VI

When Alex woke up on Wednesday morning, Kate was not in bed beside him. He couldn't hear the music but he had a feeling he knew exactly where she was. As a musician himself, he knew how therapeutic playing your instrument could be.

Slowly, Alex rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom. Truth be told, he had no idea what he would say to Kate when he saw her. Nothing in his head was sorted out. It felt as jumbled up as it did the previous night.

But there was one thing running through his mind; something that his mother wrote to him. Something he had to remember.

We honour the life we have and we don't live it halfheartedly.

Was that what Alex was doing? It was what he wasn't doing.

Alex went down to the kitchen to get started on breakfast, and Kate joined him shortly after. They exchanged a quiet greeting before sitting down at the breakfast nook to eat.

It was Alex who started their conversation. "Are you still angry?" he asked.

"I don't think I ever was," she told him. "I just can't handle seeing you like this."

He sighed. "I'll stop reading it," he offered, though it burned his throat to say the words.

She looked at him. "That's not what you want," she said; "and I won't have you do something like that because you think it's what I want."

"Isn't it?"

"What I want is for it not to be such an obsession," she explained. "You said it yourself, didn't you? You want to read all of it, but you don't want it to end at the same time.

"I'm also sorry about the things I said last night," she added. "I didn't mean all of them. I, just, I don't know... I wish you'd called."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

Kate finished eating, and then she returned to her practice room. Alex did the dishes, packed his things for the day, bid his wife goodbye and then went to the Academy. He made a point of leaving the journal on the desk in his practice room at home. He would deal with it when he returned from work.

That decision made for an awfully anxious day for him. All he did was think about what he would end up reading, but he was able to keep himself occupied enough to get through the day.

He was even able to remain fully present as he and Kate fixed dinner and ate together. Kate excused herself first, kissing him gently, and giving him the silent permission he sought to return to the journal.

So he did.

Alex closed himself away in his practice room, got himself comfortable and settled in to finish the journal. Tonight. He would finish it tonight.

27th November 2005

Dear Alex

You're getting good at this whole pulling yourself up to a standing position thing. Unfortunately, your legs aren't yet strong enough to keep you up for very long, so you're keeping me very amused.

I always wonder if your bottom hurts as much as I imagine it does. Thank goodness for those cushiony diapers then.

You also babble a lot. I think that you said your first word yesterday, but I'm not sure. It sounded a lot like 'ball' but I could be imagining things. I don't think I'll mention it to your father though, because he'll probably be so heartbroken that he missed it. Maybe you should try saying 'Da' or 'Pa' first.

The thing is, well, even though he's working locally; he spends a lot of time actually working. He misses a lot, and it's taking its toll on him. He's convinced he's a bad father because he doesn't spend enough time with you.

He's not. He's a great father, and we love him even more because he wants to be better for us. I wish he'd realise that he's the best.

Don't you worry. I'll convince him of it.

Love,

Your Mother

Apparently Alex's father struggled with not being a good father long before he was forced into doing it alone. Alex, somehow, had to do carry on what his mother tried to do, and convince his father that he was the best.

25th December 2005

Dear Alex

Merry Christmas, my sweet baby boy. It's our first Christmas with you and your father and I wanted it to be special for you, full of love and so much family.

We bought you a little Santa hat that says: 'Santa's Little Helper.' It's probably the cutest picture I have of you. Honestly. And this isn't my being biased, even though I've been known to be.

We just got back from the Burrow. My parents joined us for the celebrations, mainly because I wasn't feeling up to carting you between grandparents. You get fussy when we have to leave places, which is what happened today. Everybody dotes on you, you know, being the youngest addition to the extended family so far. Your Aunt Angelina is pregnant again though, so don't expect it to last forever.

You're too young to ask for what you want so your father and I had to guess. We mainly went for toys. He tried to convince me you were old enough for your first toy broom but, I mean, you can barely stay on your feet for more than a few seconds. Maybe for your birthday, okay? I'm just a little too protective, and I'm definitely not in a rush for you to grow up.

Don't you worry, though; I doubt I'll always be this way.

