In which Lizzy learns about magic.
V. 2006 – 2009
Lizzy meets Draco Malfoy, Harry's best friend, on accident. She has no idea how Draco's there—there's no car outside Harry's house.
She was making breakfast while Harry was getting dressed for work, when suddenly as if out of nowhere—there's this blonde man in the living room and he is shouting: "Harry, you're late and if you don't come down here now I'm going to curse you half—oh, hi, I'm Draco, you must be Lizzy."
"Hi, Draco. You're going to curse him? Be sure to make it effective, he's being really slow this morning. I'm not sure why," Lizzy says, shaking his hand. "I've heard lots about you. Weird that we're only just now meeting, don't you think?"
"You know about cursing? He's told you about that?" Draco looks somewhat shocked but is pleased. "Well—then yeah, I'm really surprised we haven't met yet then. I thought it was because of all of that he was holding off on our introductions—"
"Draco! Sorry I'm running late," Harry interrupts, running down the stairs with dripping hair. "Lizzy—this is Draco Malfoy, Draco, this is Lizzy Kinnaird. Geez, I'm embarrassed."
Lizzy raises her eyebrows. "You think? Here's breakfast, you sloth. By the way, what's this thing about cursing that you haven't told me about? Draco was talking about how its why we haven't met yet—is some secret you've been keeping from me for the past year?"
Draco pales behind Lizzy's shoulder. His eyes widen dramatically, and mouths, I'm sorry.
Harry flicks his eyes between Draco and Lizzy. Lizzy looks equally angry and hurt, while Draco just looks like he's dropped an ancient antique and is about to be murdered.
"Bhainachod. Alright, Draco—I'm not going to work today. Fuck off," Harry says. "Lizzy—call in sick. I've a lot to explain."
Draco holds up his hands and backs away slowly. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to—"
"Just get out of here, maadarachod," Harry swears.
"Harry, what's going on?" Lizzy says, slightly afraid. "I need to drive to get service."
"That's okay," Harry says. "I'll just get the house back to what it used to be while you're gone. Just make sure you get the day off, and then please come right back."
"Get the house—Harry, what are you talking about? Why is all of this going on?"
Harry talks a few steps forward, and kisses Lizzy quickly. "This is a good thing. I'm a little annoyed with Draco, but I'm not mad with you. I'm actually kind of excited," he says. "Trust me, okay?"
Lizzy nods hesitantly before getting a bit more confident. "Okay, okay. I'll be back in ten minutes, okay? Is that enough time?"
"That's more than plenty," Harry says. He gives Lizzy one last kiss before she leaves.
Lizzy steps out of Harry's home and into her new car. Her mother's car was returned, but she missed having one so much, she decided to purchase her own. Having Harry as a boyfriend really requires a vehicle of her own as she found out a few days after being motor-less. She tried to walk to Harry's home, but found it took well over an hour. She was out-of-breath, and so tired by the time she arrived that Harry was so concerned for her walking back that he loaned her an old bicycle of his for her to take back. She tried to find the bicycle to bring back the next day, but it had gotten stolen and completely vanished into thin air. When she told Harry, he shrugged it off like it was no big deal—it happens, I don't blame you, it was a horrible cycle anyways. She begged Harry afterwards to help her become more fit, so he took her on all sorts of walks through the mountains and she enjoyed them all, especially with Harry's patient and non-rushing cheerful demeanour at her side when she struggled—and soon became more confident. Now she can walk the distance to Harry's house in only thirty minutes, but regardless of her newfound athleticism, she still prefers to drive.
She leaves the scenic drive to a nearby turnout on the road that she discovered is the closest spot with signal. She calls her employer, and tells them she's come down with a horrible cold and won't be coming in today. She makes sure to talk hoarsely while on the phone, and her story is convincing. She is let off for the day—and so she returns to Harry's home.
When she parks her vehicle, the house looks the same on the outside. She opens the front door, calling out a timid Harry? I'm back, and then she closes the door behind her and looks around the foyer. The only change is a small statue on the entrance table—it matches the décor nicely, and when she goes to look at it closer, she realises that it is of a strange animal—a weird half eagle, half horse thing. She jumps back when the statue ruffles its wings—how fascinating! She has no idea how it works, but she appreciates it. Why was this hidden? She moves on to the living areas with their panoramic views. Here and there—there are noticeable changes. More books fill the shelves, but they have strange names, like The Encyclopaedia for Construction Charms or A History of Wizarding Architecture. They match the other books—but she's confused with their topics. Wizarding, charms? Is Harry some strange Wiccan—well, she can work with that. Everyone needs to have a flaw, she thinks.
The light switches—they've completely vanished, and she only notices this when she walks into the kitchen. She normally always turns on the light as she enters the room, but somehow, the room brightens as soon as she steps inside. Motion sensors? She thinks, but this doesn't make sense—why would they use light switches instead of the motion sensors this whole time?
She checks the previous room for the lights—and they are gone as well. As are the electrical outlets on the walls. How peculiar.
But she enters the clean kitchen and she finds little changes—but then she realises the room is completely clean—actually, the whole house is completely clean and she knows Harry cannot clean this fast. Something happened in here. There's not a crumb of food nor soap suds in the dry kitchen sink, but when she checks the cabinets—there they are: the dishes she had just been using this morning. Lizzy is starting to feel somewhat uneasy as she makes her way up the stairs.
She shrieks for the first time in the guest bedroom—the picture of the couple on the wall that she always had assumed were Harry's parents—they're moving now. They're moving and then they're talking to her.
"Oh—it's so nice to finally talk to you. Where's Harry?" The man says.
Lizzy immediately leaves the room—her heart beating fast and closes the door behind her. She rests against the closed door and tries to regain her breath. What the hell, she thinks. She is afraid now—and so she checks the other guest bedroom by just peaking her head in, and to her relief—there's no people but the picture of the landscape is moving—the grass is blowing in constant wind and—and this one is actually quite beautiful. She steps fully into the room and stares at the painting. It's a view of a castle—a large lawn spread out in front of it, with some strange hoops and towers in a corner. A forest fills one side of the painting, but it is lovely. She looks at the frame and sees and etching on it—Hogwarts, 1980. The year Harry was born—the school he went to.
She takes another look at the place. It is magnificent and she can't imagine going to school in a place like that. She leaves the guest bedroom, and then heads her way down to the master suite.
The entire time she has known Harry, he has claimed he is in the process of renovating his bedroom. He always, though, gets distracted by current work projects and spending time with Lizzy so by the time he has available time, he's too exhausted to work on it—or at least, that's what he has said for the past year.
But when she steps inside—she realises this has been a total lie.
His room is stunning. It is covered with these beautiful moving landscapes of fantastic monuments that are across the world. She sees the Egyptian pyramids, Machu Pichu, the Taj Mahal, the Great Wall of China, the Sagrada Familia's interior—and more she doesn't even know what they are. They are so artfully placed around the room that she doesn't even know where to start looking—but then she sees the photographs of people on his dresser. His empty dresser top that she had been filling with photos of the two of them.
She's extraordinarily happy to see that none of them have been removed. They stand prominently with the other, moving portraits. But these are of people she doesn't know. One is a group of Harry with several Indians smiling. He's younger in that photo, maybe still in his teens. Another is with this Draco person she met only this morning, and what she assumes to be his wife (her name is completely escaping her right now, which makes Lizzy feel somewhat bad considered she has heard of her a lot). They're smiling as well. They shift between smiling and laughing—and Lizzy has no idea how this picture is working, how they are moving—so she flips the picture frame over to try and see if there's a strange mechanism behind it—but instead there's another photo, on the backside of that one; it's been covered up—it's of four people, Draco and his wife, Harry, and a girl who looks just like Draco's wife. She looks at it quizzically—she's never heard of this fourth person. She wonders why.
She sets the moving photograph back down and continues to look at the photos. There's one where Hogwarts can be seen in the background and in which clearly, Harry is much younger. He is shorter, he looks almost sixteen—he's extremely dirty, bleeding from numerous places, and looks completely exhausted, and his smile is one of relief, not joy. He's holding a strange stick, as are his two companions. The one on the right is a redhead who is much taller than him who is also filthy and bleeding and smiling, followed by a brunette girl who looks the same. They move between hugging each other and then the other two kiss and Harry stands alone and looks off in the distance looking like the whole world rests on his shoulders—or that it just did—but he looks too old to be so young. She flips the photo over—maybe there's an explanation like there was on some of the others.
