He rested his head in his hands, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes. He felt weary down to his very bones. Birds chirped in the trees on either side of the bench he sat upon. The pond rippled with the breeze, blowing orange and yellow leaves across the water. It should have lifted his mood, the beautiful atmosphere of his favorite park. All he felt was hollow.

It was nearing the 30th anniversary of the first fall of Voldemort. Harry had turned 31 the previous summer to little fanfare. He'd honestly expected to be further along in his life by now. His career had stalled when he refused to be a mascot for the ministry. They couldn't risk killing a national hero on some small-time criminal investigation, and nobody was willing to take the public backlash from firing him, either. Harry found himself doing most of the interviews and paperwork instead. It was a paycheck though, and he wasn't sure what else he was good at.

His relationship with Ginny had been a non-starter. They'd both changed in ways that made their childish love insufficient for the problems they had to face as adults. In the early days, he let his friends set him up on dates. There had been a lot of interest in the Man Who Lived, though looking back, he was still mostly a boy pretending to be grown. He'd had fun, but nothing stuck. He ended up back in Grimmauld Place on his own, flailing about, looking for something that would give him direction.

Hermione had gone to muggle university after Hogwarts and was experimenting with some combination of physics, chemistry and magic that was yielding fascinating results for the high academic magical community. Ron went into professional quidditch, first as a bag boy, then as a mascot, and recently was promoted to assistant manager for the Chudley Cannons. They'd tried dating for a few years after Hogwarts but found themselves in an endless cycle of fighting and making up. Once they decided to call it quits for good, they drifted apart, only seeing each other for big events or holidays.

He'd been too busy to see it, how they were all changing and growing apart. Auror training was years long and intense. They had pushed him twice as hard as the other recruits, making an example of his effort and pitting the others against him by comparison. He came home exhausted every day, with barely enough in him to eat before falling asleep and doing it all over again. The time sped by in a haze.

Before he knew it, he was twenty-seven and it was the 10th anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and the second fall of Voldemort. His friends had become established. They had friends outside him. They were happy in a way he couldn't put his finger on, but he knew he didn't share with them. He felt an emptiness that wasn't being filled, something he couldn't put his finger on.

He'd taken to wandering around his neighborhood. The terraced houses had fallen into disrepair and the street had taken on a rough appearance over the years. His wanderings would take him through the dirty streets to a forgotten park with overgrown roses. It had been abandoned during the war, but the tender care with which the Victorian gardener had planted the lot still peeked through if one looked closely.

Harry found himself in that park often, to clear his mind and try to find something to feel passionate about again. One spring, he spotted tight bunches of crocuses trying to peek through the early spring soil. He hadn't gardened since the summer of the dementor incident many years before and part of him still resented the sameness of the gardens in his childhood neighborhood.

He saw himself in that lost and neglected place, though. In bad weather, he found himself looking for magical methods of weed control. On sunny days, he'd beat back the ivy that had overtaken so much of the rockwork. In the fall, he split the bulbs and spread them out. Over the years the park flourished, a carpet of crocuses and daffodils in the spring, lush and fragrant roses and foxglove in the summer, and the trees aflame in reds and orange and golden leaves in the fall.

In the same way, he hoped to slowly start to care for himself as he did for the park. After taking back gardening as his thing so many years later, he'd reconsidered the other chores he'd learned as a child and abandoned as soon as he could. He started cooking again, making food that was simple and quick. The drudgery of work was easier to swallow with his physical labor in the garden. He also found he slept without nightmares again after working with his hands.

And yet, he was still ravaged with emptiness and longing. He didn't miss his friends so much as the idea of better times. It was a silently screaming loneliness that haunted him all of the time. His coworkers held him at a distance, his celebrity making him seem untouchable. The Wizarding World as a whole was much the same, especially after so many years of being out of the public eye.