Love,

Your Mother

Alex couldn't actually remember his first broomstick, but he guessed that his mother might have fought his father on the matter until she had no more ammunition.

She'd probably rolled over in her grave every time he'd taken to the Quidditch pitch.

11th January 2006

Dear Alex

So, I've got something to tell you. I've decided to go back to work. I think it's time now. You're doing so well, and I'm ready to join the workforce again.

Don't get me wrong. I love being your mother, and spending all day every day with you. It's just that I've always felt like I'm meant for something more, and I do good work. Well, I try to do good work.

So I'll start again on the 16th of this month. I'm certain that Martha misses me. She's been trying to get me to come back since you were six weeks old.

As for you. St Mungo's has a wonderful daycare, and I'll be able to visit you whenever I want. I hope you won't hate me for this decision, but it's something I have to do. Mummy will always love you. Remember that, all right?

Your father practically choked on air when I told him I was going back, but he's being very supportive. I think he's been wondering when I would go back for quite some time now, but just never brought it up. Reckon he thought I was turning into a ticking bomb again?

Don't you worry. I was definitely not.

Love,

Your Mother

Alex took a breath, a small smile playing on his lips. It amazed him that she worried so much about being a bad mother. His parents were the same that way.

18th February 2006

Dear Alex

Sweetheart, why didn't you tell me that going back to work would be such a bad idea? I'm exhausted. I swear, I take my hat off to working mothers.

I talked to my mum about it and she just laughed at me. She's so mean to me sometimes.

I guess this is a lesson to me, wanting to do it all. It's taken a bit of adjusting, but I think I've got a handle on it now. I'm making sure that I keep regular hours, so you and I have a nice routine going. Your father's work is too haphazard for that. He's constantly on call because he's the best Auror that they have.

I mentioned to him that, once he retires, he should go to the Academy and train the incoming Aurors. If he can no longer be the best, then he should train others to be the best. All he said was that he'd consider it, which is Harry-speak for 'no, but I love you too much to say so.' We'll see how he feels when he has to spend his days doing nothing.

It's what I've been thinking about lately. The future; when we're both old and grey, and our kids want nothing to do with us. Promise you'll still visit us? And bring the grandkids around as often as possible?

Don't you worry. We'll try not to spoil them too much.

Love,

Your Mother

Alex shook his head. The future. The future she would never be a part of. The future she would never get the chance to see.

4th March 2006

Dear Alex

Happy Birthday, my little man! I can't even believe that you're already one year old. Where has all the time gone?

This has been the greatest year of my life, Alex. Between you and your father; you've made my life so meaningful, and so worthy. You're proof that I was here, and you are the greatest legacy I could ever leave behind.

The Daily Prophet published a picture of you today. They've been trying to get one of you since you were born, constantly hounding us, so we finally decided to give them what they wanted. I was a little uncomfortable with it, but they've promised to leave us alone now. Now everyone is going to know how cute you are.

So we held a little party for you here at the Manor. I think that you enjoy being the centre of attention a little too much. That smile of yours is just too infectious.

The cake was a mess, of course. It got everywhere, as was expected. I've spent the last half hour trying to get icing out of your hair. Bath time has always been an exciting time for us. You hate when you have to get into the bath, but then you cry bloody murder when it's time to get out. You confuse me sometimes.

Don't you worry, though; I'm looking forward to a lifetime of confusion.

Love,

Your Mother

Alex made a mental note to find out if anyone had a copy of that issue of the paper. If his father claimed to keep things; maybe he'd kept all those papers as well.

1st April 2006

Dear Alex

If I didn't love your father so much, I definitely would kill him for what he did to me today. Honestly. Why oh why would he decide to bring out the Marauder in him all of a sudden?

Firstly, and please never do this, he painted our soap with clear nail polish and left it in the shower.

Secondly, he bought me these 'cream-filled donuts,' which were actually filled with mayonnaise.

Thirdly, the coffee beans in our maker were switched out with pepper corns. I swear, I almost killed him. He was playing with fire at that point. I love my morning coffee.

