Natalie MacDonald
She didn't seem like thirteen - that was what Harry always said, anyway. He never had cared that she was younger, either. It was odd, really. She always wanted to tell him that he didn't seem like sixteen, but he didn't seem any older or any younger. He was Harry.
She remembered seeing him for the first time - at her Sorting. She had been keeping an eye on the Gryffindors, since her entire family were Ravenclaws, simply because she wasn't neat enough. And of course she knew who Harry Potter was - who didn't?
Lillian and Rosemary and Danny were resentful, of course - not that they wished they were in Gryffindor, but because they thought the whole family ought to be the same. Neatness and tidiness - not saying that their little sister was different. Ravenclaws.
Her parents declared their pride in Nat no matter what she did, and they had met Harry at King's Cross and adored him, but she did feel the definite note of hurt in her first letter from them at Hogwarts.
In any case, she had deliberately avoided the Ravenclaw table, and was utterly disdainful towards Slytherins. And she knew she wouldn't be a Hufflepuff. It just wasn't like her. He had caught her eye - he caught everyone's eye. He was sitting next to a redhead boy who was wearing old robes and seemed to be complaining about lack of food. Also nearby was Nearly-Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Harry himself was watching the students be Sorted, and clapped as she joined the table. She sat three seats away from him, being forced to listen to the Creevey boys she had met on the train. A loud and bushy-haired girl near Harry had a fit - something about house-elves, and she kept on it all Nat's first year.
She was one of the only students in the Hall who didn't seem to care about the Triwizard Tournament. It meant more excitement, sure. But she really didn't care, until Harry was entered in it.
She didn't care either that he was three years older than her. Three years was a long time, yes, but it didn't matter as much when Nat was herself.
So there she was, sitting by the lake with Harry. The wind was whipping his hair all over his face, and his eyes were haunted. She had learned since they got together that nothing could cheer him out of one of these moods, so she waited it out. Her wispy blond hair was coming out of its loose braid, and stray strands flitted in and out of her line of vision. She ignored them, and looked only at Harry.
Finally, he turned to her, face dead solemn, and said quietly, "Nat, do you think that I could ever be happy?"
"You can, Harry. You -"
You have to be able to be happy, she wanted to say. I want you to be happy. But he shook his head.
"I'm afraid that I'm making the people I love miserable," he said quietly. She reached out and grasped his hand hard. "You and Ginny and Ron and Hermione and Si-" He cut off, looking flustered. "I just…I'm not like I used to be, and I haven't been for a long time. I've changed, and I see the looks Ron and Hermione give me. They don't want me to have changed."
"Everyone's changed," Natalie said quietly, and he squeezed her hand, leaning his head onto her shoulder. She noticed with a pang how thin he was, how painfully gaunt. "How could we not? After the attacks last year - after Professor Hawking -" Harry nodded sadly.
"That weighs on me almost as much as Cedric," he murmered. "I could have saved her. If I'd been quicker - if I'd gone to Dumbledore with my dreams -"
Natalie sighed. "Harry, you can't do everything."
"But saving her wasn't everything," Harry insisted, more loudly. "Except to her daughter."
"Marie forgave you."
"Marie - she did what I can't."
Natalie leaned over and kissed him, and he returned it fiercely. Then he pulled back. "I only want you to be happy," he whispered. "I only want you all to stop worrying."
Natalie met his gaze steadily with her chocolate-brown eyes. "I am happy," she whispered, and he kissed her this time.
The wind softened as it flew across the lake, and around them the cold air seemed to melt.
She didn't seem like thirteen - that was what Harry always said, anyway. He never had cared that she was younger, either. It was odd, really. She always wanted to tell him that he didn't seem like sixteen, but he didn't seem any older or any younger. He was Harry.
She remembered seeing him for the first time - at her Sorting. She had been keeping an eye on the Gryffindors, since her entire family were Ravenclaws, simply because she wasn't neat enough. And of course she knew who Harry Potter was - who didn't?
Lillian and Rosemary and Danny were resentful, of course - not that they wished they were in Gryffindor, but because they thought the whole family ought to be the same. Neatness and tidiness - not saying that their little sister was different. Ravenclaws.
Her parents declared their pride in Nat no matter what she did, and they had met Harry at King's Cross and adored him, but she did feel the definite note of hurt in her first letter from them at Hogwarts.
In any case, she had deliberately avoided the Ravenclaw table, and was utterly disdainful towards Slytherins. And she knew she wouldn't be a Hufflepuff. It just wasn't like her. He had caught her eye - he caught everyone's eye. He was sitting next to a redhead boy who was wearing old robes and seemed to be complaining about lack of food. Also nearby was Nearly-Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Harry himself was watching the students be Sorted, and clapped as she joined the table. She sat three seats away from him, being forced to listen to the Creevey boys she had met on the train. A loud and bushy-haired girl near Harry had a fit - something about house-elves, and she kept on it all Nat's first year.
She was one of the only students in the Hall who didn't seem to care about the Triwizard Tournament. It meant more excitement, sure. But she really didn't care, until Harry was entered in it.
She didn't care either that he was three years older than her. Three years was a long time, yes, but it didn't matter as much when Nat was herself.
So there she was, sitting by the lake with Harry. The wind was whipping his hair all over his face, and his eyes were haunted. She had learned since they got together that nothing could cheer him out of one of these moods, so she waited it out. Her wispy blond hair was coming out of its loose braid, and stray strands flitted in and out of her line of vision. She ignored them, and looked only at Harry.
Finally, he turned to her, face dead solemn, and said quietly, "Nat, do you think that I could ever be happy?"
"You can, Harry. You -"
You have to be able to be happy, she wanted to say. I want you to be happy. But he shook his head.
"I'm afraid that I'm making the people I love miserable," he said quietly. She reached out and grasped his hand hard. "You and Ginny and Ron and Hermione and Si-" He cut off, looking flustered. "I just…I'm not like I used to be, and I haven't been for a long time. I've changed, and I see the looks Ron and Hermione give me. They don't want me to have changed."
"Everyone's changed," Natalie said quietly, and he squeezed her hand, leaning his head onto her shoulder. She noticed with a pang how thin he was, how painfully gaunt. "How could we not? After the attacks last year - after Professor Hawking -" Harry nodded sadly.
"That weighs on me almost as much as Cedric," he murmered. "I could have saved her. If I'd been quicker - if I'd gone to Dumbledore with my dreams -"
Natalie sighed. "Harry, you can't do everything."
"But saving her wasn't everything," Harry insisted, more loudly. "Except to her daughter."
"Marie forgave you."
"Marie - she did what I can't."
Natalie leaned over and kissed him, and he returned it fiercely. Then he pulled back. "I only want you to be happy," he whispered. "I only want you all to stop worrying."
Natalie met his gaze steadily with her chocolate-brown eyes. "I am happy," she whispered, and he kissed her this time.
The wind softened as it flew across the lake, and around them the cold air seemed to melt.
