Chapter 3 – Plans in motion
A week later, Harry was in the middle of preparing lesson plans when he looked up to see Narcissa Black stride confidently into his classroom. Her composed demeanour and the slight lift of her chin immediately reminded him of the pureblood aristocracy she came from, but there was something else—an air of curiosity and determination.
"How can I help you, Miss Black?" Harry asked, setting down his quill and leaning back in his chair.
"The headmaster said you needed a student assistant," she replied smoothly, her voice polite but tinged with amusement. "They're usually assigned at the end of the previous year, but since you weren't here then… Well, he asked if I'd be willing to assist you during this period."
Harry raised an eyebrow, already sensing Dumbledore's hand in this. "And what exactly does a student assistant do?"
"Correspondence, organising lesson plans, helping with marking, occasionally fetching tea if you're particularly charming." She smirked slightly, as if daring him to object.
Harry chuckled, appreciating her quick wit. "Tea fetching aside, I could use the help. Very well, Miss Black. Welcome aboard."
Narcissa inclined her head graciously and moved toward the desk near his, setting her bag down with deliberate precision. "You won't regret it, Professor Blackwood. I'm quite efficient."
"I'm sure you are," Harry replied, watching her settle in. He had no doubt this was another of Dumbledore's schemes, but as he observed Narcissa's poised manner, he decided not to question it. After all, he had plans of his own, and getting to know Narcissa Black better could prove useful.
Over the next few weeks, Harry found himself genuinely enjoying Narcissa's presence during his planning period. She was sharp, organised, and surprisingly funny, with a dry sense of humour that often caught him off guard.
One afternoon, as they worked on sorting through essays, Harry glanced over and noticed Narcissa examining a quill with an almost wistful expression.
"What's on your mind, Miss Black?"
She hesitated before answering, twirling the quill between her fingers. "I was just thinking about the future. Sometimes it feels so… predetermined."
Harry set down the essay he'd been grading and leaned forward. "And what do you want for your future?"
She looked at him, her usual confidence giving way to something more vulnerable. "Freedom," she said softly. "The ability to choose my own path, rather than have it dictated to me by tradition and expectations."
"That's a noble goal," Harry replied, his tone encouraging. "Have you thought about what that path might look like?"
Narcissa smiled faintly. "A quiet life, perhaps. A home of my own, a career that's meaningful. Maybe even a chance to travel, see the world beyond the walls of pureblood society."
Harry nodded. "Travel is a great teacher. It opens your eyes to perspectives you'd never consider otherwise."
"You've traveled extensively, haven't you?" she asked, tilting her head curiously. "What was the most memorable place you've been?"
Harry thought for a moment. "Tibet. There's a monastery high in the mountains where they study the intersection of magic and meditation. It's remote, peaceful, and utterly breathtaking. I learned a lot there—not just about magic, but about myself."
Narcissa's eyes lit up with genuine interest. "That sounds extraordinary. Do you ever wish you could go back?"
"Sometimes," Harry admitted. "But the world keeps moving, and there's always more to do. More to protect."
She studied him for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "You're not what I expected, Professor Blackwood."
Harry raised an eyebrow, amused. "And what did you expect?"
She smirked. "A stiff, humourless academic who lectures endlessly about the theory of defence. You've proven to be far more… interesting."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Harry replied, his tone light but his eyes sharp. "And you're not quite what I expected either."
"Oh?" she said, arching an elegant brow. "And what did you expect?"
"Someone who wore their family name like armour. Instead, I've met someone with ambition and courage, someone who's willing to challenge the status quo."
Narcissa's cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn't look away. "Well, I suppose we're both full of surprises, then."
O – o – o - o
It was late afternoon when Amelia Bones made her way to Professor Blackwood's office. The school was quiet, the hum of students in the corridors replaced by the muffled sounds of distant footsteps and the occasional echo of laughter from the Great Hall. She carried a roll of parchment in her hands, an excuse to come see him. It was a question she could have just as easily asked in passing or sent by owl, but lately, she found herself seeking his company more and more often.
As she approached the office door, she heard voices from inside—Harry's voice, animated and enthusiastic, and the unmistakable laugh of Narcissa Black.