And then he made sure that my office at work was completely filled with colourful balloons! It looked kind of nice, actually, but it was still extremely annoying.

He definitely had a little too much fun today.

But don't you worry. I'll get him back.

Love,

Your Mother

Alex laughed to himself. His father had played with fire, and Alex made another mental note to ask his father if she did end up retaliating in some way.

15th May 2006

Dear Alex

You're a little speed demon, you know? Mummy can't keep up with you. You just can't sit still, and it's making me a little crazy. I really miss being able to just set you down, surround you with pillows, and know that you'll stay there while I pop into the loo.

But no, not anymore.

The moment I put you down somewhere, you run off. Yes, Alex, you RUN. Maybe you'll skip out on the whole Quidditch thing and run instead. You'd be good at it, I'm sure.

I also haven't been feeling hundred percent the past few days. I'm not sure what it is. I don't really remember feeling this way before, so I started to think that I'd been exposed to something at work, but I've been involved only in research these past few weeks.

Don't you worry, sweetheart; I'm sure it's nothing.

Love,

Your Mother

Alex frowned. His mother got sick? That wasn't how he'd been told she died. He had to read on but every new word that he read merely raised his anxiety. The second he spied the date, he knew they were coming close to the end. Dangerously close.

1st June 2006

Dear Alex

Mummy has a secret to tell you. I haven't even told your father yet, so you'll be the first to know. I'm thrilled about it, and terrified at the same time. Can you guess? It's the reason I was feeling so unwell.

I'm pregnant! We're having another baby! You're going to be a big brother. Will you be a good big brother? I'm sure you will be.

I didn't want us to have our kids so close together, but this is still so amazing. I'm not sure how your father will handle the news. We're handling one of you quite well. I wonder what it will be like with two; going from outnumbering you to man-to-man.

Or... Could these be the twins my mum warned me about? Then we would be the ones who are outnumbered.

No. I don't think so. I have a feeling that we'll have a girl. She feels like a girl. I don't know what it is, but it's just something that I feel.

I've already been thinking about a name, but I'll definitely have to discuss it with your father. How does Charlotte Lily sound? It's a good, strong name, with good consonance.

We'll have to figure out a way to tell your father though. Do you think he'll cry again? I don't doubt it. I'm thinking I'll buy you an outfit that says 'World's Best Big Brother.' Yes! That's an idea. You'll be the one to tell him. It'll sound better coming from you.

Don't you worry. I'm sure he'll be thrilled.

Love,

Your Mother

Alex blinked back tears. She was pregnant. Not only had Harry lost his wife; he'd lost his unborn child as well. Oh Harry.

Alex immediately turned the page for the next letter, but the page was empty.

His heart dropped.

He'd just read the last letter.

Alex just stared at the empty pages, his heart rate rising dangerously. No. No. It couldn't be over. This couldn't be it. There had to be more. There had to be. He wasn't ready for it to be over.

Knowing it would be futile, Alex started to page through the empty sheets, searching for more; needing more. His heart literally stopped when he spied more writing.

Different writing.

5th September 2006

Dear Alex

It's your father here.

Alex blinked back his surprise, his heart breaking in the process. His father.

Something terrible happened, sweetheart.

I've thought hard and long about how I would tell you, and how I would explain to you how or why this happened, but I haven't yet come up with the right words. This is all so hard, and telling you is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.

She's gone, Alex. Mummy's gone. I'm so sorry. I am so so sorry.

There was an accident. Mummy got hurt on her way to lunch with Martha and there was an accident. There was a car, Alex, and it lost control. There were no survivors. I don't have anyone to blame.

Martha said she didn't feel any pain at all. I want to believe it's true, because it's the only thing that can help me sleep at night. I keep thinking it's all just a bad dream; something that Voldemort thought up and is using to torture me. But it's not. I'm forced to remember that it's not.

On 18 June 2006, Hermione Jean Potter stepped out into the world for the last time.

I never got to kiss her goodbye.

This was never supposed to happen, sweetheart. This was never how it was supposed to be for us. We had our entire lives planned. We had so much life to live.