It reads: Victory after the Battle of Hogwarts, May 1998. HP, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger.
The Battle of Hogwarts? What the hell? She sets the photo back down and then picks it back up to look at that date—1998. What the hell? She quickly looks at the other photos and finds that the photo with the second closest date is one where Harry was with a Hispanic person. It has a jungle backdrop. It reads: El Mirador, Guatemala, September 1998. HP, Alejandro Juárez.
Five months—but Harry looks like an entirely different person. He's looks like he's almost a foot taller—he looks so much happier. What happened during those five months to change Harry so much?
She would go on a more thorough examination of the photographs—she's ignoring the fact that they're moving right now—she's mainly wondering how on earth someone could change that much in so little a time—when Harry arrives.
"Oh, Lizzy—I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in," he says. A box is floating next to him. She gapes. A box is floating next to him.
"What on earth?" she asks. "How is that—how is that floating?"
"Magic?" Harry says in return—but it's more like a question.
"That's not possible. Magic isn't real, Harry. What is going on—how do you pictures move—and there's a painting that tried to talk to me!"
Harry flinches, "Oh, yikes, I'm sorry about that. They're really chatty—"
"Harry! That's beside the point—what's going on? The whole house is far too clean for you to have done anything to it since I left," Lizzy says. "Do you have—my God, Harry—do you have slaves in your basement?"
Harry startles. "What? No, Lizzy—no, that's completely absurd. Let me show you," he says. He looks around for ideas and then says, "Break something—just break something. Really, thoroughly break something."
Lizzy looks confused and refuses at first, but Harry is insistent. She picks up a vase and then throws it at the ground. It shatters and the flowers and water flood the floor.
"Yikes, that's a mess, right?" Harry asks. Lizzy nods.
"Why the fuck did you have me do that?" Lizzy asks.
"Because of this," Harry says. He's holding that wooden stick that he was holding in that photo—and he waves it in a circle and says, "Reparo."
And then Lizzy watches in disbelief as the vase reforms itself and the flowers and water siphon back into the ceramic container. She picks it up. "That was planned—you set me up for that—you rigged it in advance."
"No, I swear I haven't," Harry insists. "But—hey, how about we go somewhere where you buy something you know I haven't rigged—something I could have never gotten to in advance and we try that, okay? Will you believe me then?"
Lizzy thinks about this and says, "If you're that willing to make a fool out of yourself, okay."
So Lizzy takes Harry to a dusty antique shop and makes Harry wait in the car while she picks out an absurdly obscure item in the very back corner of a case. She buys it, and then returns to Harry in the car.
"Do it in here. It's a car—you don't have any special equipment in here."
"Are you sure? I just sat in here for ten minutes without supervision, Lizzy," Harry says. "I really want you to believe me."
Lizzy sighs. "Damn. Okay—okay, I know where we're going."
"And it can't be in front of anyone else, alright?" Harry says.
"Yeah, whatever. No one would believe it, anyways," she says. "But I'll obey."
So she drives to a petrol station and then tells Harry to get out of the car, and she walks him into the water closet and follows him in. "You have never been in here in your life, have you?"
Harry shakes his head. "Never, I promise."
She nods. "Good. Okay, here we go. Fix this thing."
She pulls the little ceramic horse out of her pocket and throws it against the wall. It explodes. She stops on the pieces, and scatters them throughout the loo.
"Fix that," she says confidently.
Harry had been watching her with some amusement, but with complete confidence and nonchalantly says, "Reparo," and then—then the stupid ceramic horse is whole again.
"No, no—that's not possible!" Lizzy says. "That's not possible, I destroyed it."
"You did, Lizzy—but it's magic. Lizzy—Lizzy, love, I have magic—it's who I am. I'm a wizard, Lizzy. That's why I never had a road, because I used magic to get to places—Lizzy, look at me," Harry says when she starts crying. She shakes her head and tries to fight out of Harry's arms, but he turns her and holds her in a hug and whispers in her hair, "Lizzy, it's alright. It's okay, nothing is going to hurt you, okay? Everything is okay, I'm here—I love you—I'm still the same person—everything is going to be alright."
It takes some time, but she finally calms down enough to breathe regularly. She murmurs a thanks and then asks Harry if they can go home.
"Can you drive, I don't feel like it," she asks.
Harry hesitates, but then says, "I can do something better than driving, if you're feeling up to it?"
Lizzy looks at Harry. Her eyes are red and her mascara has smeared around her eyes. She gives a half-shrug. "Is it safe?"
"Everything is safe, when you're with me," he says. "I'll protect you from everything."
So she acquiesces, and Harry apparates them home, leaving Lizzy's car locked in the carpark of a petrol station.
Lizzy feels nauseous when they land—and Harry tells her this is normal, that this happened to him, that he threw up the first time, so she's doing much better than he did—and then when the feeling passes she sits herself down on the couch and quietly asks, "Why did you hide this from me?"
Harry sighs. "It's a law," he says. "The Ministry of Magic—our government—they and several other magical governments across the globe—"
"There's more of you? Across the globe?" She asks. Harry nods, but holds her in his arms a little tighter.
"Yes, but it's okay. You're safe—don't worry. They all signed an agreement to hide ourselves from non-magical people. It was back during the witch trials—persecution of magicals was at an all-time high, so the International Statue of Secrecy has been in place ever since. We're only allowed to tell non-magicals about magic if they are immediate family, or if we're in a serious permanent relationship with a non-magical," Harry says.
"Permanent?" Lizzy says, almost with a squeak.
"I would like it to be that way," Harry says. "I will understand if you choose differently, but I love you, Lizzy, and I would be thrilled to have you in my life forever."
"Are you proposing?" Lizzy asks, slightly horrified.
"Merlin, no. If I propose—when I propose, I'll do it properly, with a ring and everything," Harry says.
"So then—you are planning on marrying me?" Lizzy says.
"Only if you agree?" Harry says. "I'm horrible at talking about this sort of stuff, and this really isn't the time, I imagine—having just told you I'm a wizard."
Lizzy shakes her head, "We'll talk about that later—I'm just confused. I need—what else have you lied to me about? How much of your life was a lie?" She pulls out of Harry's arms and turns to look at him. "How much of our relationship was founded on something that wasn't true?"
Harry is confident when he says, "The only thing I hid from you was the magic. Everything I have shared with you has been the truth, or part of it. The only times I have lied have been related to magic—and those were white lies about electricity or why people don't boat in front of my house, or why I didn't have a driveway, or why I don't have a mail box. It's because I have magic to do those things for me—but I put in a driveway for you, and I put in a mail box for you as well. I want you to live with me, and you basically have been, these past couple months. We have been happy together. My decorations—I just removed the magical parts. And the magic makes things easier. Imagine cooking as much as we like, but then never having to clean, unless we wanted to. Magic cleaned the kitchen this morning. Imagine tracking mud onto the carpet, but never having to rent a carpet cleaner because magic will fix it for you. It's a gift, Lizzy."
"But it's dangerous," she says quietly. "It hurts people."
"What do you mean? Why do you say that?" Harry asks in an equally quiet tone.
"Magic hurt you—those times we were talking about ethics and totalitarianism—the whole story of Cailleach and responsibility and duty; you were talking about yourself and I want to know how magic hurt you and I want to know what those people did to you and why you have a photograph of a battle's victory in your bedroom—and I want to know what happened to you because you looked like you were in so much pain—Harry, please—you have never told me this," Lizzy says, turning to look at Harry who has gone still.
"You're right," Harry says slowly. "But magic, like all things, is both good and bad. There's good people, and there's bad people. When I was growing up, there were a lot of bad wizards—but now there are less, or rather, they're less violent. Magic hurt me, but it also saved me."
"That's not telling me what happened. I want to know," she says. "Please, Harry. Tell me."
Harry sighs heavily. "I don't like to talk about it, Liz."
"I know—but I need to know what happened so I can really understand what your magic means to you. I want to know the good and the bad."
Harry sits still for a while. Lizzy waits patiently for him to gather his words, and then he begins.
