Author's Note: Hello all, this chapter has a definite tissue warning. The song is by the Barenaked Ladies, and if say too much more, I'll give something away. I'm anxious to hear what you have to say. MNF

Chapter 14:

Another Heartbreak

Saturday, October 31, 1998

Harry POV:

I hate today.

Not Hallowe'en, but today; October 31. Today is the anniversary of the day my perfectly stitched world was ripped apart and sewn back into a too-small, poorly patched, scrap of a quilt. No matter how hard I tried while I was growing up, it never seemed to fit me. My feet would peek out, or my shoulders would be left bare to be chilled in the night air. I lived for ten years with only the vaguest, cloudiest memory of being loved and cherished and wanted.

I was just fifteen months old when Mum and Dad were taken from me. Most people can't remember a thing from being that small. I forced myself to remember. Every night as I went to sleep, I would make myself remember what my mum looked like. How her green eyes danced when she saw me. How her red hair danced around her like flames when we were playing outside. How she smelled when she cuddled me close to rock me to sleep. How good her hands felt as she held me, providing me safety I would wait a lifetime to feel again. There was no one as beautiful as my mum. Well, maybe, there was just one. She's the only other person who made me feel truly safe. My love also comforted me when I'd awake, screaming, terrified of the monsters haunting my dreams. The two are so alike. I wish I knew if my mum were happy with my choice of partners.

My memories of my dad are different. Where times with Mum were soft and nurturing, time with Dad was loud and ruckus. I remember the first time he took me up on his broom with him. I wasn't even a year old, but I remember the feel of the wind on my face and his strong hands securing me to him while he steered the broom. "There's no other feeling like this in the world," he told me. "This is freedom, son." He was so right. On my broom I could forget everything everyone expected of me, and simply be free. Dad read to me too, all the time, anything he was reading, he'd do it aloud so I could hear. His voice was deep and resonate, his brogue wasn't thick, but his r's rolled along and his vowels had a distinct sound to them. He spoke so differently than my mum or his friends, and I remember sitting on his lap, putting my hands on either side of his face, the stubble on his cheeks rough to my hands. I was just watching his lips carefully, wondering what made his words so different than anyone else's.

I have memories of the others, too, although I had no names to go with the faces until recently. Sibéal is the one who sang to me, and Eliza had an infectious laugh. I can hear both of them if I keep my mind and world quiet, and I let my consciousness slip into its deepest recesses.

It's harder to separate memories of Sirius and Remus from what I remember, and what I recall them telling me. I know Sirius took me on his motorbike. I knew it even before he'd told me. It wasn't too long before they were all gone from my life. He'd zippered me into his jacket, all warm and snug, and we'd motored along the remote and deserted street the cottage we lived in was on. His beard tickled my neck and the back my head.

I instinctively raised my palm to touch the place on my head, slipping my hand under my hair, between my scalp and the pillow.

Sirius smelled different, too; tangy, strong and like the huge bales of hay the farmers outside of town would bring in during the fall. I didn't know it then, but Sirius always smelled like hops, wheat and alcohol. It was the beer. My third day of working with Walter brought about that recollection. When I told Walter, he laughed, saying, "That boy would have showered in it and dipped his clothes in, too, if we'd let him."

I remember Padfoot as well. I was certain I had a dog as a child, and after I was deposited at my aunt and uncle's house, I wondered where he was. I once asked Aunt Petunia where my doggy had gone, she told me I'd never had a dog. I knew she was wrong, even though I was only three at the time. When I saw Sirius change over to keep us safe from Remus, I was relieved. At least the my dog hadn't died. Not yet anyway.

If Sirius smelled like beer, then Remus smelled like the outdoors, the woods. I understood why now. Where my dad and Sirius were loud with me, Remus was much more subdued. He told me wizarding stories, and not just ones from books. He'd tell me about famous witches and wizards, Aesop's Fables, fairytales. His voice was as soft as my blankets, and I often heard him while I went to sleep in my cot. Seph told me the other day that he used to slip into my bedroom and talk me to sleep. Apparently, Mum would brag about how well I went to sleep on my own, never realizing I was being lulled to sleep by my uncle, the werewolf.

I sat up in my bed, wondering why today was hitting me so much harder than the last few years had. Heck, last year we didn't even realize what day it was until Hermione remarked about what she'd seen going on in the village in the valley below where we were camping. Today though, it was as if my memories were a weight on top of me, holding me to my bed, making movement nearly impossible. It felt like every bit of energy I had was used in simply sitting up.