I am so sorry.

Alex spied an old teardrop on the page, smudging the ink, and his breath got stuck in his throat.

I loved her so much that I don't even know how to explain to you just how much. We were supposed to have forever. We fought so hard for a forever, and I feel robbed. We were both robbed of such a wonderful, loving, devoted woman, who's greatest fault was probably choosing to love someone like me.

I loved her so much that I hate her for leaving me when she did; for leaving us the way she did.

I don't know how to do this. How am I supposed to do this all without her? I don't know how to live without her.

But I'm going to have to figure it out. For you. She'd want you to live a full and happy life, and I intend to give her everything she wanted.

I didn't know how scared she was of the work I did. I didn't know how much she missed me when I was gone. I had an idea, but never this. If I'd known, I would have quit it all. Her happiness has always been the most important thing to me.

It still is. Which is why I intend to make sure that I carry out everything she's ever wanted for you. You are going to live a happy life, my sweet boy. I promise to do all I can to be the best father I can be. A father you can be proud of.

You are so loved, Alex. Please, what ever I do; however I might fail you - which I'll undoubtedly do, because I'm not perfect - always remember this. You are loved.

Your mother loved you very much, and please never blame her for leaving us. If she had the choice, she would have stayed. It's taken me a while to come to terms with that, and I suspect you'll struggle with it as well, but we have to forgive her. Love her, and honour her without stopping to live our own lives.

I'll always be here for you. I'll do everything in my power to insure that you do not end up an orphan. It is the last thing I want for you. Believe me.

Don't you worry, my dear Alex; Daddy will take care of you.

Love,

Your Father

Alex had cried from the letters before, but he was positively sobbing now. His entire body was shaking from the intensity of his emotions. It took almost five minutes for him to calm down.

It hurt. He hurt.

And, as Alex sat there, it started to come to him. It was only a few lines at first, but it was so dominant in his mind that he jumped up and practically leapt to the piano. He had to play it; he had to hear it.

It was beautiful and perfect, and it was not inspired by his unborn baby. Nor by his mother.

It was inspired by his father. By his father's heart.

He remembered his comment earlier in the week, and he hated himself for it. What heart? How could he have ever thought that his father didn't care?

Harry's heart was red and gold, and Alex wanted the entire world to know it.

Alex played the few lines in his head a few times over, adjusting a few notes, before he made sure to get it all written down. And, the moment his pencil started on the paper, more and more of it came to him.

Part of Alex's process was that he started with the base as the piano, and then worked his way through the strings all the way through the orchestra to the brass instruments.

He couldn't stop.

When Kate found him in the morning, he was sprawled out on his floor, dozens of sheets of music surrounding him. It wasn't the first time she'd found him like this, but it was the first time since she'd told him about the baby.

"Alex?" she called lightly, breaking into the little world he'd made for himself.

He looked up suddenly, his eyes red from the intensity of his concentration and his obvious lack of sleep. "Hey you," he croaked as he rolled over and sat up.

"You look inspired," she commented.

"I am."

"The baby?"

He shook his head.

"Your mum?"

He shook his head again. "Harry."

She smiled. "Can I hear some?"

He immediately stood up and moved towards her. He kissed her cheek, took hold of her hand and led her towards the piano. "I was hit with the bridge first," he explained. "I read the last letter, and I just, I had to play."

Kate sat down beside him at the piano and waited for him to continue.

"My dad wrote the last letter," he said. "After she was gone. He found the journal, and he wrote the last letter to me, and he promised to do all that he could to make sure I grew up the way she wanted; the way she would be proud of. Even when she was gone, he still did everything she wanted.

"Everything."

And then he started to play.

To Kate, it sounded like magic. It felt like magic. And, really, it felt like Harry as well.

When he stopped quite suddenly, he frowned. "I'm still working on it though. The climax of it all doesn't seem to want to end. I don't know how to bring it back down."

Kate couldn't help her smile. He didn't even know how much meaning that sentence held.

"It's perfect, Alex," Kate said. "And don't you worry. It will come to you."