"I was a child of prophecy—yeah, I know, but they're real. The prophecy foretold that I was destined to defeat the darkest wizard of our time, and that it was either him or me—only one of us could survive. When I was baby, he found where I lived, slaughtered my parents, and tried to kill me. But he failed, and got banished to live as a spirit" Harry says. He traces the barely visible scar on his forehead. "It's how I got this scar—it's less noticeable now, but it used to be very prominent."
Lizzy nods for him to continue.
"I grew up with my Aunt and Uncle. My Aunt knew about magic, because her sister, my mother, had it. She was jealous of my mother's magic, and angry at her for dying—and she took that anger out on me. I told you a bit of how I grew up. I told you it was probably racism—and while that probably contributed, it was mainly because of the fact that I was magical, and they weren't.
"But when I was eleven, I got the invitation every magical kid gets to go to Hogwarts—a boarding school for witchcraft and wizardry. It's where you go to learn to become a proper witch or wizard. And I went. I was thrilled—and then I found out I was famous. I was famous because I lived, while my parents died. They called me "The Boy-Who-Lived" and I still carry that title everywhere I go in magical Britain. I didn't understand—but I felt responsible to defeat the dark wizard whenever he showed up. I was eleven—my first year, he was possessing a professor. I defeated him then. He showed up every single year, and I practically died every single time we met but somehow I always made it out alive. But it really started to get bad when I was fourteen. That was when I was kidnapped and forced to participate in a ritual to resurrect the dark wizard's body. After that, everything became a lot more dangerous, and people I knew and loved were dying.
"The reason the dark wizard was still alive, despite everything, was because he had split his soul into multiple pieces. As long as he had these pieces, he was tethered to the earth. It made him immortal. As long as he had those pieces, he couldn't die.
"My seventh year—'97—I couldn't go back to Hogwarts. It was taken over by the dark wizard's forces so I spent the entire time searching for his soul tethers. After infiltrating the government headquarters and stealing something from a high-ranking government official, stealing something from a high-security Wizarding bank run by goblins, and searching a castle that was being overrun by the dark wizard's soldiers, I managed to destroy pretty much every remaining soul piece except for one: myself."
Lizzy had been listening and then gasped, "Wait—you were a soul piece? How—how did that affect you—how come he didn't know?"
Harry sighs. "Apparently, I'm stronger magically than he is. I was able to contain the soul piece with my magic, but it required a lot of strength and energy. It's why I was so short—I didn't have any energy to spare to grow since the soul piece was fighting so hard to take control of my body. I had a completely different personality, back then, because of the soul piece. It would leak emotions and feelings and even its preferences so I was much more violent, much angrier, and wanted to fight at every opportunity I could."
"How did you get it out—you did get it out, right?" Lizzy asks.
"I did. I walked willingly to my death—I sacrificed myself," Harry says carefully. "I died. The dark wizard killed me. And so the soul piece died—and I was given the choice to die too. But I chose not too, so I could finish the job of ending the dark wizard once and for all."
"Wait—Harry, did you just say you died?"
Harry nods. "I did—and I'm honestly not making this up. Hardly anyone knows this except for maybe two or three people, and I'm trusting you with this. The secret of these soul shards is something we don't ever want to be released again—it's dark magic, and it should be lost."
Lizzy considers this. "It's honestly hard to believe," she says.
Harry smiles. "Well, I already did the impossible by living when I shouldn't have once—so really, this wasn't terribly unexpected. It frightened the dark wizard terribly. He thought I was invincible to the his curses. So then I beat him—and he died. And that was the end of the Battle of Hogwarts."
"And who were the two people in that picture with you?"
"Hermione, and Ron," Harry says. "They were once very good friends of mine, but they... they expected me to stay the same as I was before the soul piece was removed. They never listened to me when I told them that I had fundamentally changed with it gone. With it gone, I didn't even know what I liked. People kept pressuring me to join elite fighting groups, or the government, or the wizarding law enforcement, but I didn't want any of that anymore—that was because of the soul piece's influence. I didn't know what wanted, so I left. I went and travelled the world for two years and figured out what I wanted to do. When I came back, I made friends with Draco, and Astoria—and built my house—and met you, and I'm happy. I'm truly, truly happy."
"It's nice to know that your story has a happy ending, at least," Lizzy says. "But your childhood—that's a horrible story."
"It's a famous one. I think there are biographies written about me. I'm the 'Saviour' of the Wizarding world, Lizzy. I don't like the fame. I hide out here—in peace, and calm, and I use my Indian name and make people sign confidentiality agreements when they hire me to build for them so that they can't go around and tell people that it's actually Harry Potter's company or else we'd be so swamped with work that people would just think the company is popular because of its famous owner instead of the quality work we do," Harry says.
"I never considered that," Lizzy says. She pauses, and then hesitantly says, "So what will they do when they find out about me?"
"It doesn't matter what the press says. They're fickle and foolish—and all that matters is what we think of ourselves. It was a hard lesson to learn, personally. But, it helps if you realise none of your family will see the news?" he says, smiling. Lizzy laughs while Harry continues, "I love you more than anything, and I will protect you from as much harm as I can. I may not be able to control the tabloids, but this house is safe from anyone and anything that could possibly ever have malicious intent. You are safe here. Can you feel it?"
Lizzy nods. "It has felt like home since I first walked in, to be honest," Lizzy says. "I felt so presumptuous, feeling like that—but I love this house. It feels good to me."
Harry grins. "I'm so glad you feel like that—because the house loves you. When you came over for the first time—the magic I used to build this house was going crazy, it was thrilled. This house never feels as complete as it does when you are here. I want to share it with you—I want it to be our house, Lizzy."
Lizzy hesitates. "That's a big step, Harry. You haven't even met my parents."
"Introduce me to them—they sound wonderful. And why don't we have Draco and Astoria over for dinner tonight, okay? You can meet them in a more regular setting?" Harry says. Lizzy nods.
"I want you to show me more magic," Lizzy says. Harry grins, and then Lizzy kisses him, and Harry uses magic to pull her closer and so she is now on his lap and she kisses him and then she is crying and Harry asks why she is crying.
"Because you make so much more sense now," she says. "You were always withholding something from me—and now I feel like I actually know you. You're whole now. Magic is such an important part of you—the fact that you can use it freely now matters so much to you, I'm so sorry you couldn't tell me earlier—why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"I was afraid, Lizzy," Harry says. "I didn't want you to leave me."
"You fool," Lizzy says. "I'm not leaving you. You terrified me, but I love you—I will go through hell so I can be with you, but you can be such an idiot. You could have told me on the first day and I wouldn't have turned away."
Harry laughs uproariously. "Really, Lizzy? Imagine if we were at the grocers and I pulled out my wand and start waving it around—do you really think you wouldn't have freaked out a little?"
Lizzy blushes. "Okay, so that might have been an exaggeration," she says. "But the point is the same. I love you—I'm not leaving you—I'll move in but only after you meet my parents and they approve of you. Do we tell them about magic?"
Harry hesitates and then shakes his head. "Probably not. They won't know me as well as you do so it won't seem weird to them, and when they come over, now that I've identified everything magical in the house, it only takes about five minutes to put everything away and take it all out again. We can leave the foyer magic-free, in case of random appearances."
She smiles. "That sounds like a good plan. But now—I need to actually sit down and talk with your best friend and his wife."
Harry smiles and then he drops it suddenly. "Speaking of which—I don't know if you noticed, but one of my photos upstairs, I have one that has a picture of Astoria's sister in it. Please, don't mention her. Her name is Daphne, and she cut off all contact with the family over a radical political issue. It's very sensitive, and Astoria still has challenges with it, since she and her sister were very close. Just as a forewarning—don't ask her about siblings. Don't ask Draco either, he's an only child. As am I, actually. We're quite boring, compared to you."
"I am curious to see how you will get along with my brother," Lizzy says. "It should be entertaining, considering he's very technologically up-to-date and you live in the nineteenth century," she teases.
Harry laughs. "I look forward to it too. Should I study up? You can teach me," he says.
Lizzy shrugs. "I want to see you fail, so no."
They smile, kiss, and then head into the kitchen, where Harry dazzles Lizzy with the spells that assist in the cooking process. Periodically, Lizzy exclaims that he must have been so irritated all of the time when they could have been done so much sooner, and every time, Harry says that no, it was worth it, because it was more time spent with you.
Draco and Astoria arrive that evening. Lizzy is only slightly surprised when they step out of the fireplace—but Harry has explained this is another method of wizarding travel, so she is prepared for it.
