Disclaimer: I don't own anything, it's rowlings and rita's.
Sequel to Memories Not Lost - By Rita Arabella Black
The Ones He Loved
The air smelt of freshly cut lawn after a long season of rain. The plant life was thriving. Flowers sat amongst the tree roots even outside of the fence boundaries. Harry followed Marisol through a knee-height gate and along a cobble stone path. The green grass was rich and went for a mile before it hit the garden in front of the house. The roses were blooming, slightly unkempt but not so far as to say they were over grown. The house itself was old. Harry could easily guess that it had with stood the second world war even possible the first. There was just something about double storey building that said it was a nobleman's house. It was the kind of house that was passed down generation to generation. Harry wonder who owned it, he doubt the Ministry paid that well. He asked Marisol. She quirked an eyebrow, in a way that he had only ever seen Severus do. Harry wondered if it was something she had picked off the man or perhaps it was a trait he had learned from her.
"My family had a lot of money. Demetra was like Sirius, disowned. They weren't particularly happy with my choice of occupation and the fact I never married. When I failed to give birth to an heir they cut me off too." There was a tone in her voice that made Harry think she found this rather amusing. "They gave the lot to my sweet old Aunt Rosemary. Rose could never have kids so she doted on us growing up. Our parents had her promise not give Demetra or myself any of their vast fortune. Instead she put it in a vault for Antaria." At this point she laughed. "She was a beautiful person." Harry could hear how it pained Marisol.
"She was the one who convinced me at sixteen that if I wanted I could become the best spy Frances has ever seen. She supported me through my years training and long after. This was her place until last year when she left it to me. It has been our safe haven. Soon as my sister and my dear niece were well enough; we fled England and came here. They haven't left since."
With a touch of her wand, the front door swung open and they stepped inside. They were met with a second set of double doors but this time they were almost all glass. The rest of the doors were made up of a dark mahogany wood and brass handles. Harry couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed. He had never been in a place like this. Not even Malfoy Manor could compete with the classic charm of the old historical house. Harry notice the building was cold due to the high ceilings. He jumped when a house elf appeared taking their coats. He hadn't felt this nervous since facing Voldemort. He followed Marisol through the second double doors and along a few halls until they enter the kitchen. A warm glow from the open fire, heated the room. Instantly Harry liked this room, there was a homely feeling that he hadn't felt in the halls. He noticed the elegant, regal woman sitting at the table. In her hands she held her tea cup, not taking a sip. Her eyes were focused out the window across from her. Marisol pulled out a seat for Harry, opposite her sister. With a wave of her wand, a fine China cup appeared in front of Harry. He looked down into the empty china unsure what to say. He felt awkward as Marisol poured the tea into his cup. He found impossibly hard to look at Demetra and at the same time he found equally as hard, not to look away when he risked a glance at her. She was beautiful like her sister, even more so than in the picture Sirius had shown him. Harry frowned. There was only one thing missing in her, that the camera hadn't captured; life.
"I'll leave you two to talk." Marisol said softly, breaking the silence. Harry shot her a pleading look but it was too late, she was gone.
He turned back looking at the woman Sirius had spoken about with so much love. This was the girl he had meet in the library, this was the woman he asked to marry him before the barely even knew each other. The woman that bore his Godfather a daughter.
"Harry." The longing in her voice was almost enough to shatter his heart. She smiled at him, her hand reaching across the table to take his. It was as if she need to touch him to believe he was truly there. "I haven't seen you since you were a baby. You look like your father." Harry knew what line was coming next but he got a shock when Demetra's smile grew. "Unfortunately you got your father's hair; your mother's hair was lovely." Harry began to laugh. It was the first time he had genuinely laughed since the funerals began. They started off talking about him. Demetra wanted to know everything about her godson. Harry told her of his life before Hogwarts and followed on with discovering he was a wizard. Slowly they began to talk about Sirius and about his parents. Harry was fascinated to finally hear about his mother as a person. He had Sirius and Remus to tell him about his father but their recollection of his mother wasn't as detailed. Demetra told him of her dreams of the future, what she liked to do, how the up-tight school girl had a sense of humour too. It was nice to hear it from his mother's friend; Harry could tell they were close. She moved onto James and Sirius's misadventures and Harry laughed at all the silly things the pair had done. Lastly they spoke of her husband.
