V
Alex's Tuesday went about as well as his Monday. He went in to the Academy with the intention of writing something but he kept drawing a blank.
The few lines of the baby-inspired piece were all he had, but nothing seemed to be growing from them. It was proving to be a problem and Alex's supervisor, Jack Hawthorne, expected a piece by the end of the week.
Alex didn't know if he could produce.
In his mind, he was sure that he wouldn't be able to write another note of music until he finished with the letters. It was that simple.
So, once he was finished with his last student meeting of the afternoon; he moved from his desk, settled on his couch and opened the journal. He's been a little hesitant to read on, given that he was reminded that the journal would come to an end.
But, for his own sake, he had to finish.
9th March 2005
My dear, dear baby Alex
Welcome home, sweetheart. We're finally home, you and I.
On the 4th of March of this wonderful year, I gave birth to the most perfect, healthy baby boy. Ten toes and ten fingers. You came in at 2.9kg, and you have dark hair and these large, striking green eyes. You're not exactly a carbon copy of your father, but it's pretty close. Your hair is closer to the colour of mine, and you have my nose, and your father's pouty lips.
Let's hope you have my brain as well.
Don't tell you father I said that, even though I'm sure he'll agree with me. I hope you don't end up with my teeth. That would be unfortunate.
We watch you sleep. I hope that doesn't sound as creepy as it usually would. It's just that it's absolutely amazing that you exist. Is it too romantic of me to think of you as a product of the love your father and I share for each other?
You sleep a lot, by the way, so we spend a lot of time watching you. We take turns, really, because my mum made it clear to us that it's important for us to sleep when you sleep, if we don't want to burn ourselves out.
I'm so happy, Alex. I really am. And I think I get it now. Giving birth to you; it really was a beautiful thing. Your father was in there with me the entire time. He handled it so well. He's quite good in chaotic situations, and this was one of them.
I have to admit that I opted for a bit of pain relief. But not too much. Apparently it's not good to be completely numb. And apparently all sorts of embarrassing things can happen. I just hope your father still finds me remotely attractive after having seen all of that.
You're nursing well, by the way. It's a truly special connection that you and I have. Your father will never understand it, but that's all right. The two of you will have many years to be father and son.
Alex stopped reading immediately. They had had many years to be father and son, because Harry was still here. He made sure to be around for all of it.
Sometimes your father just disappears, and I find him with you, just watching you. He has this look on his face that I can't explain. He just looks so content, so happy and satisfied with this life, and I gave that to him. I gave you to him, and it's everything he's ever wanted. I can't even explain to you what that feels like.
He keeps saying thank you. Constantly. Every time he looks at me, it's as if the eyes are saying the words as well. He loves us so much, Alex. It's been like heaven.
Don't you worry. I intend for it to be like this always.
Love,
Your Mother
Alex felt a bit giddy. He'd brought her happiness. It was amazing to know that he was responsible for bringing a smile to her face.
16th March 2005
Dear Alex
I'm tired. I'm so tired. I get it, you're a growing boy and all, but do you really have to drink so much. My mum said that it's a good idea to keep you on breastmilk for at least a year, but I don't think I can do it. One full year? It's too long.
You are, thankfully, a rather quiet baby. You really only fuss when you're tired, hungry or need a diaper change. Your eyes are so focused as well; it's terribly disarming. It's like you see everything.
You've been sleeping in our bedroom so we can keep a close eye on you. My mum sleeps with me, and your father's brought a mattress into the room. We're all getting really up close and personal these days. Look at you; you've brought us all together.
Your aunts and uncles are going to come and see you tomorrow. I've spent quite some time picking out the perfect outfit for you. I'm such a typical mother. I just want everyone to see how cute you are. Because you are. You're entirely adorable, and I'm not just saying that because I'm your mother. I'm not biased. You're cute.
Just, you know, try not to vomit on your outfit. You've been quite good about it because it turns out that your father's a burping God. He can just get it out of you so well; it looks like it even surprises you. I didn't think I could find burping so amusing, but it is. It really is.