Draco, however, seems surprised to see Lizzy. "Oh, hello again," he says.
Harry wraps an arm around Lizzy and smiles. "Draco, Astoria—I'd like you to meet Lizzy. Lizzy, you met Draco this morning, and this is Astoria," he says.
Astoria beams and steps forward. "It's great to meet you, Lizzy. Harry has told us so much about you," she says. "I've needed another girl to spend time with while the boys do their thing—I'm so excited to meet you!"
Lizzy smiles and shakes Astoria's hand. "Hi, Astoria," she says. "It's nice to meet you too; Harry speaks fondly of you."
Astoria waves her hand dismissively. "Harry does that about everyone—he's too nice. But you? He can't stop talking about you—it's been driving me crazy!"
"Tori—please," Harry says. "Maybe save the embarrassing until after we eat?"
Draco smirks. "Oh no—this is your punishment for making me work alone today. Do you know how awful it was? It was raining all day, and the owner was chuffed to have me work on the exterior since you weren't there. I know that agreement prevents them from telling anyone, but it doesn't stop them from treating me like trash," he says.
"Wait—he did what?" Harry says angrily as they take their seats at the table. Lizzy hesitates at the lack of food on the table, but reminds herself that her world has completely changed today—magic is real.
"Yeah—the old man is horrible when you aren't there. I didn't tell you?" Draco says when he spreads his napkin delicately.
"No, you haven't," Harry says. "Otherwise I would've done something about it—"
"Oh, stop, no you couldn't," Draco says. "I know you like to pretend that it helps, and I know it makes you feel better—but it doesn't change anything, mate."
Harry sighs.
"What's he talking about?" Lizzy asks Harry.
Astoria is the first to answer. "Draco's parents are pretty horrible people. Racist, prejudiced, frankly, I'd go as far as to call them evil," she says. "People think he's just like them when he's the exact opposite, really, so they treat him poorly and think that he should be punished for their actions."
"But you're not them," Lizzy says. "You can't fault the child for the actions of the parent."
Draco shrugs. "You can't change the minds of people who refuse to accept other opinions. I'm not like my parents, but people aren't going to believe that, so I have to work twice as hard as everyone else to prove that I'm okay."
"That's horrible," Lizzy says.
Harry nods. "I'm sorry Draco—you're right. But you know I rarely miss—and today was definitely your own fault."
Draco laughs. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. How are you taking it all, Lizzy?"
Lizzy shrugs. "It's overwhelming? But it makes everything more clear. I always felt that something was off—and now Harry makes a bit more sense," she explains.
Their food had appeared on their plates sometime in the last few minutes and they had started eating. She had jumped slightly, but she's doing that less now—it's becoming more and more commonplace. She's getting better at accepting the impossible.
"Harry's a bit of an enigma," Astoria says. "But magic explains a lot about who he is. I can understand feeling like you're missing a part of who he is if you take the magic away."
"I didn't realise how... how vital it is to who he is," Lizzy says. "But I suppose I could have never known until this morning. Thanks, Draco, by the way, for your mistake? I'm not really sure what you said that was so suspicious that made Harry decide—I've been rethinking all day and I have no idea what triggered this."
Harry sets down his fork and buries his head in his hands while Draco just starts laughing. "Merlin—seriously?" Draco says. "I have been worried literally all day that I ruined your relationship and you're not even sure what compromised the statute?"
"I mean, there was something about curses, but I'm pretty sure I would have shrugged it off," Lizzy admits.
"It's fine," Harry says. "I should've told Lizzy a while ago—and I'm glad she knows now." He smiles at her, and she smiles softly back. "Everyone who I care about knows who I am," he says.
"Merlin—spare me the romantics," Draco says. "How long did it take you to believe him?" he asks Lizzy.
Harry laughs. "She made us go to some petrol station loo after she bought some random antique—she broke it into pieces and then I repaired it. It had to be in an unusual location where I couldn't have rigged it."
Astoria giggles—"Why couldn't you have made her float or something? Why reparo?"
Harry groans. "That would have been such a better idea."
"Can you do that anyways?" Lizzy asks.
Harry smiles mischievously. "Oh," he says, "I can do much better than that."
Harry spends the next few weeks showing Lizzy everything he can think of about magic. He takes her flying over Loch Awe, he shows her portkeys—his photo album of his parents. He talks about how Draco was that coerced kid in his sixth year who let the enemy soldiers into Hogwarts but that he was threatened—he's on a probation right now and his every action is carefully monitored. She knows Draco has changed—if what Harry has told her about this Lord Voldemort it is that he was intolerant of non-magical born witches and wizards and non-magicals in general (she learns that most wizards call non-magical people Muggles, and she finds herself admiring Harry even more for his avoidance of the term), and that he was a mass-murdering psychopath.
She goes through some of Harry's old journals from his travels to the different countries—she finds one written in Hindi and she wants to read it, but she senses this one is private, and personal, so she sets it aside.
She spends time with Astoria, who is kind and gentle, and she visits their house once with Harry—and she can tell that Harry built it, but it's very different than Harry's. It's larger, more grand. More posh, and fancier than anything she would ever want for herself. It fits the Malfoy couple, though, and she is impressed with their personalisation efforts. She expected this house to feel the same as Harry's since it was built with the same method—but it doesn't. It feels just like any other house.
So she is happy to return home, to their house on the Loch and feel safe again. She tells Harry about this, and he explains, after a preface to not freak out, that it is because the magic in his house has accepted her as his partner, that it has decided that she is protecting and shielding because she is Harry's partner (Harry's wife, she thinks to herself and starts to realise she could actually believe this phrase).
It is Easter when Harry is able to come to Lizzy's childhood home to meet the Kinnaird family. He is excited—and they take Lizzy's car. She drives there, and Harry chatters nonstop.
"I've always wanted a family," Harry says. "It's why I've basically adopted myself into so many. There's my family in India, there's Lane and Talia—Astoria's parents—and well, I guess Draco and Astoria as well—they're my siblings but also my closest friends. When I was younger I had other pseudo-family, but we don't talk anymore—they said some terrible things and never saw that I grew up. It's a shame, but, well, it was Ron's family—the Weasley's? The bloke in the photo with me at Hogwarts in '98?"
Lizzy nods.
"Yeah, so apparently he got married to Hermione last year," Harry says. "I wasn't invited. I was surprised to find that I was hurt by that, even though I probably wouldn't have gone. Supposedly it was a small family-only wedding, but there was a point in time where I would've been included as part of the family without question. It was a surprise."
"But she's pregnant now," Harry says, after a pause. "Hermione, that is—I found out through the newspaper. They're famous too since they were associated with me, back then. So their lives are all over the tabloids. It's not the way I want to live."
They arrive at Lizzy's home and park the car. Lizzy looks at Harry and smiles. "Alright—so my brother's name is Andrew, and my sister is Claire. My mum and dad are—"
"Blair and Ross," Harry finishes.
"You're ready. You look dashing," Lizzy says. "Now or never."
"It'll be fine," Harry says. "I'm sure they're lovely."
Harry knocks on the door. He's carrying their bags so Lizzy can have her hands free as he expects their greeting to be a warm one.
The door opens by a man he assumes to be Ross Kinnaird. "Elizabeth!" he cries. "Welcome home. And pleasure to meet you, Harry!"
"Pleasure," Harry replies, shaking his hand with a smile. Ross is dressed respectably. Their house appears to be well-kept, Harry notes, and he immediately takes in the details of their floorplan unconsciously.
"How was the travel?" he says amicably, ushering them indoors where he gives Lizzy a great hug.
"It was fine," Lizzy says. "Hardly any other cars out."
"That's fortunate," Ross says. "But I suspect most people are going toward your area and not away!"
Harry laughs. "You're right—most people leave town!"
Ross grins. "Well, let me show you where you can put your luggage," he says, gesturing that they should follow him. "We put you two in the guest room," he tells Lizzy. "Claire's in your bedroom since it's a twin, and well—we didn't want to assume you were sharing a bed but we figured that if you're bringing him home you probably are serious about the bloke and already have been for a while."
"Well," Harry says hesitantly, "that's thoughtful of you."
Lizzy blushes. "Oh, dad—you don't have to embarrass him."
Ross just laughs. "Just doing my job. Well—I'll give you two a minute to settle in, and then how about you two come downstairs when you're ready?"
