III
Alex sneaked looks at his father over the top of the journal and, if Harry noticed, he didn't comment. There was something fractured in their relationship and Alex couldn't pinpoint exactly what that was.
What he did know was that it started the moment Alex told Harry about the baby. Or it just magnified. He now suspected that this collection of letters was the key to it all.
19th October 2004
Dear Baby Potter
It's official. The world now knows that there is a Baby Potter on the way. We've been bombarded with so much mail and good wishes. You're practically a royal baby. The entire Wizarding World - more than just Britain - is waiting on your arrival.
Blame your father. He's the one that decided to save the world with everyone watching.
I don't know exactly how they confirmed the pregnancy, but it was bound to come out eventually. I'm less annoyed than I thought I would be. It's odd.
The Daily Prophet broke the story this morning and your father was tiptoeing around me all morning. It's funny now that I think about it. It was like I was a ticking bomb and he was just waiting for me to explode.
I ended up just laughing, surprising us both. It was bound to happen. Anyone around St Mungo's could see me and know. We're approaching five months, you and me. I used to think that nine months was such a long time, but things really do seem to be speeding up now.
In just over four months, you'll be here. I can't wait, but I also can. Does that make sense? Everything changes when you arrive.
Speaking of changes. We have decided that we're going to move into the big house. Majority of it is already furnished - though all I really need is the piano. I think that your father only agreed because he doesn't want to set up your room in the apartment. He wants to give you the perfect nursery, and he's going to do it in our family home.
I can tell that he's excited about it. He can get a bit restless around the house sometimes, so it's good to give him something to do. He's been drawing it out, moving things around and asking for my approval.
I find that I'm looking forward to shopping for you. Baby things just make me so happy. They're so tiny and cute and I have to stop myself from buying everything I see. I'm certain you're going to be the best dressed baby in Britain. Well, when you're not dressed like a kangaroo, that is.
Alex stopped reading and looked up at his father. "Dad?"
Harry also looked up. "Hmm?"
"Do you still have my baby clothes?"
Harry looked surprised for a moment, before he smiled and nodded. "I do. Why?"
"That kangaroo outfit," he said. "I, umm, I'd like for Baby Potter to have it, if that's all right."
Harry paled considerably. "The kangaroo outfit?"
"Unless...?"
"No," Harry quickly said. "I have it. I have all of your clothes. Do you want them all?"
Without thinking, Alex nodded.
"Okay."
"Okay."
They both returned to their reading. Alex smiled lightly as he resumed his mother's letter.
We're moving in - officially - at the beginning of November. I think that we both definitely want to bring you home from the hospital to the new house; to your new bedroom. Though, I'm certain that you'll spend your first few weeks with us in our bedroom. I don't think I'll be able to let you out of my sight.
Do you reckon we'll also have an Out-Of-Sight Fight? If you remember, I think I mentioned the fight your father and I had after the War ended, about how I couldn't let him out of my sight. My anxiety levels used to spike dangerously whenever I didn't know where he was.
At least, with you, you won't be able to walk around and wreak havoc until you're at least one, right? I think I'll have calmed down by then, but I can't make any promises. I'm certain I'll freak out when your father first puts you on a broom. I'll have to go to my parents' house when that happens, I'm sure.
I'm desperately trying not to be sexist, but I'll probably handle the whole flying thing a bit better if you do turn out to be a boy. God, does that make me awful?
Oh, it does.
So, seeing as the news broke today, I didn't go into work. Martha Flooed and let me know that there was press a plenty at St Mungo's. They want statements and pictures, and I'm rebelling against all of that. And I'm convinced it will put stress on the both of us.
Unfortunately for your father, there was nothing he could do to avoid it all. They were waiting for him at the Ministry. He looked positively exhausted by the time he got home, which was amusing until he told me that he told the reporters that at least there was now actual proof that he'd had sex with Hermione Granger.
I sent a Stinging Hex straight at his genitals.
Alex winced, and then laughed.
Harry looked up. "What?"
"When the press found out about me, did you really tell them that - "
Harry cut his son off by bursting out laughing. "Oh Merlin," he coughed. "I forgot all about that."