Your father's also a machine at getting you to sleep. My mum and I call him the baby whisperer. I hope he holds onto his talents for a really long time. We're definitely going to need them as you get older.
So, now that you're actually asleep, I'm going to get some sleep as well.
Don't you worry, though; I'll be up when your eyes open again.
Love,
Your Mum
Alex just knew that his father would be an amazing grandfather. The way he'd adjusted to being a father proved as much to Alex. Not that he needed any proof. It was something that he already knew.
4th April 2005
Dear Alex
You are officially one month old now. Your father and I had ourselves a little party. We've survived an entire month of being parents, and nothing's happened to you. We haven't dropped you, and we haven't had to take you in to see your doctor.
All is well. I'm less tired than I usually am. I think I've adjusted to the lack of sleep quite well. I'm just pretending that I'm back in school again, using most of my time to study. Now I'm using my time to be a mother.
The three of us went for a little walk earlier. It's starting to warm up a bit but we still had you nicely wrapped up. All we could see was your little pink face. Have I told you how adorable you are?
Your father goes back to work on Wednesday. I think he's keen to get back, but I'm sure he'll miss you. Every new thing you do is like an entire experience for the two of us. Even the sounds you make when you're asleep fascinate us.
I find myself wondering about your dreams. You haven't experienced enough life to have nightmares yet, right? And, technically, you dream only of the faces you've seen, and you've only seen faces of people who love you, so I'm hoping to keep the nightmares from you for a long time.
My favourite thing that you do is quite a funny thing really. You mainly do it when you're asleep. I think it's to do with your dreams, but you sort of get a scare, and your arms lift up for a surprised moment, like you're a little zombie. It makes me so happy; I don't even know why. It's just another thing you may never understand about your mother.
As for your father; I'm afraid we may never understand him.
Don't you worry though; I'll make notes on everything I've already discovered.
Love,
Your Mother
Alex took note of the shortness of the recent letters. Having a baby must have been time-consuming. He just appreciated that she kept them up even after he was born.
4th May 2005
Dear Alex
I was surprised by how long it's been since I wrote. I'm sorry about that. I've been busy living this wonderful life with you.
You're two months old today. We made it, little one.
I talk to you a lot. I read that it's important not to use what's called a 'baby voice' because we don't want you to mimic that. You'll learn faster that way. But, remember, no pressure.
I also play for you almost every day. We have a little routine going, you and I. I haven't gone back to work yet. I'm supposed to go back next month, but I haven't yet decided if I will. I'm enjoying being with you a little too much. I think your father's jealous of it, which is totally understandable. You're a delight.
You're always looking around, making eye contact with both of us. You're also smiling, which is amazing. You have the cutest little smile. Your father almost fell over the first time you smiled at him. We're tracking your little milestones, and we're so happy that you've turned out as healthy as you have.
You also coo a bit. Not yet on cue, but it's a welcome break from your crying to communicate. Mummy hears you, sweetheart. I hear you, and I love you.
We're about to go for a walk. The fresh air really is lovely for us both. It's not healthy being cooped up inside all day. It's also good for you to see new people and experience new things.
Don't you worry. I'll make sure to keep that up.
Love,
Your Mother
Alex absently checked the clock on the wall of his office. It was just gone four o'clock, and Alex contemplated calling it a day and going home. He could, because there was no need for him to be here anymore. Maybe he could visit his dad.
No. His dad was at work. And his wife was in rehearsals until at least six o'clock. All Alex knew was that he didn't want to be here anymore.
So, packing up his things, Alex left the Academy and Apparated to Godric's Hollow. He wanted to visit his mother.
The graveyard wasn't empty of people, but nobody paid any attention to him. Alex didn't exactly look like his father, and he'd been a part of the Muggle world long enough not to be relevant in Wizarding society.
He made his way towards his mother's grave. He didn't have to watch where he was going; he already knew the way by heart.
When he approached her tombstone, Alex slowed down. He hadn't visited her since Christmas, and he felt a little guilty about it. They were actually approaching the anniversary of her death, but he just wanted to see her now.
