Disclaimer: If you still haven't got the idea, there's really no point in me repeating myself, is there?
A/N: Look at me…I'm finally typing this up! Now we shall see if anyone is actually still reading, though…
Of Cowards and HeroesChapter 11
Hamilton Canada, October 22nd, 1996Green light…everywhere…people yelling…a baby crying…green light.
Hogwarts, October 22nd, 1996"And you move your wand so – and say…wait for it…Dormir. Has everybody got that? No? Just a small half-turn here…and…yes, very good, Miss Granger, just like that, and – Dormir!"
Ron grinned at Harry, who was looking rather apprehensive as the redhead twirled his wand.
"Alright, do me first, mate – I had this really great dream last night and-"
"Sure, Ron, that's all I need to know," Harry said loudly. "Just sit down first."
"Oh, yeah," Ron enthusiastically agreed. "I hadn't thought of that. Be a bit painful, wouldn't it, just keeling right over li-"
"Dormir."
And Ron keeled right over, the sound of his head hitting the desk making a small thud.
"Harry!"
He turned, grinning quite unapologetically to the indignant looking Hermione. "What?" he asked her. "Look at him – he's enjoying himself."
Much to her immediate regret, Hermione turned and glanced at Ron's rather pleased looking face.
"Oh, no, Harry, wake him up. I did not need to see that. Boys, honestly!"
"Oi!" Harry protested, looking hurt. "I'm standing right here!" The protest, though, was articulated with a lot more enthusiasm than he felt. The nervousness of moments earlier was welling up again, threatening to engulf him by the time he'd woken Ron up and was staring down the business end of his best friend's wand. He gave one last, slightly panicked glance to Hermione, who caught it and turned worriedly to Ron.
"You know, Ron, maybe you should practice on me,"
And suddenly he was staring at himself – but it was wrong, somehow – just a little bit off, but enough to make him feel more than a little disturbed. He was older, yes, at least ten years older, and…his eyes. Harry realized that he was staring at brown eyes, instead of his mother's vivid green, and the glasses around them were different, too. Frowning, his mouth fell open in surprise when not-quite-right-Harry frowned back at him, bringing up his right hand as Harry raised his left…
A mirror! His attention, though, was swiftly diverted by the fact that a small, curly haired girl had just wrapped herself around his leg. Inwardly astonished, he found that he was reaching down and gathering the child in his arms, who murmured something that sounded suspiciously like 'Daddy' to Harry's dream-fogged brain before laying her head down on his shoulder.
"Hi, Becca," he heard the dream-Harry say, and he froze. He knew that voice. Sometimes, at night, when it was very quiet, he could just hear it in the back of his mind, saying soothing things to him, reading stories, not to mention the fact that he had a very vivid memory of it, one that he didn't like to think about, one that he'd regretted ever seeing in Snape's Pensieve.
"James?"
Once again, Harry found himself staring into another pair of eerily familiar eyes, this time a bright blue framed by long, black lashes. Despite his inward shock, the woman who looked just like an older version of Nadia Zabini smiled brightly at him, holding out her arms and taking the girl from him.
"There you are, sweetheart," she said. "Are you tired, Becca?"
And then he woke up.
Hamilton Canada, October 15th, 1996
James woke up, rolled over onto his back, and stared at the roof of his car for what seemed like hours. It wasn't until his phone began to ring that he started back to reality, flushing guiltily when he realized that it was probably Adéla on the other end; Adéla, his wife, who was seven months pregnant with their daughter. But that doesn't mean that you can't think about 'her', an inner voice said, and his conscience momentarily soothed, James sat up a little bit straighter. Valiantly attempting to cease thinking about Lily as he struggled to reach the phone, her green eyes kept appearing his mind, frustrating him to such a point that he pummelled his fist into the seat beside him when the phone stopped ringing just as he reached it.
