Chapter 2
Not a Mistake
May 2026
"Pans. Pansy, wake up," a husky voice coaxed her out of her slumber.
Her eyes fluttered open to find Harry nudging her. She made a disgusted face as she yawned, her breath tasting of stale coffee from her late night; how she longed for a toothbrush. "What time is it?" she asked hoarsely.
"Just past nine."
She couldn't have slept more than an hour or two, but it felt like every muscle and bone in her body had turned to stone. She wished she had never succumbed to exhaustion in the rickety wooden chair. While the many empty beds in that hospital wing would have been the obvious choice, this is where she decided to lay her head. She winced in pain as she stood and yawned, letting the blood flow to her atrophied muscles.
"Ahem." Harry pointed at her chest. She had managed to undo some of the buttons of her silk blouse giving her former lover a bit of a show.
Readjusting her shirt, Pansy just rolled her eyes, "Oh, not like you've never seen them before."
"It's been a few years, but I have to say, they're holding up," he said with a mischievous grin.
"Well, I wish I could say the same for you," which she knew was a complete fallacy. His hair was still black but was slowly taking on a salt and pepper appearance, making him look like quite the distinguished gentleman. He may not have been the chiseled specimen he once was, but he was still ruggedly fit.
He scratched his beard, "Oh, I don't look that bad, do I?"
"I'm not answering that." She looked down to her sleeping son, who looked less pained than he had last night. His skin tone had even somewhat returned to normal.
"I wanted to wake you up because Nightingale was just by. She changed Al's drip and added some dreamless sleep and nutrients, to help him detox." Harry explained. "She's afraid that if he wakes up in pain, the cravings for relief will be worse."
Pansy nodded in understanding. "Did she say how long he would be out?"
"At least a couple of hours." Harry bent over and stroked Albus's hair, then ran his hand down the boy's frail arm. "Eva went to class. Poor girl. She's taking this pretty hard."
"Of course she is." Pansy also affectionately touched her son's face. "She loves him. She really loves him. Not just words. It's the 'I would do anything for you' kind of love."
Her words had every intention of stinging Harry. She watched his eyes lower and jaw clench in remorse.
"If you want to head home and shower, I can stay with him," Harry offered.
"What about you?"
"I always keep a spare set of clothes on me." He pulled out the small bag with the extension charms. "Go ahead. I can watch him."
"What if he wakes before I'm back?" she replied, her voice trembling with worry. "I want to be here for him. He needs me."
"He won't wake up for a while. He still has a big fight ahead of him." Harry had come to face her and put his hands on her shoulders. His hands were strong and comforting. He gently began massaging her, using his thumbs to relieve the tension in her neck.
Pansy closed her eyes, unable to resist the welcome relief. Just for a moment, she accepted his help. Her body was tired and sore, losing the will to fight with Harry. It just felt old and petty at this point. She turned, moved her hair, and motioned to a spot near the base of her neck. "It's really stiff right here."
He kneaded and worked out the knots she hadn't even realized were there. She could feel his breath tickle her skin. His touch was so warm and familiar, in a way that she didn't want to admit made her feel safe. His fingers found their way through her hair, gently massaging her scalp; the tensions melted away to find pleasure.
No longer able to control her responses, she breathily uttered, "Oh yesss..."
Harry released a soft chuckle, and Pansy was suddenly embarrassed with whatever noises must be coming out of her mouth.
Harry untangled his fingers and smoothed her hair down. "Well, It's been quite some time since I've heard those sounds."
"Oh, stop flattering yourself." Flushed pink, she turned around and snapped, "Potter, don't you think it's in poor taste to be flirting while our son is in a drug-induced coma?"
"So, he's back to being 'our' son?" He smiled coyly.
"Oh—you're infuriating!" she stammered. "You know what? I'm going to take you up on that offer and run home now."
Harry's hand reached for hers. "We'll be here waiting for you."
Her heart skipped a beat. All the time she had put between them. Abstaining. Dropping her guard left her vulnerable to his effects. She swallowed and asked, "Is there anything you want me to get or any messages you want me to relay?"
"Tell James. He doesn't know." Harry's voice cracked, and face looked forlorn.
Pansy nodded in understanding. "I'll tell Theo and Hermione, too."
"Just come back soon."
"I always do."
April 2008
"Welcome home, Darling," Pansy said to her newborn son. She looked around the townhouse, suddenly overwhelmed by how big it was compared to the little bundle in her arms. All of those little fears every new mother has began to settle in.
"Where do you want all this stuff, Pans?" Theo asked from behind her.
"Fizzie?"
Her head elf appeared in front of her. Its eyes larger than usual with a wondrous glisten to them. "Oh my. Mistress, is this my young master?"
Pansy beamed with pride and presented the baby to her head of house. "Meet Albus."
"He is most precious. Fizzie will fetch Lottie to watch Young Master Albus," the elf said, ready to help her mistress.
"Oh, that's not necessary. I actually plan on being very involved in taking care of him and will only ask for Lottie's help when I need it. Right now, I need you to help Theo take all of these things to the nursery. Can you do that please?"
"Straight away," the elf replied. Fizzie levitated all of the belongings from Theo's grasp and apparated, leaving him empty-handed and without a task.
"What about these?" Hermione had followed with vases of flowers and balloons.
"Just put them in the sitting room," she directed. "I think a few people are coming over later. It would be nice to keep it all in one place."
Hermione nodded in agreement. "So who is planning on stopping by?"
"Oh, I think my parents, but who knows with them. Draco and Astoria want to bring Scorpius by. Perhaps Daphne. A few girls from work for sure..." Pansy trailed. "Oh! We can talk about your idea about women's health care. You're right. That hospital is a damn shit show."
Hermione smirked. "I'll be glad to collaborate with your staff on that article. It's something that needs to be addressed. Maybe even tease my eventual run for Minister…"
Pansy's mouth gaped in disbelief as she watched Hermione's smug grin. "No!" she responded excitedly, already imagining the future.
Theo wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders. "It's going to be a few years, but we're laying the groundwork."
Pansy walked towards the sitting room with her friends following behind. "Well, then. Let me know how I can help."
"Right now," Hermione said, "We're just focused on helping you."
"Honestly, Pansy," Theo added, as they all sat down, "Mines and I would do anything to help you through this. We're family."
She smiled at him, genuinely feeling blessed to have a friend who has been at her side as long as he has. "If I weren't holding a baby, I would hit you for being so obnoxiously over-sentimental."
He laughed back, "Oh, shut up and let me hold my godson."