The door was slightly ajar, allowing Amelia to glimpse the scene inside. Harry was seated at his desk, leaning forward, his green eyes alight with interest. Across from him, Narcissa sat perched elegantly on the edge of her chair, her pale blonde hair catching the golden light from the window. She was laughing, her usual icy demeanour replaced with something warm and vibrant.
Amelia's chest tightened. She had never considered herself the jealous type, but the sight of Narcissa so at ease with Harry stirred an unfamiliar pang in her.
Amelia knocked briskly on the door, pushing it open without waiting for a reply.
"Amelia," Harry said, standing immediately, a warm smile spreading across his face. "What a pleasant surprise."
Narcissa turned in her seat, her cool blue eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Amelia. The smile on her face didn't quite reach her eyes.
"I didn't mean to interrupt," Amelia said, keeping her tone polite, though her gaze lingered on Narcissa a beat longer than necessary.
"You're not interrupting at all," Harry said, gesturing for her to enter. "Narcissa and I were just discussing the duelling curriculum. She's been helping me brainstorm ways to make it more engaging for the students."
"Indeed," Narcissa added, her voice smooth and composed. "Professor Blackwood has some... fascinating ideas. I find his methods rather unorthodox but intriguing nonetheless."
Amelia forced a smile. "I'm sure you do."
The tension in the room was palpable, though Harry seemed oblivious to it.
"What can I do for you, Amelia?" he asked, his focus entirely on her now.
"I had a question about the curriculum for the advanced Defence class," Amelia said, holding up the parchment. "I wanted your input on a practical assignment I'm planning."
"Of course," Harry said, walking around his desk to take the parchment from her. He scanned it quickly, nodding as he read. "This is great. I like the focus on teamwork and strategy. Maybe we could tie it into the duelling techniques Narcissa and I were discussing."
Amelia's eyes flicked to Narcissa, who was watching their exchange with a faint smirk.
"Interesting idea," Amelia said, her tone clipped. "I'll think about it."
Harry frowned slightly, sensing her shift in mood. "Are you alright?"
"Fine," she replied quickly. "I'll let you get back to your discussion. I didn't mean to intrude."
"You're not intruding," Harry said, stepping closer. "Actually, I was just about to take a break. Narcissa, thank you for your help today. Let's pick this up tomorrow."
Narcissa rose gracefully, her movements deliberate and confident. "Of course. I'll see you in class, Professor."
Her gaze lingered on Harry for a moment before she turned to Amelia. "Amelia," she said with a slight nod before sweeping out of the room.
The door clicked shut behind Narcissa, leaving Harry and Amelia alone.
"Is everything alright?" Harry asked, his tone gentle.
Amelia hesitated, unsure whether to voice the irrational jealousy that had taken root in her chest. Finally, she sighed. "I didn't realise you and Narcissa were... so close."
Harry blinked, then chuckled softly. "Narcissa? She's my student assistant. Dumbledore assigned her to help me with correspondence and marking. She's brilliant, but... not exactly my type."
Amelia raised an eyebrow. "Not your type?"
Harry stepped closer, his green eyes locking onto hers. "No," he said softly. "I prefer someone with a bit more fire. Someone who challenges me, who isn't afraid to speak her mind. And I'm partial to red heads."
Amelia's breath caught, her cheeks flushing at his words. "I wasn't..." She trailed off, realising she'd been caught.
"You don't need to be jealous, Amelia," Harry said, his voice warm and reassuring.
She looked up at him, her heart pounding. "I wasn't jealous," she said weakly, though the faint smile on her lips betrayed her.
"Of course not," Harry teased, his own smile widening. "But for what it's worth, I'm always glad when you come by."
Amelia shook her head, laughing softly despite herself. "You're impossible."
"Only when it comes to you," he said, his voice low and sincere.
For a moment, the world outside his office faded away, leaving just the two of them standing close, the air between them charged with unspoken possibilities. Amelia hesitated, torn between her feelings and her better judgment. Finally, she nodded. "I'll see you in class, professor."
"I'll be there," Harry said, watching as she turned and left, her steps lighter than when she'd arrived.
As the door closed behind her, Harry leaned against his desk, a faint smile on his face.