Banging his head back into the headrest in irritation, he wondered why he found it so hard to stop dwelling on thoughts of his long-dead wife. He should have been grinning like an idiot, after dreaming of what looked to be a happy future with Adéla and their little girl – so we decide on Rebecca after all, he mused, - but something had been off…it had been…
Green eyes.
It had only been for a split second, but they'd flashed momentarily in his mirror reflection, just as he'd experienced a sensation of being shared, as if there were two of him, fighting for dominance within one body. But that green…
Lily.
Harry.
Hogwarts, October 22nd, 1996
"Harry, don't – I'm telling you, you shouldn't just go and- "
But, completely disregarding Hermione's rather frantic warning, Harry was already halfway down the crowded hallway to where Nadia was standing, with Blaise and a rather vapid-looking blond girl and so obviously bored that when Harry's rather unmistakeable mop of hair appeared nearby, a vast smile of relief spread across her face before she could help herself. By the time he had reached her, though, she had managed to compose herself, studiously pretending to be interested in the increasingly one-sided conversation between Blaise and the adoring girl.
"So, you really don't?" she asked him, only turning to look at him when he sighed.
"I really don't." Harry said tiredly, holding up a hand. "I just wanted to say – oh, bloody hell."
Nadia coolly raised an eyebrow, but the sparkle of amusement in her eye that Harry was fast beginning to recognize gave away her curiousity. "I already told you that we're even, Potter."
Looking around furtively, Harry leaned away from her. "Look, just keep this in mind – I really don't fancy you, all right?"
"You don't?" Blaise suddenly said, completely abandoning any pretence he had of listening to the now annoyed looking blond. Both Nadia and Harry swivelled to look him, but unlike Harry, who was rendered momentarily speechless with an overwhelming desire for the floor to open up and swallow him whole, Nadia merely glared angrily at the tall, dark-haired boy, irritation seemingly spilling out of her.
"Who knows?" she smirked. "Maybe he does."
"I don't." Harry repeated firmly, having found his tongue again. "Look, Zabini, I just wanted to talk to Nadia."
"Talk to Nadia?" Blaise looked mockingly incredulous, and then smirked, looking uncannily similar to his niece. "Since when were the two of you on a first names' basis?"
Harry opened his mouth to retort that Blaise could bloody well mind his own business when, much to his shock Nadia stepped in and calmly informed Blaise what – or rather, where he could go and place his own damn business and leave the two of them alone before dragging him off to a slightly less crowded corner of the hall.
"Yes, yes, we Slytherins are a right pain in the arse – I've heard it all before, Potter, so don't go off about that. Now look; you'd better have something seriously good to say – I don't like it when people waste my time."
Harry blinked rather stupidly. Despite the lazy, hot summer afternoon drawl that was Nadia's voice, the past few seconds seemed to have flown by so very quickly that he was left with his head spinning and therefore, completely muddled.
"I had a dream about you." he blurted out. Wincing inwardly at his extreme lack of tact, he found himself surprisingly impressed with Nadia's level of control. She'd managed to keep her mouth from dropping open and it was only the split second widening of her eyes that gave away her shock.
"You dreamt about me." She repeated flatly, and Harry felt his face flush red.
"Well, not- "
"You. Dreamt. About. Me."
"That's the thing, see,"
"Dreamt. About me."
"It wasn't about you!" Harry said hurriedly, before Nadia could repeat herself once more.
Nadia frowned. "It wasn't?" she asked, all of her usual cool long gone at the recent turn of events. "But you said…"
"You were in it." Harry patiently explained, and her disbelieving stare returned.
"So – you dreamt about me?"
"Look," Harry said, pulling her further away from the curious onlookers in the hallway. "I had a dream – and at the very end – you, but a slightly older you, came in. All I know is that she looked like you, all right?"
"Right."
Nadia looked levelly at Harry, then down at their hands, Harry having grabbed hers in a desperate bid to make her understand him. Confused, Harry followed her gaze, then dropped her hands as he rolled his eyes.
"I don't fancy you, Nadia."