His eyes snapped towards her. "What did you say?"

She leaned back slightly. "What?"

He blinked. "Nothing. Sorry. I'm just tired."

She put a hand on his back. "Maybe you should get some rest," she offered. "Are you going in today?"

He sighed. "I think I'll stay home. I'm sure Jack will be keen to know that I've come up with something."

"You intend to use this piece in the concert?"

He nodded.

"Well, I think it's wonderful," she said, her hand moving to run through his hair. "But maybe you should, you know, get it written down properly."

"What?"

She gestured to the mess in the room. "It's like a tornado hit this room."

"It's part of my artistic process."

She kissed his cheek. "I'm going to make breakfast, all right?"

Alex just nodded, and then watched her leave the room. For a moment, he didn't move. So much had happened in these few days. He'd learned so much about his parents; it was all still so overwhelming.

After they'd eaten, Alex went up to their bedroom to shower and catch a nap. When he woke up, he did as Kate instructed and proceeded to write out all the music as clearly as he could. It wasn't a particularly long piece, close to half an hour long. He spent quite a bit of time working on where the percussion instruments fit in.

With the part that he was struggling with, Alex reread the letter his father wrote. The entire piece came together shortly after that. It wasn't perfect yet. Alex was sure he would end up changing things when it came to rehearsals.

When he was done, Alex packed the sheet music in his shoulder bag, made himself a sandwich - just to appease his wife - and then made his way to the Academy. He had to give the music to Jack right away. It felt good to be excited about it once more.

It was already after five o'clock by the time Alex arrived, but he found Jack in his office. Jack looked surprised to see him, which quickly faded away when Alex handed over the music.

Between the two of them, they worked out the logistics of the piece until Alex's fingers were black from the graphite of his pencil.

"I think this is your best work, Alex," Jack commented, looking through the sheets one last time.

"Really?"

Jack nodded. "The best," he repeated. "But, does it have a name?"

"Yes, yes it does." Alex reached across the desk and took the front sheet from Jack. He scribbled the name on the top of the page and handed it back.

Jack regarded it for a moment before he looked at Alex. "You're sure?"

He nodded. "Positive."

"All right then," he said. "I'll have Sal type it up, and you'll proof. It should be ready in time to play in the concert."

Alex just nodded before he stood up. He felt calmer than he'd felt in days. His mind was clear and there didn't feel like something heavy was pressing down on him anymore.

Alex arrived at Potter Manor quite late, and he worried if Kate would be as irritated with him as she was the night before. He followed the sounds towards the kitchen but, as soon as he opened the door to the kitchen, he froze.

"Dad!" Alex exclaimed.

Harry was standing over the stove, a metal spoon held in his hand. "Oh, hey, kiddo," he said, grinning at his son.

"What are you doing here?" Alex asked, frowning.

"I told you he forgot," another voice said.

Alex watched his wife emerge from the pantry, a tray of eggs in her hands.

"It's Thursday, Alex," Kate said.

He blinked. "Thursday...?"

Harry glanced at Kate. "Wait for it..."

Kate caught the moment that Alex remembered why his father would be here tonight and she couldn't help her laugh.

"Oh! Dinner!" Alex's eyes widened. "I'm so late, aren't I?"

"That's all right," Harry said, shrugging. "Katherine and I usually have a better time without you anyway."

Alex laughed. He actually laughed out loud, which made his wife and father exchange a worried look.

"Alex?" Harry asked, looking worried. "Is everything all right?"

He stopped laughing quite suddenly. "Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I talk to you?" he asked quietly.

Harry glanced at Kate for a moment, before he nodded at his son. "Umm, Katie, do you mind watching the stove?"

"I think I can handle it," she said, ushering him away.

Harry gave her a small smile before he followed his son out of the kitchen and all the way to the practice room. It had taken Harry almost a year after Hermione's death to work up the courage to enter it, and he couldn't hold back his gasp at the sight of the piano.

Alex looked at his father, worry in his eyes. "We can go somewhere else," he offered.

"No," Harry said, letting out a brief chuckle. "Just haven't seen it in a while. How's it treating you?"