O – o – o - o
A week later, Harry stood outside Minerva McGonagall's office, the familiar knot of nerves settling in his stomach. Despite all the courage and resolve he had cultivated over the years, there was something about this particular meeting that made him pause. Perhaps it was the knowledge of the role McGonagall would one day play in Amelia's life—a steadfast friend, a source of wisdom, and an unwavering pillar of strength.
Straightening his robes, he knocked lightly on the door.
"Come in," came McGonagall's crisp voice.
Harry stepped inside, his eyes immediately drawn to the neat stacks of parchment on her desk and the Scottish tartan scarf draped over the back of her chair. She glanced up from her paperwork, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity.
"Lord Blackwood," she said, setting down her quill and folding her hands. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Harry smiled, his tone light but earnest. "Minerva, please. I thought it was time we had a proper conversation. After all, I keep hearing that you have been running Hogwarts with the precision of a military general for years. I'd like to know the woman behind the reputation."
McGonagall raised a brow, clearly unaccustomed to such directness, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "I hope you don't expect me to regale you with tales of my youthful indiscretions, Lord Blackwood."
Harry chuckled, taking a seat across from her. "No, nothing of the sort. But I'd like to hear about you—your time at Hogwarts, your teaching philosophy, maybe even your thoughts on Quidditch."
Her lips twitched, as if suppressing a smile. "I see. And why the interest?"
Harry leaned back in his chair, adopting a more serious expression. "Because I respect you, Minerva. I've seen firsthand how much you care for this school, for your students. And I have a feeling you will become very important in the lives of those who matter to me. Building a friendship with you now feels... right."
McGonagall studied him intently, her gaze searching his face for any sign of insincerity. Finally, she nodded, a hint of warmth creeping into her voice. "Very well, Lord Blackwood. If you're so inclined, I suppose we can spare a few moments for conversation."
Over the course of the next hour, the two of them spoke about a variety of topics. McGonagall recounted her years as a student, her time in Gryffindor, and her admiration for Dumbledore's teaching methods.
"You know," Harry said at one point, "I think your sternness is exactly what some of these students need. But I also see the kindness beneath it. You care deeply for them."
McGonagall tilted her head, her lips curving into a small smile. "And you've deduced this after a month at Hogwarts?"
"I've had good teachers to know what one looks like," Harry replied, his voice soft with emotion.
They shifted to lighter subjects, with McGonagall sharing her love for Transfiguration and her well known fondness for Quidditch as well as her not so well known fondness for travelling. Harry made a mental note to remind Amelia of this one day.
As the evening wore on, McGonagall surprised Harry by asking about his teaching.
"The students speak highly of your lessons," she said. "Even Severus grudgingly admitted that your approach is... effective."
Harry smirked. "High praise, coming from him."
"Indeed," McGonagall agreed, a rare twinkle in her eye. "You have a natural gift for connecting with them. It's not something every professor can claim."
"I try to remember what it was like to be their age," Harry said. "The fears, the hopes, the desire to prove yourself... It helps me reach them where they are."
McGonagall nodded, her expression softening. "You'll make an excellent teacher, Lord Blackwood. And perhaps... something more."
Their conversation was interrupted by the clock striking eight. McGonagall glanced at the time and stood, smoothing her robes.
"Thank you for this, Lord Blackwood," she said, her voice quieter now. "It's been... refreshing."
"Call me Harry, Minerva," Harry replied, rising to his feet. "And thank you. I look forward to many more conversations like this."
As he turned to leave, McGonagall's voice stopped him.
"Harry," she said, her tone thoughtful. "Dumbledore has told me a little of your past, the loss of your wife and your desire for – retribution. Whatever it is you're planning, whatever burdens you carry—know that you have an ally in me."
Harry turned back to her, his expression unreadable for a moment before softening into a genuine smile.
"Thank you, Minerva. That means more than you know."
And with that, he left her office, the beginnings of a new and valuable friendship taking root.
O – o – o - o
In the middle of October, the children burst into Harry's bedroom just as the first rays of sunlight filtered into the room, bringing him out of his dreams of Amelia. As usual they had boundless energy, Sirius jumping on the bed while the twins shook him awake.