Harry thanks Ross, and then enters the guestroom. It's a queen bed, although apparently extremely uncomfortable based on the grimace Lizzy makes when she sits on this.
"God, I forgot how horrible this bed is," Lizzy says. "Your bed is just so nice."
"I can fix it," Harry suggests. "If you want me too—just for our stay?"
Lizzy looks thrilled. "You really can? Even though we're not at your house?"
Harry shrugs. "As long as no one figures it out, I can use as much magic as I like wherever I am."
"Then yes, please! This bed will ruin me," she says. "My dad pretending to act all generous when he's really just torturing us all week!"
Harry smiles. "I think it's kind of funny, honestly," he says. "It seems like something a dad would do. Make the whole situation more awkward to see how the suitor handles it—I can manage. Don't worry about it."
Lizzy smiles. "Well, work your magic, then let's have you meet the rest of the family."
They head downstairs a few minutes later, but on the way they run into Andrew.
"This is my brother, Andrew," Lizzy says. "He's nice, most of the time. Andrew's in sixth form, and you're applying to uni, right?"
Andrew shakes Harry's hand. "I see you're dating my sister," he says. "And yeah, I'm applying to uni. I was going to go last year, but mum wants me home for as long as possible. You know how that goes, right?"
"I can imagine," Harry says. He gives Andrew a smile. "Any idea what programmes?"
"I'm thinking chemistry, but I might do Divinity just to disappoint Mum," Andrew says.
Harry laughs. "Those dinner conversations would certainly be unforgettable, I'm sure," he says.
They continue downstairs, where he meets Claire and Blair.
"You must be Harry!" The older woman says. She stands and makes her way over to him and gives him a hug. "It's so nice to meet you, finally! Lizzy has spoken only fondly about you," she says.
Harry smiles. "Oh, God, I hope so," he says, giving Lizzy a smile, feigning anxiety. "Who knows what sort of false accusations Lizzy could come up with!"
Lizzy laughs and gives Harry a small nudge. "You're being silly," she says. "This is my sister, Claire. She lives in France, remember?"
"Not anymore!" Claire says, to which Lizzy gasps in excitement.
"Really? You're moving back?" Lizzy asks, grasping Claire's hands.
"I am," Claire says with a smile. "Surprise!"
Lizzy hugs Claire tightly. "I'm so excited! I've missed you so much! Where are you going to stay?"
Claire shrugs. "Where ever I get a job, I suppose. My branch closed, so we were all let go—and I figured I might as well come back home."
Harry stands off to the side. He's smiling—he knows how much Lizzy has missed Claire.
"Well, try somewhere nearby! Harry—build her a house! That'll convince her to stay near us!" Lizzy exclaims.
Harry raises his eyebrows in feigned surprise. "Oh?"
"Lizzy! How is he supposed to build me a house? He can't just do that—by the way, nice to meet you, Harry," Claire says. Harry returns the greeting.
"He does it all the time," Lizzy says off-handed. "It'll be no problem."
"Lizzy, you can't just ask your boyfriend to build me a house," Claire says, slightly embarrassed. Ross and Blair also seem slightly taken aback by this. "He probably doesn't even know how!"
Harry can't help but laugh at this. He's about to explain when a timer goes off somewhere in the house, and Blair announces that dinner is ready.
They head to the dining room, where Ross separates Lizzy and Harry on opposite sides of the table. Harry offers to help, but he is told to sit tight. Lizzy smiles weakly. "I think you're about to be interrogated," she says.
Harry smiles. "I've been through worse," he says with a wink. "I like them. They remind me of you."
Lizzy smiles.
When the meal has started a few minutes later, Ross takes on a serious expression. "So, Harry—where are you from?"
"In what way?" Harry asks cautiously.
"Where did you grow up?" Ross says. "Sorry—bad question."
"Surrey—in Little Whinging," Harry says.
"Are your parents still there?" Ross says—with a panicked hissed Dad from Lizzy.
"No," Harry says. "I'm an orphan, actually. My parents died when I was baby. I grew up with my aunt and uncle."
Ross is taken aback. "Oh, I'm sorry—forgive me," he says.
"Oh, not a problem," Harry says. "You didn't know."
"Well then, your aunt and uncle? Are they still there? What do they do?" Ross says.
"I don't know," Harry says carefully. "I haven't spoken with them in almost a decade."
Ross furrows his brow. "Why's that?"
Lizzy interrupts—"Dad, can we not talk about Harry's family right now? It's not really dinner conversation."
Ross exchanges a cautious glance with Blair. Andrew and Claire are darting looks at Harry with obvious confusion.
"Liz, it's alright. It's just probably not an encouraging sign, is all—their first question and it's about the Dursleys," Harry says, giving Lizzy a smile before turning to give Ross and Blair a measured glance. "They were cruel to me, and hated me. While they never kicked me out, they were abusive. I fled their home, and haven't spoken to them since for my own safety, and theirs."
"Jesus Christ," Blair gasps. "You poor child. How did you escape? Did you live on the streets?"
"I had some friends who took me in," Harry says.
"Hold up—wait a minute," Claire interjects. "Did you say the Dursleys? Are you talking about Petunia and Vernon Dursley?"
Harry looks at her peculiarly. "Yes, I am."
"Dear God—you're their nephew? Holy shite—did you hear that they went on trial a few years ago and are in prison now for your case?" Claire says, shocked.
"What? How—I never testified, how could that happen?" Harry asks, unsettled. He sets down his silverware and wrings his hands beneath the tablecloth.
"A preponderance of evidence? Photographs of living spaces, child drawings in their home—numerous locks and a dog flap on an upstairs bedroom—my God, Harry lived under the stairs in a cupboard for most of his childhood," Claire says to her parents and Andrew. "And when he was too big, they locked him upstairs and pushed food every once in a while through the dog flap."
Harry is sitting stiffly, with his lips pursed. While he was fine with just a basic explanation that they were abusive, the fact that Claire somehow knows all of the horrific details of his childhood and is telling everyone is mortifying.
"Claire—please, stop," Lizzy cries out when Claire is starting to rattle off more horrific facts. "Stop—this is private!"
Claire suddenly closes her mouth and covers it with her hand. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry—Harry—I'm so sorry, I got carried away."
Harry struggles to say something.
Andrew looks at Harry and Claire and Lizzy and his parents, and then laughs half-hearted. "Well, I knew this was going to be an interrogation of Harry, but I didn't think we were going to literally put him on trial," Andrew says in an attempt to lighten the mood. "The food's really good, mum."
Harry adds his thanks for the meal. He speaks softly, "Yes, thank you, Blair. It's delicious."
Blair, feeling incredible uncomfortable, smiles in return. She opens her mouth to say something, and then closes it again.
Andrew, realising his attempts failed, tries again: "Uh, me mates and I are planning to set off fireworks underneath the bridge downtown."
"That's nice, Andrew," Ross says. It is a clear dismissal and Andrew is irritated. The rest of the table is sitting in tense silence.
"Because of this, I'll get expelled so I'll have no choice but to become a clown," Andrew says.
Nothing.
"When I'm a clown, I will become so good that the Queen of England will hire me!"
Andrew waits and he is slightly flabbergasted that this gets him no response.
"But instead of my act, I'll actually be a suicide bomber and explode all of Buckingham Palace," Andrew says. When nothing occurs, he continues. "And so I will go down in history as the clown that killed the Queen."
But no one says anything and they're tensely picking at their food and Claire is looking so sorry it's painful to look at, and Harry is uncomfortable, Lizzy feels bad for Harry because he's just been eviscerated by their sister, and Andrew's mum and dad are slightly horrified and now don't know how to act around the abused kid who is now dating their daughter. Andrew is irritated because this literally causes no difference and changes nothing about Harry except his past is a bit awful to think about.
He slams his hand on the table to get everyone's attention. They all jump (except Harry who just looks at him quizzically, which Andrew admits is very cool) and Andrew says, "What the fuck, mates? Harry's just the same as he was ten minutes ago. Don't treat him all weird now because you learned something unsavoury about his past. Also Claire—good job, we admire your appreciation for gruesome details about the cases you work on, but shut the fuck up. No one wants to hear that when we're eating. Have some tact, didn't the French teach you anything—or were you too busy buggering every bloke you saw so the only things you learned were on how to be a good whore?"