"Did she really, you know...?" Alex asked, glancing down at his father's lap.
Harry laughed once again. "Oh yes, yes she did. And then she felt awful about it, because I was having her on."
Alex shook his head, the smile still on his face. "Brilliant."
Harry looked lost in the memory for a moment, before he said. "Yeah, she was."
A moment later, they were back with their own reading.
And then immediately felt awful about it when I realised he was joking. But really, he had to know what would happen if he was going to make a joke like that. It really is all his own fault.
I'm certain the press will end up contacting most of our family and friends to get information on you. I suspect they're all eager to find out what we're having; as am I. We'll find out, and then we'll name you. We've actually spent quite a bit of time thinking of names. Would you like to hear them?
Boy's Names: Nicholas, Alexander, Rowan, James, and Samuel.
Girl's Names: Elizabeth, Charlotte, Grace, Catherine and Lily.
How do those sound to you? Would you be all right with spending your entire life being called by one of those? It puts a lot of pressure on a parent, you know? We have to make that huge decision for you and you have to wait until you're at least eighteen to get it changed if you don't like it.
But don't you worry. We'll pick wisely.
Love,
Your Mother
Alex closed his eyes for a moment. His parents had chosen wisely. Alexander James Potter was a great name. So much better than some of the other names he'd come across in the Wizarding World. Those poor children.
"Dad?"
Harry looked up. "Hmm?"
"If I'd been a girl, what would you have called me?"
There was only a moment of hesitation before Harry replied. It was like he was recalling a memory, instead of having to think of one. "Charlotte Lily," he said easily. "We probably should have called you that either way. It'd probably fit your personality better."
Alex chucked a pillow at his father, which he easily deflected. "Women are powerful," Alex said.
"Exactly," Harry agreed.
Alex, somewhat like his father, felt uncomfortable with the underhanded compliment, though his cheeks remained their usual colour.
"So what made you decide on Alex then?" Alex asked.
Harry frowned. "Have I really never told you?"
"I've never asked."
Harry managed a smile. "Keep reading," he said. "She'll tell you why. It sounds a lot better coming from her anyway." A lot of things did.
"Okay."
Harry looked away first, prompting Alex to do the same.
31st October 2004
What a day! Today was Halloween. It's a strange day for us, mainly because it brings back memories of sorrow, and memories of happiness.
Your father tends to go quiet around this time of year. He starts to think about his parents a lot, and about the life he could have lived had they lived. It's taken me a while to realise that this reaction of his has nothing to do with the fact that he's unhappy with the life we're living.
It's never been about that. Because, truly, this day also marks the reason why your father and I are even together the way that we are. I'm sure we'll tell you the story in greater detail, but this day, in our first year at Hogwarts, is the day that your father and Uncle Ron saved my life.
And I spent the next seven years repaying the favour. That's what your father says anyway, but I always argue with him about it. It was never about a life debt or whatever archaic thing the wizard's came up with. It's always been about that fact that I've never wanted to lose my best friend. I wouldn't survive it.
So, today, we visited Godric's Hollow just the two of us. Three of us, I mean. We visited the many graves of the people we lost. He didn't say all that much while we stood over his parents' tombstone, but then, well, you decided to join the party.
We felt you kick for the first time today. Well, I suppose, now that I actually know what a kick feels like - ouch, by the way - I realise that you've been moving for a few weeks now and I hadn't even known. Apparently that's how it is with first time pregnancies.
So you kicked for us in front of your grandparents. It was wonderful and exciting, and so heartbreaking all at the same time.
And yes, Auror Extraordinaire, once again, dropped to his knees and wept. He placed his hands over you and just talked. For almost half an hour, he just explained all he knew of his parents to you. It was therapeutic for all three of us.
It's up to us to make sure he comes back to us. I know it sounds like a lot of responsibility but, after what you accomplished today; I can already tell that you're up for the task, and you aren't even born yet.
When we got back from the graveyard, I had this insane craving for fried chicken. Thank you for that, by the way. Your father immediately went out to get some for me. I have him well trained.