Her tombstone was crafted beautifully, and the plot beside her was empty, just waiting for his father. Harry Potter would be buried beside his wife. He absently wondered what his tombstone would say. Alex would probably end up in charge of it.
His father had been in charge of his mother's, and it showed.
Hermione Jean Potter
19 September 1979 - 18 June 2006
Loving daughter, devoted wife,
proud mother and amazing best friend.
"You said to us once before, that there was time to turn back if we wanted to.
We've had time, haven't we?"
Alex immediately sat down and leaned against the side of the tombstone. He felt close to his mother when he was here, and he vowed to visit more often. He settled into place and pulled out the journal, but he didn't start reading it yet.
"Hi, Mum," he said softly, practically whispering. "I know it's been a while. I'm sorry about that. Things have been happening lately. See, the thing is, Mum, I'm going to be a father. Kate and I, we're going to have a baby. A baby.
"I'm scared, Mum, but you were too, weren't you? I've been reading your letters that you wrote. Thank you for them. Thank you for all of it." He sighed. "Do you mind if I just sit here and continue to read?" He paused, waiting for a moment. "Thanks."
21st May 2005
Dear Alex
Oh Alex. Guess where I am right now? St Mungo's. Harry Potter got injured again.
This time, though, it really wasn't his fault. In fact, I think it's mine. See, we were over at the Burrow today, and your father and the rest of the boys decided on a game of Quidditch. Of course, your Aunt Ginny joined in, and your Aunt Angelina was roped in as well. As a result, the match turned quite heated.
Anyway, your father was up there, waiting to find the Snitch - he's a great Seeker, by the way. I might have distracted him. I'm sorry. I just had to tell him that you actually laughed, and he was distracted, which meant he wasn't paying attention when a bludger headed his way.
So we're here. I was able to stabilise him once he hit the ground, but there are potions at the hospital that we needed. I'm sure that he's going to hold this over my head for quite some time. At least he's being a good sport about it.
We left you at the Burrow with Molly. She absolutely adores you, by the way. I think you're like your father with your love for women with red hair, by the way. I'm trying not to hold it against you, but it hurts a little. Just a little.
I'm kidding. Sort of.
He probably won't ever tell you but your father and your Aunt Ginny had a bit of a romance near the end of our sixth year at Hogwarts. I'm convinced that, if we hadn't gone on the Hunt when we did; our lives would be so different right now. I'm still convinced that he still has a thing for redheads.
Alex laughed. He had to. It was true that his father had never told him about his school romance with his aunt. It didn't surprise him that Harry had been hush hush about it. Everything that came before the love for his mother didn't matter. Alex knew that.
And it was interesting for Alex to see that his mother, even after years of being with his father, was still worried. Each of them had their fears of not being enough, and they both made sure the other was reminded that they were.
Maybe it's a Potter thing. We'll see if it's true when you decide on your spouse then.
Alex wouldn't say that Kate's hair was red exactly. Not like his Aunt Ginny's or Rebecca's. It was more of a strawberry blonde, but he wondered if it counted. But then again, Alex didn't marry her for her hair, and he suspected that his father hadn't married his mother for her hair either.
Oh, a nurse just came by to tell us that your father's fine, and he's awake. I'm going to go in and see him now. I'm sure he'll have a few things to tease me about now. Wish me luck.
Don't you worry. I can take care of myself.
Love,
Your Mother
Alex couldn't help his smile. He loved the fact that, even though they were parents, they didn't become too serious. He hoped that he and Kate would be the same.
4th July 2005
Dear Alex
It seems to me that I tend to write to you when you reach your milestones. You're four months old today, and you're a babbling little bundle of joy. I'm sorry I don't write as often. It feels like it's been ages since I last even looked at this journal.
You're so inquisitive, your eyes constantly dart about, searching and learning. I don't think that I've seen another human being so excited about the fact that you rolled over. You should have seen your father. He practically leaped up off the ground. We're so proud of you, little one.
So, your father is turning twenty five at the end of the month, and I've been trying to figure out what we should do for him. He hates being the centre of attention, but I can't help it. He'll be twenty five. Finally, we'll be the same age, if only for a little while. I sometimes hate that I'm older than him. He absolutely loves to call me a cougar. Can you imagine? That awful, awful man.
