II
Alex woke up to a sound he'd grown accustomed to, ever since he and Kate first moved in together. He recognised it as a cello Shostakovich concerto, and it was absolutely beautiful. Because of it, he was tempted to remain right where he was but he eventually had to roll out of bed.
He wasn't surprised that he was in his old bedroom. His neck hurt, and he was still tired, but he did stand up and stretch. The journal had slipped to the ground during the night. He bent to retrieve it, tucked it under his arm and left the room.
Alex followed the sound of the music, heading down the stairs and into what Kate decided would be her practice room. It had wonderful acoustics.
He stood in the doorway and watched her until she drew the piece to a close. She had her back to him, but she knew he was there. She didn't know what it was, but she could feel him.
"Good morning," Kate said, not even turning her to look at him. "How did you sleep?"
Alex walked towards her and came to a stop just behind her. He lifted his hands to massage her shoulders. "Good morning to you too," he said softly, bending and kissing the top of her head. "Is that a new piece?" he asked.
She looked over her shoulder at him. "You're up."
"Sorry."
Kate made no comment as she stood up. She allowed him to take the cello from her and set it down in its large case. "Are we going to talk about it?" she eventually asked.
Alex blinked. "I'll make breakfast," he said.
"I'm having brunch with Sarah," she reminded him. "Now that we're at three months, I'm going to tell her. Is that all right?"
"Of course," he said easily. It was Kate's decision who she told. "I think I'm just going to stay home today. I have, umm - " he hesitated. "I have to read it, Katie."
"I know," she said.
He smiled. "You're too good to me."
"I know."
He drew her into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and burying his face in her hair. "I think that I might also visit my dad," he whispered.
"Oh?"
"I just want to see him," he said, pulling away so he could look at her. "I, umm - " he paused.
"You miss him, don't you?"
He laughed lightly. "He's just one of those that you miss, apparently."
Kate kissed the underside of his chin, before she removed herself from his arms and led the way out of the practice room.
They went about their morning as usual, except that Kate skipped out on breakfast. After he ate, Alex disappeared into his own practice room, where his mother's grand piano sat at the very centre. Where she'd left it all those years ago.
He did not sit down at the piano. Instead, he threw himself onto the black leather couch, pulled out the journal and started to read.
25 September 2004
Dear Baby Potter
The piano is wonderful. It almost makes up for the fact that your father isn't back from his mission yet. I'm learning a new piece that I hope will be ready by the time he comes home.
My mother might have mentioned that it's time for us to move into the big house. It's the house that your father bought when we decided we were ready to start our family. It's not his ancestral home. There were Manors that belonged to the Potters many years ago, but they're all gone now.
The new house would be our new home. One in which we both want to raise our family. It has lots of yard space, and many, many rooms. I've already decided where the piano will go. That was the first thing I told him when we first visited the house. It was the most important part, wasn't it?
I hope you'll grow to love music. Hearing it, and playing it. I won't force you into anything, but I intend to expose you to all of it, Muggle and magical alike. There's a lot of the world that witches and wizards miss out on, but you, my dear baby, will not be one of those.
My father plays the saxophone. He started when he was very young, and it's because of him that I learned the wonder of classical music. We play together sometimes. You'll hear it one day.
Alex stopped reading for a moment. If he'd ever heard his grandfather and mother play; he couldn't remember. There was so much he couldn't remember.
Your father tried to play piano once. I attempted to teach him something simple, but it just did not work. He's entirely useless at it. He should stick to flying that broom of his. Help me make sure to remind him every day, all right?
I find myself wondering if you'll also be such a fan of Quidditch. There are fans, and then there are FANS. Your Uncle Ron is rather obsessive about the Canons and your Aunt Ginny plays for the Harpies so the weekends when those two teams play tend to get really heated at the Burrow. It's probably why your father and I steer clear when those weekends come around.
We get out of the city sometimes. We spent several months out in nature during the War, and I suppose we're used to it by now. I actually enjoy it. And it's not yet too cold, so that's always a plus. We've had some terrible experiences with the cold, but those are stories for another day.