Carefully, Pansy placed the sleeping boy in his arms. Theo looked in complete awe and so comfortable all at the same time. "You look good with a baby," she remarked. "You two have plans on doing this soon?"
Hermione gave a sly smile. "We may have started trying…"
"Ah, fucking with a purpose. How ambitious of you two," Pansy smirked. "Well, make it happen soon. Then we can put our kids together for playdates. Maybe you'll have a girl, and we'll betroth them."
"Yes, because arranged marriage makes so much sense," Theo deadpanned.
Pansy snickered, recalling that once upon a time, their fathers had hoped for their marriage.
"On the topic of marriage, well, actually, sort of anti-marriage. I have another idea for the magazine," Hermione said. "The single mum. The wizarding world talks a big deal when it comes to equality and female empowerment, but then it still falls into these old constructs of marriage and legitimacy. You are the big 'fuck you' to the whole patriarchal system — Pureblood, successful career woman, unwed, and now a mother. You're not a social pariah. You're the future."
Pansy leaned back to give her two friends an impressed look. They were two of the most intelligent people who knew how to work the system from inside of it. She wouldn't put it past her if Hermione actually became Minister and Theo the head of the Wizengamot. There they were, plotting her rise from forgotten mistress to the symbol of wizarding feminism.
The wheels in the publisher's head began turning. "I'll talk to the staff about it. Perhaps we could run teasers leading up to my return from maternity leave. Talk about the lack of childcare in the workplace, how short maternity leave is, and maybe how the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight' is slowly turning our backs on the system."
"I'd gladly be a contributor to that one," Theo added. "Especially since it was my great-grandfather who wrote that bit of rubbish."
Hermione leaned in to kiss her husband. Pansy looked upon them with a pang of jealousy. They too started their relationship with a bout of infidelity and scandal, but they pushed through, persevered the judgment and ridicule, and the threats to their careers. The Notts rose from the ashes. They made it work because they wanted it. She had thought about why they worked, but she and Harry couldn't. Was Hermione more ambitious, more emotionally available? Was Harry too broken? Did his childhood destroy him to the point that he would choose honor and loyalty over his own happiness? Over the past few months, she had time to wonder and theorize. So many questions she wanted to ask him, but he was afraid she'd never get any answers.
A buzz at the door alerted the friends that the first visitor had arrived. Theo handed Albus back to his mother.
"Time to make your debut," Pansy beamed at her child. She smoothed the soft fabric of his mint green footed onesie. "This really is your color. Just remember that."
"I'm sorry, sir. Mistress does not want to see you," Fizzie said to the guest.
Pansy's chest seized, knowing precisely who was at the door. She held onto her son tightly, unsure of what she should do. Did she truly want to be the only parent in her child's life, or was she ready to open the door both literally and figuratively?
Hermione placed a hand on Pansy's knee reassuringly. "Let me handle this."
"Hermione—" she started to say, but the words didn't come.
"It's okay," Theo insisted. "She's got this."
Pansy bit her lip in worry as she watched her friend leave the room.
With a flourish of her wand, Hermione's purse opened and summoned an object. She sent one end to herself and another to Pansy. "Extendable Ears. You can listen to the whole conversation."
"Thank you," Pansy replied anxiously.
Hermione stepped outside and shut the door behind her.
"Aunt Mione!" A precocious three-year-old called as he ran to her.
She scooped him up and attacked him with kisses. "How is my Jamie Dodger?" The name she had affectionately given him after going through a phase of only eating Jammie Dodgers for a week. That and his mop of strawberry colored hair to match the strawberry jam of the biscuit.
"I'm good. Daddy said we're going to meet my brother today," he said in all his pure, childhood innocence.
"Did he now?" Hermione gave Harry a stern look and put James down. "Jamie, can you do earmuffs for me? Your daddy has been a very naughty boy and needs a good scolding."
The little boy giggled and covered his ears with his tiny, chubby hands. For good measure, Hermione cast a charm so that the boy couldn't sneak a listen to his father's chastising.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Hermione poked him in the chest. "I've told you for months to make this right. I told you when we were on our way to the hospital. I've given you every fucking chance, and you think, 'Oh, I'll just pop by with James so he can meet his little brother.' How can you be so dense? Oh, and you're entirely manipulating the situation by bringing him here. Fucking unbelievable."
Harry retaliated, "Fucking hell, Hermione. Can I get in a word?"
"Daddy, Auntie Mione's mad at you," James teased.
Hermione turned to James, "Can you hear me?"
"What?" he yelled back trying to pull his hands off his ears.
"Oh, good," Hermione relaxed. "Harry, if it was me, and I was scorned the way Pansy was, I would refuse to open the door."
Harry's eyes welled with emotion. "Hermione. You know why I had to stay with Ginny. I made a vow. I promised. The Weasleys wouldn't have been able to take care of her."
"Bullshit, Harry. You made a fucking decision without consulting anyone. Your fucking impulsiveness and honor need to take a fucking chill pill every now and then," she fumed.
"She said she didn't want me a part of her life or the baby's, so I stayed away."
Hermione grew frustrated. "Harry, you're good at listening, but you're shite at listening. Am I going to have to spend the rest of my life explaining to you what things actually mean?"
Harry grew defensive. "That's what she wanted, so that's what I did, but I never stopped loving her or wondering about my son. I've kept an eye on her from a distance. It's killed me. But now that he's here, and I have two sons—brothers—I can't stay away. They need to know each other." He sounded desperate and remorseful. "Please, Hermione. I just can't stay away any longer. They need me, and I need them. Please let me meet my son."
Hermione stood hesitantly, unsure of what to do. She was torn between two friends, well, three, actually, although Ginny hasn't spoken to her much in the past few months. More importantly, she was the godmother of both of these boys, and she had promised their parents that she would always have their best interests, no matter what. "I'll take James to meet Albus— Just him."
"She named him Albus?" Harry sounded surprised and hopeful.
"Albus Severus Potter," Hermione confirmed. "She must still love you because I sure as hell wouldn't have given the baby your last name, let alone that god awful name you picked out."
Harry shook his head with a laugh.
She held out her hand. "Now give me James, and you wait out here."
"Hermione—" he pleaded.
"Harry, I can't," she sighed. "Theo and I have tried to do our best to help her get over you and ready her for a life of being a single parent."
"That's why I need to see her. She doesn't have to. I just fucked up, okay? Please, Hermione."
The door clicked open to reveal Pansy standing there with the little bundle in her arms.
Hermione stepped back, shielding Pansy and Albus from Harry. "Pansy, you don't have to do this."
