A/N: Yeah, so this is a sequel to Akasha the Kitty's Master. Absolutely freaking awesome story, go read it (/s/3789532/1/Master) or else you won't understand Redemption until much later in the story. The story is going to be as clean as I can make it and that includes adult themes and swearing.

In the weeks that followed, Hermione knew she was right about him. He never hurt Halen. In fact, her son came back from every excursion bubbling with excitement. "Mister bought me a Sneakoscope, Mum, it's guaranteed to light up if there's something bad within a mile… he took me to the Menagerie and let me touch the snake… the biggest jar of Chocolate Frogs I've ever had…"

"Enough, Halen," Hermione said a little grumpily. "Mister's an angel with a fat wallet. I got the idea. You shouldn't be eating so much chocolate." She wouldn't admit to herself that she was getting a little jealous.

One day, Halen came running up to her as she was heading off towards the Menagerie. "Mum, can I go to Mister's house?"

"His house?" she echoed, rather surprised. From what she knew of him, he was an intensely private person. He wouldn't even tell Halen his name. And up to now, his need for privacy had impressed itself so strongly on her son that she had given up trying to pry anything out of him. Yet he invited him to his home? Strange.

"Yeah, just for today. He says he'll bring me back home."

Hermione looked past him to the tall figure standing some distance behind him. He stood there, watching them. She squinted, trying to make out his body language, but it told her nothing. He just stood.

She walked to him and asked, "When will you bring him back?"

There was a distinct pause before he answered. He never spoke to her if he could help it, she noted. "When would you like him to return?"

"Four thirty, latest," she said.

He nodded.

Hermione looked down at Halen. "You can go, but you better behave yourself. Don't touch anything you're not supposed to. Remember to…"

"Yes, Mum! I know!" Halen interrupted indignantly.

She shook her head ruefully. If she wasn't careful she would turn into her mother. "Go on then."

They left, and she continued to the Menagerie to get owl treats.

He had finally decided to invite Halen to his house. For one thing, there were questions he wanted to ask him but couldn't, not in public where anyone might overhear. And for another… to tell the truth, he wasn't quite sure why he wanted a little boy's approval of where he lived, but he did.

He took Halen on the Knight Bus to just outside the manor, which he had moved into when he returned to London. It was his ancestral home, after all, no matter what had gone on inside its walls – or rather, who had gone inside its walls. Since then, he had tried to change it a little, make a few rooms less gloomy, though most of the manor remained rather depressing. He used to amuse himself with designing it the way he thought she would, though once he finished with a room he sealed it shut. But if Halen wanted to see them, then he would open them up. He looked down at the blond head bobbing besides him. Halen's eyes were big as he took in the vastness of the manor. "Wow," he breathed. "It's huge, Mister."

Halen slipped his hand into his and they walked through the high, metal gates, which slowly closed behind them.

They went over the house, into rooms that he hadn't entered for years, all because Halen wanted to. He had to explore everything, touch everything despite his mother's parting injunction, ask a million questions about why something was where it was, what was it, where it came from… By the time they had gone over half the house, he was beginning to regret having bought him chocolate before bringing him back.

Finally, even Halen began to tire and they sat in the kitchen eating sandwiches, the house elves out of sight. "Mister, I like your stuff. It's so cool!"

"Do you like the house?" he asked.

Halen flushed slightly. "It's… it's really big?" he offered. "And… and it's really… really…um, it's really big!" he said, gesturing wildly as though words could not express the bigness of it all. "And I like your stuff…"

"You don't like the house, do you?"

His face fell slightly, obviously chagrined and unwilling to offend him. "Well, no, not really. Maybe I'm just not used to it. But I'm sure heaps of people would like it. Like James and Lily and Hugo and Rose. We could play hide and seek for the whole day."

"I'm sure you could," he said dryly. "Don't worry about not liking it. I don't like it that much either." He looked away for a moment. "It's cold and empty," he said, more to himself than to the little boy.

"Well, yeah," Halen said, hesitating before he continued. "Mister, don't you have a wife?"

"Do you see one around?"

"Maybe you should get one. Like my mum. She's fun to be around, even if she…" he lowered his voice, "you know, nags a little."