He pushed up and off the bench and paced beside the pond. Kneeling, he picked up a small flat stone and skipped it across the water, once, twice, thrice, and dipped underwater. The sun had dipped below the stone wall at the back of the tiny park, casting deep shadows on the water.

"It's beautiful again, isn't it?" spoke a voice from behind him. Harry spun around quickly in surprise, caught his feet on each other, and took a tumble into the water. He climbed back out of the water to her peals of laughter, belly laughing hard enough that she couldn't catch her breath. "I'm so sorry for startling you. I could have sworn you saw me walking when you started throwing rocks." She offered her hand to help him to his feet again.

He stood and brushed his hands down his wet shirt and trousers, side-eyeing her in quiet annoyance. "No, I hadn't noticed at all. I must have been lost in my own world," he said in a curt tone, making his way back to the bench. He took off his shoes and socks to wring them out. He was still in muggle London and couldn't risk magic in front of her, dooming him to wet clothes until he could escape her company.

She stood there, wringing her hands and watching him. Her brown curls were piled atop her head, with unruly strands escaping here and there. She was wearing a rusty orange dress with tiny buttons down the front that billowed to the side of her in the breeze, teasing around and between her brown boots.

Whatever decision she was going over in her head, she must have decided because she squared her shoulders, stuck one hand out to him and said in a confident voice, "I'm Alex and I truly am sorry. I can't imagine you're very comfortable now. I moved into the area a while back and I've seen you planting things and taking care of everything. I've wanted to introduce myself. Anyone who can bring this place back to life must be pretty special."

He couldn't even be mad at her properly if she was going to be this pleasant. His pride still stung from his dip in the pond, but he stood and took her hand. "Name's Harry and thanks. It's been my pet project for a while. I didn't know anyone else visited, but I've made it my sort of secret garden. There's not much work to be done still for the year, but I'll be around again if you want to properly visit when I'm not sopping wet."

"Oh yeah, sure. Will you be around tomorrow?" She looked hopeful before grinning mirthfully and adding, "I'll be sure to wear a bell so you hear me coming." She laughed again, filling the air with that warm feeling. He tried to keep his frown firmly in place, but the corners of his mouth lifted too.

He bent over to put his wet socks and shoes back on and replied, "Sure, I'll be around tomorrow as long as the weather holds. I'll keep an eye out, so you can leave the bell at home. I'll stay well back from the water, just in case." He gave a small grin and waved.

He started back home, shoes squelching with every step. It wasn't far, but it felt like a walk of shame in his current state. He felt the first stirrings of hope that he quickly pushed down. She didn't know him or what she would be getting into. It'd be nice to have company without any expectations, but he couldn't see how it could last.

Work the following day went by unusually quickly. He had caught up on the filing, double-checked the incoming reports, and went to the canteen for lunch alone. He could count on one hand the number of words anyone said to him. He would walk into a room and conversation would die down. Everyone parted before him with eyes following his every move and conversation picking up again only after he left. His afternoon was spent reading and pretending to be busy until he could head out.

He used the private floo in the Auror Office to avoid the stares. Arriving home, it was raining that fine mist that seeped in and made everything inescapably damp. He felt the first stirrings of irritation and disappointment at not being able to meet her again. He hadn't felt excited about anything for a very long time. He clenched one fist and muttered angrily about his plans and the shite weather and decided to go out of sheer spite.

He pulled on his wellies and grabbed an umbrella. He ducked his head down with a scowl, but the rain seemed to defy gravity and still get him uncomfortably wet. He should have just stayed home and forgotten the whole thing. There was no way she would show up today, and this was a huge waste of time. He swore under his breath as he rounded the corner and saw the park was empty.

"You weren't planning on sitting out in this, were you?" came a voice from behind him. He turned with a start to see Alex leaning against the doorframe of a stairwell between two buildings looking artfully disheveled in a robe, with wet hair and a steaming mug in her hands. "I got caught in it on my way home from work and no amount of sweet talking on your part will get me back out there," she said with a grin, her dark eyes watching him with interest.