"It's alright," she tried to reassure Hermione, but the waver in her voice betrayed her.
"PANSY!" James hollered. "Is that my brother?"
Pansy waved her wand, relieving James of the sticking charm. "Hello, Jamie. I've missed you. Come on in. I can see if Fizzie can find some biscuits and milk for you."
"Jammie Dodgers!" he exclaimed.
"Those are Muggle biscuits," Hermione reminded him as she hoisted him onto her hip, "But Fizzie is an excellent baker. I'm sure she can make something special."
Pansy led them all back to the sitting room without saying a single word to Harry, or even looking him in the eye. She just took a seat on the sofa and tapped a place for James to sit right next to her. Hermione plopped the boy down and sat on his opposite side. "Are your hands clean, James?"
He covered his face and snickered.
"I see," Pansy said, catching the naughty child in the act. "Theo, can you take James to wash up?"
"I can take him," Harry spoke up. "I could use a washup myself."
James wiggled off the sofa and ran to his father.
Harry confidently strode to the washroom without anyone having to tell him where to go. It was a painful reminder to Pansy that this had once been his home, if even for only a few short months.
"Pansy, are you absolutely sure about this?" Theo asked with concern.
She released a sarcastic laugh. "Not at all." She looked down at her baby, who was now wide awake; his eyes had gradually begun taking on a more distinctive green color. "Allie, what should I do? Do you want to meet your father?" He yawned and smiled. "Should I take that as a yes, or did you poop?"
Pansy lifted the baby to smell his bottom. "What has my life become, Albus? I'm sniffing a baby's arse, Hermione Granger is my best friend, and your father is Harry Potter. I must have entered a special kind of hell."
Hermione gave her a scolding look. "You better be damn thankful Hermione Granger is your best friend because I can't see Daphne or Tracey trying to clean up this mess. Throw you a posh shower, sure, but playing referee, good luck."
"Don't get so jealous, Granger." Pansy gave her a wicked smile. "You know you're my person."
The two women smiled, knowing the seventeen-year journey from school adversaries to acquaintances to this, was indeed an unbelievable feat. They interlaced their fingers in solidarity, awaiting Harry and James's return.
"They're clean!" James displayed his freshly washed hands for all to see. "Can I touch the baby now?"
"Yes, you may," Pansy replied.
The boy made himself comfortable between his godmother and his brother's mother. He put his arms out wide, something his father must have told him to do. Pansy placed Albus in his brother's embrace, while Hermione helped James support the baby's head.
"He's so tiny," James marveled. He pushed the blanket away to see more of the baby's features. Intrigued, he touched the baby's hair. "So soft."
"Be gentle," Harry called from across the room.
"Daddy, he looks like you," James said excitedly. "He has black hair."
"And green eyes," Pansy added. The first time she had addressed him since his arrival. A shiver came over her as his eyes met hers. She hated this feeling. She fucking hated hope. It was only ever followed by disappointment.
"Can I?" Harry asked, hesitantly.
Pansy wrapped her arms around both James and Albus protectively, as if somehow, she could pull strength from their innocence. She kissed Albus on his forehead then turned to Harry and said, "Yes."
Timidly, Harry crossed the room. He bent down to his sons. The elder, joyous and proud. The younger, pure and oblivious to the world he was brought into. They were different in appearance, oh so clearly taking on the features of their mothers. Pansy watched her former lover and her son gaze upon each other for the first time. Of course, she had an instant connection to Albus, but watching Harry, it was something different. Harry had once told her about the Mirror of Erised and what he saw. He said that he saw an entire family of people who shared his characteristics. People who were long gone, but whom he had received their traits—messy black hair, bright green eyes, not too tall or too short in stature, jawlines that were neither too pointed or too squared, and many even had poor vision by the number of eyeglasses he saw. While he had a family and he loved James, his son looked like another member of the Weasley family. Just another reminder he was taken into the family, but not truly a part of it. Pansy could see it on Harry's face. He now had another person in this world that looked like him. His family—but not. This was the boy Harry had rejected upon discovering his conception. The universe had punished him for his sins.
She could see tears begin to form as he took Albus from James. Harry was silent. Contemplative. He took every moment to soak in what this all meant. Pansy watched intently as Harry's eyes flicked back and forth, committing the baby's features to memory.
"I'm so sorry, Albus," Harry choked on a soft sob. He kissed the boy's forehead and let the tears fall.
It was all too much. The walls Pansy had built around herself over the past few months, convincing herself she would be okay, had crumbled in an instant. She hid her face behind her hands as she sobbed.
"James," Theo called softly, "come with Hermione and me. It's a lovely day. Let's play in the back garden a bit, yeah?"
The toddler jumped off of the sofa eagerly, too young to process the complexities of the situation.
Harry sat next to Pansy with their son in his arms. Albus must have sensed the tension in the air, and began to whimper.
"Give him to me," Pansy said softly. Cradled in her arms, Albus was soothed and comforted by his mother's embrace.
A knuckle ran under her eye, brushing away the tears. She turned to find herself face-to-face with Harry. Here in what was once their living room, on a sofa they had laid on together discussing the world and their future, she felt vulnerable. His mere presence made her long for those moments once more. That ache grew the moment she felt his lips on hers. She should have pulled away, but his kiss felt like a soothing balm on an open wound. Healing. Comforting. Salty and wet from tears, they both poured their souls into that kiss. A million unsaid things expressed through the physical. It was real. It was always real. Not a torrid affair. Not a mistake. Actual, factual, real love. But was it enough?
"I've missed you," he said mournfully.
"Then stay."
"You know why I can't."
She sniffed back a tear, silent without response.
"I watched you almost every day. Waiting for you to come and go from work. Watching you grow more beautiful."
Pansy leaned her head on his shoulder. "Why didn't you say anything."
"I was scared."
"Of what?"
He sighed deeply. "Of this. Of how much I still love you. Of how fucked my world is. How no matter what decision I make, I take people down with me."
The baby made a sucking noise and a funny o-shaped face with his lips. Instinctively, Pansy began unbuttoning her blouse and released one of her engorged breasts from the far-from-sexy nursing bra. The newborn quickly found his way to his mother's milk.
"Sorry," Pansy apologized, "he's just hungry all the time."
"You're a vision like this."
She blushed fiercely. Pansy had felt far from glamorous or anything more than a food supply over the past few days. It pained her how wonderful he made her feel.
"Harry, where do we go from here?" She asked.
"Let me be his father," he pleaded.
"And us?"
"I don't know," he said in earnest. "I don't know how to get what we both want without someone getting hurt."