The irony struck him forcefully and a bitter half smile curled his lips. "Perhaps," he said. Yeah. When the Mark can be erased. She already has someone. She'll never accept me.

"A wife would be good for you," Halen said earnestly. "She'd be good company. I'm going to get me one when I grow up."

An involuntary laugh echoed around the room. Halen looked slightly offended.

"What makes you think I need company?" he asked, trying to make him think that he had not been laughing at the second part of his little speech.

Grey eyes met his in a startlingly direct look. "Because you're lonely."

He stiffened. "No. No, I'm not."

Those eyes were still fixed on his. "Really, Mister?"

The perceptiveness of the little boy sitting in front of him shook him. Had he been that obvious?

"I don't need advice from a ten year old, thank you," he said coldly, and immediately felt guilty as he saw a hurt expression cross his little face as Halen quickly glanced away. He had never spoken so sharply to him before.

He wanted to apologise, but didn't know how. Finally, he said, "Are you ever lonely?"

Halen seemed more subdued as he said, "No, not really because I have Mum and everybody. But I've seen Mum sometimes when she doesn't know I'm looking, and she looks lonely. Like when she leaves Uncle Harry's house after dinner and Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny say goodbye to her. She will smile at them, but it's not her happy smile, and then she won't talk much on the way home."

"Doesn't she have you and…" He didn't want to mention Weasley's name. "and Potter, and the rest?"

"Yeah, but it's not the same."

He thought Halen looked rather wistful right then. "What do you mean?" As he spoke, he turned to clear the plates away.

"Aunt Ginny has Uncle Harry but Mum doesn't have anyone," he said, as though stating the obvious.

He jerked around to face Halen, startling him and nearly sending the plates crashing to the floor. "What do you mean, she doesn't have anyone? Isn't she married to Weasley? Ronald Weasley?"

Halen looked confused. "Uncle Ron's married to Aunt Lavender. Didn't I tell you about Rose? He's her dad."

"Merlin," he half whispered. She hadn't married Weasley. She wasn't married.

He hated himself for the wild hope that he couldn't quite quench immediately. Had it been for him?

No. No. It's impossible. Not after all I've done. I… Merlin, I don't understand.

He didn't know how long he stared at Halen for until the boy's voice roused him. "Mister?" he said, his voice uncertain. "Mister, are you okay?"

He turned away to stare blindly out of the window, a whirlwind of emotions raging inside him. What did it mean? Did it even mean anything?

The silence stretched until Halen nervously said, "Mister?"

Still staring outside, he said, "You said you had younger siblings."

"I meant James and the rest," Halen said. "Mum says we might as well be."

"But you call Ginny Weasley Aunt."

"I've always called her that," Halen said, shrugging. "I don't know why."

Silence fell between them again. Finally, he swung around to face Halen. "Did your mother ever talk to you about your father?"

Halen looked surprised at the abrupt change in topic. "Well, I asked Mum about it once but she didn't tell me much. She said she would tell me everything when I was older. She… she kind of cried so I didn't ask her again." A little frown creased his forehead as his mouth turned down at the corners.

"Have you ever heard of a Pensieve?" he asked.

"A Pensieve?" Halen echoed. "What's that? Is it like a Sneakoscope?"

"Come," he said and strode out of the room, Halen obediently following in his wake. They reached his study and he pushed the doors open. He went to a cupboard and pulled out a shallow stone basin covered with markings, placing it on his desk.

"This is a Pensieve," he said. "It allows people to see the memories of others."

Halen was wide eyed. "Really?"

He nodded. "I want to see your memory of that day. May I?"

He saw reluctance written over Halen's face as he glanced away. Reaching out a hand, he gently tilted Halen's chin up so he was looking at him. "I wouldn't ask this if it wasn't important."

A fleeting hesitation crossed the little face but he nodded. "But how? Does it hurt?"

"No, not at all. Just think of that time."

Halen nodded again, his face screwed up in concentration.

He pulled out his wand. Tapping the boy's temple lightly, he then withdrew his wand, a silvery thread-like substance clinging to it. He placed it carefully in the Pensieve and said, "You can open your eyes now."

Halen did, and gasped. "Wow! Is that my memory?"

"Yes," he said. He held out his hand and Halen took it. "Now you touch the memory with the tip of your nose."

They did so, and disappeared into the memory.

