Chapter 8
Harry really fucking hated Halloween.
It was ironic that he had usually been able to enjoy the festivities at Hogwarts despite the fact that something traumatic happened to him nearly every year he'd been at school; and yet these days, when it had been years since anything bad had occurred on Halloween, it was the worst day of the year for him. But he knew it was because those Halloweens he'd spent at Hogwarts had been before he'd fought a war, and especially before he'd become a father and began to understand the horrors of what had happened that Halloween of 1981 in a whole new light.
Orphan.
The word echoed through Harry's mind as he gazed at the little girl looking up at him from a fort of pillows on the opposite side of his bed. His chest was tight and he felt slightly sick to his stomach. It was time to get up- not that it mattered, he knew that sleep wouldn't find him again anyway, he had been lucky to get a couple of hours. But he needed to take care of his new charge. They were two peas in the same depressing pod.
He'd known it was going to be something terrible when his mobile rang after two in the morning and the screen displayed his cousin's name and number. He and Dudley were on good terms these days. Being attacked by dementors and then sent away during the war were real turning points for the boy who had once been the bane of Harry's existence. Now he was a police officer, of all things. But if he was calling in the middle of the night it could only be for an emergency.
It was a car accident, rather routine for the muggle police, a head on collision. The drivers of both vehicles and one passenger had died on impact. The lone survivor was the baby currently tucked away in Harry's bed. Dudley's partner had declared the baby to be extremely lucky, but Dudley had sensed something "other" about the scene and immediately called Harry.
And it was a good thing that he had because the accidental magic that had saved the little girl's life- though unfortunately not her parents'- had also triggered alarms at the Ministry and Dudley was moments from being obliviated, and the baby thrown into the muggle foster care system or to unsuspecting relatives, when Harry arrived.
The parallels were enough to almost make Harry sick. He could only take comfort in the fact that every indication suggested that the accident had been exactly that, no dark wizards involved, and Harry had put his best people on it, just to be sure. He was also grateful that his cousin had been the one called to the scene, and had trusted his instincts.
Hermione had arrived in the middle of what had turned into a rather chaotic scene as several branches of the DMLE- the aurors, the obliviators, and muggle relations- were by then all present and that required somebody more senior than Harry to supervise. She had offered to take the baby home with her until they could figure out what to do with her, because if she had muggle relatives who were willing to take her then they would need to be formally prepared for taking in a traumatized magical child, and for that the DMLE would need to get clearance from the Minister's office.
Harry had known that, in theory, sending her with Hermione was the better choice. She had supplies at the ready because of her own impending arrival, and another adult at home with childcare experience. He trusted both her and Malfoy and had no logical reason to refuse his best friend's offer.
He even admitted to himself that he really should have gone back home to wallow in his own misery alone. But before he opened his mouth to respond, he'd taken another look at the baby cradled in his arms. He hadn't put her down since he'd retrieved her from the wreckage, and he realized that he just couldn't do it.
When he told her, Hermione had simply given him an understanding smile and ordered him to get out of there, at least after she'd sternly reminded him that he was, under no circumstances, to come into work that day- a mandate she'd put into place the moment she'd taken her position as the Assistant Director of the DMLE. Before that he'd always buried himself in work on Halloween, but she refused to allow it.
So here he was. Just him and a brand new orphan, all alone on Halloween.
"Good morning Meriella," he said softly. Meriella was her name, or at least it was the name embroidered on the blanket that had been tucked around her in her car seat, and Harry thought it suited her.
She was young, at least a full year younger than Albus, and certainly the youngest child Harry had ever met who was capable of accidental magic. Though, thankfully, Harry had never met another child who had been through the kind of traumatic event she'd experienced just hours ago. Young enough, he vehemently hoped, to never remember it.
She turned her head at the sound of her name and his lips curled into a small smile. He didn't regret, at all, that his own children were with their mother. He would never want to bring them down on a day that they- mostly James- had been looking forward to and they were too well attuned to him for him to be able to hide his emotions from them. But maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to have somebody else around for the day.
He pulled her into his arms while he considered his options. He would need to go to a shop- a muggle shop, if Harry Potter were to be seen shopping with a baby in the magical world it would certainly result in a firestorm of rumors- to get her some basic necessities. But maybe he should attempt to eat something first. He'd only picked at his dinner the night before, which was fine when he'd only been planning to spend his day laying around various rooms of the house by himself. However, now he had an important, if physically very small, responsibility. Babies required energy.
He made his way downstairs, Meriella nestled against his side. She seemed comfortable enough but he was a little concerned that she had hardly made so much as a peep since he'd removed her from the car hours ago. But his thoughts were redirected as he walked into the kitchen to see a small pile of baby clothes, nappies, and other supplies on the kitchen table.
He didn't have to read the note sitting on top to know that Hermione had sent them via Effie from her own stash of baby things awaiting the arrival of her daughter. He imagined that Hermione had actually taken great pleasure in culling what she believed to be a ridiculous wardrobe, especially for a baby who was still a couple of months from even being born.
"Well, it looks like you're going to be kitted out just like a Malfoy princess," he chuckled. "Don't tell Hermione I said that," he added hastily.