"Andrew!" Blair exclaims at the profanity. "Apologise to your sister."
But Claire is laughing and waving her hands in a no, no, he doesn't need to apologise gesture. Then Lizzy is smiling broadly because she thinks Andrew is brilliant.
"It's funny," Claire laughs and says at the same time, "because I'm lesbian."
Blair is surprised so much she jerks in her seat. "What? Since when?"
"My whole life?" Claire says, wiping her eyes. "So, no, Andrew, I wasn't buggering every bloke."
Andrew snorts. "Oh, God help me—my insult was wrong! How dare I assume your sexuality! You were buggering every bird!"
This sends Claire into another fit of giggles, which to Lizzy's surprise, she finds herself laughing as well.
"Since when has she been a lesbian, Ross?" Blair asks her husband. Ross shrugs.
"Mum—France is a lot more liberal about homosexuality, so I felt more comfortable coming out over there," Claire says. "You're okay with it?"
Blair shrugs. "I'm just surprised, is all. I don't care who you 'bugger' so long as they're respectable and you'd be happy to bring them home."
Harry listens to Lizzy's family with a smile on his face. He wants this, he realises. A family, where they feel completely comfortable being entirely themselves with each other. He wants this with Lizzy.
Dinner resumes comfortably. When asked about his occupation, Harry says, "I've my own architectural firm."
"You inherited?" Ross asks.
Harry shakes his head. "No, I started it myself."
"It's really successful," Lizzy says. "They've a commission waiting list for custom homes—and how long is it right now?"
"We've about thirty different commissions on the list right now," he says. "But we're adding about one a week."
"Wow!" Ross says. "How many do you have working for you?"
Harry hesitates. "Well—we've only one other designer, including myself," he says. He can't talk about the construction side of the company so he ignores it.
"That's incredible," Ross says. "A real entrepreneur!"
Harry smiles. "Thank you. I found out it was my passion when I was travelling after I graduated," he says. "So when I returned to the UK I decided to build myself a house with everything I learned. When I realised I had a talent for it along with the passion, I made the company."
Blair's eyes widen. "You built your own house?"
"It's amazing, Mum," Lizzy says. "Absolutely incredible. It's on Loch Awe and the whole house is just built so perfectly."
"I think she likes the house better than me, sometimes," Harry says to laughter.
"Well, we'd love to see photos if you have any!" Ross says.
"I've taken some photos," Lizzy says. Harry knows what she's talking about. She had asked to take some photos of his house (it was a hobby of hers, she said). Luckily, thanks to the muggle camera, the magical items didn't need to be removed. "If you have a computer and an HDMI cable we can hook it up to the telly so everyone can see them."
Andrew perks up. "Give me your camera, and I'll set it up," he says.
Lizzy thanks him, and goes upstairs for a moment then returns with her camera's SD card. "Your computer has the right adaptor for this, right?"
He looks at it, then nods. "I'll set it up and call when it's ready."
While Andrew prepares the telly for the photos, Claire shows Lizzy something on the first floor, so Harry helps Blair and Ross clean up after dinner. They ask him more questions about his life. He answers them thoughtfully. When they ask him about politics, he answers that he frankly isn't very aware, but he trusts in Lizzy so he figures that whatever she's for, he should be. This pleases them—they declare him suitable, and then Ross slaps his shoulder and says that he's never seen Lizzy so happy before and Harry admits that he's never been so happy before either. This makes Blair almost cry, which was not Harry's intention, so he tries to back up and says he was happy as a kid—but Blair ignores this and hugs Harry tightly and whispers in his ear that she is so sorry for the suffering he went through as a child and that their family will never do anything like that to him. Harry is touched, and he gives Blair a squeeze and thanks her for her kindness. Blair smiles and then grabs Harry's shoulders and looks him straight in the eyes and says, "You're good for Lizzy. But you take care of her, okay? She'll take care of you—and we'll take care of you, now."
Harry promises he will. "Every day," he says. "I love her."
Ross shakes Harry's hand instead of giving him a hug. "I'm glad you do. She's worthy of love."
"I'm hardly worthy of hers." Harry says, "I'd give her the entire world if she let me."
They are called into the living room after Ross pats Harry's shoulder and calls him a good man. Lizzy appears, gives him an inquiring look, to which Harry returns with a smile and a reassuring nod. She looks relieved and then goes toward Andrew who is handing over the controls to her.
The first photograph on the telly is one of the sky. "Nice house," Andrew quips.
"Thank you, it's invisible," Harry drawls.
Lizzy snorts and then advances the photo. She took this one facing the driveway from the garage Harry recently added for her car. It's a nice view of the forest behind his home. "This is the driveway to his home," she says.
"Oh! It's isolated, then," Blair says.
Harry nods as Lizzy moves forward to show the rear of the house. "And this is the view you get when you arrive down the driveway."
Harry is proud of his house. The photographs don't do it justice, but he appreciates the compliments he receives as Lizzy progresses through her photographic house tour. When she changes to the photograph of the kitchen, Blair exclaims, "Good heavens—do you actually use that Harry?"
Lizzy beams. "That's how we met, remember? We both happened to be making pad thai on the same night and so we kept running into each other at the grocers. He's a great cook," she proudly says.
"Nice," Claire says. She looks like she wants to say more, but stops herself. Harry wonders what she was going to say, but the conversation progresses as they advance throughout the rest of the house.
"That was lovely, Harry. Did you have help with the décor?"
"No," Harry says.
"There was a lot of your stuff in there, Lizzy," Andrew says, smirking. "You sure you're not already living with Harry?"
Lizzy blushes. "Andrew! No, I'm not. It's just... sometimes it's just easier to leave stuff there."
"But does Harry mind?" Ross asks.
"Not at all," Harry says with a smile. "It makes the house feel more lived-in."
And it does, magically. Lizzy doesn't quite understand how this works, and neither does Harry, but she accepted it and so has started to leave more and more of her toiletries, clothes, and other miscellaneous items at Harry's home over the past weeks after Harry told her about the house's magic.
But to the rest of the Kinnaird family, they are slightly confused by this statement, but just assume that Harry is so smitten with love for Lizzy that he doesn't care if she leaves her stuff everywhere. While this is true in its own rights, it is not the reason behind Harry's words.
At the end of the house photos, Blair says, "Well, at least I know why Lizzy said Harry could build you a house, Claire."
Claire laughs awkwardly. "I'm good, no thanks." She's been quiet ever since she tried to say something earlier but stopped herself.
It is late, so they go to bed. Lizzy and Harry lay in bed together. "That went well, didn't it?" Lizzy says.
"Yeah, I like them," Harry says. "But—but how did Claire know all of that about me? It's really disconcerting, frankly."
"We can ask her? Do you want to, right now?" Lizzy asks. Harry shrugs.
"We might as well—get it off my mind," Harry sighs, and then sits up. He puts a shirt on, and tosses Lizzy her dressing gown.
"I'll go get her—you stay here," Lizzy says. She returns less than a minute later with Claire in tow. Claire looks terrified.
"I'm so sorry," she blurts. "I—I didn't realise who you were until we were looking at your house, and then—oh my god, I'm so sorry!"
"Claire, what are you talking about?" Lizzy says, shooting Harry a look.
"I mean, you're Harry Potter," Claire emphasizes, looking desperately at Harry. He immediately understands and sighs heavily, looking at the ceiling. So much for anonymity in this family.
"Of course he is! But what's the big deal?" Lizzy says, confused. Claire's eyes widen dramatically and then she covers her mouth in horror and starts backing up shaking her head.
"Hold up, Claire, Lizzy knows about magic. You don't have to dance around anything right now," Harry says, running a hand through his hair.
"Oh God—thank God—I would have been so upset if she didn't know and you were—I would've been so," Claire struggles for words, but she relaxes slightly.
"How on earth did you figure out that Claire knew about magic?" Lizzy says, stunned.
"The way she said my name," Harry says. "Only fans say it like that."
"I'm not a fan!" Claire says. "But I never—I never connected the dots, you know—between the Dursley case and that you were, you know—you—and so when I saw your scar then I panicked and didn't know what to do. Does no one know in the Wizarding world how bad they were to you?"
"Back up a bit—how do you know about magic in the first case?" Lizzy says adamantly. "Harry told me everything—but who told you?"