I also have to think of a present, even though he's repeatedly told me that I've given him the best present he could have ever asked for: a family. For certain, I thought he'd say you, but he said a family, which was said to include me. That wonderful, wonderful man. Didn't I tell you he was great?
He's been in Glasgow for a few days. There's an Auror training camp being held there, so it's just you and me. It's the first time he's been away from the both of us, but he calls every day, and the two of us talk to him before you go off to sleep. You're a pretty good sleeper, and it's our intention to maintain your sleep schedule.
Our entire lives revolve around you, and I wouldn't have it any other way. If I had it my way, that would never change. And, because of it, I've decided to hold off on going back to work. I had a long discussion with your father about it, and I decided it was what I wanted.
I still do my research from home, so, you know, it's not all doom and gloom. Your father set up a Potions Lab for me in the basement of the house. I'm still working on that hair potion that I mentioned. From what I see of your hair now; you're going to need all the help you can get.
Don't you worry, Alex. I've got you.
Love,
Your Mother
Alex absently ran a hand through his hair. It was black, but looked dark brown in the sunlight. It was more like Harry's, in that it was always messy, just refusing to stay down.
In the end, his mother never got around to finishing the potion. She ran out of time.
1st August 2005
Dear Alex
Your father's finally twenty-five years old. I'm no longer a cougar, though not technically. It just makes me feel better knowing that he's the same age as me. Call me crazy; I don't care.
We had a dinner party at the Burrow last night. It was quite nice, nothing too fancy, which is what he likes.
After that, though, I kidnapped him. You went home with my parents for a sleepover while your parents had a nice night off of responsibility. I love you, I do; but it was amazing to just be out on the town with my significant other. Having a baby really can put a dampener on romance.
We still love you, of course, but we have to remember to love each other. Remember that, when you have kids, all right.
I know the last thing you want is to hear about your parents' sex life, so I'll spare you the gory details. Just know that your parents truly do love each other, and don't you worry. That'll never change.
Love,
Your Mother
Alex didn't know why, but it was such a relief to hear the truth of their love. He knew, without a doubt, that his father loved his mother, and now he was seeing just how much she had loved him in return.
Sure, in her journals before they got married, she's alluded to it all, but this was different. This was Harry and Hermione as they were, a power couple beyond measure, who loved each other so fiercely that, to this day, Harry Potter was still devastated by the death of his lovely wife.
19th September 2005
Dear Alex
Okay, so it seems to me that the time between letters just keeps increasing. I'm too busy living life, I suppose. It's one of the reasons I stopped writing journals in the first place.
Today's a sad day though, little one. Mummy is officially a cougar once more. It's been a good day though. I woke up to breakfast in bed. Can you guess what it was? Waffles!
Your father had to go into work though, so you and I spent the morning with my mum.
I'm twenty-six now, but I feel so much older.
You're making all sorts of sounds now, and you reach and grab for things. You especially love your father's glasses. You can sit up for a while now, and your development is great. We talk to you a lot, and you try to respond. I'm sure it all makes sense to you and sometimes you look so serious, as if you're telling us something extremely important. You are truly adorable.
We're headed to the Burrow in a little while. As soon as your father gets home, he'll get ready, and then we'll head over. It's my first birthday as a mother, and the first one I get to celebrate with you.
Don't you worry. I won't go too overboard.
Love,
Your Mother
Alex moved on to the next letter immediately. He hated that they were getting shorter and shorter.
27th October 2005
Dear Alex
Again, it's been more than a month. This is terrible form. I'm sorry about that. I suppose I'm writing now because your father's starting to go quiet. He gets this faraway and thoughtful look in his eyes, and I just want him to come back to us.
It doesn't help that he just wrapped up a particularly gruelling case at work. I won't go into the details, but there is now yet another orphan in this world. He takes these kinds of cases hard because he believes that it's up to him to save everyone, and he regards it as a personal failure when he can't. He can't handle what he believes is failure.
