"Are you alright?"

That last memory messes with my head, I'm still somewhat in a daze. Just a heartbeat ago, I was in the shabbiest part of London, now I find myself standing in the Room of Requirement in front of a Pensieve that is evaporating before my eyes since it's no longer needed …

"Tom?" Harper almost whispers as she approaches me. "Say something …"

I'm hesitant to answer. "What would I say."

I feel empty. And I'm confused, but I've never seen more clearly. I see my own vanity, so utterly demoralized in my core – filled with lethargy. That taught me to hate throughout my life. And now, in a wild twist of fate, I'm holding two of five vials of my mother as parts of the very apology I've secretly longed for all my life. Despite forbidding myself to even acknowledge that.

Any desire for answers seemed like a weakness to me. Assuming I'd never find a thing anyway, I liked to think I didn't even want to.

"I'm sorry I looked at them. I just hoped they might help stop you from creating a Horcrux …"

I'm still lost for words. Here I stand, rooted to the spot and trying to organize my thoughts somehow – but my head's spinning.

It's not even thoughts bothering me. It's … awe. Surprise. Grief. Forgiveness.

Above all forgiveness.

"You're mad, aren't you?" Harper hardly dares to come closer. "Because I saw them. I know I shouldn't have –"

"No, no," I finally stop her, firmly so. "I'm not mad. Harper, I was never mad at you …"

"Right," she says under her breath.

I turn my head, longing to look at her. "What would you think if you were me? About all of that, I mean?" Before she can answer, I add as if in a trance, "I've spent my whole life assuming that I killed her. Or that she was just weak and wished to die since it's easy. Dying … And after the first memories, I was so sure that she was as insane as Morfin and Marvolo, but she wasn't. She just … made one wrong choice."

Harper quickly nods.

"She was so determined, Tom," she says with wide eyes. "So determined to protect you and make amends, even though her destiny was so grim. She made a mistake indeed, but she was more than just that. From the day she knew she would have you, she began her catharsis, and it was so inspiring to see …"

"Still ironic, don't you think? That I, barely of age, found myself facing the very man she was trying to protect me from."

She nods, clearly touched. "Irony's probably the best way to avoid calling it tragic …"

"If it's even true – if that prophecy's actually about me."

"Who else would it be about, Tom," Harper says, shaking her head. "Who else could've given him a Deathly Hallow that used to belong to the ancient family? Who else, if not you, would've been daring and complacent enough to even negotiate with a man like him?"

I roll my eyes. "Earlier you claimed we were on the threshold of hell because of that."

"We are, but at least you've thoroughly specified the terms of your agreement," she groans. "But then again, anything else would've been our certain death, so … You did indeed make the best of a horrible situation. And your mother … She'd probably smile if she knew about your trip to Albania. If she knew you met him … It's exactly what she always wanted. For you to find him. Not the other way round. There must be a reason why all of this happened. As terrible as it looks right now – I believe that everything happened the way it was supposed to. And I believe that we're still holding all the cards to turn things around."

"We need Dumbledore for that, though – as soon as possible," I mumble, much to Harper's surprise.

"Really?" She tilts her head. "You already plan to involve him? You do understand that it's actually rather unhelpful if we get expelled, right? Why don't you just talk to Dippet, he loves you … Or to Slughorn –"

"No help at all." I take a deep breath, and I hate the truth as well. "Dippet's of no use, he's not even half as capable as he likes to think. And Slughorn can hardly get over the fact that he answered my questions about Horcruxes, he doesn't have the mental strength to deal with problems of this caliber. Dumbledore does. And what lies ahead of us is more significant than any academic context. You were right in the chamber … If what Nagini and I came up with regarding Echidna's poison in Soho doesn't work, or if Dumbledore loses that duel – then that will have an impact on the entire world of magic. And Gellert isn't quite in his right mind anymore. He's passed his zenith when we were born. He ran a promising movement with highly effective propaganda into the ground and brought it to a complete standstill within a few years. He certainly was once, but he's no longer able to distinguish reason from madness. We need Dumbledore. And Dumbledore needs us. He is – as much as I hate to admit it – one of the brightest minds of our time, also he knows Gellert like no other. And with Echidna, I hope I hold the key to his blood pact. It could all work out, but only if I let him in on time …"

Harper gulps. "What if he doesn't listen? He's not exactly fond of you …"

"He's been saying for years that he's willing to listen – we'll have to let him prove it. Ever since we met, he's been dying to know who I really am, I've always been a mystery to him. But maybe it's time to finally give him some peace of mind, especially since he's probably regretting tying his hands and checkmating himself with that pact."

