up the street had followed the sound of Potter's laughter to the two, nearly dropping the cup as she took in his still wet, barely covered form. For a moment she had no words merely gaping. Marcello had innocently filled the silence.

"Mummy, Hawwy look like me!" He had said "Why?" he asked causing Harry to laugh harder. Marcello demanded an answer again from his mother when none was forthcoming. Harry took it upon himself to answer.

"Sorry little man," He said bending forward cupping his hand around his mouth as if to tell a secret, "we may have broke your mum. She thought she was seeing double too." He said with an exaggerated whisper and a wink, earning giggles from Marcello. Conswella glared at him only making them laugh harder, she didn't get the joke.

Marcello made it a point to seek out Potter any time he was in the house after that. He liked taking the time to seek him out during his infrequent visits. Chatting non-stop about who knew what while Harry indulged him. He liked the golden boy for whatever reason and Potter seemed genuinely fond of him as well, as evidence by the many extra gifts seen every year. Conswella was sure that Marcello was swindling the man into buying him all of the items from the pictures in the papers and catalogues Blaise sometime brought with him, things he didn't try to talk Conswella into, with his big eyes and soft voice. Should her son ever frequent the halls of Hogwarts she was sure he'd be a Slytherin. She was so proud.

As she followed her son further into the kitchen and dining area she took pleasure in seeing his eyes light up and the number of packages he saw stacked neatly next to the table. Any other four year old would be an absolute terror as spoiled as her son was, she knew she spoiled her son but it was the least she could do when she had to keep them hidden away from the world with a few adults as her only companions. Besides, no child of hers would want for anything Giamatti's never settled for less than the best, her father would say. But in the end it never mattered, Marcello still managed to be astonished and humbled every year by his gifts. The joy and childlike innocence on his face never failed to melt her heart.

"Wow! Can I open them now?" He said with a pleading look on his face, the manipulative little thing, she nearly relented, but stood her ground shaking her head.

"Not yet Marcello. Breakfast first. Maybe by the end your Uncle Blaise will have decided to 'grace us with his presence'" she said.

"Fear not my good lady, forgive me for making you go this long without the pleasure of my company." A deep voice rang from the foyer of the house.

"Uncle Blaise!" Marcello shouted sprinting out of the kitchen and into the foyer, jumping straight into the waiting arms of Blaise Zabini himself. Conswella followed the boy, much more slowly into the foyer watching with a smile as Blaise swung the boy around in a circle, legs flying, before placing him securely on his hip, Marcello giggling the whole time. Conswella crossed her arms and gave a dramatically put upon sigh when the two turned to face her.

"Speak of the devil." Conswella said smirking, "I hope you weren't expecting a free meal out of that dramatic entrance. She said.

"Of course not," he said smirking back at her "I wouldn't want to be rude, I brought juice." He said holding up a small container filled with what she was sure was not juice. Rolling her eyes she nodded her head toward the kitchen.

"Come on then." She said letting them walk by her. She stole his canister as she walked by waving it triumphantly before banishing it to another room. "And Blaise," she said pointing her wand at him as he sat down at the table across from Marcello. He swallowed heavily eyes trained on hers, "Thanks for coming." She said smiling putting her wand away. She laughed as he visibly sighed in relief.

The day went by with a rush of wrapping paper, cake, chases, races and laughter. At about 6pm, having skipped his nap in favor of playtime Marcello looked ready to drop. He had thoroughly enjoyed his birthday and all of his gifts especially the childs broom from either Potter or Blaise. Blaise wouldn't admit to buying it but she wasn't sure Potter was brave enough to risk her wrath, Gryffindor or not. Either way the walls of the house were surely doomed as here was no way Marcello would deem any amount of outside time enough to play with his broom, and she doubted even the threat of punishment would be enough to stop him from taking the risk and riding in the house. Marcello yawned loudly trying valiantly to stifle it. Conswella gave him a small smile.

"Sounds like someone's bedtime." She said Marcello nodded at her wanting to stay up but too tired to fight about it. "Why don't you say goodnight to Uncle Blaise, then you can go lay down." She said. Marcello wandered tiredly over to Blaise opening his arms for a hug.

"Night Uncle Blaise." He mumbled into his shirt starting to doze. Blaise stood with Marcello still in his arms.