"You already know what I think and how we can achieve this." She already felt defeated and didn't want to have this conversation, knowing it wouldn't go anywhere. "There won't be an 'us' if I can't have you—" her throat tightened, fighting the pain of their reality. "Once a week. Come by once a week for two hours until we can come up with a better plan. James is more than welcome."
Harry affectionately ran his thumb across the feeding child's forehead. "I promise to be there for you. I'll figure this out, I promise."
"Harry, don't make promises you can't keep."
He lifted his gaze to hers. He was so close. Too close. She was exposed in every sense of the word. Pansy knew he didn't intend to, but his mere presence dissolved her resolve.
"Pansy," he said softly, almost a whisper, soothing and comforting to both mother and child. "I'm not great with plans or even thinking things through, no matter how long it takes, I'll find a way to be a father to Albus. If I can find a way for you to forgive me, I'll figure that out too."
There she was, wrapped up in the moment, postpartum hormones fueling irrational thought, ready to let him back into her life. Her lips were parted, ready to speak.
"Daddy!" A rambunctious James hollered from the other side of the house.
Startled, unsure if the child had ever seen a bare breast, let alone a baby attached to one, Pansy quickly covered herself with a receiving blanket.
James ran into the sitting room, Hermione and Theo playfully chasing him.
"We're going to get you!" Theo called from behind. He crouched as he walked with his arms curled close to his body, resembling one of those extinct creatures she had seen in a book about prehistoric magical and non-magical beasts. While Theo was tall and long-limbed and could have easily caught up with the child in a single stride, pretending to be a velociraptor was far more fun.
"Daddy! We're playing dinosaurs. Come play with us!" The boy rushed the words in a single breath. With all his might, those tiny little hands gripped his father's wrist, attempting to coax him from his seat. "Come on, Daddy. Albus can play too."
Another wave of melancholia came over Pansy. In another life, she and Harry could have raised Albus and James together. This place would have been their home. The house would have been filled with giggles, and playing pretend and torturing godparents.
"I'm afraid he's still too little to play with you, sweetheart," Pansy spoke to the boy with affection. Not an ounce of ill will to the boy who belonged to another woman. He was just another victim of the games adults play. She felt the baby release, finished with his feeding. "Oh. He must know we're talking about him."
The little boy emerged from beneath the striped flannel blanket, looking satisfied with his little face messy with saliva and milk. It was a sight to behold, and Pansy couldn't help but laugh and gush at her son.
"Men never change. All they need is a good pair of tits to make them happy," Pansy joked. She looked over to see Harry turn away and hide his blush, in which she responded with a satisfied smirk. "Go with James. We'll be here waiting."
July 2016
"What are you drawing there, Darling?" Pansy looked upon her son doodling on several sheets of paper all at the same time. She had learned not to mind the mess that came with children; crayons, paints, and all manner of creative fuel for their tiny masterpieces.
"Our family," the boy answered his mother nonchalantly, clearly too engrossed in his project to look up.
Pansy moved to inspect her son's work and proceeded to act like an art critic, a game the two of them often played after many trips to galleries and museums around London and Paris. She picked up the drawing of the two of them. "Ah, Albus Severus Potter is slowly moving from his Abstract and whimsical phase into Impressionism. There is evidence he has yet to embrace realism as there is no way his mother's head is that big, though the all-black ensembles of both subjects seem to relay status and fashion rather than a funereal tone."
Albus laughed, still not tired of his mother's sense of humor. "That's supposed to be from when we went to the fashion show. That shirt was itchy."
"Ah yes," Pansy pinched her lips between her teeth and stifled a laugh. A while back, they were in Paris for Haute Couture Fashion Week. Both Muggle and Wizarding fashion houses revealed the upcoming season's collections. With street fashion ranging from athleisure to avant-garde, both worlds passed each other, none the wiser.
There was one event held at the Grand Palais, where guests were invited to bring their children. While unconventional, Pansy always enjoyed bringing Albus along with her to different work events and even to the office. After all, his first cover shoot was when he was only eight weeks old.
It was for the Single Mothers issue for Witch Weekly, marking Pansy's return after a short maternity leave. She was stoic, in a fitted suit, long black hair with her signature fringe ironed stick straight flowing in the wind, eyeliner sharp and lipstick glossy, all while her son nursed from her exposed right breast. It was shocking and thought-provoking, receiving both praise and backlash. It was everything she wanted to accomplish. It had taken her years, but the shift from gossip rag to empowering female-focused journalism and content had begun. Unfortunately, it also began the world's fascination with Harry Potter's illegitimate son.
Throughout his life, Pansy had guarded him against prying eyes and aggressive photographers. It came to the point that Harry had bestowed one of his most prized possessions, an invisibility cloak, so that Pansy could conceal Albus when he was in public. It was when the pair made official appearances; she felt like she could better control the situation, by pre-arranging interviews and photo ops. Harry had offered additional undercover auror detail, which she would usually accept. Pansy had notoriety, first as an editor, and now the owner of a multinational media empire, but Harry was both a hero and had enemies. The two parents went head-to-head on many aspects of their child's upbringing, but his safety was something they always agreed on.
"Mum," he said, pushing a picture of his godparents and their daughter to the side, and starting a new portrait. "Do I have to go to Daddy's birthday party?"
"I'm sure he would like you to be there," she replied tentatively, curious as to where this conversation was going.
"Can we be late? Daddy was late to my birthday." He pouted as he dug the crayon deeper into the paper.
Pansy rubbed her temples. Her son had taken on many of her character traits, including being vindictive and holding grudges. She had hoped that the child would have just a touch more of a forgiving nature, but it didn't appear so. "Albus, it's poor manners to arrive late. Besides, James will be there, and so will Marina. Don't forget Teddy. "
"Yeah, but so will Rose, Hugo, and the Red Momster."
In the eight years of her son's life, the struggles of shared custody were the norm, and she had given up all hope of Harry ever changing his mind about leaving Ginny. Relations with the Weasleys were civil at best. Pansy could care less what they thought about her, but their dismissal of Albus would never sit well with her. Not everyone had treated an innocent child as if he was discarded rubbish. There was James, who adored his little brother and managed not to be influenced by the rest of his family. Teddy, Harry's godson, who also lived in a less traditional home, managed to be kind and welcoming to Albus. Then there was Theo and Hermione's daughter, Marina. Hermione somehow managed to get back into the Weasley's good graces, but they still held a grudge against her husband and their outspoken child. Albus may not have been welcomed in his father's family, but at least he was in the company of other outcasts. Strength in numbers.