"Dad! Breakfast!" Edgar said, practically bouncing.
Liliana tugged on his hand. "And you promised to show us the Patronus spell today!"
Harry chuckled, letting their excitement pull him from his somber thoughts. "All right, all right. But only if you let me have a cup of tea and shower before we head to the great hall."
They groaned in unison but complied, sitting cross-legged on the floor and debating which magical creature their Patronuses might take the form of.
"Mine will be a dragon," Edgar declared.
Liliana shook her head. "No, mine will! Yours will probably be a frog."
"A frog?" Edgar gasped, affronted. "Dad, she's being ridiculous!"
Harry laughed, watching their playful bickering with fondness. "We'll find out soon enough," he said, setting his teacup aside. "But for now, let me shower, then we'll go see what the house-elves have prepared for breakfast."
The Great Hall buzzed with life as students and staff alike gathered for breakfast. The long tables groaned under the weight of platters piled high with eggs, bacon, toast, and pastries. At the staff table, Harry sat in his customary seat, sipping his tea as he kept a watchful eye on Edgar, Liliana, and Sirius.
The twins, however, were hardly paying attention to their plates. Edgar was poking at a sausage with his fork while Liliana whispered animatedly about her theories on how to cast a Patronus.
"I think it's all about the happy memory," she said, twirling a strand of her red hair thoughtfully.
"But it also takes power," Edgar argued, puffing up his small chest. "That's why mine will be huge. A dragon, for sure."
Harry chuckled softly, amused by their determination. "Eat your breakfast, both of you," he said. "You'll need your energy for today's lesson."
But just as Edgar raised a forkful of scrambled eggs, Liliana's eyes lit up. "Look!" she whispered, pointing toward the entrance.
Amelia Bones had just walked into the hall, her robes impeccably neat, her hair catching the morning light. She carried herself with effortless confidence, yet her gaze softened the moment she caught sight of the Blackwood children.
Before Harry could protest, the twins jumped from their seats and ran toward her. "Miss Bones!" Edgar called, waving. Sirius stayed in his seat clutching his dad's hand.
Amelia paused, startled for only a moment before breaking into a smile. "Good morning, Eddie, Lily. What's this?"
"We're eating breakfast!" Liliana declared, as though this were a groundbreaking revelation.
"Well, I can see that," Amelia said with a laugh.
"Can we eat with you?" Edgar asked eagerly, already pulling out a chair.
"Children," Harry called from the staff table, his tone more resigned than stern. He rose from his seat and approached the group, his robe billowing slightly. "You know it's polite to ask before assuming someone's time."
"I did ask," says Edgar.
"And give them a chance to reply," said Harry sternly.
Amelia's lips quirked into an amused smile. "It's no trouble at all, Professor Blackwood," she said smoothly. "I'd be delighted to have some company this morning."
Harry hesitated, his gaze flickering between Amelia and the twins, who were already settling in beside her. "Very well," he said at last, his tone carefully neutral.
The twins dove into their breakfast with renewed enthusiasm, chatting animatedly with Amelia. "Dad's going to teach us the Patronus spell today!" Edgar announced between bites.
Amelia's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "A Patronus? That's quite advanced magic for your age."
"We're special," Edgar said confidently, making Liliana giggle.
"Miss Bones," Liliana began, her voice full of curiosity, "do you know how to do one?"
A slight flush coloured Amelia's cheeks, and she glanced at her plate. "Well… not exactly. I can manage a mist, but I've never been able to fully form one."
The twins gasped in unison. "Really?"
Amelia laughed softly at their dramatic reaction. "It's not easy, you know. I've been trying for years, but I haven't quite mastered it."
"You should learn with us!" Edgar said, his eyes shining.
"Oh, I—" Amelia began, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Children," Harry interjected, his voice carrying a note of formality. "I'm sure Miss Bones has plenty of studying to do. We wouldn't want to take up her valuable time."
Amelia turned to him, her expression cool but defiant. "Of course not," she said, a challenge glinting in her eyes. "But I'd love to join."
Harry inclined his head, his face unreadable. "Very well," he said after a pause. "We will see you in the abandoned classroom on the third floor after breakfast. Now, come along," he added, addressing the twins. "You've clearly finished your breakfast."
