1 month ago…

Clang, clang, clang.

There it was again, that persistent clinking of Severus Snape rasping his long, unkempt nails against the wall of his Azkaban cell. Only this time, Draco Malfoy noted, it was paired with the sickening noises of a chilling wind, icy breath, and cracking bones; fingers being stretched out on a skeletal hand. Draco didn't know what the Dementors were doing to Snape. He didn't want to know. He could imagine it well enough, should he so desire.

The young blond-haired man was propped up against the far corner of his cell, as usual, hands clamped tightly over his ears to deafen out the attack, and blue eyes scrunched up tight. This was all an act, however. He was actually feeling relatively calm and, in his mind, was going over his escape plan one final time. It had been done before, and Draco was confident enough in himself and his Animagi skills to feel that he could do it, too…

The two Dementors guarding Draco's cell stood as they always did, backs to the prisoner and standing stock still. They hovered mysteriously above the cold stone floor, their long black cloaks flickering in an unseen, smoky wind. Draco backed further more into the shadows of his cell and very slowly, very quietly, began to change his form.

It's the Kiss for me if I get caught, Draco thought to himself as he felt himself growing smaller in size. Soft, short fur, the same colour as his white-blond hair, began poking its way out from underneath his skin. His fingers shortened and claws adorned what were once his fingertips. He felt his ears lengthen and grow into a soft point, and suddenly his hearing became ten times stronger. Whiskers sprouted from the side of his nose which now stuck out way in front of his eyes. His blue eyes glistened and he could see everything much clearer than before.

Not that I'm going to get caught, he reminded himself smugly as he trotted out of the shadows and into the light in his new form. He padded his way quietly across the cool floor and took one last glance at the two oblivious, blind Dementors, before hopping through the tiny gap in the bars.

Harry tried to look at himself in the mirror, but from what he could make out of his face, he only saw Sirius Black's features staring right back at him. Frustrated and upset, he flipped the mirror over so quickly that it almost smashed. Swearing loudly, scolding himself, he then picked up the mirror and moved it to a safe spot, out of the way atop a rotting wooden wardrobe. The mirror that he possessed, probably the only one in the house – and definitely the only one in the house that was clean enough to see in – was the mirror that Sirius had given Harry. The one Sirius had given Harry before he died. The one that would have allowed them to communicate at any time they liked, no matter how far apart they were.

Though Harry would never admit it to anyone, he would still sometimes talk out loud to the mirror, asking to see Sirius. Pleading and begging with it, until he became frustrated and had to hide it as to stop himself from going completely mad.

Harry fumbled about for a comb and when he found one, tried to run it through his tangled hair, but gave up when a pixie flew out of nowhere, mischievously snatching it from his grasp with a high-pitched giggle. Harry frowned and decided that Ginny would just have to accept that he looked a complete mess. He would blame it all on the pixie.

Maybe Fred was right, this house was a complete tip…at least if Harry got to cleaning it, it would be more like a house than a beast sanctuary.

"Never mind about that," Harry told himself reassuringly, patting about for his wand. "More important things to do."

The last Harry heard about Ginny was that she lived alone, in a flat above a row of small muggle shops and takeaway restuarants, not too far from Diagon Alley. She worked part-time in the pet shop there, so it was convenient for her.

Harry shook out his arms and legs, ready to apparate. As he swung his wand and a green glow filled his partially-sighted eyes, he wondered again briefly whether he should be worried about the strange light or not, but before he could consider it further, he was off in a pop.

Red-haired and freckle-cheeked Ginny Weasley was in her kitchen, sat on a stool and resting her delicate body. In one hand she held her wand, and was swirling it around slowly in a circular motion above a mug of tea, using magic to stir it. She used the other hand to gently massage her swollen stomach, in much the same circular motion.

Ginny smiled proudly, glancing down at her bump. Inside there was a baby, a little Ginny Weasley, a tiny version of herself. Thinking about this gave Ginny a tingle of excitement – she was very much looking forward to being a mother. She could see that she and her baby were both going to be very happy.

For such a talented witch, it was a rather simple life in comparison she had crafted for herself. Sure, she could have been an auror, she could have been an Animagus, she could have worked for the ministry, become a teacher, whatever. Ginny had been ambitious at more than one point in her life – but recent grief and family troubles meant that this is the route she had taken. She didn't mind. She had her health, and now a baby, too – and that was enough.

Taking her cup of tea and making her way gently into the lounge, Ginny was extremely surprised when a tall, dark male figure popped itself into the room from out of nowhere. She yelped in surprise and dropped the mug, smashing it on the carpet and spilling boiling hot water across her feet and legs.

The male figure swept his thick fringe from his eyes and exposed his eyes, and Ginny saw that it was Harry.

"Oh, Ginny! I'm so sorry!" he blurted and rushed forwards, scrambling to pick up the broken china and mop up the spillage with his robes.

"I-It's alright," Ginny said quickly, unintentionally feeling uncomfortable to have someone so close to her stomach. She felt ashamed and scuttled off into the kitchen to get her wand. When she came back, however, Harry was already using his own wand to clear the carpet. She gazed upon him, the man she had loved, the one she hadn't seen or even heard from for over a year.

"Harry, you're so…" Ginny breathed, stepping forward, "…Different."