"He'll probably be surprised that the eerie child that can't stand him is approaching him with a possible solution."

"For better or for worse."

"Tom, speaking of which … Before Nagini left, she asked me to tell you that about three years after you were born, she was sent by … him … To London."

"She wanted to save Credence," I think out loud.

Harper nods. "I don't know who that is or what the problem was, but she said … she was sure you'd understand. And that in this context she stayed with Vivian and Faye. When you were with them as a child, she knew exactly who and what you were. She never gave it away. But then one day when he was in London and came to Jim, she was afraid he'd suspected who you were. She thought he probably knew – even if he was right about you – that you'd first have to learn to control your magic. So they kept telling him that you would be best off at Hogwarts …"

I bleakly nod as the cold air of the Room fills up my lungs, only for me to slowly let it all out again.

"See, you've never actually been alone," Harper sums it all up.

"No, I was," I all but find, soon looking at her for quite a long time. "Before you. Because I couldn't see the red threads crossing without you – I'd probably never have noticed them."

"Remember when you accused me of following you like I fancied you, in the library?"

"Did you?" I ask, barely able to suppress a triumphant grin.

She shakes her head in resigned amusement. "No, I really was there by chance … But I …" She blushes a little as she continues. "I noticed you from afar before you knew I was there. You were lost in thought, grim as ever, and it briefly crossed my mind what it would be like to see you smile."

"How infinitely kitschy," I retort. "And deceitful. Tell the truth."

"No, that is the truth," she claims, giggling.

"Only half of it," I assume.

"Maybe," she admits sighing, "I wanted to exchange insults with the clever model student that everyone was always talking about again. And maybe … touch your cold hand and, as a naive child of the sun, know what it would be like to kiss someone who faces life as unapologetically as you do … I wanted to be Icarus, and that's exactly who I became."

"Harper …" I shake my head, cupping her face with my hands. "On the contrary – we haven't even taken off for the sun yet."

She's holding my gaze, still much too lost.

"Harper, I mean it."

"Where else would my scars come from if I haven't burned myself, falling from the sky?"

"I got some of my scars from Nagini," I meekly suggest. "Oh, don't look at me like that, darling, snakes seem to bite you all the time –"

"I almost suffocated in that shack!" she indignantly recalls, but the corners of her mouth, traitors on their own, are already twitching.

"Only almost." I grin at her, I can't even help it.

"I'd rather hear your black humor than black magic incantations," she sighs as I take her hands.

"This, you and me, that's … that is love, huh?" I ask in all seriousness. "It must be. Serenity when you're around. Those rituals were dragging me through hell, and why, if not for love. I had you on my mind constantly. Immortality without you seems so bleak." She looks up at me, clearly moved, but I'm not saying it for that reason. "I thought I needed you to stay away from me, for your sake," I admit. "But I actually don't feel like being that selfless. I want you with me. I want to hear you laugh, I want to hold you and see your magic unfold. I want your blood to be mine – you're not an unworthy mudblood, by the way." I smirk as she screws up her face in impatience, tormented and amused at the same time. "In fact, the color of your blood was rather nice, Harper."

She shakes her head in disbelief. "What are you even talking about?"

"I saw it, in Little Hangleton, due to all the bite marks on your body. Really nice blood … And that means something, given I get sick whenever I see a drop of it in general now. Harp, that's why it has to be love. Just plain love. The odd emotion they chose to write poetry about in ancient times. I thought I'd always be above this triviality, but now, for those aforementioned reasons, I wish us to share the last name I got from my No-Maj father."

"The father you're going to come clean with because he's a really kind person?" she puts the very words she expects in my mouth. I all but sigh.

"I'm trying to make a more romantic proposal than the first time, though, so forget about my father for a –"

"No, no, stop – no graduation, no marriage," she immediately says. Her features relax quickly though. "But I'm not going anywhere until then."

"Guess that's called a live-in relationship then."