Ginny had wanted to be here with me today, but I told her not to come home this weekend. She'd spent all of the last one here, ignoring her revisions, which had now piled up. She had two essays due this week, each one over two feet long, as well as examinations in Transfiguration and Defense. I didn't want her schoolwork to suffer, and I could feel I wouldn't have been good company anyway.

Running my hands through my hair I wondered why this year was so much harder than the rest, and then I spied the volumes of photo albums haphazardly piled on my desk. Seph had loaned me all the memories she could find. I was closer to my parents this year than I had been since they died. Even when Remus and Sirius were alive they never shared as intimate of memories with me as Seph had. My parents were now very real people for me, not just bits of memories I clung to with desperate need. They were interesting, flawed, unpredictable and wonderful now. Seph's relationship with them became mine. While I relished the memories, it also highlighted just how much I was missing now.

I laid my head back against the pillows and wept.

I didn't allow myself open grief often. It didn't seem to me to be productive. If I truly paused to mourn what I lost...

Fresh tears began and I knew I needed to pull myself together. I would not allow myself to waste a perfectly good Saturday, regardless of the date, when there were things to do and people I could see.

I wiped my face with the bottom of my tee-shirt and threw the blankets back. I swung my feet around so I was sitting on the edge of the bed, rolling my neck around to work the kinks out. I then twisted my torso and stretched my arms over my head, loosening my tight muscles. My glasses were on the bedside table, as was my wand. Setting my feet onto the cold floor, I flicked my wand at the bed and made it before trudging toward the loo to go through my morning routine.

I ate my breakfast in the sitting room, going over the news from the Daily Prophet. There was another article about Seph and the mystery of her twenty-year absence. This one suggested she'd been an operative for the Ministry of Magic, working in the Netherlands. I wasn't sure where they were getting this stuff, but there wasn't a scrap of truth in what I read. I looked up and saw the picture of Teddy, Ginny and me at the London Zoo during the summer. He was too small to truly enjoy the day out, but Ginny and I had enjoyed having him with us. It hit me then; I knew where to spend my day. Teddy was too small to truly have memories of his Mummy and Daddy, but I wouldn't let him forget.

Andromeda was usually home on Saturdays, complaining that the shops were often overcrowded and she disliked being in them. She usually did her errands on Wednesday nights, when I had my weekly play-date with my godson. I stopped and picked up a little jack-o-lantern romper for Teddy. The outfit was all orange, with black cut-outs to make the face across the tummy of the suit. I had seen a picture of me wearing something very similar, Mum in a jack-o-lantern dress and Dad in a matching tee. We looked ridiculous, but happy. I also bought him a silly stuffed cauldron with a plush eye of newt, toad's leg, and bat wing you could put inside and then take out again. Knowing Teddy, he'd end up putting them in his mouth, but it was the thought which counted, right?

I Apparated to the front walk of the Tonks' home. She was in a predominately wizarding neighborhood, so I didn't feel the need to conceal myself. If a Muggle saw me, I could quickly erase the memory. No one was even on the street, however, so my worries were for naught. I eased myself through the kissing gate. It squeaked open and then closed again, so I pointed my wand at it and quickly did a greasing charm. I liked helping Andromeda around the house, taking care of things for her. She needed someone to look after her as much as Teddy did.

I knocked on the door and she answered it quickly, surprised to see me there.

"Harry, I'm surprised to see you. Did I forget you having plans with Teddy?"

"No, you didn't. I have nothing to do today, so I thought I could come spend the day with my godson. It's not a problem, is it?" She looked concerned, biting her lip nervously. "If it's not a good time, I can go."

"It's not that, Harry," she quickly stopped my exit. "Er, I have someone here ..." she trailed off.

"Oh, I don't want to interrupt," I hastily added, even though I would be disappointed to be spending the day alone.

"Andi, don't worry about it," a familiar voice said from inside the house. "He's going to learn the truth sooner or later. Let him in." Andromeda nodded and I saw Seph inside, sitting on the love seat, a little boy at her feet, playing with Teddy who was lying on the floor.

I stepped into the house and heard the door close behind me. I couldn't take my eyes off the boy. I felt like I was falling, even though I was standing perfectly still.

"Who is he?" I muttered.

"This is my son, Connor," Seph said weakly. I looked at his face, his hair, his eye color. I couldn't believe it. He looked so familiar. Too familiar.

"Do I even need to ask who his father is?"

"No," she whispered. I was no longer shocked. I was angry that she'd kept this, him, from me.

"How could you not tell me? He's my family!"