The children obeyed, though not without a sly glance at Amelia, who seemed amused by the exchange. As Harry led them back to the staff table, he couldn't help but notice Amelia's lingering smile.
The rest of breakfast passed uneventfully, but the promise of the lesson ahead lingered in the air. Harry couldn't shake the sense that today would mark another step toward the future Amelia had written about in her letter—a future where trust, and perhaps even love, could find a way to heal the wounds of time.
O – o – o - o
An hour later, Amelia lingered outside the abandoned classroom, her hands clasped tightly around her wand. From the other side of the door, she could hear the children's laughter—bright, unrestrained, and utterly contagious. For a moment, she hesitated. Was this a mistake? She'd been avoiding Harry since she embarrassed herself in his office with Narcissa, determined to ignore her growing feelings. And to make matters worse she had to constantly put up with her classmates talking about the 'sexy and mysterious' defence professor.
"Do you think he's a good kisser?"
"It looks like he has a six pack. Do you think he'll let me touch it?"
And yet….. here she was planning to spend her morning learning magic with Lord Hector Blackwood, the man that had been consuming her dreams, and his children.
Steeling herself, Amelia pushed open the door.
"Amelia! You came!" the twins cheered, their faces lighting up.
Before she could respond, Sirius bounded over and threw his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly. Amelia blinked in surprise before instinctively placing a hand on his back, her heart swelling.
"Well, good morning to you too," she said, her voice soft as she looked down at him.
Harry stood nearby, his arms crossed casually but with a fond smile gracing his features. "I did warn you they might get attached," he said, his tone teasing but warm.
Amelia gave him a wry smile. "You neglected to mention they might tackle me."
"Only because they like you," Harry replied, his grin widening.
Sirius finally released her and ran back to his siblings. Harry clapped his hands together. "Right, everyone, wands out. Let's get started."
The lesson began with Harry patiently explaining the theory behind the Patronus charm. Amelia watched as he guided the children, his voice calm yet encouraging. Eddie was the first to produce a faint silver mist with his training wand, earning an excited cheer from Lily.
Amelia listened intently, though she couldn't help but be distracted by Harry's presence. He was so composed, so steady, and yet there was a warmth to him that drew her in like a moth to flame.
"Your turn, Miss Bones," Harry said, drawing her attention.
Amelia raised her wand, her brow furrowing in concentration as she focused on the memory she'd chosen—a quiet evening spent with her parents when she was young, their laughter and love filling the air. She cast the spell, but the result was a thin, weak mist that quickly faded.
"Well done, that's not bad at all," Harry said, his voice encouraging.
Amelia frowned, her lips pressing into a slight pout. "Don't patronise me. It's awful."
Harry chuckled softly, shaking his head. "It's not awful. It's a start. But tell me—what memory were you using?"
She hesitated before telling him, and Harry's brow furrowed in thought.
"No, that won't do," he said gently. "May I?"
Amelia nodded, watching as he stepped closer. The twins, sensing a shift in the atmosphere, exchanged knowing looks and quietly guided their brother to the other side of the room.
Harry stood behind her, his presence commanding yet comforting. He placed one hand lightly on her waist and used the other to guide her wand arm. The warmth of his touch seeped through her robes, and she fought to keep her breathing steady.
"The Patronus requires not just a happy memory," Harry murmured, his voice low and intimate, "but one filled with love. Ideally, passion. Think of something that makes your heart feel like it might burst with happiness. Then, at that moment, cast."
His breath brushed against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. Amelia's head felt foggy, her thoughts tangling as she struggled to focus. But she closed her eyes and tried again, this time thinking of a memory she hadn't dared revisit until now—a moment when she'd first felt a spark of something unfamiliar and overwhelming for Lord Blackwood, the very man still touching her waist.
"Expecto Patronum," she whispered, her voice trembling.
This time, a brilliant silver badger burst forth from her wand, its form solid and proud as it bounded across the room. Amelia gasped, her heart racing as the Patronus flickered and then disappeared.
"Better," Harry said, his voice full of pride. He stepped back, his hand lingering for the briefest moment before dropping to his side. "Much better."