He's actually still out while I write this. I haven't exactly told him what I'm doing writing all these letters. For all he knows, I've started with a journal again. I don't write all that much in front of him though, so it could even be a research notebook.
Oh, now I want cherries as well. Italian ones. Is that too picky?
I wonder how your father would feel about a quick trip to Rome. Just for cherries... Now, see, that's my taking advantage of him.
Don't you worry. I'll control myself.
Love,
Your Mother
Alex yawned. He couldn't help it. And, seeing as Harry was not a psychopath, he followed his son with a yawn of his own.
Harry set his tome aside. "Want some tea?" he asked.
Alex nodded. "Please."
Harry knew he could have just summoned tea, but there was something therapeutic about making tea yourself. He stood and left the room, leaving Alex alone with his thoughts.
Alex leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Through these letters, Alex was offered different insight into the young lives of his parents. Their marriage. Their difficulties. All of it.
When Harry returned to the library, levitating a tray in front of him, Alex was asleep. It amazed him how much nothing had changed. Twenty seven years later and they were still father and son. Harry set down the tray on the coffee table and summoned a light blanket to cover his son.
Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that particular journal, but he still removed it from his sons's grip and set it aside. Close enough for Alex to see as soon as he woke up.
Harry returned to his chair, sipped at his tea and continued to read.
Alex slept for almost an hour.
When he woke up, he was alone. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. When he got his wits about him, his eyes immediately searched for the journal.
He found it on his left side, with a note upon its top. Harry had to go out for a little while and he wasn't sure when he would be back.
Alex took it as license to leave the house without waiting for his father to return. The only thing that did tie him to this house was his father. There would be no reminiscing in this house.
Alex wasted no time in returning to Potter Manor. He was relieved when he entered the house to hear the sound of music. Suddenly, he couldn't wait to see his wife.
Kate was in her practice room, lost in her music, when he found her. He had to stop himself from interrupting her, as desperately as he wanted to.
As quietly as he could, Alex made his way into the room. He recognised the moment she noticed him but she didn't stop playing. He sunk to the floor against the wall on her right side and said nothing. He loved to watch her play. There was something deeply soothing about it, and she looked positively majestic.
When Kate finished, she stood, returned her cello to its case and moved to sit down right beside her husband.
"When did you get home?" Alex asked, taking hold of one of her hands and squeezing it tight.
"A couple of hours ago," she answered quietly. "Baby and I caught a nap, and then we came down to play."
He nodded. "I like that piece," he said. "Tchaikovsky's Pezzo Capriccioso?"
"Louisa wants me to play it in the concert next month," she said. "I'm leaning towards a Bach Suite, but we'll have to see how it goes."
"Do you require accompaniment?" he asked lightly.
"If I did, I doubt they would allow my husband to accompany me," she said, squeezing his hand this time around.
"Well, the offer still stands."
Kate leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. "How is Harry?"
Alex swallowed. "Well, besides the fact that he's obviously in love with my wife; he looks healthy enough."
Kate made a sound of disapproval. "How is he really?"
"The reason he wanted to get the boxes in the attic from you was because he wanted to find and give me the journal," he explained. "He doesn't think that he's done enough to prepare me for being a parent, and he's convinced that I would be better prepared if my mother was here instead of him."
Kate gasped. "What?"
"It's why he wants me to read the journal, I guess. The letters are about her pregnancy, and how she dealt with it. How she prepared for me; how they both did." Alex took a breath. "He thinks he wasn't enough of a father, Katie. Do you think he's always thought that?"
"He wouldn't be as great as he is if he didn't worry about it," she said.
"But for him to think that I think I want my mother here instead of him," he said, his voice catching. "What kind of son have I been that he would think such a thing?"
"Alex," she said, making him look at her. "Maybe it's not about you. It's about who he is; how he's always been. It's who he is. Not you."
Alex blinked back the sudden rush of tears to his eyes.
"But I suppose it's also part of who you are as well, because you're convinced it's your doing; the same way Harry's convinced it's his." She shook her head. "You really are related, aren't you?"