"I learned when I was asked to prosecute the Dursley case," Claire whispers.
"Who asked you to?" Harry asks.
"I don't know—I can't—it was some girl—she was British, she was blonde and her name started with a D—maybe something like Darcy? Or—"
"Was it Daphne?" Harry asks weakly. "A Daphne Greengrass?"
"That was it! It was Daphne. Anyways, she came to me—gave me a whole stack of evidence, and told me that I needed to put these people in prison. She helped me, kept telling me about the evidence, and about magic and that she was magical—that the nephew had magic which was why they were so afraid, but I played up the racism part because our courts don't believe in magic, you know—"
"When was this?" Harry says. Lizzy remembers the story—that Daphne was like a sister to Harry, who had cut all ties to the family because of some strange radical ideas that she had taken to believing in thanks to the help of her boyfriend—and that this must be devastating. She prays it was before 2003.
"About two years ago—the end of 2004," Claire says. "It was an easy case—they had hospital records and everything—God, Harry, you should've died."
"Hospital records?" Harry says.
"I was told that you had—oh, no—you didn't agree to any of this, did you?" Claire says.
"Not at all. I was happy to let them live their lives without me ever affecting them again," Harry says despondently. "And for them—for them to think I put them in prison—my God, that's awful."
"You forgave them? You don't want them in jail?" Claire asks completely perplexed.
"Of course I want them in jail but they don't belong there—so of course I forgave them. There were—there were extenuating circumstances, and it made perfect sense why they were so awful, now that I think about it," Harry says, rubbing his forehead.
"There's no excuse for child abuse," Claire says angrily. "You can't argue that."
Harry nods. "Yes—but—oh, Merlin—never mind. You're right," Harry says half-heartedly. He's concentrated on something else entirely now. "Thank you for telling me. Have you spoken to Daphne since?"
Claire shakes her head. "No, not at all. She just told me this was important to her—to get justice for the nephew—for you, I guess."
"She would've seen it that way," Harry says. "Thanks, Claire. Please—just act normally around me. I'm just a normal person. I grew up in a weird way and there was the whole destroying of the dark wizard thing—but I'm just a normal guy now. I want to be just a normal guy, so please don't forget that."
Claire pauses, and then nods. "Okay, Harry. Thank you," she says, and then leaves.
Lizzy has been silent this whole time. "Harry—when you were talking about extenuating circumstances—were you talking about the soul pieces?"
"The horcrux, yes," Harry says, rubbing his scar. "It influenced me, and it was around the Dursley's the most besides me, and it's entirely plausible it affected them when it couldn't bother me—so they might not have even wanted to hurt me, but the horcrux made them. Lizzy, I can't blame them for that."
"So what do we do?" Lizzy asks as she curls herself into Harry's side.
"I don't know if there's anything we can do," Harry says. "Maybe visit them?"
"Do you think that's a good idea?" Lizzy says quietly. "It could do more harm than good."
"You might be right," Harry says. "But I feel obligated now. And why would Daphne do that?"
"I don't know," Lizzy says. "Maybe she felt bad and wanted to show she cares?"
"Or her group still wants me to join them and they consider this their courting of me?" Harry suggests.
"I like my idea better," Lizzy says. "I'm sorry today was difficult. I didn't realise that so much would be... laid bare?"
Harry laughs. "No, me neither. But it's okay. I like your family," he says. "I want ours to be like it."
Lizzy smiles widely. "Our family? Getting mighty presumptuous there."
"I hope not," Harry says. "You know what I want for us one day, right?"
Lizzy nods sleepily. "But I could always use a reminder," she murmurs while closing her eyes.
Harry kisses her softly and begins to whisper to her about how their future will be with each other for eternity—endless—and she falls into a peaceful sleep.
A day or so later, Lizzy is standing in the kitchen with her mother after Harry was discovered to be technological inept and subsequently commandeered by Andrew for the rest of the afternoon.
"Do you like him?" Lizzy asks her mum nervously.
Blair looks at Lizzy intently. "Oh, Lizzy. Lizzy, we love him. He's a wonderful guy. He's kind and helpful—and he loves you. But the question you need to be asking is not whether we like him but if you want to spend the rest of your life with him. It's clear as day to us that he's madly in love with you. You know, he asked your father for permission to propose to you, just the other day?"
Lizzy gasps. "He did what?"
"He asked permission," Blair says. "Quite formally, if you ask me. He had a whole list of reasons why he would be a good husband for you in case we objected, but we don't care about that—we care about you and if you'll be happy with him."
Lizzy leans against the counter. "Oh, wow."
"Would you be happy with him?" Blair asks. "Do you see yourself with him, for the rest of your life? Can you imagine marrying him? And do you want to? Those are the questions you need to ask yourself. And I can't answer them for you. What I can say, is that we approve of him full-heartedly. Harry is a wonderful man. Your sister and brother will be hard-pressed to find anyone who can compare to him—and I'm afraid they'll be let down."
"I'm scared," Lizzy confesses.
"Well, that's alright," Blair says. "Being scared of change is normal. But is your fear greater than your excitement?"
Lizzy doesn't answer, so Blair continues, "Just let me know when you're going to have the wedding. I'll start looking around for you. I've always wanted to plan another wedding, and I think you'd do a horrible job."
"Mum!" Lizzy exclaims. "Really?"
"Oh, I'm just teasing," Blair says with a laugh. "But I'll be honest, I've seen the way you look at him—what you have together is real."
Lizzy smiles. "Thank you, Mum."
Blair shakes her head. "Don't thank me, thank Harry. He told me you'd probably need a pep talk," she says.
Lizzy shakes her head in exasperation. "That man," she says fondly. "He knows me so well it frightens me."
"In a good way?" Blair asks.
"In a good way," Lizzy confirms. "I love him," she says. "I really do."
"Then there's nothing to worry about."
The rest of the holiday goes well, and so they leave with good memories and return home. When Harry asks Lizzy to move in, she agrees.
Lizzy is happy. Her life with Harry is a good one. She is working at the nearby clinic and finds her work fulfilling. Harry is happy working with Draco, and everything seems to be going well for several months.
Harry receives an owl—which still confuses Lizzy (who trains the birds?)—and since he is away, Lizzy opens it for him as he's repeatedly told her how much he hates getting post.
It's a letter announcing the birth of a baby girl named Rose. Lizzy has to sit down to read the note.
Harry,
Hermione had a baby girl. Her name is Rose, and she's beautiful. Thought you would like to know.
Ron
It's a short letter. It's an impersonal letter, and Lizzy can't help but be furious at the audacity of these people. They didn't invite him to their wedding and then Ron decides to write a barely legible note announcing that he has a daughter because he thought Harry might like to know.
She doesn't understand. Harry speaks fondly of the couple—but only when he talks about his years at Hogwarts. After the horcrux was removed, it was like it had changed them. When Lizzy had suggested this—that maybe the horcrux was influencing them as well—Harry was initially resistant to the idea. "I don't want to think that my entire childhood, people were friends with the monster inside of me."
But Lizzy was quick to respond: "They weren't. They were friends with the you that resisted the monster. And now that the monster's gone, you don't have to spend your energy resisting and fighting for life, so you've become calmer, more peaceful, and happier."
Harry had sighed. "I want to apologise for it, but it's not something that's really my fault, though."
Lizzy had nodded. "And it's not—Voldemort's gone. He's never coming back and you will never have to have him interfere with your life ever again."
"But he still is!" Harry argued. "He still is interfering! With how I grew up—your sister, she knows all of these awful facts about me when I wasn't me and there's hordes of people out there who think they know me but they don't!"
Lizzy shook her head, "They don't matter—the only people that matter love you. The real you. And I would have loved you even before the horcrux was removed—I know it. I feel it in my very bones—and I love you, and so ignore everyone else."
So the fact that Ronald Weasley has written so bluntly to Harry is an insult to Harry's recovery from the horrors of his youth. Harry's 26 now. It's not even a decade since he's lost the horcrux. He's still so young. Lizzy does admit that Rose is a cute child, but that doesn't slow her anger.
When Harry returns home that evening, Lizzy shows him the letter and accompanying photo and watches his face intently. It doesn't even change – and then he sets the note down.
"I'm going to go for a run. Do you want to come?" Harry says in a flat monotone.
"Will you run slow enough for me?" she asks. Harry shakes his head. "Then no. I'll stay here. Don't be gone long. Run to the Malfoy's and back—that's a good distance, okay?"
