Acknowledgement: This is a work of fan fiction, written and posted solely for the enjoyment of readers. All characters and any places not in the public domain derive from the Harry Potter series of books by JK Rowling. The author neither asks nor receives remuneration.

Author's Note: Harry and Bella, sailing companions.

Finding Contentment

By

Bfd1235813

Potter and Bella left Ocracoke and worked their way south. The weather was pleasant and their food stocks good so they weren't in a hurry. The first stop they made was near Savannah, Georgia. Potter was studying a nautical chart while Bella had the helm.

"Look, that's got to be a magical village," he said.

Bella turned her head to see where he was pointing.

"Why?" she asked.

"It's on this chart, which is not a generic Admiralty chart, because I got it from the magical chandler who got us ready for sea. I wonder what the story is behind that village?"

They sailed on to what the chart said was the correct channel that led inland.

"Ought to be here," said Potter. "Let's stop."

The breeze was strong enough to sail upstream, against the current. Potter studied the shore, looking back at the chart from time to time. When the landmarks were right, Potter decided they'd arrived. They dropped the mainsail and Potter let the anchor go.

"Nice," he said, releasing a second anchor astern.

"If we don't occlude the boat we shouldn't have trouble with muggles and their machines," said Potter. "No sunbathing until we get some idea of how much traffic there is."

The towel they used for wiping up spray and spills went flying by Potter's head. Potter bent and picked up the towel, walking it back to the cockpit, where he handed it to Bella with a smile.

"Scamp," she said.

"Mad for you," he replied. "Did I ever tell you?"

They ate spaghetti from the pouches for their evening meal, then sat together above deck.

"Have you picked out a name?" asked Potter.

"Do I need one, if I stay out of sight?"

"Oh, I've thought it over, both ways. Seems to me it would be better," he said. "Bellatrix Lestrange is officially dead, or so we think. That's one step. If we were to need a name, for some reason, it would be better to have that decided in advance."

Bella thought it over.

"True," she said. "Bella Potter?"

"Maybe," said Potter. "Are we too well-known? Not here, so much, but Nassau isn't far. If we took the boat over there, would they have heard about us? Either one, or both?"

"Do they have aurors?" asked Bella. "I don't think I ever heard."

"Nassau has a fairly large population," Potter replied. "It follows they'd have some magical citizens, and that means a magical police force of some kind. At least a liaison office."

Bella paused to consider the challenges to her identification caused by questions about her existence.

"Passport," she said. "Birth certificate. Should I get a driver's license?"

"Do you drive?" asked a surprised Potter.

"Don't be ridiculous! Of course not, I'd have been disowned, just for sitting down inside one of those…things."

"Yeah, I expect so," said Potter. "They're quite Muggle. No mistaking that. Perhaps the current Lord Black should consider a change to the family charter."

"Don't you DARE!" objected Bella.

"Okay, okay," Potter began. "It was a thought, out of consideration, for you."

Bella looked at Potter, her skepticism fully displayed.

"So, acquiring passable documentation," he began. "Where do you want to be from?"

"Jamaica," Bella answered, her tone saying the question itself was borderline ridiculous.

"Why, exactly?" asked Potter, puzzlement showing on his face.

"Big enough population pool," she began. "I could be. I thought, if I became Bella Black, there could be multiple Bella Blacks from Jamaica. Don't want to run into a local auror who knows all the Blacks on one of those little islands."

"Good thinking," said Potter.

"I'm evil, not stupid," Bella stated, jaw set.

"You're not evil," Potter argued. "Slightly misunderstood, perhaps."

"You always say just the right thing," said Bella.

"Thanks. I appreciate that," he answered. "So, I propose taking a walk, to the burg on the chart. We'll see what's there. Find out what kind of currency they use."

The villagers were curious about the strangers with strange accents. Their questions weren't prying, exactly.

"How'd ye find us?"

"Nautical chart," said Potter.

Meaning the sailors had a chart that showed the village, so the chart, and the sailors, were magical.

"Oh-h-h! How nice! So you're on your way to Savannah?"

"We've talked about it," said Potter. "Haven't decided yet. Ah! Fresh eggs? We've run out, so let's take a dozen."

He looked at Bella, questioning. She nodded and smiled.

"Wonder if they've got a wandmaker," said Potter when they were back on the street.

"Maybe you should ask?" suggested Bella.

"I don't think so," said Potter. "We might stick out. On the other hand, if we spot one…"

"How will you do that?" Bella asked. "The sign over the door?"

Potter walked along, considering her question, or, perhaps, it was social commentary in a question's wrapper.

"Reading the room. Getting the nuance. Those kinds of things."

