A/N: Welcome to my submission for the FINALS of the International Wizarding School Championship competition. Our team, Beauxbatons, has done so well this season, and I've met some amazing writers. Their beta work and brainstorming has been especially intense this round, so I hope it shows in the story. Go Beauxbatons!

Warnings: Swearing and EWE (not-epilogue compliant)

Judges: Please see endnote for competition information

New Chapters

Your name fits in my heart in such a way.
You are destined to be the body for the story of my life.
— Clairel Estevez

"Gonna be all right there, Jamie?" Freddie asked, stopping me as I was turning towards the Room of Requirement.

I shook my head. "Something's going on with Dad, and I don't like it. I need to talk to the babes."

My cousin snorted. "Al's fifteen, and Lily's thirteen. How long are you going to keep calling them 'the babes'?"

"When they stop being smaller than me. Duh," I said, trying to ignore the pressure of being the oldest, the one who needed to find out what was going on. And it wasn't like Dad would tell me. He was always treating me like a child, and this was just another bloody example.

The thing was, I was pretty sure I knew what was happening, but I could hardly bring myself to put it into words—even to myself. Like admitting it would make it more likely to be true. The very idea seemed to go against fate itself.

Lily had arrived at our meeting place first and created a replica of our living room at home. Dad's special armchair, the overly-large sofa with deep cushions, the family picture over the fireplace, and the large rag-rug Grandma Molly had made covering the floor; it all looked like home, and it made my chest tighten a little.

"Jamie, what's going on?" my sister asked with a yawn, sitting on her favourite end of the sofa. "The family meeting thing with no cousins is weird."

"Let's wait for Al. I don't want to do this twice."

The doors slammed as Al entered. "I'm here, I'm here, keep your knickers on." He dropped down across from Lily and let his bookbag fall next to his feet. "So, what's the deal?"

They both looked curious, and for once, Al didn't even look irritated. He looked worried. Good. At least we were on the same page.

I stood in front of them, the fire burning low behind me, and I pulled out the letter. "This came from Dad this morning. It…well, it doesn't sound like him, you know? He sounds…strange." I took a deep breath. "I think there's something he's not telling us."

"What?" Al asked, reaching for the letter. I handed it over, and Lily scooted closer, reading over Al's shoulder. I watched their eyes fly across the page and held my breath, waiting for their reactions.

"He sounds…" Albus hesitated, looking for the word.

"Happy," Lily said thoughtfully. "Like, really happy."

"Yeah," I said, heaving out the breath I'd been holding. "But why? What's changed? Why is he hiding it from us, whatever's going on? I mean, if it's good, we'd be happy for him, right? So why isn't he just telling us?"

Al studied the parchment, and I knew what he was looking at. Dad's scrawl, usually so messy and erratic, looked almost calm now, thoughtful. Dad usually just hurried to get his words out without thinking too much about it, but this was different. Dad was different.

"Jamie," Lily started, looking at me with her brows scrunched up in that way that made me want to hug her, because she looked so much like Mum. Now that I'm older, I sometimes wonder if Dad is reminded of Mum every time he sees Lily. And if so, would he avoid her now that he—

Lily's voice interrupted my musings. "I don't understand why you're so bothered by this. Dad will tell us when he's ready, whatever it is. We should trust him and just be happy he's happy, right? He's been so sad for so long."

I threw up my arms and started pacing. I'd known she was going to be like that, that she wouldn't understand. Thirteen was just too young. "Al, you get it, right?"

"Uh, not really. I mean, I get that you're curious, but if you want to know, just ask him."

"I did. This is actually the third letter this week, and he's completely avoided answering my questions in all of them. He's just talking about work and Sunday dinner at the Burrow and stuff, but there's nothing different, nothing new happening." I paused and pointed at the letter. "And we can all tell that's a lie."

"Dad doesn't lie," Lily said, scowling.

"Fuck that. Everyone lies," I snapped.

Al put his hand on Lily's arm and glared at me. "Don't talk to her like that. Look, we'll be home for the Easter holidays in two weeks; we'll work it out then. I don't know what you want us to do about it now. And I agree with Lily. We should be glad. Ever since Mum died, he's been—"

"I know!" I interrupted. It felt like a punch to the gut. Mum died. That was the crux of it all, wasn't it? Mum was the love of Dad's life, the person he was meant to be with forever, his soulmate. And then she died, and Dad hadn't been the same since. Oh, sure, he laughed and smiled and took care of us and went on with his life, but he'd changed.

But in his recent letters, it was like he was back to how he'd been. Before.

"Aunt Hermione," Al suggested. "Let's ask Aunt Hermione. She'll know."

Lily grinned. "Yeah. See? There's a reason Al's in Slytherin. He knows how to do this."

I watched my siblings start working on a letter to our aunt, but the knot in my stomach only tightened; letters were no longer enough. I needed to see Dad. I needed to know what he was hiding from us and, hopefully, have him disprove my suspicions.

Like Al, I belonged to my house for a reason. Gryffindors know when it's time to act.