Too many people have died in his life, and he wants to save everyone he can.
So I'm trying to figure what to do. I don't think trying to convince him to talk to me about it will help - he'll just blush and then disappear to some empty room. And brood. He broods a lot.
Now that you're crawling, you do keep us very occupied. I didn't realise how fast a baby could crawl. You're a little speed demon, did you know that? We've had to baby-proof quite a bit because you're still so inquisitive. It was a lot easier to keep track of you when you couldn't move by yourself.
Sometimes I ask you to sit still, just to see if you will. You don't, by the way.
Don't you worry, though; all in good time.
Love,
Your Mother
Alex checked his watch. Could he fit in one more before he had to head home? Yes, yes he could.
1st November 2005
Dear Alex
Halloween was actually rather pleasant. We decided on staying in, which is always nice. We all dressed up as kangaroos, of course. We looked great. I forced him into a family picture. It'll be our family Christmas card, I've decided. You looked so darn cute.
And, despite what your father thinks, he still looked very handsome.
It was a good night for us. We talked quite a bit. Remember, Alex, communication is essential in relationships. Don't stew, and make sure that you never go to bed angry.
So you've started pulling yourself up, trying to stand. It's SO cute. You put your little bottom up in the air, but you can't quite get there. Your father's been trying to show you, and he's getting you to use the couches and the table to help yourself up. I'll keep you posted on your progress.
Don't you worry. You'll get there.
Love,
Your Mother
It was too short. One more.
13th November 2005
Dear Alex
You almost stood up today, but then fell back on your bottom and looked as surprised as ever. I know it's horrible of me but I find it so funny. I actually giggle every time, and then you look at me all confused about why I'm laughing and I feel guilty. I know you don't understand why I'm laughing but, really, Alex, I can't help it sometimes.
Your father was sad that he missed it. He's been working really hard on this case that has him pulling several all-nighters. He reaches these points of desperation sometimes, when things just don't make sense to him. He gets a little snappy as well, but I've learned to get used to it.
I draw the line when it comes to you though. You've done nothing to deserve his foul mood.
I definitely gave him a piece of my mind.
Don't you worry, Alex; Mummy will always protect you.
Love,
Your Mother
Alex didn't like this. Why were the letters getting so short? Did she run out of things to say to him? Didn't she want to talk to him anymore?
It took him a moment more to realise that, everything she wanted to say to him, she was already saying to him. He was born, and she spent all day talking to him. There was no need for the letters anymore.
He was suddenly angry. And frustrated. He wanted more. He needed more.
Alex shut the journal and stuffed it away, suddenly wishing that he'd never started reading it. Why would his father do this to him?
Why would his mother?
Alex stood up quite suddenly, needing to get away from this place as quickly as he could. His heart was twisted, and it was like he was feeling the grief all over again. He couldn't remember his mother but, when he was old enough to understand it; he still felt the loss.
He felt it every single day.
Alex left the graveyard feeling unexplainably angry. This journal was different to everything else of hers he'd read. This journal was for him. It wasn't just the ramblings of a teenage girl, fighting a War and falling in love. No, these were letters written to him, and they were going to end.
They would come to an end and he would be forced to remember that his mother was dead, and that she'd never write another letter to him.
Suddenly, he was enraged.
He left the graveyard with a scowl on his face, loathing the injustice of it all.
He did not go home.
Alex, instead, went to the house in which he knew his grandparents died, disappeared into the basement and unleashed every single Curse and Hex he could think of. He knew it was something that his father sometimes did, and it was definitely therapeutic until he was forced to stop.
Eventually, he moved to sit down in the corner and remained perfectly still with his thoughts for goodness knows how long. He'd expelled so much magic that his body needed the time to recuperate. His anger hadn't ceased, but he had it under better control.
When he finally felt up to moving again, Alex headed home. He didn't know what it was but he had a bad feeling as he walked through the front door of the house.
There was no sound of music.
For a moment, Alex contemplated reaching for his wand but he decided against it. There was no point. He'd barely set down his shoulder bag when Kate appeared in the the entrance hall, her hands on her hips.