The town was small, quiet and uninteresting. A plaque said a famous writer had lived in a small house on the main street. Bella recognized the name.

"Had to read him in school," she said.

"At Hogwarts? I don't remember him," said Potter.

"I'd heard the curriculum was dumbed down some years ago," Bella observed. "I knew he was born in America but I didn't know he was from around here. How about that?"

"Ready?" Potter asked when they'd walked around a bend that screened them from the village.

"Ready," said Bella.

Potter took them both to the boat by apparition to be greeted by an owl perched on the wheel.

"Hoot!" said the owl.

"Hoot yourself," answered Potter. "What have you got there?"

The owl looked down at its left leg, where Potter saw a small yellow scroll tied with a red thread.

"Let's see," he said as he held his arm out.

The owl launched from the wheel, flapped its wings once and landed on Potter's arm.

"Bella, do we have a little treat for our friend?" Potter asked.

When he pulled the bit of parchment free, Potter saw the seal of the Herald of the Wizengamot and let go a breathy, mild profanity.

"What?" asked Bella as she came up out of the cabin.

"I've been summoned," said Potter. "Probably a vote on something earthshaking, like approving the final budget for Hogwarts. I'd invite you to come along, only…"

"Hilarious," said Bella. "Truly. When do you have to be there?"

"Three days from now," Potter answered. "So, what do you want to do? Stay here? Find an anchorage somewhere?"

"Either would have positives and negatives," said Bella. "Let's think it through."

"How are you getting back?" Potter asked the owl.

"HOOT!" said the owl as it leapt off the wheel.

"How do they get back and forth?" Potter asked. "That little owl can't fly across the Atlantic."

"Post owls," said Bella. "They aren't owl-owls are they?"

Potter pondered her question, which was really a statement. Bella could be genuinely profound, he thought.

"True. I suppose I'd go through Newfoundland, then Ireland, then home to London," said Potter.

"I'm impressed," said Bella.

"Really?"

"Yeah, that's some pretty good range," she said.

"Oh. Well, I've done those distances, so…"

"Like I said," Bella growled. "I'm impressed."

She crossed the short distance as she spoke. One arm wrapped itself around Potter's back, leaving the other free.

Next morning, Potter took four eggs from the cooler, then used a very handy cooking charm. He presented Bella with two perfect soft-boiled eggs even though he hadn't boiled anything.

"When did you want to go?" asked Bella.

"I thought today, if you're good with that," he said.

"Why wouldn't I be good with it?"

"Well, maybe you'd like me to stay on another day," said Potter. "To not feel deserted, or…"

"Potter," she clucked. "You broke me out of Azkaban. If you took me to Van Diemen's Land in shackles I'd owe you forever. Go where you want, when you want. I'll wait. Patiently."

He looked across the little tabletop. Bella looked back. Were her eyes a bit sparkly? Yes, they were. Merlin's beard—she was Bellatrix Lestrange, who'd barely escaped suffering the Dementor's Kiss for all the mayhem she had committed during her service in Voldemort's Dark Army.

'Well,' thought Potter. 'I've something to do, so I'll get on with it.'

"Bella, there's something I need to ask," he began. "Neville Longbottom attended your trial…"

Bella gasped, fearing what was coming.

"He thanked me, for sticking up for you."

"Longbottom?" she whispered.

Potter nodded.

"He didn't think you had ever had a proper chance in life. Same as me. He did say he would accept an apology, if it was sincere."

The silence was long and tense.

"Of course," she managed. "I did great damage to the Longbottoms. I apologize and ask their forgiveness."

Potter nodded.

"With your permission, I'll pass that on," he said.

"Do you…" she began, then tried again. "Do you think that is wise? I'm supposed to be dead and you aided and abetted. Then, it seems, you covered up your crime. How many magical felonies could the prosecutors get out of that?"

Bella's eyes flashed, her nostrils flared and her face looked flushed.

"I won't…I won't put either of us in danger," said Potter. "Promise. The message will be conveyed. Anonymously. Somehow."

"You finagling little…" Bella began.

She reached out and her lips got to his before she finished her thought. He felt her hand over his groin.

"You're a he-goat in rut," she sighed as she knelt down in the boat's no-nonsense cabin.

Potter was past his planned departure time before Bella was done with him, but he didn't complain.

"So you know," she said, "There's more of that."

"But?"

"But you have to come back," Bella said.

"Will you marry me?" asked Potter.

"I'm still married, as far as I know," she said. "Besides, I'm thirty years older than you. Chances of us being together five years from now are not good."

"I wish to point out, you're a witch and I am a wizard," Potter said. "Just think about it, while I'm gone. We don't have to do anything right away."