"Al, is there something else going on?" Pansy asked with concern.
"I just…I don't know." The boy shrugged and kept drawing.
Upon further inspection, his drawings told a story. The boy and his mother in black with subtle smiles. A man with messy black hair with his back turned. A happy family of three between the mother and child. To the side was a drawing of a sad boy waving goodbye from a train car. The most ominous of all the images was an angry red demon sitting in a chair. She clenched her fists tightly, fury building in her gut. "Albus, is it just the party you don't want to go to, or is there more you want to tell me?"
Albus put down his crayon and addressed his mother. "James is going to Hogwarts soon."
"Does that make you sad?"
He nodded his head up and down, unwilling to say the words.
"You know you can write him letters," she comforted, "I can help you."
"If James is gone, I don't want to visit Daddy."
Times like this Pansy was reminded of the honesty of children and to trust in their instincts. Instead of insisting that he maintain a relationship, she pried further. "Do you not want to see your father anymore?"
He shrugged and grew quiet, turning into himself, afraid to reveal anything. A knot tightened in Pansy's stomach
"Al, I can't help you unless you talk to me."
"Am I a mistake?" he asked with tears in his eyes.
"What?" Astounded, Pansy reassured her son, "You are not, and never were a mistake. Despite all the problems your father and I have, you are a product of love. Nothing made with love can ever be a mistake."
At this point, the child was sobbing. "She said I was. I heard her talking to Daddy. That every time she looks at me, she sees a mistake. That if Daddy was good, I wouldn't be alive."
Pansy took her son in her arms and held him tightly, kissing the top of his head, hoping to remind him of how loved he was. "Don't you believe a word that woman says. She's awful and angry."
Choking on his tears, he said, "Does Dad love me? If Dad loved me, he would say something, right? He wouldn't just let her be mean to me. And he's never ever around."
She didn't want to make any more excuses for Harry to her son. Pansy was tired of using Harry's job to explain to Albus why his father broke his promises. Whatever his reasons were his own, it was up to her to be both parents right now. "That's something you're going to have to ask him one day. But know this. I love you. Hermione, Theo, James, and Marina love you. Your grandparents love you. The girls at work love you. Lots and lots of people love you, and I'm not going to put you in a situation that will ever make you feel like you aren't loved and supported." She kissed him once more. "Go upstairs and change. I think a walk through the city, and maybe a stop for a nice dinner and some ice cream will do us some good."
Albus gave his mother a kiss on the cheek and ran to his bedroom.
Pansy reached for her mobile and sent a text. She had been skeptical at first when FireComm released modified smartphones that worked off of magical energy fields rather than electricity. The technological marvel proved its efficiency and had quickly become part of everyday life—including sending angry messages to exes.
We won't be attending your birthday. Also, I'm calling my attorney to change the terms of our custody arrangement.
"Happy Birthday, Harry," she muttered bitterly to herself. Barely a second passed when she received a response.
I'm coming over.
She should have known this is how he would react. Instead of responding and telling him to stay put, she opened the door, ready to meet him.
The crack of apparition sounded like thunder, charged with emotional energy. There was nothing discreet about Harry's arrival. He barged through the doorway and commanded, "Kitchen. Now."
Pansy rolled her eyes as she closed the door and followed him. The elves were still cleaning up from lunch and were startled by their mistress's appearance along with their young master's father.
"Fizzie, Mudge, Lottie, can you please move onto some other tasks right now? Harry and I need this room for a bit."
The servants didn't question the orders and left immediately.
"What's going on, Pans?" Harry spat the question. "You just blindside me in a text. No explanation. No, 'we need to talk.'"
"Drink?" she asked, casually as she walked to the cupboard to prepare herself one.
"Yeah," he responded somewhat calmer. "Pansy, what is this all about?"
After pouring three fingers of whisky for herself and then for Harry, she took a swig from her glass before explaining. "Harry, how old were you when you realized your family treated you differently than your cousin?"
"For as long as I can remember. But wha—"
"How much would you have loved to have a grown-up to speak up on your behalf when your aunt and uncle would make you feel insignificant?"
"I would have given anything for that."
"So why don't you do that for Albus?" she accused. "Today he told me he doesn't want to come around to yours once James goes to school, and that your wife calls him a mistake. Is this true?"
Harry stared at the amber liquid a while before knocking it all back. "I didn't think he was listening."
"Well, he was, and the worst part is that his father didn't defend him. You know he asked me if you loved him." She poured herself a bit more to drink. Not being a Gryffindor, courage didn't come naturally, so she would take it in liquid form. "I didn't know what to tell him, other than to ask you."
He reached over to the bottle and poured a little more for himself. "You know I love him. You should have told him—"
"No." She interjected. "You should tell him. You should make time for him. You should find ways to be there even when you can't."
"How do I do that, Pans? Tell me? Because I'd love to know," he huffed in frustration.
"That's your problem, Harry. You've depended on everyone to guide and direct you. This is a problem you have to figure out on your own. I can't coordinate with your secretary. Do you have any idea of how many times you've been late or canceled on Albus? I see it on his face and his body language. He's giving up on you. Just like I did. There's only so much heartache someone can take."
Harry tried to reach for her hand, but she just pulled away.
"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I'll try harder. Maybe stop in after work, take dinner with you two more often."
"It's a start. Either here or neutral territory. Your house has...negative energy."
Harry snorted, "You're telling me."
"I still don't know why you stay. James is about to leave for Hogwarts. Find a caretaker." Pansy shook her head. "You need to move on."
"Is that so?" He turned to lean against the counter. "What about you? When are you moving on?"
She gave him a little smirk. "Who says I haven't?"
All of the color drained from Harry's face, unable to believe Pansy. "With who?"
"It's still pretty new," she blushed as she swirled the last dregs of the brown liquor. "He's a rather recent divorcé, also has a son Albus's age. You know him. Family owns the Chudley Cannons."
"You're seeing Cormac McLaggen?" Harry intoned. "Why?"
"I'm sorry, you don't have a say in who I can and can't see," she scolded.
"If he's coming around my son, I do," he stated furiously. "I don't want to see him around town with you and Al. That guy—"
Pansy saw him grow increasingly more frustrated and upset. She couldn't help but tease. "Harry Potter. Are you jealous?"
"Jealous? Of course not? I have nothing to be jealous of."
"Yeah, well get used to it. Because even if this doesn't last, I'm not going to spend the remainder of my thirties waiting around. I'm still young enough to find someone, and Albus deserves a full-time male role model. You weren't up for the job. Do you think you are in the position to deny us that?"