"Well," Alex said. "Very well, actually."

"That's good," Harry commented, moving towards the couch and sitting down. "So, you wanted to talk?"

"I suspect Kate's talked to you already?"

"She may have mentioned a few things," Harry said casually.

Alex moved towards his small desk and retrieved the journal. "I finished reading it," he said, holding it up. "All of it."

"Oh?"

Alex moved to sit down on the other end of the couch. "You never told me about Charlotte," he said gently.

Harry wrung his hands together. "I didn't know until I read that," he confessed, breaking Alex's heart once more. "I didn't know a lot of things apparently."

Alex remained silent as he tried to gather his thoughts. Then: "Was it everything you ever wanted?"

"What?"

"Your life?"

"What I wanted and what I got were two very different things," he said. "I'm not ashamed to admit that. But what I do know is that the things that happen to us shape us in ways we'll never truly understand or appreciate.

"Am I happy with my life as it is? Most of the time, yes, I suppose I am. Many people have been taken from me but, every day, I thank my lucky stars that you were never one of them. That's all I can do to keep going."

Alex took a deep breath. "You were wrong, by the way."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "About what? Because I've been known to be wrong about quite a few things in my lifetime."

"I don't wish she were here instead of you," Alex said seriously. "I won't lie and say that I've never thought it, but I don't think it now. I don't think I ever will again."

Harry just stared at his son with wide, green eyes.

"I hate that you think it, Dad," Alex continued. "You are a great father. I admit that you're not perfect. Who is? What I do know is that you did all you could to raise me right and I hope that I make you proud."

"You do."

Alex offered him an appreciative smile. "So I want you to know that I definitely don't think it, and I think you should stop thinking it too. I know you've tortured yourself with this but I think I understand her a little better now and I can tell you this: she wouldn't want to be here instead of you either."

Harry blinked.

"She'd hate life without you, and she'd probably torture herself more than you have. She'd spend her days alone, dedicating her time and life everyone but herself."

Harry's eyes widened. "What? I wouldn't want that for her."

"You wouldn't?"

Harry paused, and then his face broke out into a smile. "Ah, I see what you did there."

Alex laughed lightly.

"I'm not unhappy, Alex."

"I know," he said, his smile falling way. "I just wish you were happy."

Harry waited a beat before he responded. "This is a different kind of happy," he said. "Not the same as the happiness I had with your mother, but I've never regretted anything I've done that came after she was gone."

"I know."

"Good."

Alex smiled, signifying the end of all that morbid talk. "I wrote a new piece last night. Do you want to hear it?"

"Of course."

Alex stood up and moved towards the piano. He could feel his father's eyes on him as he sat down and lifted his hands. From the moment that Alex started to play, his father attended every recital and every concert.

"What's it called?" Harry asked.

Alex smiled at him. "It's called Harry's Heart." And then he started to play, saving his father from a response.

As Alex played and reached some place in the middle, he became aware of his father standing up and coming to stand behind him. He felt Harry's hands on his shoulder, and then a kiss on the top of his head.

"It's beautiful, Alex. Thank you," Harry whispered, and Alex could hear the tears in his voice. "I think I'm going to help Katherine with dinner."

Alex knew that his father just didn't want Alex to see him cry. Alex understood it. There were still so many things he didn't know about Harry Potter but, somehow, through the help of his mother, Alex felt like he finally understood him.

He continued to play for a few minutes before he drew the piece to a premature end, his own eyes misting up. It really was some of his best work, even if he was convinced his best work was yet to come.

Alex sat in silence for a moment, before he made an important decision. In the next moment, he rose to his feet and crossed the room. He reached for one of the empty journals he kept in a pile on one of the shelves against the far wall. It was red in colour, with touches of gold, and it was perfect for this purpose.

He located a pen, moved to sit down at his desk, opened the journal, and proceeded to write.

2nd June 2032

Dear Baby Potter

Alex paused to think. He wasn't yet sure what exactly he was going to say in this first letter yet, but he did know how he was going to end it; how he would always end it.

Don't you worry.

Fin