No wonder Ginny didn't instantly recognize Harry when he appeared in the room. His hair had always been messy, but now it was a tangled mop upon his head. His eyes were black, barely showing any of the green they had once been, and appeared to be constantly glazed over. His robes were ripped, torn and absolutely filthy, and appeared to be the ones he had worn during the final battle with Voldemort, all those months ago.

"Speak for yourself," Harry chuckled lightly, forgetfully gesturing his wand at Ginny's stomach. She looked shocked and protectively covered her belly with her hands.

"Sorry, sorry," Harry stuttered clumsily, nodding his head at his wand. "Didn't mean, to, ah…sorry."

Harry's sentence trailed off and he shrugged, looking sheepish. Ginny closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Don't worry about it," she smiled sweetly. "C'mon, sit down."

Harry took a place awkwardly on the edge of a clean, cozy sofa, resting his back against a fluffy throw. He looked briefly around the room. There were paintings, handmade trinkets, knitted cushions and covers – perhaps made by Molly Weasley? – and photographs of family and friends everywhere. Harry wondered why he couldn't see one of himself, but Ginny spoke and snapped him out of his daze.

"What brings you here then, Harry?" Ginny asked, and only then did he realize that she had sat herself down beside him. He turned to look at her.

"Your twin brothers paid me a short visit," Harry explained after a pause. Didn't Ginny know?

"Fred and George," Ginny whispered to herself, reaching up to smooth a lock of red hair back behind an ear. "I haven't seen them for a few months. How was George? Is he…?"

"Better," Harry nodded, feeling pleased with himself. "I, uh, cured him."

"Oh yes," Ginny smiled, her eyes twinkling all of a sudden. She reached for Harry's fingers and lightly scooped up his large, marked hand in her own dainty, light one. "I've heard about it. The healing touc."

Harry pulled his hand away a little too quickly, feeling uncomfortable to have Ginny touching him so suddenly after all this time. Her hand was so soft, so tiny and gentle, so warm…but it just didn't feel right somehow.

"Sorry," he blushed, distractedly smoothing down his robes and avoiding Ginny's gaze. "I wouldn't say I'm any kind of Saviour. I haven't really learnt how to control it yet. Besides, I'm not at all keen of all the attention it's brought."

"Of course," Ginny nodded understandingly. "I can imagine. Thank you, Harry. You didn't need to help George, not after he…"

Ginny's voice faltered and she trailed off, peering sadly down into her lap. She took a few moments to rub her stomach and wiped away the tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes.

"Hey, shh," Harry said softly, wondering if a caring arm around Ginny's shoulders would be appropriate or not – but before he could move she had collected herself and offered him a sad smile.

"I'm alright," she told him, clutching at a tissue she had reached for from a shelf. "I've mourned Percy. Now I'm looking forward to the future."

She looked down at her lap again, and smoothed a hand gently over her baby bump. Harry gulped.

"You're going to be a mother, Ginny," he said, as sincerely as he could manage. "I'm happy for you. Who, uh…"

"You don't know him," Ginny said quickly, almost snapping. Her bluntness stopped Harry from pushing the issue any further.

"Sorry," he whispered. Ginny didn't reply and slowly got to her feet, walking over to a small nearby window that looked out onto an alleyway.

"I just want you to know, Ginny," Harry continued, though she had her back to him, "That I really did break up with you because I wanted you to be safe. When we went out looking for the Horcruxes, I knew it would be dangerous. But deep down, I didn't think I'd lose Hermione. I didn't think I'd lose Ron. But I did. I lost them both. I already don't think I could ever forgive myself. What would I have done if I'd lost you, Ginny?"

Thinking about this was difficult for Harry, and he rested his forehead into his palm. When Ginny didn't reply for almost a whole minute, Harry became suspicious. He looked over his shoulder and tried to focus on her, hoping that he hadn't made her cry by bringing up the past.

"Ginny?"

Ginny apparently hadn't been listening, and instead she was frowning at something outside, perching on the narrow windowsill. She stared intently at it, whilst simultaneously stroking her pregnant belly, with the other hand pressed against the glass of the window.

"That's funny," she murmured. "I've never seen a cat behave so oddly."

Harry scowled. Why was Ginny wasting her time watching some stupid cat when here he was, opening his heart to her, trying to make a sincere, long overdue apology? But Harry let it go, and stood up, joining Ginny by the window.

"Look," Ginny instructed him, gesturing with a finger to the cat outside. Harry didn't have to focus his eyes much to see it – it was sitting on the ledge outside, staring in at them intently. It was almost as if the cat knew who Harry and Ginny were; knew their past, knew their story, knew what they were talking about. A wave of familiarity washed over Harry.

"Hey!" he exclaimed in surprise. "That's the stray that's been living in my house!"

"Are you sure, Harry?" Ginny raised an eyebrow. "How on earth did it get here?"

"Must have followed me. I mean, perhaps it was near me when I apparated," Harry murmured, deep in thought, his mind ticking over. "Anyway, what's so weird about it? It's just a dumb cat."

Ginny scratched the back of her neck slowly. "Look at its eyes. They're so cold. So unusually blue for a feline. And its fur, Harry…that cat's fur is blond."

RP says: Have you guessed it yet! big grin
R&R if you're enjoying this story, please:)