"No. But—"
"But nothing," she interrupted. "I only have three years until he's off at school. I'd love to give him some routine and normalcy before then. A good start would be to have a more present father or stepfather, or even stepsiblings for that matter," she knew she had to curtail her emotions, not wanting to appear irrational or anger-fueled. Pansy closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose as if meditating. Calmed, she continued, "Harry, I've done the best I can on my own, but I want so much more for him. I want Albus to head to school, knowing he is loved and supported back home. That no matter how far away and lonely he gets, we are here."
She must have struck a chord because Harry was now fighting back the tears. "He is. I'll make sure he knows that."
"Actions speak louder than words, Potter," She reminded him. "We're going to have to coordinate and communicate. If not, we will get the attorneys involved again."
"No, no. It doesn't need to come to that," he assured her.
"Mum? Where are you? Are you ready?" Albus called from across the house.
"Where are you going?" Harry asked eagerly.
"Just walk around the city. Maybe dinner and some ice cream," she replied as she floated the empty glasses to the sink.
"Can I come?"
"Ask Albus." She smiled. It was a simple, good place for Harry to begin communicating with his son.
They both walked out of the kitchen to look for the boy. At the end of the hall, they found the boy, thin with his soft, wavy black hair. He looked surprised to see his father with his mother.
"What are you doing here, Dad?" He was direct, not yet skilled in the art of pleasantries.
"Your mum and I needed to talk, and I think we need to talk, too." Harry bent down to meet his son's eyes. "Can I join you? We can go anywhere. My treat."
"Greenhouse?" Albus lit up.
Pansy shook her head, "I'm sorry darling. They just won their Michelin Stars. They probably aren't taking walk-ins."
"You're taking him to Michelin-starred restaurants?" asked Harry, stunned.
"It wasn't at the time," she defended.
"How about we all just see where the paths take us. What do you say, Albus?" Harry asked.
"Just the three of us?" the boy asked timidly.
"Just the three of us," Harry happily confirmed.
Albus beamed a smile so bright and genuine, one that Pansy had not seen in a long time. She loved and hated this smile at the same time because it usually resulted in heartbreak. All the hope and expectation that would build in his little heart when his father would do and say all the right things. Despite what Harry said, how many promises he made, she knew it was going to end up the same. She watched her son take his father's hand and drag him out of the house. Bracing herself for what she knew would be a wonderful day, a glimpse of what could have been, and the eventual sadness when it would be over, she followed them out the door.
Pansy was right. Everything was perfect and lovely; from the walk through Hyde Park to Kensington Gardens to the dinner at the casual trattoria and ice cream afterward. Harry was just so kind and nurturing to Albus, everything a father should be. It was everything she wanted for the boy. But for her—the hand on the small of her back as they entered the restaurant, the way their pinkies brushed as they sat on a bench watching Albus feed the ducks with stale bread, even feeling his breath on the back of her neck as they waited in the queue of the ice cream parlor to sample the variety of enticing flavors—Harry weakened her. He had to know the effect he had. There was no way he didn't. He threatened the years of her abstaining from his temptation. It was there in front of her. Taunting. Enticing.
They had returned to her home after a lovely summer evening of exploring. Lottie headed up with Albus to prepare for bedtime, leaving Pansy and Harry downstairs to wait. Fizzie brought them two glasses of cognac as a nightcap.
"Why don't we take these in the back garden?" Pansy suggested, aching to be back outside with the cool summer breeze invigorating her lungs. Inside, with Harry and drinks, it felt too comfortable. Too easy.
"Sounds good." He stood first and held out a hand to help her out of the low upholstered chair.
She had recently remodeled, removing much of the antiques and worn-in furniture, for sleeker lines and contrasting textures. The only downside of the modern aesthetic was the furniture was near impossible to get out of if you were over four feet tall.
"Can you hold this?" he asked, handing the snifter to her. Harry shrugged off his light jacket and rolled up his sleeves. "It's getting hot, isn't it?"
"You just don't know how to dress for summer," she teased, looking down at her flouncy, maxi dress with its thin straps and her espadrille sandals.
"But I'm an auror and need to easily access and conceal my wand," Harry said as he pulled the wand out of the front pocket of the jacket. It suddenly dawned him as he eyed her up and down. "Where is yours, anyway?"
Pansy handed Harry his drink. She then parted the layers of the lightweight fabric of her dress and found a hidden slit, to reveal a holster strapped to her thigh; her cedar wand with its jade inlay handle safely tucked away. His eyes. They lingered on her exposed skin for much longer than they should have. Her chest pounded, anxiousness, and flattery threatening to give way to poor judgment. She shook off the feeling and quickly covered back up.
They walked to the back and found themselves seated several feet apart, separated by a side table. Maybe it was the peaceful evening, or they just wanted to relish the past few argument-free hours, but a single word didn't exchange between them for a good while.
Harry cleared his throat, the first to speak, "Pans, I had a great time."
She gave him a genuine smile. Not a smirk. Not a cheeky grin. A real smile. "So did I. I think Albus did too."
"I would love to do this more," he said wistfully. Just the three of us, maybe with James too, before school starts, of course."
"Why do I feel like there is a 'but'?" She grasped her glass firmly.
He said with sadness in his voice, "I just don't know how. Not with how unpredictable my job is and—"
"Your wife."
Harry nodded.
"Has she gotten any more control with wandless spells?" Pansy struggled for small talk.
"No. Instead she just spends her days frustrated and mad at the world. Takes it out on everyone."
"I'm sorry to hear," she remarked, unsure if she meant what she said. There was a vindictive side that was happy to see Harry miserable and suffering for his choices. But the compassionate, motherly side of her, was pained to hear that it wasn't just Albus who had suffered at the hands of Ginevra Weasley's misplaced anger.
"It is what it is, right?" Harry shrugged, and put down his empty glass. "At least you get to move on, right?"
"Oh, we're not getting into this again," she shook her head and laughed. "It's not even exclusive. It's been a few dates. That's it."
"Did you sleep with him?"
Pansy choked on her cognac, unable to believe Harry could ask such a direct question. "Merlin."
Harry snorted, clearly pleased with himself.
"Not that it's any of your business, but yes," she said almost gloating. "I'm a woman with needs."
"How long has it been?" he further inquired. "Since the last time your needs had been satisfied?"
"You're prying." She put her glass down and got up from her seat. "I'm going to check on Albus, and then I think we need to call this a night."
"Want to know how long it has been for me?" He baited her, knowing that she would want to know. Had he found another mistress? Did he try to satisfy himself with his paralyzed wife? Why on earth would he tease her this way?