"Yeah, so you've said." She returned, but lacking the usual sarcasm. Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair. "So this woman looked like me, you say?"
Feeling intensely relieved that she was finally taking him seriously, began to tell her the dream, conveniently forgetting the fact that his older self had his father's eyes, voice, and name. Nadia listened, a smile tugging at the edge of her lips as Harry spoke, developing into a wide grin by the time he'd finished.
"Pot…Harry, you do realize that you had a dream, about you, and me, as adults, living together…with a child…AND YOU TOLD ME! Harry, I know that you don't fancy me…but…you haven't really had much experience with girls, have you?"
Harry threw up his hands, utterly frustrated. "Alright, alright, leave off, okay? Let's just say – alright – that for some really strange reason, I am just dying to get into your knickers, and, being the complete idiot that I am when it comes to girls- "
"Complete idiot in general." Nadia helpfully corrected.
"-complete idiot that I am, maybe I just don't understand my-" he grimaced. "- deep and intense feelings for you on a conscious level yet. But that's not the point! Something – something was off. It wasn't you, but it was you…and…"
"Potter," Nadia snapped, her smile gone and her look rather chilly. "You're a complete nutcase; you do know that?"
"Yeah, and you're pretty loony yourself, Zabini," Harry told her, crossing his arms and turning away. When, behind him, he heard her sigh and felt her hand on his shoulder, he turned back, smirking at her.
"Then again, maybe…maybe you fancy me."
"Please, Potter," Nadia grinned wickedly at him. "Only in your dreams."
In spite of himself, Harry found that he was grinning back at her. "Alright – well, look, if you discover a long-lost twin or something, let me know."
"You know this means you'll owe me again, Potter."
Harry shrugged. " I think you'd better go and rescue your uncle from that girl."
Nadia's eyes shot daggers at him. "Don't dismiss me, Potter," she spat. "And don't call him my uncle."
Harry simply walked away from her, thoroughly he pleased that he had left with the upper hand for once.
"Oh, no," Hermione said upon seeing him. "You look far too smug for your own good. Now, please tell me that you didn't tell her that…oh…no…you…" she faltered momentarily at the affirmative look on his face. "Harry, sometimes, you're just…"
"I know," Harry interrupted her, affecting the air of someone who is completely at ease with themselves and pitying the world around them for not being able to do the same. "I'm a complete idiot, in general, and especially when it comes to girls. Anyway, we're going to be late for Potions and-"
"Late for Potions!" Hermione's voice rose an octave. "Snape will murder us before we even get to our seats…"
And Harry suddenly found himself being dragged once more down the crowded halls at alarming speeds, brushing momentarily past Nadia as he went. Seemingly seconds later he was in Potions, seated beside the attentive-looking Hermione as Snape strode into the room. Soon, however, he became aware of a slip of paper inside his left fist, and frowning, he surreptitiously opened it beneath his desk. It was hastily scribbled, and the writer's handwriting was obviously on the verge of complete descent into chicken scratch, but its message was still clear.
Harry, I had a sister.
-Nadia
P.S: Seeing as you hopefully don't have any knickers for me to subconsciously desire entry to, I think it is safe to say that I most certainly do not, on any level, fancy you.
Hamilton Canada, October 22nd, 1996
Green – flying – everywhere. Adéla's face was reddened with embarrassment as she was herded away by the store manager, who, noting her obvious pregnancy, was determined to see her out of harm's way.
"It happens every day, my dear," the older gentleman was saying. "I will have a chat with our boys in that department; those canned peas should not have been stacked there – right between those aisles. I'm terribly sorry, Ms…"
"Potter," Adéla sniffed. "Mrs. Potter. Um – do you mind if I give my husband a ring, then? I'm so very sorry; I didn't hurt anyone, did I?"