They spent the day relatively peacefully. Meriella was a good baby, though he didn't know if she normally had such a mellow disposition, or if she was just in shock. A healer had given her a clean bill of health before they'd left the scene that morning, but Harry knew very well that there were many ways to be injured that didn't involve the body.
Despite the fact that, in the scheme of things, it had not been very long since he'd had a child this age he found himself reverting to the habits from when he was a brand new parent, constantly checking to make sure that she was breathing and that she wasn't either cold or overheated. She spent most of the day in his arms- he could not have said if that was for her benefit or his.
Hermione texted him in the early evening to ask about Meriella. He was not fooled by her unsubtle attempt to check on him, but he didn't tell her that, nor that he was amused by her mother hen behavior. He just wished her luck for the Samhain event that she and Malfoy would be attending that night. She had responded with a colon and a closed parentheses which he knew were meant to represent a smiley face and told him more about her nerves than any words could have, because he also knew that she usually had very strong feelings about using such shorthand.
They were finishing up dinner when the floo sounded. He grabbed the baby to go answer it and discovered Pansy waiting impatiently. He could only see her face, of course, but he was well acquainted with what she looked like when she was annoyed.
"There you are!" She exclaimed when she caught sight of him, like she had been waiting hours instead of minutes. "I'm coming through."
Harry supposed he should have felt grateful that she hadn't just come through without even informing him, permission would have been too much to expect, he knew that from experience too, but today he found it irksome. She knew what today was and therefore should have known better than to be so pushy.
He opened his mouth to tell her to go back home but he found himself doing a double-take instead once she was standing in front of him, not looking at all bothered that she had disturbed him.
She had cut her hair.
He repeated the thought out loud and she rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked into a small smile and she turned in a circle and struck several poses so that he could admire it from all angles.
"What do you think? I went with Granger to get her hair styled for tonight and I decided to just go for it."
"I like it," he responded truthfully. He had grown to like her sharp bob, recognizing that the only reason he'd ever disliked it was because it was the same haircut she had at Hogwarts, and he had no good memories of her from that time. But now she was his friend and a beautiful woman to boot, and he'd actually started to think her hair was sort of a signature of hers. But he liked this too, though he probably wouldn't have imagined that he would if he had been asked beforehand, because it was very short. A common enough choice for women in the muggle world, but unusual for witches, so he would have had a hard time imagining it. It was sophisticated but playful, but most importantly he could tell that she liked it. "You look beautiful," he added.
She beamed at him, which was a big triumph for him, coming from her. "Thank you. Hermione said that muggles call this a pixie cut but we decided we weren't going to refer to it like it has anything in common with those nasty little buggers."
He surprised himself with the bark of laughter that erupted from his mouth.
"She said it makes me look like Audrey Hepburn," she added, her eyes crinkling at the corners, clearly amused by him.
Harry never, in a million years, would have thought of it himself. But thankfully he paid attention to his best friend's interests, even those that held none for him, so he did at least know who Pansy was talking about. He examined her with serious consideration and nodded.
If possible her smile got bigger. "So I dressed the part."
He examined her tight black pants, black shirt, flat shoes, and the small, colorful silk scarf around her neck. It was very muggle, but it didn't really look any different from something he'd seen Hermione wear many times and was much simpler than Pansy's usual style. "Okay, I have to admit, that goes over my head."
She just laughed.
"Pansy, what are you doing here?" He adjusted the baby in his arms, and tried to sound annoyed. The problem was that he was no longer sure he felt that way. "Why aren't you dressed for the Samhain thing?"
She snorted. "Thing," she repeated. "And obviously I'm not going to the thing, I'm here with you. It's obnoxious anyway," she dismissed with a wave of her hand.
He looked at her incredulously. "Isn't it like your duty to go?"
"Haven't you realized by now that I do what I please?"
Harry didn't know exactly how Pansy had lost both of her parents (he wasn't completely sure her mother was even dead) as it was very much not discussed, but despite not having them around to enforce her behavior, she always seemed to act like the quintessential pureblood.
"Do you?"
She smiled at him and he suddenly suspected that she was humoring him. "I do." She took a step forward. "Now let me meet this little lady."
Harry realized that Meriella had buried her face in his shoulder and he spoke softly to her to encourage her to lift her head and look at Pansy.
"Oh!" Pansy gasped softly when she did, "she's so pretty! I've gotten used to all these boys."
"I'll try not to be offended on their behalf," he deadpanned, knowing she actually loved 'all these boys.'
She rolled her eyes. "I'll have you know that all the boys I spend my time with are very handsome." She looked up and wrinkled her nose. "Present company excluded. You smell. When was the last time you bathed?"
"I've had the baby with me all day."
"Listen, I know I'm no expert, but I do know that those two things aren't mutually exclusive. But I'm here now, so give her to me and go shower."
She didn't phrase it as a request and then, to top it off, she practically wrenched Meriella away from him and pointed towards the stairs.
"We ladies demand better," she said when he didn't move, actually tapping her foot to demonstrate her impatience.