The next day, I walked down to Hogsmeade with Dad's old Invisibility Cloak hiding me from any prying eyes. I slipped into the Three Broomsticks and over to the fireplace. I closed my eyes for a moment, calming my nerves, then tossed in some Floo Powder and quietly called out, "Potter Place."

The house was silent as I stepped out into the same living room from the night before, only this time I was alone, and the lingering smell of Dad's leftover coffee assured me this wasn't a replica. I couldn't let myself relax, however, and headed towards Dad's office. If there was anything for me to find, any clue to his change of demeanour or what secret he was hiding, it'd be there.

The room was just as it always was; papers in tidy piles on his desk, pictures of the family scattered across the walls. A two-panelled frame he always kept on the corner of his desk was tilted to where he'd be able to see it while he worked. I knew what it'd hold, what it'd held for my entire life: a picture of his parents on their wedding day, and a picture of my parents on their wedding day.

I rounded the desk and began to look through the papers, hoping for any hint. Ledgers, folders with data about his current cases in the Auror department, all of which I ignored; it'd been drilled into me long ago to leave his work things alone. But in the top drawer was a stack of letters.

I took a deep breath. I was about to cross a line with one of the most private men I knew. My fingers hesitated above them, but I convinced myself to peek inside. I was his family, and I was concerned for his well-being. Surely that gave me an excuse?

I pulled back the corner of the first sheet, thinking I'd only glance at the handwriting and salutation, reassuring myself that it was just a letter from one of us, or maybe from Teddy and Andromeda in America.

It wasn't.

"Dearest Harry," the elegant handwriting began. I scanned through the letter, forgetting any previous thoughts of privacy. Phrases jumped out at me, twisting my insides: "Care for you deeply," "tell the children," and "my deepest love."

I flipped the pages, each of them more of the same, each one in the same hand, and each holding words I couldn't deny: "Love, Draco."

I slumped in the chair. Dad was in love. With someone he'd once hated, with someone who'd been a Death Eater in the war.

With someone who wasn't Mum.

I placed the letters back into the drawer, and my hand brushed something else: a large men's ring. Dad's wedding ring. The one he'd not taken off in the nearly seven years since my mother's death.

Fury at my father, at what he was doing to my mother's memory, constricted my throat and coursed through my body. I closed the drawer and looked at the frame on his desk. Suddenly they were mocking me, the happy faces of my parents.

I'd always thought of them as a fairy tale couple. The hero is fated to save the day, get the beautiful girl, and live happily ever after.

Except that wasn't what happened.

Dad saved the day, sure, and he got the beautiful girl, but their fate was overshadowed by reality. The beautiful girl got sick, and not even magic could cure her. I watched Mum waste away until the illness was almost all that was left. I watched my father mourn his wife, the spark dying from his eyes.

I was the only one of my siblings old enough to understand what was happening, the permanence of the situation, and I think that was the day I lost any belief in happily-ever-afters. But seeing my parents during those years, watching my dad hold her hand as she died, I still believed in true love. I honestly believed that my parents had been meant to be—had been fated to be together.

But this… If Dad could be in love with someone else, if he could find true happiness with a bloody Death Eater, then it felt like the rest was all a lie. Like my entire life had been a lie.

A noise caught my attention, and there he was: my father, his dark hair ruffled, the peppering of grey only making him look more dangerous. Or perhaps it was his wand pointed at me.

There was a moment of scarlet light, and my wand flew from my loose grip.

"Show yourself," Dad growled, his body tense in a way I'd hardly ever seen. "Whoever you are, I know you're there." I almost felt sorry for the dark wizards that had found themselves in this situation. Almost.

"Harry?" I heard a man's voice coming from behind him, and it pulled me back into the moment, my outrage suddenly resurfacing. I tugged the cloak's hood down and glared at the blond man who approached my father's back.

"Mr Malfoy. Dad. What a surprise," I bit out, my voice cold. I cocked my head to the side and glared at Scorpius's father, the memory of my dad's wedding ring in the drawer screaming at me to do something: cry, shout, throw things...something.

Dad lowered his wand and let out a breath, but his posture was stiff and his eyes hard. "Jamie. What are you doing here? Why aren't you at Hogwarts? And why are you sneaking around?" He sounded suspicious, as though he weren't the one sneaking around.

"I dunno, Dad." I glanced meaningfully at Mr Malfoy. "You tell me!"

Dad narrowed his eyes and muttered something to the blond intruder, who, thankfully, nodded and left. The soft whoosh of the Floo a moment later assured me he was gone, leaving me to deal with the man who'd been lying to us all.

"James," Dad said, his voice wary and almost hard, "you've been going through my things."

Dad's accusing tone, his audible irritation at my behaviour, pushed me over the edge. "Well, when you don't tell us what's going on and suddenly start acting differently, what am I supposed to do? Obviously, I was right to be suspicious because here you are, fraternising with the man you used to hate, forgetting about us, forgetting about Mum like none of it mattered!" My voice was loud, and I could feel my eyes stinging, but I blinked the tears away. I was right, damn it.