Sirius was still a sore subject with both of them, but they struggled through.
"When he came back from Azkaban, how was he?" Demetra barely dared to ask. It was one of the many things that plagued her all these years. She couldn't stand the thought of him locked away in that awful place.
"He was a little skinny but he was ok. He stayed as Padfoot while he was in prison so he was still him, still sane," Harry told her. Demetra had told her daughter everything; she didn't ever want her daughter to think badly of her father. And Harry remember what it was like being left in the dark and before he knew it he was telling her everything he knew about his Godfather as she did in return. Talking about his death was hard but in the end he felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
She cried silently as Harry told her he had gone out laughing. Harry squeezed her delicate hand reassuringly.
"It was devastating losing him. I gave up everything to be with him, he was my whole life and I wouldn't of had it any other way. If it wasn't for Antaria I don't think I would have been able to hold myself together. She is the last piece of him I have left, she is my entire life." Her eyes flashed the window Harry knew was behind him. "Would you like to meet her?"
Harry hesitated for a moment before nodding. "She is outside, down by the pond." Demetra walked him to the backdoor, a smile on her lips.
"Oh and Harry." He turned to face her. "You really do have Lily's eyes." She winked, leaving him standing at the door as she returned to her untouched cup of tea.
Harry followed the yard down to the pond and there she was. She was just as he pictured her, she was beautiful. Her dark haired flowed around her shoulders as she waded in the water. The bottom of her dress trailed behind her in the water. She looked so at peace, so calm. She turned to face him and Harry focused of her face, her prefect lips, her eyes. They were so familiar to him, she had Sirius's eyes.
"Hello Harry." Her smile took his breath away. It didn't surprise him that she knew who he was, everyone seemed too. He watched as she moved gracefully out of the pond. She came to his side before sitting in the grass next to him. Slowly he lowered himself to be at her side.
"Hello Antaria."
They began to talk, easily. It was hard to explain but to Harry it felt like he had known her his whole life, not just the past hour. They spoke of their families and Harry was pleased to find it was all on a happier note. They were there for hours, time was slipping by. She smiled suddenly watching a bird fly by. Harry took her, noticing the scar burns up her right arm. She quickly noticed his questioning look.
"They are from the explosion." He frowned wondering why Marisol or Demetra had never removed them. It would only take a simple spell.
"Let me heal them for you." He offered taking her hand in his.
"No." She shook her head. "Some scars stay with you for life."
"It doesn't have to. It is not like my scar, it would only take one spell, it won't hurt. I can fix it for you. I promise." He said sincerely.
"I am sure you could but I don't want you too." She smiled lightly at him.
"Why not?"
"Because just like you Harry, this is not just a scar to me. It's part of me. This scar is a reminder to me. It is a sign of all the things I have lost and all the things I have gained. It reminds me of the father I lost, the life he gave to save ours. It is the years of longing, to be together. It reminds me of the physical pain we have to go through. We have to fight for what we believe in. It is my sign to never give up hope. It's not the scar that makes a person who they are, it's our emotions and decisions that change the world. Have you heard that muggle saying, what doesn't kill us, makes us stronger. I believe that. It's all about the journey we live through."
Harry thought she is wise as she is beautiful. He had never thought of his own scar that way but he understood.
Antaria looked at Harry's forehead. Her fingers rose and gentle traced the lightning bolt. "If you could, would you get rid of your scar?"
He had thought about it over the years but now his mind had changed. It was part of who he is. It was and still would be the sign of hope for many wizards. As he thought about Antaria's words, he thought of his own parents. The scar was his father's protection and his mother's love.
"No." He smiled at her. "Some scars are meant for life."
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AN. There is only a tiny bit left. It will be up tomorrow.