Just remind me to tell you, all right? Make sure that I'm the one who tells you. Your father will make himself sound so insignificant that the stories won't be accurate. He's such a humble wizard sometimes.
And make sure that Ron doesn't tell you the stories either. He'll blow them way out of proportion. And Aunt Luna would just confuse you. Goodness knows that she still confuses me. Trust me, I'm definitely your best bet.
Don't you worry, Baby Potter. I always will be.
Love,
Your Mother
For a moment, Alex felt a flash of anger. She lied to him. She lied. She wasn't here. She wasn't around for him. Who was supposed to be his 'best bet' now?
It took another moment for him to calm down. He was being ridiculous. It wasn't as if she asked to die. He knew, without a doubt, that she would have done everything in her power to stay with him.
He also knew that his father would have done everything he could as well and, he suspected, that he might have tried. From what Alex had read and was told, Harry didn't handle his wife's death all that well, but he pulled himself together for his son.
For Alex.
Everything he'd ever done was for the benefit of his son. Alex wasn't naive enough to have missed that, now that he was old enough to see all of it.
His mother might have died, but his father more than made up for it. The humble wizard that he was. Alex felt like he was learning as much about his father as he was about his mother with these letters. He had to keep reading.
30 September 2004
Dear Baby Potter
He's home!
Forgive me. I'm just a little relieved to have Mr Potter in the same country as the both of us again. I really don't like it when he's gone. The work he does is so dangerous, and I've contemplated guilt-tripping him into pulling back, but I can't bring myself to do it. He's so passionate about his work.
But he's home! Which means that he'll be here for our four-month checkup and, according to the books I've read; we should be able to know the gender of a baby at 16 weeks. So I'm excited for that; I can't even explain it.
I don't know if I want a girl or a boy. I think that we'd be better prepared for a boy, given our experience with Teddy Lupin. He's your father's godson and so, by default, mine as well. He's a bundle of energy, that one.
But a little girl would be great as well. Your father would treat her like a little princess, I'm sure. He gets all googly eyed around your Uncle Neville and Aunt Ginny's daughter, Rebecca. He absolutely dotes on her.
I sometimes suspect that it's the red hair.
He was surprised by how much my stomach's grown. I'm definitely showing, which means that people will start noticing, which means that the entire Wizarding World is going to know about you. I've tried to keep you hidden, but there's only so much I can do.
If I could have you and not let the world know, I would. Hmm. Maybe I'll just hide out at home as I get bigger. I can do my research at home. How does that sound?
Looks like we're back to that whole idea of home-schooling you. It keeps popping up. Clearly, it's a sign.
I'm kidding. I think. I'll discuss it with your father, even though I'm already sure what he'll say. Or think. He's not like Ron in that he probably wouldn't call me mental to my face, but he'll definitely think it, and then call me brilliant instead.
Now that I'm pregnant, he's decided to give me everything that I want. I don't even have to ask sometimes. He's a mind-reader - though not really, it's actually illegal.
He brought us presents back from Australia. I'll have you know that I threw up the moment I smelt the Vegemite. Your father, though, with his Seeker reflexes, was able to get out of the way in time.
I've never found throwing up all that funny, but I don't think I've laughed so hard in my entire life. He brought us clothes as well. You've got a little babygrow that'll make you look like a little kangaroo. You're going to look adorable. I can just imagine it now.
I also got a grownup babygrow. They call them onesies, I think, but they're not that popular yet. I cannot wait for us to be a family of kangaroos. Can you imagine? Harry Potter dressed in a kangaroo jumpsuit. It's funny just thinking about it. Those would be pictures that the Daily Prophet would definitely love to see.
Wow. Can you tell that I'm glad he's home? Everything is better when he's around. Don't you worry. You'll see for yourself.
Love,
Your Mother
Alex, thankfully, was smiling this time around. Sure, he felt the sadness, but this was a happier letter. She sounded happy and light and carefree. She sounded young and optimistic, and so in love. Wow, he missed her.
Alex waited several minutes, trying to keep his heart rate steady.
"Alex?"
He sat up to see Kate poking her head through the open door. "Hey you."