He just shook his head and decided it wasn't worth it to argue. Unlike most people she wouldn't give up, she'd just find a way to complain louder and more obnoxiously, insult him with increasing bite, and generally annoy him until he acquiesced.
That was how he'd found himself spending two hours the previous Saturday looking at paint samples of- what she swore was- different colors. All he'd seen was pink. But he thought he'd well earned the right to claim he'd helped with his goddaughter's nursery.
So he went and took a shower. He even allowed himself to linger for a few minutes longer than necessary, letting the warm water relieve the muscles that had gotten stiff from mostly remaining in one position all day. Especially his shoulders which were no longer used to children who liked to be held, instead of wanting to be left alone to go, go, go.
It was possible that he missed having an infant. And he was well aware that he had hoped for a daughter. But he was also well aware of the dangers of becoming too attached to the little girl downstairs, so he did his best to let go of his nostalgia along with his tension.
He dressed and crept downstairs, putting his auror training to good use sneaking up on his guests. He found them lying on the floor in the parlour side by side, Pansy was speaking quietly to Mariella who was watching her, apparently entranced. He stopped in his tracks and just watched them for several moments.
It had only been a matter of a few months since Harry would have been very reluctant to leave any child alone with Pansy for any length of time, both for the child's sake and her own (she was never going to live down offering Scorpius unlimited biscuits the first time she'd babysat him on her own), but now she looked completely at ease.
He pushed away from the doorway and went to settle next to the baby. "What are we talking about?"
"I'm apologizing on your behalf that she was forced to spend the day in such a dump."
Harry snorted. Pansy had never made any bones about the fact that she found his home decor atrocious, but she hadn't seen it before. He'd all but stripped it bare after the war so that he could live in it- without too many painful reminders of the time it had served as Order headquarters- while Ginny finished her last year at Hogwarts. But then they'd married and he'd moved into a house they'd bought together which was supposed to be the place they would raise their family and live forever.
But that obviously hadn't worked out. So he'd returned to Grimmauld Place, but again, it was only meant to be temporary. However, it had now been more than a year since he'd moved in and almost exactly a year since his divorce had been finalized and he was still here, and yet the only rooms with any personality were the library, which had been Hermione's project all those years ago, and the boys' rooms. It had taken him longer than he'd imagined to adjust to being a single parent and to not having another adult to come home to at the end of the day. He hadn't gotten around to redecorating or finding a new house.
"I was actually thinking of moving. There's a house for sale near Hermione and Malfoy," he finally voiced the thought he'd been trying to find the right time to share with his best friend, but for some reason had been hesitant to do so.
Pansy slowly turned her head in his direction. "Well, Granger will obviously be thrilled. Draco will act like he hates the idea, but anything that makes Hermione happy is okay with him. Also, as much as he seems to like the muggle world I think he'd like having another wizard nearby. Plus you're over there all the time anyway."
"And probably more so soon, once Portia gets here."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You could move into one of their guest rooms but I'll still be the superior godparent, Potter."
"We'll see," he smiled to himself. "Pansy?"
"Hmmm?"
"Why are you really here? I know you didn't ditch your fancy pureblood shindig just to come over here and lay on the floor with me."
"You're right."
"Really?"
"Yes. I didn't come over here with any intention of lying on the floor, that just happened."
He huffed, part amusement, part annoyance. "Aren't you supposed to be Malfoy's back up with his parents tonight, or something?"
"Absolutely not. I am not getting in the middle of the Great Malfoy Standoff of 2007. And believe me Narcissa 'I lied to the Dark Lord to protect my son' Malfoy is capable of eviscerating you from much further away than the length of a ballroom."
"I thought you liked Narcissa?"
"I do like Narcissa. I just know how she operates. I usually admire the way she operates, when I'm not the target of her ire, at least. Which I definitely would be if I run interference for Draco. So that means I'll be avoiding any venue where they'll both be present for the foreseeable future. Until she admits defeat, accepts that she's now only the third most important witch in Draco's life, and apologizes to Hermione."
"Ah, so I'm the alternative to your fancy ball. Minus the food, dancing, and general cheer, of course. Kind of a poor replacement really."
She just stared at him for so long that he began to feel unnerved and almost looked away. "No Harry, I'm exactly where I want to be." She smiled at him again, then turned onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow. "Now, do you want to see pictures of Scorpius? He's gone off to the Grangers' dressed as something called a Gruffalo."
"It's a children's book, or I guess it's technically the character from a book, but it's also the title of the book," Harry explained automatically, though his heart felt like it was in his throat.
"Yes," she smirked, "I think Hermione may have mentioned that. I also have pictures of Draco pretending to be very put out about the whole thing and failing spectacularly," she pointed at him, "don't tell me that's not better than a night by yourself."
Harry finally felt like he had caught his breath again. Teasing he could handle. "I'm always up for watching Malfoy fail at anything. So," he pulled out his mobile which contained the pictures he'd taken of his boys who'd put on their costumes specially for him yesterday afternoon, "for your Gruffalo, I'll see you an enthusiastic pirate, and raise you one very unhappy parrot sidekick."