For a second, the image of the regal but strangely dressed blond man and brunette flashed through the manager's mind, a silvery, luminescent…barrier…in front of them as they fell back from the unexpected cascade of green cans. At Adéla's continued sniffing, though, he quickly came back to himself, gesturing towards a nearby phone. "Oh, no, my dear, not at all – here – please, go ahead, call your husband."
Nodding shakily, Adéla declined the proffered phone and pulled out her phone instead. When no one answered the first time, he worriedly offered her the store phone once more, only for Adéla to redial on her cellular. He smiled encouragingly as it rang again, looking vastly relieved when someone picked up.
"Déla?"
"Hi, James – where are you?"
"I'm just down the street, baby…" the voice paused, and suddenly became rather suspicious. "Why?"
"Nothing – just…can you come by and pick me up?"
Now the voice on the other end was low and serious, and for some reason, the manager found himself looking around nervously. "Déla, where-ever you are right now; just stay there – I'll come inside and…"
"James, don't be ridiculous. I just had a small accident, but I'm fine, we're fine, no – James – no – James, I'll be outside. I could do with the fresh air right now."
Rolling her eyes theatrically at the manager, Adéla hung up and stood, gathering her belongings. "Thank you so much, sir; my husband is on the way."
"Well, if you're truly fine, Mrs. Potter, then let me escort you outside. Are you sure that-"
Adéla smiled, but the rather steely look in her eyes made it clear that her mind wouldn't change in the near future. "I do appreciate your concern, sir. Now if you don't mind…"
Peter Pettigrew stared as the blue car pulled up to the entrance of the supermarket, the young woman he'd been gazing at moving towards it. If it hadn't been for the fact that she was quite obviously, by her clothing and large belly, muggle and pregnant, he would have sworn that he was staring at Gabriella Zabini. She was muggle, though, and being helped into the car by…
No.
It couldn't be, he knew he was dead – but the Juliana hadn't been dead, had she? No, no, they'd never found her body, but they'd seen his, hadn't they?
He watched, staring in horrified fascination as the James Potter look-alike kissed the Gabriella look-alike before heading around to his side of the car and driving away. Seconds later, Malfoy and Gabriella burst through the doors, wands drawn as they both looked around wildly. Confused, Peter quickly went to them, ploughing down unsuspecting muggles in his path.
"Malfoy – what…did you see that woman?"
The two, however, paid him no heed. "I sensed it!" Gabriella hissed. "She was right here!"
A horrible suspicion started to form in Peter's mind. "You mean…a magical person with the Investigo on them was right here?"
He was from an old, old family – and the horror began to set in – it could have been him…
Malfoy had finally noticed him, though he stared at Peter with a look of intense distaste. "Did you not see her, Wormtail?"
"She looked like…Gabriella…" Peter managed, his mind still reeling with the mere possibility that James Potter was alive. Gabriella still took no notice of his shock, the only indication that she had even heard him speak given by the furrowing of her brow. Malfoy, however, fixed Peter with a cold, calculating gaze.
"Young? With child?"
Malfoy's words did, at least, manage to bring Gabriella out of her studied concentration as she turned to him, her face scornful. "You can't possibly be listening to his nonsense, Lucius?"
"About – oh – in her early twenties, you'd say?" Malfoy continued, quite blithely ignoring the look of intense displeasure on her face.
"Yes…" Peter squeaked, then cleared his throat in embarrassment. "I'd say that, yes."
Smiling now, Malfoy turned to Gabriella, whose face was wooden. "Forgive me, my dear, for having the audacity to re-open what must have been a personal and devastating loss, but didn't your eldest daughter – who looked remarkably like you, I must add – suffer an untimely and tragic death some years ago? She would have been about…oh, say…twenty-three, perhaps twenty-four, now?"
Gabriella, the fury tangibly building up within her, did not even deign to look Malfoy in the face but stared straight ahead, her eyes boring holes into whatever chanced to pass in front of them. "Yes, it is a rather personal subject, Mr. Malfoy."