"I'm headed out," she said. "Do you need me to pick up anything?"
He shook his head.
"Will you be all right?"
He nodded.
She regarded him for a moment, trying to read him. "Okay."
"Say hi to Sarah for me," he added. "Tell her I haven't forgotten what she said about my football club."
Kate laughed. "You do remember that my sister and I support the same team, right?"
"I remember," he muttered. "I don't know why I ever married you."
"It's because I'm so damn hot."
"This is true."
"I love you, Alexander Potter."
He grinned at her. "I love you too, Katherine Potter."
"I'm stepping out into the world," she said teasingly, standing up straight. "I go by Katherine Locke, thank you very much."
Thinking back on his mother's letters, his face fell. "Katie?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you ashamed of being married to me?"
Kate's eyes widened. "What?"
Alex dropped his gaze. "Sorry. Stupid question."
"We decided, Alex, that I would keep my name professionally," she said, frowning slightly. "And I was teasing."
"I know," he said, shaking his head. "Sorry. I'm just, umm, working through, umm something."
"Okay," she said.
He took a deep breath. "I love you, Katie. And little Baby Potter."
She blew him a kiss. "See you later, Daddy Potter." And then she was gone, leaving Alex alone with his mother and the memories he wished he had.
Daddy. Alex was going to be a Dad.
If that wasn't enough to frighten him, he didn't know what was. It helped that his mother admitted to being a bit afraid of it as well.
8th October 2004
Dear Baby Potter
Today was supposed to be a good day. I was so excited about finding out your gender, so I can refer to you as something different until we decide on a name for you.
So, your father and I went to the doctor today, and we saw you on the sonogram. You're a whole actual baby. Inside me. It was amazing. We weren't able to tell what your gender is yet, but I'll definitely keep you posted on those developments.
But I think it freaked out your father. I wasn't surprised by his reaction, given all that he's been through in his life. As much as he's convinced himself that he wants a family; I think that the reality of it has just hit him. Seeing you like that scared him.
He was worryingly quiet when we left the doctor's. I don't usually call him out on his broodiness but I started to think that this isn't what he wants. I was worried that he didn't want this anymore, and that frightened me. I can't imagine doing this alone.
So I asked him about it, and we sort of fought. Don't be surprised. Married people do fight. Well, he was hurt that I would think such a thing, and I realise why that would be so. He did acknowledge that my doubts weren't unfounded. We're good at that, you know? Your father and I, we tend to talk about things. Eventually.
I hope you'll be the same. It's good to talk about things. Please never go to bed angry with anyone. When you've been in a War, fearing for your life; you tend to get over things really quickly. You tend to forgive the petty things. But never go to bed angry. We never know what can happen.
Well, isn't that morbid? I told you today was supposed to be a good day.
There are things you won't know about your father and, if he had his way, you wouldn't ever know, but there are reasons why he's so afraid of being a father. Psychology says that there are always chances of children from abusive homes perpetuating the cycle. He's always been worried about it, but I know him.
We know him, Baby Potter. He's dedicated his entire life to helping people; to saving people. He is a great man and it's up to us to make sure we tell him every day. He likes the blame-game a little too much, so we have to keep him in check. We have to look after him; we have to love him.
Can you help me with it? He's too pure and kind for the world to take advantage of, and it's up to us to keep him happy.
Because he makes me so happy, Baby Potter. Even when he's brooding, believe it or not. Even when he's convinced the fate of the world is still on his shoulders. He still makes me happy.
The fact that he's so worried tells me that he'll be a great father. Not perfect. Nobody is. But he'll beat himself up to make sure you live the kind of life he could only dream of when he was a child. You are already loved, Baby Potter.
You may also end up being the most spoilt child in all of Britain.
I'll do my best to keep you grounded. I suspect that your father will want to give you everything you want. Do try not to take advantage of him. Promise you'll at least try.
So we talked it out. Well, I reckon I talked, and he listened. That's usually how it goes. Always has been.
Don't you worry. I doubt that'll ever change.
Love,
Your Mother
For a moment, Alex couldn't recall what he read. There was just so much in that letter that he felt particularly winded.