He shook off his surprise and stood a bit taller. He put on his serious face, a bit of mirth creeping into his tone. "We have got to quit meeting like this. What if there had been a lorry going by? You could have startled me, and I would have fallen right in front of it with a splat." He clutched his chest in mock outrage, "Then you'd never get to know how wonderful I am." She laughed in surprise before he continued. "Besides, you said you'd wear a bell next time." He didn't know where his playfulness came from, but he felt so light.

"Fresh out of bells, I'm afraid," she said, clearly not sorry in the least. "I do have a rooftop garden that's out of the rain and a hot cup of tea if you'd like to visit for a while. You've already come all this way." She gestured up the stairs with a wave of her hand.

"Sure, yeah. I think I'd really like that," he said before following her up several flights of stairs. These sad apartments had been built after the second world war and shoved between the surviving Victorian row houses like Grimmauld Place. They'd carved the tiniest studio flats and arranged them like a labyrinth to fit as many inside as possible. Age hadn't been kind to them, and the hallway carried the strange smells of cooking, dampness and time.

For as bleak as the building was, the rooftop garden was amazing. Wooden slats on the floor and plants in pots created an oasis around a seating area covered with a greying wooden roof. It wasn't much, but it was comfortable, and the view was spectacular. They could look out on the vastness of London from there. Lights started to twinkle as the sun went down. Harry could see his park clearly from here too, understanding how she noticed him without him seeing her before.

She gestured to the lawn chairs. "Get comfy. I'll be back with tea. Don't sneak off," she added with a laugh. He watched the jewel-green robe swish behind her. The days were getting shorter, the loud whisper of the rain quieted the traffic noise, and the lights sparkled in the night. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles in front of him. He heard her faintly this time, her feet tapping on the stairs coming back to him.

She handed him the cup and saucer from the tray she was carrying. "I gave you milk, no sugar, but with a biscuit because you like to keep them guessing. That's how I take mine, anyway. How did I do?" She asked with a smile, gathering her robe around her to sit in the chair next to his.

He took a sip, finding it smooth but not too milky. She watched him nibble the corner of the biscuit as well before he answered, "Mmm, I normally have one sugar, but it's really good. Maybe you've converted me," he smiled. "Is the biscuit homemade? It's delicious." He took another slow bite, savoring the buttery flavor and crunchy sugar on top.

"Thanks, yeah. I made them myself. They were my mum's favorite recipe. I'll try to remember your sugar next time we take tea together. Do you bake much?" she asked, nibbling on her biscuit and looking at him like he was far more fascinating than he felt for himself.

"I don't bake much, no, but I do cook a fair bit now. I used to hate it as a kid, but it's growing on me again. I've been trying to expand my horizons a bit and try new things. Maybe I'll give baking a try. What about you? Baking only, or do you enjoy cooking too?"

She grimaced a bit and replied, "Only if you want cold cereal or cup noodles, sorry. I've tried, but it never works out. I stir too much, and it falls apart or not enough, and it sticks and burns. With baking, it's a lot less pressure. I can go slow if I need to, and it's all written down exactly. It feels more like a science than an art."

Harry tilted his head side to side. "That makes a lot of sense. I never was very good at following instructions, and cooking is very much about improvising and having a gut feeling. I've always been pretty good at that. We'll have to have dinner together sometime. I'll bring dinner if you bring dessert." the words had slipped out before he could consider how that might be taken.

A wide grin spread across her face. "You're quick," she said with a laugh. "But sure. I'd love to have dinner with you sometime. It'd be awfully neighborly of us," she added with a wink when she saw him blush. "Really though, it doesn't have to be a date if you don't want it to be. We can get to know each other more and decide where to go from there."