Their good-bye kisses were quite chaste, lips to cheeks, with a little smacking sound. Potter didn't hear Bella's parting declaration of love because it was spoken softly just after he apparated away.

Potter's earlier, notional trip schedule was prophetic. He apparated from the deck of their boat to a nameless, rocky peninsula in Newfoundland, then on to the west of Ireland, a bit south of Galway. He found a path that looked like it might meander into town so he set out. The day was very pleasant, temperature moderate with some clouds overhead. Potter amused himself by sending a cloud to screen the sun when he began to feel uncomfortably warm.

Potter had visited Galway just once, staying less than a day. He remembered, somewhat, the landmarks needed to find his way to the magical district. The neighborhood was occluded and mundane citizens walked by, happy in their ignorance. Potter entered through a medieval arch. Shops lined the street on both sides. Branches of Gringotts Bank and Flourish and Blotts let the Irish magical district feel just a bit like Potter's home. Potter strolled along, pausing at a few shop windows to look at the goods on display.

The stopover was not all sightseeing. Potter picked out storefronts with plate glass set at an angle. Paying attention to the angle of sunlight on the street gave a rearview mirror effect. Potter spotted the auror fairly quickly. He walked on, looking for a shop with an interior setup he could use to his advantage. Choosing one that looked like it had what he needed, Potter stepped inside.

He would wonder, later on, if he got lucky with the auror who was following him or if the fellow was simply lazy. The auror barged in and walked straight back to the aisle between two rows of shelves. Potter had his wand in his hand when the auror spotted him.

"What?" asked Potter as the auror's eyes widened.

"Wand?" queried the disbelieving auror.

"It is," Potter conceded. "Not doing anything with it. Just standing here."

"There's no need for trouble, Mr. Potter," said the auror.

"Yes, quite so," said Potter. "Were you going to ask for an autograph?"

Potter, standing quietly, with his wand hand filled and laid peaceably by his thigh, had the auror cornered and they both knew it. He hadn't done anything wrong, certainly not the level of lawbreaking that would justify opening an investigation. Even the tail would be hard to explain. On the other hand, the Irish aurors had been told, informally, that their English counterparts would like to know if Harry Potter showed up, where he'd gone, who he'd seen and what he appeared to be up to. Galway's aurors had gotten the word at roll call just the week before.

The auror tailing Potter, thinking fast, attributed his interest to a simple case of spotting a stranger on his beat and becoming curious as to what he was doing. Upon recognizing Harry Potter, his curiosity only increased, etc, etc.

Potter took it all in, saying nothing. Once again he wished he had been able to develop some capability with legilimancy before Severus Snape was killed. Snape would have owed him a lifetime of free tutorials had Potter only managed to extract him from Voldemort and his damned snake. Oh, well.

"Well, then, I am Harry Potter and I'm passing through Galway. This is a news agent. I wish to purchase a newspaper or two and a tin of those strong mints. You know the ones, I'm sure. If that is permitted?"

Potter had learned to wear his celebrity lightly, but well. He didn't call attention to himself. If an autograph hound or true crime fan identified him, he would give them two minutes, sign one autograph then excuse himself for reason of pressing business. The Galway auror didn't know it, but he had presented Potter with some useful intelligence. Unless the magical Irish law enforcement apparatus had grown an organic interest in Harry Potter, the Ministry of Magic had communicated its own.

"Got what you need?" asked Potter. "Check the time. Got a watch? Here."

He cast a silent tempus. The correct time, to the second, hovered in the space between Potter and the auror.

"They'll want to know. In London."

The auror nodded.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, thank-you, Mr. Potter," he said, then turned for the door.

Potter thought he looked awfully young to be patrolling a street on his own, even if Galway magicals seldom required more than a mild caution to keep the peace. No doubt he would communicate with his station and report who he'd just seen, where and when. Potter took a copy of the Irish Times and a slick news magazine to the counter, put them down, along with one of those tins of mints.

"How much?" he asked.

The young man behind the cash register looked to be about sixteen to eighteen years old.

"Two sickels," he said, sounding like it cost him some effort to choke it out.

Potter laid the sickels on the counter, then opened the tin of mints.

"Like these?" he asked.

The young wizard nodded, 'Yes. Sir.'

Potter put a few next to the coins, then popped one in his mouth.

"Thanks," he said as he turned to leave.

The stub of an alleyway was right next to the little news stand so Potter turned in. He took three steps then spun to his left, apparating to the top step of the flight up to the front door of #12 Grimmauld Place, London. His house elf opened the door as he materialized.

"Welcome back, Lord Harry," said Kreacher.