They were in the hallway of a house rather on the small side, though it was bright and cheerful. A woman with long brown hair had just entered the house, and he felt the familiar lurch inside him as he saw her. A little boy with blond hair and grey eyes, looking to be about five or so, followed her in.

"Hey, that's me! When I was little," Halen added unnecessarily. "And that's my mum."

His mother glanced at the clock. "Elvira?" she called. "We're home."

Elvira came out of the kitchen. "For once, you're actually back early."

They ate dinner. He noticed the little boy seemed subdued throughout, not saying much and poking at his food. His mother also observed it.

"Halen, what's the matter with you?" she said. "You've been so quiet since I picked you up. Did you quarrel with James again?"

"No, Mummy."

"Or Teddy?"

"No-o, I never quarrel with Teddy."

"Then what's wrong?"

"Nothing." But he continued to shift his food around, not actually eating much.

The rest of the dinner was filled with conversation between the two women. "I've been having a few problems at work… your beloved Crookshanks just smashed the vase the Potters sent you for Christmas… remind me to get something for Lily's birthday… we're out of milk…"

"It's a bit boring," Halen said quickly.

"It's all right." It was. He was grateful for a glimpse into her normal, everyday life.

Eventually, the dishes were cleared and the boy was sent upstairs for a bath.

They followed him upstairs, remaining outside the bathroom. Voices floated upstairs, somewhat obscured by the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. "Hermione, there's something wrong with Halen. He's barely touched even his favourite steak."

"I know. I'll try and talk to him tonight."

A while later, the little boy came out of the bathroom dressed in his pyjamas, his blond hair still wet. He went into his bedroom. The wallpaper had Snitches and broomsticks scattered on it. A short while later, his mother came into the room to tuck him in. She shook her head over his still wet hair and towelled it dry.

"I was only four," Halen interjected, evidently feeling rather embarrassed. He said nothing, just squeezed his hand slightly.

His mother pulled up a chair. "Do you want me to read to you tonight?"

"No, not really."

"All right, do you want to tell me what's wrong with you?"

The little boy was quiet for a moment.

"Mummy, Teddy asked me… he asked me why I don't have a dad."

His mother stiffened.

"Why don't I have a daddy? Where's my daddy? Why isn't he here?"

She didn't reply.

"Mummy?"

"Halen… please, don't ask me about this now," she said, her voice almost pleading.

"But why? Is he dead?"

"No," she said softly, "no, he isn't."

"Then why isn't he here? Why aren't we with him?"

She closed her eyes for a moment. "Halen, please."

"Doesn't he care about us?" he asked, his eyes filled with hurt.

"He kicked your mother out when he found out she was pregnant." They both turned at the voice coming from the doorway. Elvira was standing there with a stack of laundry in her arms.

"Elvira, don't, please," his mother said.

Elvira shrugged and placed the clean laundry on his closet and left, closing the door behind her.

A silence hung in the air, thick and heavy. The boy's eyes were wide and glimmered with tears.

"Mummy, is it true?"

There was a pause. Then, "Yes."

The tears started to fall. "He didn't want me. That's why he made you go away."

"Sweetie, that's not true –"

"Yes, it is!" he cried. "He must have liked you, that's why you got married but he didn't want me, so he made you go away!"

She didn't speak for a moment. Then she said carefully, "We weren't married."

The boy gaped at her. "But only married people have children…"

"That's not always true, sweetheart. I'll explain it to you when you're a bit older."

"I don't understand…"

"Your father left us alone," she interrupted. Her eyes were hard. "The second he found out I was going to have a baby, he showed me a way out and told me that he never wanted to see me and the baby again."

"He… he did?" More tears spilled over. "Then he really didn't care about us?"

She sighed, and her eyes softened. "Halen, there are some things you don't know about. There were problems… I had to go away. The war was still going on…"

"Then why didn't he come look for us after the war ended?" he wailed.

A slight, bitter smile twisted her lips. "I'd like to know the answer too," she murmured, more to herself than to her son.

He began crying in earnest.

She bent over and gathered the little boy into her arms and he sobbed into her shoulder. "Oh, Mummy, I want a daddy so much… I want a daddy like Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron…"

A tear fell onto his blond head as she blinked.