Relief swelled up in him. It'd been a long time since someone didn't have a lot of expectations of him from the get-go. He let out the breath he'd been holding and gave her a soft smile, "Sure, I'd really like that. I'm not trying to rush into anything serious, but I've been having a really good time tonight... Can I just say, it's so beautiful up here. Have you lived here long?"

She looked out into the night. "Not too long, no. It seems like just yesterday sometimes. I'm not great with telling time," she said with a shrug. "I've seen you for a while. You've done a lot with the land, and I can tell it appreciates it. Will you tell me what inspired you?"

His face drew tight, eyebrows furrowed. "Have you ever felt like you exist a half-step out of the world? Like people don't exist on the same level as you? I can't seem to feel that connection with anyone. I haven't in a long time. My friends have been busy with their lives, and I have no idea how to find people I can relate to. I've put all that into the dirt, into growing something beautiful instead. Like if I can make something, then I must have something to offer the world." His eyes welled up. "I grew up with so much fear, and most of my family is gone, so that peace has been really special to me. I don't know why I'm telling you all this-"

"No, I understand. We had to fight battles we were too young for and didn't deserve to be put in." she cut in. She rubbed at her shoulder, an angry scar showing where her robe had slipped. "You don't have to tell me about it, but I think I get it." She scooted her chair closer and took his hand in hers. "That was why I took up baking. It was a way to feel close to my mum again. She's not around anymore. Sometimes we get lucky and find someone who understands us, recognizing that loneliness."

He brought their hands to his mouth, breathing warm air across their crossed knuckles. "I'm sorry you feel it, too. This is the lightest I've felt in a long time, though. Thanks for spending tonight with me." They gave each other watery smiles and let their linked hands fall between them.

A warm quiet settled on them while the brightest stars peeked through the clouds. Faint traffic noises zipped around them, but the air was still this high up. The rain had stopped, but neither paid any mind.

"Would you like to have dinner with me?" Harry asked, breaking the silence. He looked at her with his breath held slightly.

She grinned. "As a date? I mean, yes, either way, but I get to dress up if it's a date."

He sat back, boneless in his seat, and laughed, "Sure, yeah. As a date. I'd love to see you dressed up if this is casual." He waved at her robe. "You look amazing already."

"Thanks. You're not so bad yourself. Are we ordering out, or do I get the chef's special?" she winked.

He looked stunned for a half-second before getting pink in the cheeks and asking, "Is that an innuendo?"

She threw her head back and laughed hard, hand to her chest. "Oh my god, no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant, are you cooking? Not that I'm not interested, but I'm not usually that forward this early-" she blurted out before he put a finger to her lips to stop her.

He laughed, "No, it's okay. I was a bit taken aback, but we're on the same page. It's good. We're good. A date, but not expecting anything. I can definitely do that." He had a soft smile on his face and looked so relaxed. "I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed tonight. It's like you really see me."

Harry drifted through work with his head still on that rooftop, allowed to just exist and enjoy himself and someone else's company. If anyone had tried to get his attention, he couldn't say. He had a running list of things he'd need to make normal in his house and his plans for dinner. He'd run by the shop for a couple things and a nice bottle of wine. She was bringing dessert, thankfully.

The food was done and under a discrete warming spell in the oven. The table was set with the wine in pride of place. He was nervous. More than he'd thought he'd be. It wasn't something serious, but it meant a lot to him. He really hoped Alex had a great time and they could see where things went. Tie? No tie? Was that too dressy, too pretentious? He rolled his sleeves up to the elbow and kept the tie slightly loose, his hair as artfully tousled as he could manage. Pretending to be casual and confident, he took a few deep breaths before heading downstairs.

He reached the landing as she knocked on the front door. He opened the door, and his breath caught. Her russet curls were a halo around her face, her plush coat open to reveal a sparkling gown that clung to her curves. She held a plate with a cake that looked almost as delectable as she did.

"Wow," he whispered to himself, then louder, "You look beautiful. Not that you don't always, I mean." He blushed as his nerves got the better of him.