"Well, he has taught me everything that I know."
"Everything, huh?"
Alex grinned. "From your tone, I can tell that we're about to, hmm, how do they say, have a little sexy time."
Kate laughed. "My hormones are really out of sorts."
"Your wish is my command, Mrs Potter."
"As it should be, Mr Potter."
This part of being a husband to such a beautiful woman came naturally to Alex. He would give her everything she wanted. He didn't need to have read his mother's letters to know his father had done the same. Because, now he knew; he knew that just being who she was had been everything that he wanted.
Alex was only able to get back to the journal much later - well after Kate fell asleep. Instead of going to his childhood bedroom, Alex made his way to his practice room. His mother's practice room.
It's wasn't the room as much as it was the piano. Alex could sit down at it and immediately feel closer to his mother. She was usually on his mind whenever he was composing. Every note he wrote had to be something she would be proud of.
Alex settled down on the long couch in the room, put his feet up and started to read what was now his constant companion.
6th November 2004
Dear Baby Potter
You're a boy! You're a boy!
We went to our Muggle doctor for the last time today. From now on, our St Mungo's Healer will be Dr Anna Mess. She's delivered, I believe, almost six hundred babies, so I believe we will be in good hands. She's been around for a long time.
Your father was nervous, but he was a lot more attentive this time around. When we saw you, I can't even explain what it was like. And then when the doctor told us you were a little baby boy... well, let's just say that Papa Potter wasn't the only one who cried. He's such a softie, that one.
You're a boy. We're having a baby boy. You're going to be a Potter boy.
I think your father was a little relieved, to be honest. We're probably not ready for a girl yet anyway. I'm very happy.
Can I tell you a little secret? I knew you'd be a boy. I don't know how I knew, but I just did. I had a feeling. And, now that we know who you are, I think I know what I want your name to be. I'll discuss it with your father first, and then I'll let you know. I hope you'll be happy with it.
I haven't told my mum yet. I think I'll go by the house tomorrow and tell both of them together. My dad was a little touched that I told my mum I was pregnant before I told him. I think he was joking around but I can't be too sure.
Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I found out what you are today, and I'm even more excited to meet you. I have this dream of meeting you sometimes. The first time I lay eyes on you. It makes my heart race just thinking about it. Four months to go now, little one.
As excited as I am to meet you; I expect you to take your time, all right? There's no rush. You stay in there as long as you need, okay? I'll handle the outside world for now.
Don't you worry. I'm patient enough to wait.
Love,
Your Mother
Alex could literally feel her excitement rolling off the page. He absently wondered if he would be as excited when he and Kate found out the sex of their own baby. At this point, he wasn't sure if he was leaning towards a boy or a girl. He made a mental note to ask Kate what the baby felt like to her.
Though, he imagined, it was still too early to tell. It was late May, and their baby was joining them in October. In October, Alexander Potter would be a father, and Harry Potter would be a grandfather.
Hermione Potter would never be a grandmother.
And Alex suspected that that was what bothered his father so much.
19th November 2004
Dear Baby Potter
Tonight is going to be our first official night in the new house. I know I said we would be moving in at the beginning of the month, but your father got called away on another case in Morocco. He was gone for almost two weeks.
Your Uncle Ron and Uncle Neville helped me move things into the house, but I had the honour of moving the piano. I put it in my chosen room and, in that moment, it really felt like home.
Home.
We're home, Baby Potter.
Of course, though, we still have some unpacking to do. There were just things that I didn't want to subject to magic, if you know what I mean. I've tried really hard to hold onto the Muggle aspect of my life, and I've been lucky to have a husband like Harry Potter. It helps that he grew up as a Muggle.
But, I think, even if he hadn't; he still wouldn't look down on Muggles. His heart is too kind and his mind is too open. It's proven to be dangerous from time to time, but he is still the strongest person that I know. To have survived his life and come out halfway decent is a true testament to how strong his character really is.
You're going to love him.
Alex took a moment to calm himself. The love that his mother so clearly had for his father was overwhelming. He just knew that his father felt the same, if not more, and that was why Harry could never move on.