"How daring," she replies, almost blushing a little. "So we're getting married? Next year?"

I nod. "Next year."

"Next year," she repeats under her breath, quite cheerfully so. "And before that – let's solve your monumental problems with said pact. And be aware that before any of the good times, we'll battle for the best grades of the year."

"You'll wish you'd never said that …"

"Why?" she asks, so quietly it's almost seductive. "Scared, Riddle?"

I can't help but chuckle as I put my arms around her waist and pull her towards me. "You wish."

"Finally – you're back to your usual insolent cynicism," she mumbles. "You're your old self again …"

"I'm glad you appreciate that of all things."

"Oh, you have no idea …"

She rests her head on my shoulder while we're just standing there in silent connection and simply don't want to let go of each other. Eventually she's the voice of reason, though. "We should go to sleep, even if I'd love to spend eternity in the Room of Requirement with you …"

"Let's sleep on the sofa again," I say, already pulling her along.

"Wait, in the dungeons?"

I nod.

"What? No! How would that work out?" Her eyes widen while she stops. "If someone tells on us –"

"Not a soul will dare to," I claim. "I've had red irides for the last few days, they'll much rather be relieved you're keeping an eye on me …"

"As though that was even possible …"

"Bet you just wish to hear the magic word." She laughs to herself as I continue, "Please, Harper May, don't leave me to die alone tonight."

She reverently puts her index finger on my lips.

"No more dying, Tom … Enough of it!"

Death would have made it impossible for me to feel her skin on mine. And the ultimate split in my soul would have prevented me from ever truly sensing her calming, innocent embrace again. Dying is the day worth living for, the crushing warmth that's flowing through every of my veins thanks to her seems like proof of that.

She kept her word, she didn't let go.
The healing effect of her trust on my tired mind is making up for all the agony of the last few weeks.

She urged me to look at my mother's last memories, and rightfully so.

Instead of an immortal soul, after 17 years, I sense a glimpse of peace. The awareness that there are two sides of the same coin. Nothing is just bad, nothing just good.

Neither me, nor Harper.
Neither my mother, nor the world.

Gray isn't such an unpleasant color after all …

I don't feel like falling asleep, I'd much rather spend my eternal fate on this sofa, holding Harper, but profound tiredness haunts us.

"Those were the worst weeks of our lives," she eventually whispers between sleep and calm breathing, clinging to me even more tightly. "But I'm looking forward to every day still to come."

I'm taken aback, pessimistic as ever. "Why would you say that? Challenging Fortuna, practically asking her to prove that it can always get worse?"

"No, those must have been the worst weeks," she protests, keeping her eyes closed. "Fortuna doesn't need to come up with anything more absurd. I told my parents you were working on your career instead of admitting to an identity crisis, that simply has to be good for something …"

I chuckle. "What exactly did you make up?"

"I told them of a spontaneous internship at the Ministry."

"Really? And they believed that?"

She nods with a yawn before saying, "I, too, can be very persuasive now and then."

"So your father won't shoot me when we meet again?"

"No, you only need to watch out for Edwin and his cane."

"I'm sure I can have a long, nuanced discussion with him."

"He loves those, yes …"

"I owe him a bit," I state while staring up at the ceiling, illuminated by the pale play of lights from the Black Lake. "He risked everything for me."

"Because he likes you. But you don't owe him anything for that. That's what family is for." She suddenly whispers, "Do you feel that again?"

Nudging me in the side, she makes me nod. "Did I not react to that the other day?"

"No," she sighs, "you were completely out of it. Tom, don't ever do that again. Don't ever exclude me like that again …"

I lower my face to hers and just glance at her in silence for a moment.

I watch the greenish shimmering light of the Black Lake dance on her few freckles, I see that the concern in her eyes is reserved for me only and how her lips should already be on mine.

I lift her chin, smiling.

"Do you promise?" she asks under her breath, staring at me as blatantly as I stare at her.

"Why not, yes," I say before I kiss her – gently, so she never need doubt the truth of my intentions again.

And when even I fall asleep next to her at some point, unexpectedly soon, we completely renounce Insomnia's clutches and Fortuna's manipulations this night. Also all the problems that still lie ahead of us. The politics, the thunder, all our tests and every worry.
Because maybe that is what family is for.