"You did it, Amelia!" Lily called from across the room, clapping her hands.
"Well done," Eddie added with a grin.
"Thank you," Amelia said, her voice barely above a whisper as her eyes met Harry's. Gratitude swirled in her chest, mingling with something deeper, something she wasn't quite ready to name.
"You're welcome," Harry replied, holding her gaze for a long, charged moment.
The room fell silent, the only sound the soft hum of magic still lingering in the air. Amelia's heart pounded as she tried to decipher the look in Harry's eyes—warm, proud, and maybe, just maybe, something more.
Finally, Harry broke the silence. "Well, kids, how about a picnic lunch by the Black Lake?"
"Yeah!" the children shouted in unison.
Sirius turned to Amelia, his eyes wide with hope. "Amelia, will you come?"
"Um, I—" She hesitated, torn between wanting to join them and knowing she should study. "I'd like to, but I really should get some work done."
The twins' faces fell, and guilt pricked at Amelia's heart.
"Of course," Harry said, his voice neutral but his smile polite. "We've already kept you too long. Perhaps another time."
"I'd like that," she said quickly, her words laced with sincerity.
"Good." Harry turned to the children. "Let's go, then."
The kids rushed off to grab their coats, leaving Harry and Amelia alone for a moment.
"Your Patronus is a badger," Harry said, his lopsided smile softening the edges of his expression.
"Apparently," Amelia replied, her lips curving into a small smile.
"Interesting," he said, his voice almost teasing.
"What's yours?"
"Maybe someday I'll show you. Have a good day, Amelia."
"You too," she murmured, watching as he walked out of the room.
When the door closed behind him, Amelia slumped against the desk, her heart racing. She pressed a hand to her chest, willing herself to calm down.
All she'd wanted to do was kiss him.
Which was a bad idea. Wasn't it?
O – o – o - o
On Halloween, the knock at Harry's office door was sharp and precise, just as he expected. He stood from his desk and called, "Come in."
The door creaked open, and a young Severus Snape entered. His expression was carefully neutral, though his dark eyes flickered with a mix of curiosity and caution. "You wanted to see me, Professor?"
Harry gestured to the chair opposite his desk. "Have a seat."
Snape hesitated for only a moment before lowering himself into the chair. He clasped his hands together in his lap, his shoulders tense.
"Narcissa Black tells me you are the best student in Hogwarts at potions," Harry began, leaning back in his chair and watching for Snape's reaction.
Snape's brow furrowed slightly. "Narcissa?"
"Yes," Harry confirmed, a small smile playing on his lips. "She's quite fond of you." In his mind, he added,She may have said it in my timeline, but she still said it.
Snape tilted his head, skepticism evident in his posture. "Why would she speak to you about me?"
Harry leaned forward, his expression serious. "Let's just say I value her opinion. But this isn't about Narcissa. This is about you."
Snape blinked, his guarded demeanour faltering for a fraction of a second. "Me?"
"Yes," Harry said, his tone direct. "I have a proposition for you. I would like to offer you a paid internship next year while you finish Hogwarts. If you prove your worth, it will lead to an opportunity to manage my potions empire in the future."
Snape's mouth parted slightly in surprise, but he quickly schooled his features. "So it's true, then, what they say about the Blackwoods."
Harry allowed himself a chuckle. "Well, that part is at least."
"Why me?" Snape asked, his voice sharp and tinged with suspicion.
Harry studied the young man in front of him. He saw the bitterness and pride, but also the hunger for recognition and purpose. "You have potential," he said simply. "And for some reason, I want to give you a chance."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "What's in it for you?"
"Your success," Harry replied without hesitation. "I believe in rewarding talent. And I believe you, Severus, have the ability to do great things. But that choice is yours."
Snape's gaze dropped to his hands, his mind clearly working through the offer. After a long pause, he looked up. "Can I have time to think about it?"
"Of course," Harry said with a nod. "My offer is on the table until Yule. After that, I'll find someone else."
Snape stood, his movements measured. "I understand."
When he reached the door, he hesitated, his hand resting on the handle. "Thank you," he said quietly, not meeting Harry's eyes.