"Potter, you don't have to—"
"Marina's birthday last year," he started, "in the guest bathroom."
"Oh," she blushed. "That was a mistake. We were just feeling nostalgic."
"I quite enjoy nostalgia." He was now facing her, his hands on her hips.
"I—I can't. Not anymore. I'm tired of this cycle. Just falling back into each other's arms when there is an illusion of happiness." She pulled away. "You just have this control over me. Like an addiction. Just let me quit you. Quit this."
"Pansy, this will always be here between us," he stated the obvious while reaching for her hand. "I'd rather live a half-life with you than a whole life without you."
"That's where we don't agree." She stood her ground. "I will be valued at my full worth, not discounted. You might be willing to cheapen yourself, but I won't. Not anymore. I deserve better, and so does Albus. He needs to see that love is one hundred percent. Love isn't worth it unless you are willing to give everything. That's not us. And it never will be. I think it's time you go home."
"But I wanted to see Albus before he went to sleep," he stuttered, scrambling for a retort. "Please, Pansy."
"It's late. I'm tired. He's probably already asleep."
"Then, tomorrow? I'll come by tomorrow." Harry insisted.
"I'll meet you at Florean's," she replied. "Bring James. I'll buy him a little something before he goes off to school. I think moving forward, visitation on neutral territory would be best."
"What did I say? What did I do? Everything was going so well. I thought I was making progress."
"You were, it's just..." Pansy struggled against her instincts and reason. Each thought conflicting one another. Heart and head in two different places. Always, when it came to Harry. "We need to make sure that we don't confuse Albus. We can't have him think that it will ever be the three of us as a happy unit."
Harry nodded, rejected, but understanding compromise had to be made. "You're right. I know what false hope is like. Maybe it is better if we draft up the terms of visitation. Set boundaries."
"Thank you," she said softly. This concession felt far from a victory or even provided solace. "Go upstairs and say goodnight to him. I am just going to be out here for a little bit."
As he passed her, Harry brushed his hand against hers. "I still love you. You know that, right?"
"I know," she whimpered as a single tear hung at the crease of her eye, threatening to fall. "Go now. We'll talk soon."
May 2026
Beneath the high pressured jets of the shower, Pansy soaked in the warm relief her sore muscles so desperately needed. She knew she didn't have much time to dawdle, especially with the uncertainty of how the sleeping potion would interact with Albus's unknown drug tolerance. The tears stung her eyes once more. If there were a moment to let all of the emotions loose, here in her bathroom, without anyone's eyes on her, would be the perfect time.
She sniffled and sobbed as she lathered the shampoo and massaged the conditioner through her long black hair. Countless memories flashed through her mind looking for clues as she scrubbed her skin.
Was she too lenient and did she expose him to the world too soon? Harry was often absent, but was it entirely his fault? She had pushed him away to protect herself, but had she damaged their already fragile relationship in the process? But Harry was a fighter. If he wanted to be there for Al, he would have fought with everything he had.
It was pointless to look to the past or even point fingers and place blame. All that was left was how to move forward. How to help her boy, and maybe finally get to the point of forgiveness with Harry and let him be a part of their lives.
Pansy got ready as quickly as she could—blow-drying her hair, putting on minimal makeup and perfume, and dressing in a pair of black jeans with a soft shirt and stylish oversized cardigan, and booties. She summoned a few extra sets of clothes and her toiletries into an overnight bag already planning on booking somewhere to stay in Hogsmeade.
Anxiously she looked at her watch. She had already been gone an hour, and she still hadn't even touched base with the office, or Theo, Hermione, and James for that matter. Grabbing her necessities, she headed down the stairs to her home office.
She cracked open her laptop and started drafting a few emails. While the teenage pureblood version of herself would have never had been caught dead using Muggle technology, she had to admit, in the past twenty-odd years since graduating, she was thankful computers and mobile phones had become standard in Wizarding society. She couldn't even imagine if she had to publish a whole magazine with only using spelled quills and letterpress. A smile crossed her face as she remembered how Albus complained about Hogwarts' anti-technology rules in nearly every letter. Complaining about his typing skills being much more proficient than his Quick-Quotes Quill or about how unsanitary it was to allow owls to fly into the Great Hall at breakfast or how much he hated waiting for letters to be delivered and received. Her boy. Her dear sweet boy. Confident in his abilities, creative, loved fiercely, and always looking for a better way to do things. Bright and ambitious, but always, always searching. She cleared her throat and shrugged it off and set to typing. She began to address her assistant, but thought better of it and added her public relations rep and associate editor.
Hello everyone,
Sorry I didn't contact you sooner. Something has happened with Albus, and I'll be at Hogwarts and Hogsmeade for the foreseeable future. I need you to handle a few things for me.
Olivia, cancel all my meetings. I will set up a remote location for conference calls. Just inform everyone that I had urgent family matters to attend to. I also won't have any access to emails or text when I'm on the Hogwarts grounds, so all approvals from me will have to wait until the late evening. If urgent, Sonia can approve on my behalf.
Sonia, forward me all the articles we have written about addiction and rehab, and the sources. Also, find any materials from the family perspective on addiction and how to deal with it.
Marguerite, I need you to handle the press on this. Albus had an overdose, and I know that the other rags and bloggers will be looking to spread this before Harry and I have even had a chance to get the full story. Keep this under wraps.
I'm sorry for this brief and most likely overwhelming message. I'll update you all when I have more information. Feel free to text me. It will take me a while to respond, but I will eventually reply. Thank you all for everything.
Pansy Parkinson
Editor at Large
Witch Weekly Magazine, Parkinson Publishing
The moment she hit send, panic struck her. Her family's situation was now very real, and the outside world would eventually know. Now it was time to tell the people she knew loved Albus most.
Her parents still hadn't adopted technology, and they would be furious if she told them via floo call or a letter. She'd have to make time to visit them in person or send Theo to retrieve them. Her hands shook, imagining how that conversation would go. They would probably blame her parenting style, the fact she never married and that Albus never had a consistent male role model, how career-driven she was, and all the innumerable ways she failed them as their child. No, she was not looking forward to that conversation, but they loved their one and only grandchild. He was the future of the Parkinson line, even if not by name.
Pansy's thumb ran across the glass of her mobile, looking for Hermione's private line. She had one that was screened by the Ministry, and another one just for friends and family. Pansy typed two words and hit send.
Call me
When you're best friends with the Minister for Magic, you don't usually expect a quick response, but on this day, out of all of them, she did—and Pansy couldn't have been more thankful.