Malfoy smiled like a cat now, clearly enjoying himself before he assumed a solemn expression and took one of her hands in his, patting it gently. "Gabriella, my dear Gabriella – it happens, unfortunately, to the best of us. No one thinks any the less of you – especially when your lovely daughter Nadia is such a wonderful example of pureblood…finesse."
She turned to him then, gracing him with a brief half-smile, and Peter let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Soon, though, he was sent to fetch Rookwood and Nott and bring them to their meeting place, where Gabriella and Malfoy were already hastily reconstructing the intricate spell-work that they'd dismantled in their absolute surety of finding Juliana. It wasn't though, until over two hours had passed that the large screen flickered to life; and, much to their extreme disappointment, the sparkling magical dot had long disappeared. For a split second both Malfoy and Gabriella looked furiously murderous, the temperature in the room seeming to drop several degrees in one instant.
Both, though, quickly regained their outer masks, the beasts of fury restrained behind time-tried facades of composure.
"We will wait two days." Gabriella announced, Malfoy nodding in agreement. "And then we must move on."
Huntsville Canada, October 22nd, 1996
"Two days, hmm…"
"Three, baby, three – it's Thanksgiving; we get Monday off, remember?"
Adéla turned, smiling delightedly to James. "Should we make a room up at the cottage for the baby? I know you want to move…but I think we should keep the cottage."
"Mm," James agreed, "Yeah, let's keep the cottage. Oh, there's the Sobey's – let's just get all the groceries we need here. Now, Déla…are you sure you want to go in? There could be dangerous stacks of canned peas just lurking around the corner-"
"James!" Adéla cried exasperatedly, rolling her eyes at the boyishly mischievous expression on his face. "It could have happened to anyone."
"Of course it could, baby, and I'm sure, that being pregnant right now, things may be a little bit strange for you - "
"Potter, you're lucky I'm already married to you. If you ever, ever bring that up again…"
"Look, we're here!" he said cheerfully, parking the car. Grinning widely at her, he jumped out of the car to help her out. When she frowned at him, he bent down to kiss her gently. "Let's just have a great weekend, okay?"
Adéla looked momentarily aloof before eyeing him rather haughtily. "I accept your truce," she informed him, before smiling happily. "Alright – let's get that pasta."
A/N: Finally! Did you know that this was written…oh let's see…about three weeks ago (don't hit me!) but I just haven't had time to type it up! Who knew that having a full-time job is so very…full-time! To the few of you who still actually reviewed…oh, you absolutely made my day. Please keep on telling me what you all think!: Finally! Did you know that this was written…oh let's see…about three weeks ago (don't hit me!) but I just haven't had time to type it up! Who knew that having a full-time job is so very…! To the few of you who still actually reviewed…oh, you absolutely made my day. Please keep on telling me what you all think!
tweeny-weeny: It's Rebecca Erin! And James most certainly isn't all that clueless; in fact, he knows that Sirius was in Azkaban. And yes, he still didn't go back – what a jerk!
Cherrysinger: oh, I would LOVE to publish something one day! But right now, I can only hope; that's why I love feedback so much…I want to improve! And it isn't so much writer's block anymore, as much as it is that thanks to my having an extremely active and vivid imagination, I often have so many story lines going on in my head that I get lost! But I'll try and get another chap up soon.
Kira6: Kira, hmm? I have a good friend called Kira…and yes, I agree with you entirely, Harry should be royally mad that James pretty much abandoned him…but there will be some atonement. In a way. Well, at least…er, you'll just have to keep on reading!Lovin'Moony: well, actually, when I was writing the dream sequence, the name Rebecca just seemed to fit better; so I was like – well then, Becca it is! Glad you like it, though, and the whole jumping around (heads up – we will be jumping back into the past again soon!) – this is the first time I've written a story using that style and I'm glad that it hasn't been a complete failure!
Once more, thanks to those who reviewed; that's what keeps me writing! Anything you want to say, any questions, raves or rants – review and let me know! – Laren.