"Where have you been?" she asked pointedly, a frown set on her face.
"Umm..."
"It's ten o'clock, Alex."
He looked surprised. "It is?"
Kate looked far from impressed. "I called Jack. He said you left work early, and then I called Harry and Teddy and - " she paused. "Where were you?"
He swallowed. "I, uh, I went to visit my mother," he said.
She heaved out a tired sigh. "This isn't healthy, Alex," she said. "You can't keep doing this. It's tearing you apart. I mean, look at you. You're barely sleeping, barely eating, and you're - just look at you!"
He just stood and stared at her.
"Is this it?" she asked pointedly. "Is this your way of telling me that this isn't what you want?"
He frowned. "What?"
"This baby; this life," she said. "You're so busy holding onto what you missed out on, and it's hurting you. Can't you see it? Can't you see what it's doing to you?"
"What do you want from me?" he snapped. "I have to finish it, Kate. I have to."
"No you don't!" she hissed, her own frustration getting the better of her. "This isn't anything you have to do, and you know it. You want to do this. You want to go through all of it because you're so damn dissatisfied with your life!"
Alex's eyes widened. "What?"
"Are you? Are you so unhappy with what you have, that you can't let go of what you lost?" she asked, calming slightly. "I mean, why do you keep searching for more than this?" She shook her head. "And you wonder why your father thinks that you'd rather your mother was alive instead of him."
Alex felt like he'd just been slapped.
"I don't know what it's like for you. I can't even imagine, but I do know this, Alex: your mother would hate that she's haunting you like this. She would absolutely hate it and you know it."
He blinked, his mouth hanging slightly ajar.
"I get that this is something you need to work through and, by all means, do it, Alex, but stop acting like you're the only person who lost her, because you're not. You're not the only one who's tried to hold onto her and, maybe it's hard for you to see, but it's okay to let go."
"How do I let go of something I didn't even have?" he asked sharply, tears springing to his eyes. "I didn't get to have her, Katie! How do I just let that go? How do I just forget that?"
"I don't know!" she spat back. "You just do, Alex."
"But how?"
"You're the only one who knows the answer to that," she said, calming down. "But maybe you should start by forgiving her. Forgive your mother for leaving, and forgive your father for the burden he placed on himself to make sure that he continued to give her everything she wanted long after she was gone.
"She didn't ask for this. You know she would have done everything in her power to stay. But these are the cards you've been dealt. Be the strong man your father raised you to be and grow from it."
That was all she would say. It was all she could think to say. So, giving him one last pointed, yet sympathetic look, she turned on her heel and headed up the stairs. She disappeared from sight before Alex could formulate another coherent thought.
Trust Kate to put him in his place. His mother would be proud.
Would she?
Alex sulked his way into the kitchen and scrounged for something decent to eat. He was tired and he felt defeated and, yes, he was playing the victim. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. Why couldn't she have lived long enough for him to know her?
Alex picked up some fresh clothes from the laundry room downstairs, and had a nice, long shower in the West Wing of the house. His mind was still reeling but he did feel slightly better once he was done.
Quietly, he made his way to the master bedroom. He just wanted to see her and, to his mild surprise, she wasn't asleep. He froze in the doorway for a moment, his eyes locked on hers.
Kate said nothing, which was license enough for him to know that it was safe to enter the room.
Alex slowly climbed into bed and lay perfectly still on his back, his eyes focused on the ceiling.
"Please don't be angry," he whispered.
She remained silent.
"Tonight," he added. "Don't be angry with me tonight. Be angry again tomorrow, but not tonight."
He heard her breathing change, and then she rolled over to look at him. "Okay," she said softly.
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
He rolled over so he could look at her as well. "I love you, Katie."
"I love you too, Alex Potter." She shifted closer to him, and he automatically put his arms around her, drawing her close to his chest.
Alex closed his eyes, let out a slow, unsteady breath. Absently, he recalled reading his mother's words, and he finally understood the truth of them. He would always follow them.
Please never go to bed angry with anyone. Never go to bed angry. We never know what can happen.