Harry leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "Don't thank me yet," he said.
As the door clicked shut behind Snape, Harry let out a slow breath. Hopefully, this was another step toward turning the tide.
O – o – o – o
Later that same evening, as Harry sat in his quarters reviewing lesson plans for the week, a sudden knock on the door broke his concentration. He frowned, glancing at the clock. It was later than he expected visitors. Rising, he crossed the room and opened the door, his surprise evident as he found Amelia standing there.
"Amelia, what a surprise."
"Hello, Professor," she said, holding up a folded piece of parchment. "Dumbledore asked me to give this to you."
Harry's lips curled into a warm smile as his gaze flicked briefly to the badge pinned to her robes. "Head Girl," he remarked. "Why am I not surprised?"
"Are you insulting me?" she shot back, raising a playful brow.
"I wouldn't dream of it. In fact, I have no doubt you are the best Head Girl Hogwarts has ever had."
"Yes, well—" She hesitated, glancing down at the note in her hand. Harry took the note and opened it curiously.
You're welcome
Harry couldn't help but chuckle. He's meddling again.
Yet, when he looked up at Amelia, an idea dawned on him, and he was suddenly grateful for it.
"Would you like to come in?" Harry asked, his voice calm but inviting.
"What?"
"You're here," he said with a shrug, his tone casual but his gaze steady. "Would you like to come in? I won't do anything untoward, I promise."
Amelia's lips twitched into a half-smile, her guard softening. "I'd like that."
"Great," Harry said, stepping aside to let her in.
Amelia entered cautiously, taking in the cozy warmth of the room. She moved toward the sofa and sat, perching on the edge as though unsure how long she'd stay. Harry closed the door and joined her, leaving just enough space between them for propriety but close enough for her to notice the subtle heat of his presence.
"Can I get you something to drink?" he asked, gesturing to the decanter on the side table.
"Just water, thank you," she replied.
He poured her a glass and handed it over before settling back onto the sofa beside her. The air between them was light yet charged with an unspoken awareness.
"So," she began, breaking the silence, "where are the children?"
"Sleeping," Harry replied with a chuckle.
"Right, of course," she replied nervously. "How have your first couple of months as a professor been?"
"Not bad," Harry said, his grin teasing. "Though I must say, the Head Girl makes the staff seem rather dull by comparison."
Amelia smirked, shaking her head. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Lord Blackwood."
"Is that so?" he countered, leaning back slightly. "What will get me somewhere, then?"
She laughed softly, looking away to hide the faint blush that crept up her neck. "You're incorrigible."
"Maybe," he admitted with a chuckle. "But you're smiling, so I must be doing something right."
Their playful banter continued until, after a pause in the conversation, Amelia's expression grew more serious. She turned to face him, her voice quieter. "Can I ask you something personal?"
"Of course," Harry said, his tone equally subdued.
"Your wife," she began hesitantly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "What was she like?"
Harry's smile softened, and his gaze turned wistful. "She was… everything," he said simply. "Brilliant, brave, stubborn as hell. She had this way of lighting up a room just by walking into it."
"You must miss her," Amelia said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Every day," Harry admitted, the weight of his words hanging in the air between them. "But," he added after a moment, his voice gentler, "the pain of losing her has lessened quite significantly since I've met you."
Amelia's breath hitched, her eyes searching his face for any sign that he might be teasing her. But there was none. Only honesty.
Her heart raced as she leaned in slightly, drawn to the sincerity in his eyes. Her lips parted, but at the last moment, she pulled back, her pulse thrumming in her ears. "I should go," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
"Of course," Harry said, rising to his feet. He extended a hand to help her up, and when she took it, their fingers lingered together for a moment longer than necessary.
He walked her to the door, the quiet of the room amplifying the sound of their footsteps. As she turned to leave, he leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against her cheek.
"Goodnight, Amelia," he murmured.
"Goodnight, Harry," she replied, her voice steady despite the swirl of emotions within her.
She stepped into the corridor, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth she'd felt inside the room. As she walked away, she pressed her fingers to her cheek, her thoughts a confusing tangle of longing and uncertainty.
Behind her, Harry watched until she disappeared from view, his own heart caught between hope and restraint.