Harry'd never allowed the loss to define him, but he'd never moved beyond it either. For as long as Alex could remember, Harry Potter was a widower, and he would always remain one.
We got gifts from Morocco too. There's the most adorable stuffed camel just waiting for you. Your father said he actually rode on one, and that he would never do it ever again. Sure, he can face off against dark wizards but he can't handle a horse on steroids (those are his words). Such a wuss.
He bought this set of different sized circular serving dishes, with sort of pyramid lids. They're painted beautifully, in such vibrant colours. They're traditional Moroccan, and he promised that he'll be making a shredded lamb dish soon, so we can use them. I suggested he do it for the housewarming party that Molly and Ginny are insisting we throw.
Don't they realise that I'm pregnant? We can't be throwing these big parties anymore. Maybe we'll just do a small dinner party. How does that sound? Would you be okay with that?
I sometimes wonder how it is for you in there. I know you can hear me, which is why I'm always talking to you, and playing sweet music for you. Do you know it's me when I'm talking? Do you know your father's voice? Do you get scared?
Because the world can be scary.
But don't you worry. I'll keep you safe.
Love,
Your Mother
Alex, undoubtedly, preferred the lighter themed letters. He liked to hear that she was happy living her life. As much as he wished he'd known her; he was just so glad that she'd existed at all.
Not because, without her, he wouldn't exist; but because the world needed to have had Hermione Granger. Even for the little while that it had.
10th December 2004
Dear Baby Potter
We made it safely passed six months, sweetheart. The Daily Prophet published an article about our first visit to St Mungo's and they're all glad to hear that Baby Potter is well and healthy.
They have, though, started speculating on your gender and, thus, your name. Your father and I sat for nearly twenty minutes laughing at the absurdity of it all. The names are positively ridiculous.
Which is why we finally decided on a name for you. After a bit of a discussion - in which we debated on which name would be your first and which would be your second - we picked Alexander James.
My grandfather's name was Alexander. He passed away when I was sixteen, and he was very important to me. He was a war hero, and he lived a long and happy life.
Your father's father's name was James. In my books, he was a greater hero. His sacrifice and his mother's sacrifice allowed me to have the wonder that is Harry Potter.
I wanted to honour him by calling you James, but Harry insisted on Alexander. I think, maybe, it might have been a bit strange for him having a to call his son by his father's name, even though he would never admit it. His stated reasons are probably still valid though. I knew my grandfather. I knew him, remember him and loved him.
We honour what we know, not what we wish we'd known. We honour the life we have and we don't live it halfheartedly. I'm not sure I agree with him, but I see where he's coming from. It's something we can both learn from him, I suppose.
So you will be Alexander James Potter, and you will be named after two of the finest men your father and I have known and wished to know. It puts a lot on your little shoulders, I know, to carry those names, but you'll grow into them. Your parents will help you.
Be thankful though. If the Daily Prophet were to name you, you'd pray to be eighteen from the moment you're born. I won't even quantify their suggestions by writing them down.
Our Auror Extraordinaire is currently in Paris. He's trying to get us to go out there and visit him as an early Christmas trip. I'm not convinced I want to though, so we'll see. I'm getting bigger and bigger, and my feet hurt and I get irritable. I don't think travelling is for me right now, but then I can't help wondering when the next time will be that I can go on a little holiday.
Maybe you and I will be going to Paris after all. Would you like that? A little trip with mum? I think I should take advantage of the fact that where I go, you go as well.
Don't you worry. It won't always be that way.
Love,
Your Mother
Alex stared at the words. It won't always be that way. Did she know how right she would be? Where she went, Alex couldn't follow. Not yet, at least. He still had so much life left to live.
26th December 2004
Dear Alex
I just called you Alex. Is that okay? Should I stick with Alexander? It's odd. I just feel like you would make a great Alex. Alex Potter. It's a good, strong name.
So I just wanted to say Merry Christmas, and tell you a little bit about how your -super boring - parents spent the day.
I should tell you that you and I did end up going to Paris and we spent a few days with your father. He was busy with surveillance most of the time, but he did make time for sightseeing with us. Paris is stunning, and wonderful and so vibrant.