Dad watched me, staying silent, then he turned around and went back to the living room. I waited, taking deep breaths, and then followed to find him sitting in his armchair and staring at the now-crackling fire Mr Malfoy must have set. I sat down on the edge of the sofa, wondering what he'd say. I'd probably been too harsh, but I wasn't sure I cared. It'd needed to be said.

"It matters," Dad finally said, his voice rough. "I haven't forgotten anything, Jamie. Not a bloody thing. I can remember every moment of our lives together, and it's all important. Every second with your mother, every kiss, every whisper, every embrace. I loved her with every fibre of my being."

"Then why...?" I asked, and my voice was so quiet, I wasn't sure he'd heard me.

"Because I love him too."

"How?" I couldn't stop the shout from escaping. "You've said she was the love of your life. It was always you and her, Harry and Ginny, Mum and Dad." I stood up, unable to sit still any more. "If you love him too, then that means it was all a lie!"

Dad dropped his gaze, and it pissed me off more than any retort could have.

"So that's it. You weren't going to tell us? You were just going to wait until we read it in the bloody papers, right? Until we saw photos of you snogging on the front page of the bloody Prophet? And what's it going to say? The Boy Who Lived and the fucking Death Eater?"

"That's enough!" Dad's voice thundered through the room, and he was standing now, too. "Do you have so little trust in me? So little respect for Draco, whom I thought you liked? Do you honestly think I'd just throw the memory of your mother away?"

"Well, it seems like you have," I shot back.

Dad's eyes narrowed again, and his chest heaved. "Draco is not the same person he was twenty years ago. He's been my friend for years, and—"

"This has been going on for years?" I interrupted with a shout. "How long? Since Mum was alive? Were you cheating on her?"

I knew I'd crossed a line as soon as it came out of my mouth. I might question some things about my dad, but integrity was never one of them.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that, James, because you're upset and shocked, but it will not happen again." His voice was sharp, cutting through my anger like a blade. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," came my automatic answer, as if I was suddenly seven years old again, instead of seventeen.

"You came here—without permission from Minerva, I'm sure—then went through my private letters. Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir," I said again, trying not to sound as petulant as I felt.

"And you did this because…?"

He waited for an answer, and I closed my eyes, aware of how this was going to sound. "Because you sounded different in your letters and wouldn't tell me what was going on."

"Different."

"Yeah. Uh." I hung my head and sighed. "Happy."

He was silent so long, I opened my eyes, confused. He was sitting again, his own eyes closed, and he looked unbelievably sad.

"Nothing will ever change how I felt about your mother. I loved her very much, and I miss her every day."

"But you've always said she was the love of your life. That you were meant to be together."

Dad smiled and met my gaze. "She was, and we were. I truly believe that. How can I see you and Al and Lily and not believe that?"

"Then what about Mr Malfoy?"

"He's…" Dad seemed to be looking for the words, so for once, I forced myself to keep my mouth shut. "He's like the other piece of me. He understands who I've been, what I've been through, and who I am now, in a way that I'd never dreamed possible. He makes me laugh and understands when I need to be alone. And sometimes," he added with a laugh, "he irritates the living shit out of me."

"That sounds like you think he's your soulmate or something," I said, insanely curious and just a little envious.

Dad chuckled. "Oh, he'd like that description." He cocked his head. "It does feel like we were inevitable, I suppose, constantly drawn to one another through the years."

He paused, suddenly very serious, and I held my breath.

"I'd like to think your mum would want me to be happy, even if it is with Draco."

I exhaled and swallowed the lump suddenly welling up in my throat. "Yeah."

"I don't think we're only meant to have one person, James. I don't think Fate or Magic or God or whoever or whatever is out there would be that cruel. Your mum and I were meant to be together, to have you three kids, and I'm so grateful for the time we had. But she's gone, and I have a choice. I can sit around and let some unknown fate dictate to me that I should be alone, or I can take a chance and choose my own future with someone who makes me happy." He took a deep breath. "I need you to be okay with that. To trust me."

I thought back to the photo on Dad's desk, the images of the couples dancing at their weddings, the hope in their eyes for their happy futures. That same hope was in his green eyes now, and I felt the worries in my chest begin to settle.

"Yeah, Dad," I said, and I watched his shoulders relax. "I'll try."

Finis

Competition Information for Judging:

Story Title/Link: New Chapters

School and Theme: Beauxbatons: Write about a character facing or fighting their fate.

Mandatory Prompt: [Pairing – Negative] James Sirius Potter & Harry Potter

Additional Prompt: [Emotion] Trust

Year: 4

Word count: 2993

Warning: Swearing and harsh language, EWE (not epilogue compliant)

Note for judge: For the theme, I've taken a two-tiered approach. James is fighting with the idea that his parents were fated to be together and what that could mean in the scenario of his dad having a second love. Harry has accepted that fate has offered him more than one chance at love and is ready to face that new chapter of his life.