Of course, he did know things about his father's childhood, but it was never something that they talked about. They would talk about this though.
Making a decision, he shut the journal and set it aside. There was only one thing to do now.
It didn't take him long to shower and get dressed and, by noon, he was at his father's with the intent of getting some answers for his questions.
Alex entered Grimmauld Place with a little apprehension. He never liked this house, mainly because his father hated the house. Harry Potter made his distaste known on plenty of occasions, but he'd moved into the house well before Alex even got married.
Twenty-seven years later and Alex still didn't understand his father.
Alex wasn't surprised to find Harry in the house's library. It boasted a great collection of books, which he knew that his parents both loved. His father was hunched over a tome at his desk, studying it intensely.
Harry was surprised by the arrival of his son, and it showed on his face when he eventually looked up and spotted the younger Potter in the doorway. Even though Harry was already just passed fifty years old; his magic kept him looking young; though he had definitely aged.
"Alex?" Harry said, immediately standing. "Everything all right? Is Katherine okay?"
Alex couldn't help his smile. "Everything is fine, Dad," he said, moving into the room. "Kate's great. Didn't you speak to her yesterday?"
Harry's cheeks tinged pink. "I did."
Alex shook his head. "She wants you to come over for dinner some time this week."
"What day did you have in mind?"
Alex was a little thrown by the speed of his father's response. "Umm, how's about Thursday?"
"Sounds good," Harry said easily.
Alex frowned. "Don't you have to check some schedule or something?"
Harry's frown matched his son's. "No. It doesn't matter what I may or may not have going on. I always have time for my son."
That was the truth. Alex knew of the sacrifices his father made when his mother died even though Harry never told him. Harry Potter was once a rising star in the Auror Department but, when his wife died, he resigned almost immediately. There would be no more missions to take him away from Alex.
"So Thursday then?" Harry clarified.
Alex nodded. "I'll double check with Kate." Then he grinned. "Or you could, I suppose. My Dad and wife seem to be getting pretty cosy, huh?"
The pinkness was back. "I needed some boxes from the attic."
Alex sank down onto the couch in the library and propped his feet up on the coffee table. "Was there something specific you were looking for?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Harry also retook his seat, absently running a hand through his hair. "I might have."
Alex grinned. "Kate might have gone a little crazy," he said. "Spent the entire day up there. I didn't know how much you kept."
"I kept everything," Harry confessed. "I couldn't bring myself to get rid of anything. She would have hexed me to within an inch of my life."
Once again, Alex noted that his father didn't refer to his mother by name, though he made sure that Alex always knew that he could talk about and ask questions about the one and only Hermione Granger.
"Well, you've now handed my wife some truly embarrassing ammunition," he said, chuckling. "I've spent years trying to convince her I was cool."
"Alex, you don't need me to tell you that you've failed miserably at that," he said, his grin matching his sons. "Kate already knows you are the furthest from cool."
"Thanks for the confidence, Dad," he commented dryly.
Harry leaned back in his desk chair and regarded his son curiously. "Are you sure everything is all right?"
For a moment, Alex was tempted not to bring up the journal, but he had to know. "When you spoke to Kate about wanting something from the attic; you knew she would go looking, didn't you?"
Harry's gaze met his son's; striking green eyes locking on emerald ones. "I didn't know," he confessed truthfully. "I had a suspicion, given what I already know about her, but I didn't expect her to find what I was looking for."
"And what exactly were you looking for?"
Harry remained silent.
Alex fished the journal out of his shoulder bag. "Is it this?"
Harry's eyes drifted towards the notebook in his son's hand. "What is that?"
"At first, I thought it was one of her journals," he said, his voice dropping in volume. "But her journals stop in 2002, and this one is from 2004."
Harry cocked his head to the side, just waiting.
"It's not a journal though," Alex continued. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"
Harry didn't respond to the question. "Have you read it?"
"Just the first four letters," he admitted. "I have so many questions."
Harry visibly stiffened, but he said nothing.
"Were you ever going to give it to me?"
"It's why I wanted it from the attic," he said, nodding once. "I was always going to give it to you when, you know, became a parent."