"Thanks," she said with a smile before looking him up and down "You clean up well too." She passed him the cake, shimmied out of her damp coat, and looked around the foyer. She let out a whistle. "Snazzy place. It looks old."

He nodded with a little shrug. "It was my godfather's place before he passed and I've been fixing it up. I think it'll be beautiful someday."

She hummed in agreement, "You do have the magic touch." He looked a bit stunned before she continued. "The work you've done with the garden in the park has made a world of difference. You bring life back into places." She reached for his one free hand and gave it a light squeeze, her grip soft against his lightly calloused hand. "Now let's see what smells so delicious," she said through a grin, leading him straight to the kitchen by smell alone.

He put the cake on the table, grabbed an oven mitt and pointed to a cabinet near the sink. "Would you grab the wine glasses and pour us some while I get the food out?" She poured them both a generous glass and had a seat at the table, eagerly watching him put their plates out.

She breathed wow under her breath. "Amateur cook my rear, this looks amazing. What's in it?"

His cheeks pinked, and he ducked his head a bit toward the plate. "Steak au poivre, roasted asparagus and a jacket potato. There was a woman on television who made it and I've always wanted to try it. I hope you like it."

"If it tastes half as good as it looks, I'm sure I'll love it," she replied with a wide smile. The sounds of cutlery and their quiet sounds of appreciation filled the room.

"Wow. Seriously, marry me. Cook for me forever." She said with a laugh and dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. "I've never had anything more delicious. I got too excited to try everything to toast you first. Here's to many, many more dinners together!" He joined her in laughing and clinked her glass before having a sip, watching her with a pleased smile.

"I think we can certainly work something out. The food was good, but the company was better. I don't think I've cooked for someone who's enjoyed themselves this much in years. Thanks for this." He reached for her hand and held it, warm and small but strong. She met his eyes and her laughing eyes softened, turning hungry again.

"You mean it?" she asked in a lower voice, biting the barest bit of her bottom lip.

He leaned forward, "Wouldn't have said it if I didn't. Can I kiss you?"

Breathless, she nodded and met him halfway. Soft yet confident, teasing and playful, they kissed. Lost in the moment, hands tangled in each other's hair, stroking along a stubbled jaw, breaking apart to kiss along a freckled cheek.

He whispered wow under his breath as they broke away. She grinned and squeezed his hand again. "Seriously, we should do this again." She looked at him with such intensity.

He sat up straighter in his chair and his face grew more serious. "I'd like that too, but there are some things about me that I can't tell you yet. Things that might change your mind about anything serious. I know we're not there yet, but I could see it. It could be so easy." He whispered the last.

"Hey, it's okay. We can be casual. I was teasing you earlier, but we can go slow." She took another sip of wine. "You're not married, are you? That'd be just my luck."

"No," he said with a startled laugh. "Not married to anyone. Ironically, it'd be easier if we were married because then I could tell you. It's like having a top-secret life that you can only share with your spouse or someone who already knows about it." He ran one hand through his hair and looked at the table. "That's the life I escape from when I visit the park. That place and the time I've spent with you have been the most peaceful I've ever been."

She leaned over the table, grabbed his collar and brought him in for another kiss, this one searing and sincere. "It really is okay. I don't need to know. As long as it's not dangerous for me, I'm okay waiting as long as we need. If we get to the point where we start talking wedding bells, you can tell me and we'll talk it over together. If we don't, this can just be a fun time together for a while and we can enjoy ourselves." With one last peck on the lips, she sat back down.

He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles, "Okay. We'll see where it goes."

She nodded as if everything was decided. "Right. Sweets for my sweet now?" she asked, gesturing to the cake. He laughed and agreed.

They talked and laughed over cake and finished the wine. That golden feeling like the night would never end and everything would be this good forever filled the room. They both silently hoped that it would always feel like this.

A/N Thank you so much to CareOfCell and Nauze for helping me edit all my typos and making it all make sense