"Oh, baby. I'm so sorry I can't give you a father. I'm so sorry." A second tear fell, gleaming in the soft light.

"But why? What happened? Who's my daddy?" The boy pulled back to look at her.

"Sweetheart, you can't understand some things now… what happened then…it was…" Her voice faltered and another tear slid down her cheek.

The little boy was aghast. "Mummy, don't cry. I'm sorry, I won't ask again…"

"It's not your fault, darling," she said, brushing her tears away. "I'll tell you when you're older. It doesn't matter whether your father wants you or not. I want you. I love you."

"I love you too, Mummy."

She smoothed his tears away. Kissing him on the cheek, she tucked him in and blew out the light. "Good night, sweetheart. Sweet dreams."

"Can you stay with me tonight?"

In the faint moonlight streaming through the window, her small sad smile could still be seen. "Of course, baby." She nudged him and he slid over to make room for her. She put her arm around him and he snuggled up against her.

"You'll tell me about my daddy one day?" he asked.

She dropped a kiss on his head. "I swear I will," she said softly.

"Was he… was he good?"

She looked down at the little boy who was anxiously waiting for the answer. She seemed to be struggling with herself. Then, "Yes. Yes, he was a good man."

He sighed, and the tension seemed to seep out of his small body.

"Good night, Mummy."

And they were once again standing in the study in the manor.

He let go of Halen's hand and crossed the room to face the extensive grounds belonging to the manor. He gripped the windowsill to steady his hands. She blamed him. Maybe even hated him. She hadn't forgiven him after all, had she? He had been a fool – the worst kind of fool – to even hope for that one bit of comfort. He had thought she'd understood, especially after that one glorious, wild night; he'd even let her use Legilimency on him in the hope that she would fully understand. Perhaps she did appreciate the necessity of his actions during the war, but she certainly didn't understand why he hadn't searched for them afterwards.

I wanted to. You'll never know how much I wanted to. But I couldn't…oh, Merlin, will you ever understand?

A voice broke into his thoughts. Halen. He'd almost forgotten about his presence.

"Mister, I think I'm supposed to go home now."

He glanced at the clock in the study. "Come, I'll take you home."

He Disapparated to Diagon Alley and let Halen lead him to the house. Before they reached the house, he suddenly crouched down next to Halen and gripped him by the shoulders, looking into his eyes.

"Promise me you won't tell your mother anything about today. Not even how the house looks like."

Halen looked startled at his intensity. "Yes, of course," he said. "I never tell Mum about you and if you don't want me to tell her about your house, I won't."

"Not just the house," he said forcefully, giving him a slight shake. "Don't tell her anything about what happened today."

"Okay," said Halen.

He relaxed and stood up again. They turned a corner and Halen raised his hand to point to a little house that stood on the corner of a street. "There, that's my house," he said proudly. "I like it, don't you?"

"It's nice," he said without knowing what he said. They walked up to the door and Halen rang the doorbell. Hermione opened the door instantly and caught Halen to her, hugging him. Her eyes were red and it was obvious that she had been crying.

He stood dumbly on the doorstep, not knowing what to do.

Halen was utterly bemused. "Mum?" he said, evidently bewildered by the sudden display of emotion. "What's wrong?"

"Ron…" she began, and then started crying again.

"What happened to Uncle Ron?"

"He's been hurt badly, he's at St Mungo's now… he was with the other Aurors capturing Dolohov but he got hit… oh, Ron, Ron…"

Alarm rang in Halen's voice. "But he'll be okay, right? The Healers can fix anything, can't they?"

"I don't know, I don't know…" cried Hermione. "All the note said was Ron had been hit badly by Dolohov. Lavender's devastated, and Harry and the rest, they're all over at St Mungo's, waiting for the Healers' report. I'm taking you there right now."

Before they Disapparated, Hermione seemed to remember his presence and looked up at him. "Thank you for bringing him back."

"It was nothing." He hesitated, then added, "I'm sorry." He wanted to comfort her, but he had no right to and so he did nothing.

She gave an involuntary sniff and said, "It's all right. Come, Halen."

They went into the house, closed the door, and left him to go back to his empty house and try to wrestle his thoughts and emotions into some semblance of order in an attempt to regain his composure.

Ok, I honestly think this chapter isn't that great. The next one is better.