"So you read it then?"
Harry leaned forward. "I did."
"But...?"
"I'm aware that the letters are all addressed to you, but you have to understand that you aren't the only person who wants to hold onto her," he said calmly. "I went through every journal long before you did, and I'm not ashamed of it. They were her words, and I couldn't resist. I could just imagine her saying them."
Alex blinked. "It's like her voice is in my head."
"Hasn't it always been?"
Alex nodded. "But why now?"
"You already know the answer to that, Alex."
He took a deep breath and relaxed into the couch. "But why?"
"Why did she write the letters? Or why am I giving it to you now?"
"Both."
He cleared his throat. "I don't know the answer to that first question. Only she knows. But I do know that she would want you to read it now. I want you to read it now because parenthood is scary, and I don't think that I'm enough to help you through it."
"Dad," he breathed.
"She was a great mum," he continued. "I know we didn't get that long with her, but she was great, and I've thought a lot about this, and I know that you would have had a better life if she were here instead of me."
Alex's eyes snapped towards his father. "Don't say that," he said tensely.
"Can you honestly tell me that you haven't had the same thought? That you would rather have her here instead of me?"
Alex hesitated, knowing that he wouldn't be able to lie.
"It's all right, Alex," Harry said gently.
Alex just stared at him with wide eyes.
"Which is why I wanted you to have that journal," Harry said. "There are things only a mother can teach you about being a parent. This privilege, Alex, of being a husband and father, it's the greatest thing that will ever happen to you and I want you to do it right."
Alex was still caught up on his father's earlier words, and he couldn't bring himself to speak. Did he really think that? Did he think that Alex thought that?
Before their current one-sided conversation could continue, they were made aware that there was another person in the house. Immediately on alert, both Potter men drew their wands.
"It's just me," the person called out, revealing his identity.
Both men visibly relaxed.
"We're in here," Harry called back.
A few moments later, Teddy Lupin stuck his head through the door. "Everybody decent?" he asked, grinning.
"What an idiot," Alex commented as he clambered to his feet to embrace his surrogate brother.
"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Teddy asked, picking up on the tension.
Neither Potter responded.
After greeting Alex, Teddy moved on to Harry, hugging him loosely.
"How is Papa Potter?" Teddy asked Harry.
"Good," he said. "How's Papa Lupin? How's Victoire? The kids?"
"Everyone is good," he said, settling down into an armchair, while Alex and Harry returned to their own seats. "I just got back from Salem."
Harry already knew that, but Alex proceeded to ask Teddy all sorts of questions about the seasoned Auror's work. Harry just watched them converse, a certain warmth filling his chest. These were his boys, no matter what anybody said.
"Harry," Teddy eventually said, getting his godfather's attention. "I actually had a favour to ask."
Harry gave him his full attention. "What's up, kiddo?"
"It's about Remus," he said, referring to his young son. "They're having some kind of pageant thing, I suppose, at his school, and he's supposed to talk about one of his Wizarding heroes, and he picked you."
Harry glanced at Alex for a moment before he nodded, prompting Teddy to continue.
"He's written you a letter," Teddy said, smiling. "It's two weekends away, and he would probably die if you were to show up. I'm not supposed to ask you, so I won't. I'm just supposed to deliver this letter, right into your hand, and make sure that you read it."
Harry couldn't help his chuckle. Remus Harry Lupin had to be the greatest grandkid Harry could have ever asked for. He was a year shy of entering Hogwarts and Harry suspected that Teddy couldn't wait to get the monster out of the house.
Harry put his hand out. "Hand it over then," he said.
Teddy leapt to his feet, fished out the letter from his pocket and placed it in Harry's hand. "If my son asks, you tell him that I put it right into your hand, all right?"
"Done," he said, opening the letter and reading the messy handwriting. He couldn't help his smile. That little kid.
When he looked up again, both Teddy and Alex were watching him, each sporting stupid grins. "What?" he asked innocently.
"Are you sure you're not really still a kid?" Teddy asked.
"I can appreciate a good kid's letter," Harry said, his cheeks tinging pink again.