"Pansy, what's going on?" Hermione hadn't even waited to be greeted when she heard the call connect. The tone of concern in her voice was unmistakable. Hermione could be shrewd, judgmental, and condescending, but she was warm, compassionate, and empathetic. She made up all the faults caused by the burdens of her intelligence with the openness of her heart — some of the qualities that made her an excellent leader.
"Is Theo with you?" Pansy asked hopefully, not wanting to have to recall this another time.
"Actually, yes," Hermione responded matter-of-factly. "We just got out of a meeting."
"Are you in a private place?"
Pansy heard Hermione ask a few people to leave the room, followed by the shuffling of feet and the shutting of a door.
"All clear. You're on speaker now," Hermione stated.
"Pans, what's going on?" Theo asked worriedly.
"It's Albus," Pansy's voice trembled. She then went on to recount what Eva had told her, the evening, arguments with Harry, and Madam Nightingale's detox plan.
There was a long silence between them. Hermione and Pansy both crying softly on either end of the call.
"Shit," Theo muttered.
"I'm so sorry, Pans," Hermione finally said. "So you say Eva's never done the drug until last night?"
"That's what she told me," Pansy confirmed.
"Do you really think that Albus was doing this by himself, without anyone else knowing? Scorpius? Marina?" Theo's voice trembled, mentioning his daughter's name.
"I—I don't know," Pansy stuttered, the thought hadn't even crossed her mind.
"Pans, you know what it's like in the dungeons," Theo pressed. "A bunch of rich kids with too much money and too much influence."
"Did McGonagall say anything about a search or further investigation on contraband?" Hermione pressed on.
"She hadn't, but part of the problem is that the substance is not technically contraband. It was probably even brewed in the Potions Laboratory," Pansy responded frustratedly. "Theo, Mines, he's beyond N.E.W.T. levels in Potions. He has the run of the lab and tutors students. This damn drug was in the sixth year textbook."
Hermione exasperated loudly. "You're right. We can't incriminate the children for substances that aren't technically illegal. I'll call an emergency meeting of the governors, N.E.W.T. and O.W.L. testing board, and McGonagall. We need to figure something out."
"Hermione," her husband pointed out, "We'll get to the point where we restructure the curriculum and reclassify substances, but right now we have a bigger problem."
"Thank you," Pansy said in agreement with Theo, "I do agree with you, Hermione, but policy won't help Albus or any other child at that school now."
"So what do you want me to do, Pansy?" Hermione asked, struggling between her roles as the Minister and friend.
"Be his godparents. Be supportive. I don't know, help me figure out how to get him sober enough to complete his N.E.W.T.s. Do what you need to with the governors, but get to the root of things. Merlin, these kids have no one to talk to about their problems." Pansy seethed recalling her own anxiousness with the death of Cedric Diggory and the oncoming war, without anyone other than her friends to confide in. Snape was no help at all. They were currently in a time of peace, but that didn't make the worries of adolescence any easier. "We send our kids off with little to no guidance — one Head of House for over a hundred kids. Hermione, you and I both know the prefect system is a joke. For fuck's sake, Albus's girlfriend is a prefect and didn't even see this coming."
Pansy felt hopeless. She knew she needed to come up with a solution for her son, but it was all so overwhelming.
Theo was the first to speak, "I'll meet you at Hogwarts. I don't have any cases today. We'll figure this out together."
"Thank you," she said appreciatively.
"I have meetings," Hermione said frustratedly, "but I'll see if I can get them rescheduled. I'll speak with McGonagall before I meet with the governors and testing boards. We can start with small steps. I'll also look into how we can install rehabilitative support at the school, just to get Al through the last few weeks. I promise you, Pans, we'll think of something. We won't give up on him."
"Damn it. I'm crying again," Pansy laughed at herself. "I don't know what I would do without you guys."
"We love you too," Theo responded. "Give me an hour or two to wrap things up. I'll meet you at the school. Hospital wing?"
"That's probably best. We can join Marina for lunch," Pansy suggested.
"I hope there is sticky toffee pudding," Theo said excitedly.
"My husband, you are a child," Hermione teased playfully. "I'll try to join you. If not by lunch, perhaps we can meet in Hogsmeade for dinner."
"That sounds good. I'm going to try and find a place to stay in town for the next few days," Pansy remarked.
"Okay, we'll be in touch. I'll text and owl when I'm on my way," Theo said.
"Me too," Hermione added.
"Thanks. Okay. Bye."
"Bye," the couple said in unison.
Her chest felt just a little bit lighter, having talked to Theo and Hermione, and possibly having the beginnings of a plan for Albus.
She looked for the Floo-Inns app on her phone and began searching for available rooms. Much like their Muggle counterparts, Floo-Inn allowed magical folk to book rooms, homes, and other lodgings around the world, with one huge difference, all locations had the Statute of Secrecy in mind. It had become very popular with those traveling for work who needed warded and protected spaces to practice magic, and with young families who needed additional protective measures for accidental magic. In seconds, Pansy had found a block of row houses that had been recently renovated for short-term rentals. She picked the one that looked the cleanest and had elf quarters. With a few clicks and a transfer from her Gringott's vault, she had a temporary residence for the next week.
Pansy summoned Fizzie and explained the situation. The elf was heartbroken to hear about her young master but listened to her mistress intently. She nodded as she was given directions to take Pansy's belongings to the rental house and that she would be staying there with her. Pansy agreed that Fizzie may travel back and forth between the homes if anything additional was needed. Packing her laptop, chargers, and notebooks, Pansy told the elf that was the lot, and she was free to head to the other house.
There was one last thing for Pansy to handle. James. She had put this off for last, knowing that this would destroy the boy. He wasn't a boy anymore. He was a twenty-one-year-old man with a career. Pansy pursed her lips, trying to remember where James was. He had been drafted to the Falmouth Falcons but was on loan to Fitchburg Finches in Massachusetts. Not wanting to call him at what could be an ungodly early hour, she texted him.
James, sorry to send this in a text. Albus had an overdose and is being sedated while he detoxes. It was Euphorus, a potion he brewed and reworked into a powder form. I'll tell you more. Call me when you're free.
Pansy was already out the door, ready to apparate when her mobile rang in her pocket.
It was James. "Pansy," he croaked, his voice still waking, "I'm so so sorry."
"James, you have nothing to be sorry about," Pansy reassured.
He took a deep, rattling breath and said, "But I do. It's my fault."
A/N: Thank you all for reading. If you liked this, please subscribe to the story.