I was also really fascinated by the street plan of the entire city. I also went a little crazy with the shopping, which amused your father. I've never really been a girly girl so it was a surprise for both of us. I suppose the city just managed to do that to you.
Let's just say that you got more than just a kangaroo jumpsuit from that visit, little one. We've got all the clothes, but no wardrobe to put them in. Your father promised we'll start work on the nursery in the new year. It's our resolution.
So Christmas then. We had breakfast at home. He cooked, as usual. I was craving fried chicken again, but he'd already made waffles, so I had them together and wow! Even with the maple syrup. It's to die for.
Alex couldn't help his gasp. No wonder his father always looked amused whenever Alex wanted fried chicken. And the waffles.
All this time, his father knew, and said nothing about it.
After we ate, we rested a bit before we popped to Godric's Hollow to visit the graves. Visiting at Christmas has become a bit of a tradition for us. I intend to keep it going.
Then we went to visit my parents for Christmas lunch. You and I wanted fried chicken AGAIN but we managed to curb the craving. It's proving to be a problem, you know? Control yourself.
My dad makes some of the best eggnog, but I wasn't allowed to have any. How awful. We spent majority of the afternoon with them, exchanging gifts and stories. I've been a bit of a hermit lately so it was nice to see them. The Muggle side of my world gets overshadowed sometimes, and I worry about it.
I want you to know your Muggle family. We may be witches and wizards, but I never want to forget where I come from. Neither should you. Your mother is Muggleborn; please never be ashamed of it.
We went home for a little rest after that. I caught a nice long nap while your father visited Teddy and his grandmother, Andromeda. I would have gone with but I was too tired. You're tiring me out, little Alex.
When I was finally up for it, we went to the Burrow. Now, going to the Burrow on any day is already an event, but going to the Burrow on Christmas Day... Wow. That's always an experience.
There were so many people, I can't even list them all for you. I did spend most of the evening sitting at the kitchen table with your Aunt Ginny and your Aunt Luna. We're regular old ladies now. I'm the oldest of the three of us, and yet I'm the last one to have their first child. At least now we kind of know what to expect, right?
The thing is that your father and I have never really been in a rush to start our family, or get married for that matter. We were already forced to grow up too fast with the War, and we just wanted some time to live and be young.
Dinner was amazing, as usual. Molly Weasley really pulled out all the stops for her family. All her growing boys were there to indulge. Including you. You're now a part of the little clique.
I can just imagine you several years from now, hanging around your father's legs while he jokes with Ron and George, and begging him to join in the Quidditch pickup game. I'm sure he'd send you to me to ask, just because he wouldn't have the heart to tell you that you're too young.
Passing about presents was absolute chaos. I get anxiety just remembering it.
I'll have you know that you received quite a few presents. I'll keep them safe for you, and you'll get them when you get here. Clearly, your father and I aren't the only ones excited for your arrival. You already have an entire family who loves you.
But don't you worry. Nobody loves you as much as your father and I do.
Love,
Your Mother
Alex hurt. Every part of him just hurt. He should have stopped at the last letter. This one hurt. This one, about family and love and happiness; it hurt.
Alex closed the journal. His eyes were tired and he knew that he had to call it a night, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He couldn't go to bed yet. There was something else he had to do.
He stood up and moved towards the piano. The room was already silenced so, when he eventually started to play, he didn't have to worry about waking Kate. He played a piece that he composed when he was just sixteen years old. He called it Hermione's Life, and it was his absolute favourite out of everything he'd done since then.
It was a true testament to his feelings towards his mother. His mother who he idolised beyond reproach. He knew that she had her faults; he'd picked up on that enough in her journals, but there was nothing anyone could say to change his mind. His mother was special, and she would forever remain that way.
Hermione's Life was also the first piano piece that he converted and wrote music to for an entire orchestra. It was the first piece he played at his first concert at the Royal Academy of Music in London in his second year of study.
He imagined that his mother could hear it from wherever she was, and he imagined she was proud. Of him.
And of his father.