It was a wonder that Alex hadn't noticed how many times his father actually was embarrassed in a single day. He suspected that he really would turn beet red if ever he was asked to talk about his feelings.
"Do you still get all that fan mail?" Teddy asked.
Harry, once again, glanced at Alex before he responded. "Not as much as I used to, no," he confessed. "Now it's just kids who believe the stories that they hear."
"Or the stories that they read," Teddy added. "I know you know that what Remus believes is true, right? His grandPapa Potter is a hero."
Harry made no comment. This was a conversation he always seemed to have with his godson, but he refused to engage. Especially not in front of Alex.
Harry shook his head. "I'll be there," he said simply.
Teddy's face broke out into a wide grin. "He's going to freak out when I tell him."
"Make sure he's sitting down," Alex commented, his grin matching Teddy's.
When they were still kids, the two of them spent a lot of time teasing Harry about his hero status because it made him so uncomfortable. Even now, as adults, they couldn't help it. It was just too good to pass up.
"Stop it, you two," Harry warned, though his smile betrayed him.
Teddy leaned back in his chair and looked at Alex. "Papa Potter's getting testy."
Harry just shook his head.
Alex laughed. "Ted, are you staying for lunch?"
Harry blinked. "We're having lunch?"
"I can make breakfast for lunch," Alex offered, not sure what to make of the surprised tone in his father's voice. "Like we used to have."
Like a child, Teddy clapped his hands together. "Oh, please make waffles, and your famous maple syrup chilli thing."
"With fried chicken?" Alex asked.
"Ooh," Teddy said excitedly. "Yes please."
Teddy and Alex looked at Harry, both of them asking the question. They knew he would give in. He usually did.
Harry let out a breath. "By all means," he eventually said, waving a hand through the air. "Go wild in my kitchen."
Alex jumped up, closely followed by Teddy. They started muttering to each other like they were still children. It was difficult to imagine that there were seven years between them.
Harry watched them leave the library, feeling somewhat giddy. He lived a lonely life, and he loved having his family around. His sons.
Harry didn't spend too much time reminiscing before he rose to his feet and went to join Teddy and Alex in the kitchen. Indeed, they had already made quite a mess of the kitchen.
It had to be one of the best meals Harry ever had. The three of them were able to enjoy one another's company, make jokes and just be. Sons sometimes just needed their fathers.
Teddy was the first to excuse himself several hours later, leaving the house with a brilliant smile on his face. He left Harry and Alex back in the library, with Alex back on the couch, and Harry in an armchair, the same tome from earlier propped up on his lap. He wasn't reading though.
Neither was Alex.
"How is work?" Harry asked.
"Interesting," Alex replied. "I've been working on a new piece, for the baby."
Harry smiled. "Just the piano, or the entire orchestra?"
"Both." He didn't mention that it wasn't going all that well.
"Do you think it will be done by October?"
Alex couldn't help his grin. "You talk to my wife a little too much, you know?"
Harry shrugged. "She did say that she finds me more handsome than she finds you."
"Did she now?"
"Don't blame her," he said, winking. "I'm terribly good-looking."
All Alex could think was so much for humble. But then again, Harry Potter was probably just being realistic. He really was still an attractive man. It baffled so many that he never remarried.
It was not that he didn't date on occasion. He was a man after all, but nobody could ever claim a heart that had been so taken by a dead woman. He'd promised her forever, and he meant it.
If Alex ever worried that his father was unhappy, it always came back to the truth that Harry Potter would never find true happiness with anyone other than the love of his life, Hermione Granger.
"I'm sure that you don't want to spend your Sunday with an old man like me," Harry eventually said.
Alex shifted until he was reclining comfortably. "I'm exactly where I want to be," he said.
Harry just stared at him.
"Unless you want to be alone?"
Harry shook his head. "No, no I don't."
"So you won't mind if I just sit here and read?"
Harry absently waved a hand. "By all means."
They regarded each other once more before they both turned their attentions to their respective written works. Harry was reading up on new warding techniques for when the Aurors resumed training the following morning.
And Alex, well, he resumed reading the journal that he now knew was designed, in its entirety, to change everything.