"Why don't I just put him to bed?" he told Conswella quietly. She nodded watching the two leave the living room and head up the stairs. After the two left she began to clean up the mess of plates and cups that were strewn about sending the dishes flying into the kitchen to start washing themselves, flicking her wand to straighten up furniture and remove spills and stains. By the time Blaise returned she was re seated on the loveseat, legs curled under her with two clean cups and a pot of tea steaming on the table before her. Blaise joined her on the loveseat and the two remained silent for a few moments.

"So Marcello seemed to be happy with his gifts." Blaise said breaking the silence. "He's so energetic, and what a personality, though with you for a mother it's easy to see where that comes from." Conswella nodded.

"Now if only I could figure out who the broom came from, I could use every bit of personality within me to show them my gratitude." She said darkly, Blaise laughed nervously.

"Yes, I'm sure that poor soul will be glad to have that." He said causing them both to laugh before falling into silence again. Conswella chose to break it this time.

"I wasn't sure you come today." She admitted quietly, he looked up sharply at her, opening his mouth to speak, "It's getting worse out there, don't deny it." She said halting his rebuttal. She shook her head eyes far away in thought.

"Connie," Blaise started.

"Don't… just don't Blaise." She said standing up to leave. He grabbed her arm forestalling her exit.

"He's fine Connie, he misses you, a lot, but alive." Conswella shuddered, anrms beginning to shake as Blaise pulled her back down to the seat wrapping his arms around her. He sighed, "Stop torturing yourself like this the only thing threatening to kill him right now is me as he drags me around on his fruitless hunts. It gets hard to watch sometimes, not being able to reassure him when he finds another dead end in his search you." Conswella flinched a bit.

"I miss him too." She said quietly.

"I know you still love him Connie. I don't understand why you won't just put both of you out of your misery." Conswella's eyes began to water. She couldn't bear to talk about Draco. It was painful enough to relive their happy times in her dreams before they shifted back into her nightmares.

"You know why, Blaise." She said Blaise made a frustrated sound.

"I know it would make you both happy." He said

"It's not that simple and you know it." She shot back turning to glare at him. But he wouldn't back down.

"It's been four years Conswella, four!" He shot back "You've done nothing but pine after him while simultaneously condemning him to the torture of searching for you knowing he never will. You aren't giving him a choice; it's both selfish and cruel!" Conswella's face hardened,

"I've been called worse things." She inhaled deeply. "This isn't easy for me Blaise. I don't want him to waste his life looking for me, but I can't go to him any more than I could stay with you even before you joined the death eater ranks." Blaise rose to his feet then as well.

"I had no choice." He hissed.

"And I still don't. I can't, I won't endanger Marcello that way. I want to be with him but we both know that's impossible." She said her voice rising in volume before she caught herself. "He'll want nothing to do with me once he see's Marcello and refuse to choose, my son wins. Every time."

"Draco. His name is Draco go on say it!" He demanded. Conswella glared at him in silence. He shook his head sighing angrily. "You know for someone claiming to be so in love with him, you surely don't give him much credit. You think he'll reject you, or move on but four years later, but I notice that ring is still on your finger." Conswella gasped looking between her ring and Blaise.

"You know about the rings?" She asked.

"Who do you think helped him find the spells to enchant them? Of course I know. I have to watch him gaze longingly at his when he thinks people aren't looking. I see you doing the same thing, so don't give me this nonsense about him wanting nothing to do with you. If four years of you hiding from him hasn't removed that ring I'm not sure anything will. And don't forget Draco never liked anyone touching things that belonged to him." He said seriously. Conswella was speechless. "I'm not going to tell you what to do, just think about it." He told her. He kissed her forehead and apparated out.

Conswella stood immobile for a few more moments before breaking down. She cried in anguish and frustration. She cried in relief, but above all she cried for the turns her life had taken. She felt so weak, She had never cried so much in her life, but she couldn't help it. She thought on all the choices she had had to make, all the ones that had been taken from her; everything she had lost and everything she gained. All because of one fateful June evening, her world and the rest of it had changed forever.

Conswella wiped her eyes as she came to a realization, no a decision. Choices had been taken from her in the past but she could choose not to let them for her present and future. After all she had been through she knew the evils of taking a choice from someone. She deserved to be happy, and she would be, no matter how much it hurt to get there.