Harry nods. Lizzy can only imagine what Harry must be feeling—a mixture of sorrow and confusion and loss. Although they both knew Hermione was pregnant, the fact that the child is now born—something else is stinging Harry's heart.
Lizzy sits up for Harry until he returns. She doesn't expect him to return by foot—she's expecting him to fall out of the floo, drunken and sad.
So when he doesn't fall out of the floo hours later, Lizzy is slightly surprised. The door swings open, and Lizzy shrieks and is terrified of the shadowed man in the doorstep until it says her name in Harry's voice. He steps into the light and he is panting and leaning against the doorway. He looks like he jumped in the lake—and he informs Lizzy he did exactly that. He swam across the lake.
"Lizzy—I need to tell you something. You know I want a family with you—you know I want to marry you. But—but Lizzy—" Harry says, and then he is crying and Lizzy is confused and she doesn't know what is going on. She knows this goes far beyond the letter, and she doesn't really want to get wet but she knows that whatever Harry is trying to tell her is more important than her comfort.
So she goes to him and she holds his arms and she undresses him out of his wet, dripping clothes and she leads him upstairs into the shower where she turns the water warm. He is crying, and doesn't talk because every time he tries, he chokes.
She joins him in the shower and hugs him so very tightly under the spray. "What is it, Harry? You can tell me anything?"
Harry pulls her close to him and tries to find the words. "Liz—oh, God, Liz—I should've told you this sooner but I didn't want to believe it," he starts. "But—but I can't have kids. I can't have kids—it's—the—the horcrux—it took that away from me, I swear—but that's all I want with you—I want a family and children and—you probably don't want to marry me now because—but I love you—I love you so much it hurts."
Lizzy stands with him. She is slowly coming to terms with this. "There's no magical cure?" she asks timidly.
She cannot see him, but she can feel him shaking his head. "I looked into it—back when I found out—and there's nothing. No research—they've never seen anything like it before so—so—I'm so sorry I shouldn't have lied—I should have told you—"
"You never lied to me, Harry," Lizzy says carefully. "You never told me you could. But I'm glad you're telling me now so I don't ever wonder why we haven't been able to have kids when we're married. I wish you told me sooner, but I am glad you told me. It doesn't change how I feel about you. I love you."
"But what about kids? I know you want some of your own. I can't give you that," Harry says desolately. "I can't give you children."
"I don't need that," Lizzy decides. "I don't need that. I have you. And—we can adopt. We can adopt kids, when we're ready. We're not ready for kids right now, anyways. And this way—this way I can go off my birth control and that's just convenient."
"Liz—how—why are you reacting so well to this?" Harry says. Lizzy cannot tell if he is crying or if that is just the water from the shower. "I—I may not have lied but I didn't tell you when you told me that we would have no more secrets. I broke my promise—why aren't you furious?"
"Because I can see how much this hurts you," Lizzy says. "I'm not going to pretend that it doesn't hurt me. It does. I wish you had told me sooner—I really do. But it wouldn't have changed anything about our relationship."
"I should've told you sooner—I was so afraid. It's why I haven't proposed yet—I needed you to know but I was so afraid to tell you," Harry says.
"Harry—just take a deep breath. It's going to be okay," Lizzy says. "I love you. I am never leaving you. We are going to work through this, and we are going to be okay, I swear."
And then Harry really does start to cry—and Lizzy understands that Harry has been torn over this for many years—he frequently talks about how much he wants a family, how he searches for families wherever he goes. He's never had parents, true parents—he wants children, desperately. And then to have that so cruelly taken away because of an evil, evil man. How devastating this must be to him—to have everything he's wanted in life be virtually impossible.
Lizzy holds Harry that night. She tells him that she loves him no matter what, with or without children. Because what they have transcends traditional relationships. She mentions the house—who else has a relationship a house likes? This makes Harry laugh—and so Lizzy tells him about the odds—a magical hero and celebrity falling in love with some nobody non-magical nurse and then Harry kisses her hard and tells her she's not a nobody—that he'll tell the whole world that Elizabeth Kinnaird is a somebody and that she is his.
Harry proposes two weeks later. They went on a hike; one of their favourites in the area, to a small glen. There's a small grove of trees that Harry has created a bench in where they sit and Lizzy tells Harry about her week—and then Harry is on his knee, telling Lizzy that the past few years have been wonderful because she has been in it, and that he hopes Lizzy stays in his life forever and would she please marry him—and then Lizzy says yes, and they kiss and then they walk back to the house and Lizzy is happy. When Lizzy calls her mom that night, Blair is ecstatic for her, but also reprimands Harry about how long it took him to ask.
They invite Ross and Blair and Andrew to the house a few weeks later. Liz watches Harry "de-magic" the house with almost bored interest. The Malfoys are with them—and Liz doesn't realise that the magic Harry uses is on a different level than everyone else's until Astoria shakes her head and talks about how unfair it is that Harry doesn't even have to use his wand if he fancies—and so Liz begins to notice how Astoria and Draco must use their wands for any piece of magic but Harry seems to be completely unattached to it.
Liz asks Astoria about this. "Why do you and Draco use your wands so much? Doesn't that get a bit tedious?"
Astoria laughs incredulously. "Oh, Liz—you don't understand—it's because we have to. We can't do magic without our wands. Harry—he's on a whole different plane of magic. He interacts with it so very differently than anyone else I know that the wand practically slows him down. I've never seen anyone so in tune with magic before. He's the most powerful wizard I've ever seen—and to be frank, probably the most powerful wizard that the world will ever see."
Liz is surprised. "Really? But he's so—"
"Normal? Yeah, that's what makes him so special," Astoria says. "And what makes him even more powerful. He doesn't want it to rule the world even though he so easily could. He just wants to build houses." Astoria shakes her head in disbelief. "Liz, I've never met a more genuinely good person than Harry. He has the power to destroy everything, to lead armies and lead revolutions, to wreak havoc on a completely unprecedented scale. But he deliberately and knowingly chooses not to. People come up to him all the time, according to Draco, begging him to fight for them, and he says no every single time."
"He never tells me this," Liz says.
"Why would he?" Astoria says. "He doesn't think it's important. He has everything he has ever wanted. He doesn't want anything these people can offer him. And it happens so frequently he probably doesn't even realise it's not something that happens to other people. It's commonplace for him. It's ordinary. If you ask him about it, he'll tell you, but he will never know it's strange unless you point it out to him. It's why Draco hasn't—he knows how much Harry just wants to be normal, and he doesn't want to do anything to destroy that illusion."
Lizzy leans back against a chair. "Jesus Christ, Tori," she says. "Harry doesn't do anything by halves, does he?"
"No—and he never will. I don't think he knows how," she says. "But he's done a whole lot of good. His friendship with Draco has completed changed Draco's life. Draco is so much happier—and who would have thought?"
Lizzy smiles. "Harry's pretty incredible," she says. Astoria agrees.
Andrew, when he sees the house, is suitably impressed. He claims the guest bedroom with the image of Hogwarts, while Blair and Ross take the one with the portrait of Harry's parents.
The portrait of Harry's parents is different than other wizarding portraits, according to Harry, because it was painted after their death. So while they talk, they're actually not accurately depicting the personalities of his real parents.
Liz is entertaining Blair and Ross, when Andrew asks Harry if he wants to go outside. Harry obliges and so the two of them head outside.
"So, you're going to marry my sister," Andrew says when they're a few meters away from the house.
"We're planning on it," Harry says.
"So we're going to be brothers, in a way," Andrew says.
"I guess so?" Harry says.
"I've never had a brother before."
"Me neither," Harry says. "Where are you going with this?"
"To be honest, I'm not really sure. But it's kind of cool, I guess," Andrew says. "But I mean, you could teach me cool things—like, like how to get girls or how to shave or stuff like that."
Harry laughs. "I mean, I could do that," he says. "But to be honest, the only reason your sister fancied me was because I could cook."
But Harry likes the idea—so Andrew and Harry keep in closer contact. Harry takes Andrew under his wing, so to say. And they have a good friendship—and life is good.
Harry marries Lizzy on a snowy day in January in 2008. The wedding is small; and everyone is content.
Marriage suits the couple, and they are happy.
A year passes—then two.
And then—
Like all things, everything changes.