"All set?"

Harry nodded as he dug in his pockets for some muggle money. Lily stood to his right, trying to peek over the counter as the shopkeeper wrapped up the flowers with a plastic cover.

"That'll be thirty-five pounds for the lot," she said, placing the bouquet down. "Really lovely, these. Are they for any special occasion?

Is it any of your business?

"No."

"It's my mummy's birthday," Lily said in a loud voice, drowning out his reply.

The shopkeeper smiled down at her. "Well, you picked out some very pretty flowers for her," she said. "I bet she's going to love—"

"Thirty-five, yeah?" Harry said, handing her the notes.

The woman glanced up at him. "Er…yes, sorry," she said. "Would you like a receipt?"

"No, thanks."

She nodded. "All right, then. Have a wonderful day," she said before looking back at Lily. "And don't you forget to wish your mummy a very happy birthday."

"I won't," Lily said, shaking her head. "We're going to see her right now. But not for real because only she can see us for real. Right, Daddy?"

Feeling the back of his neck heat up, Harry grabbed the flowers off the counter and took Lily's hand. "Let's go," he told her quietly, avoiding the woman's gaze.

They walked towards James and Al who'd been waiting near the front of the shop with bored expressions on their faces the entire time. Both boys seemed all too happy to follow Harry's lead as he ushered them quickly out of the door.

"Don't wander too far ahead," he told them as soon as they stepped outside. "I want you to stay in my line of sight, you got that?"

"Sure!" James said before he and Al set off at a run down the pavement.

Harry sighed as he watched them go, wondering why he even bothered. He knew he should call out, tell them to slow down and wait for him. But the road was empty, and he was tired. So he let it slide.

He let a lot of things slide today.

"Come on, flower," Harry said, squeezing Lily's hand in his and following after them.

The graveyard where Ginny was buried was just down the road on a big plot of land right outside Ottery St. Catchpole. It was home to generations of Weasleys, Lovegoods, Diggorys and other families, both wizarding and muggle, alike.

Harry could remember thinking, years ago, how nice it would be to be buried next to his parents. It was a rather strange thought, he knew, but it was one that had brought him great comfort. And in the back of his mind, he'd always imagined Ginny right there with him.

But that was long before her death. Long before he realised he'd have to make that decision on his own. And he just couldn't do it. He couldn't ask for her to be buried in Godric's Hollow without him. He knew nobody would've objected, but it just felt wrong to leave her there alone, waiting however many years it took for him to join her.

Here, she was with family. With Fred. With countless other Weasleys he'd never met. And though he knew none of it mattered in the end, he liked to fool himself into thinking it did.

If only for his own sanity.

Harry let out a quiet breath and shut his eyes for a moment before focusing back on his surroundings. He'd been too caught up in his thoughts to even notice that they were nearing the end of the road. And to his great annoyance, he could see James and Al on the other side already, waiting by the familiar stone archway that led into the graveyard.

"About time," James said with a smug expression as they approached. "We've been here ages."

"Don't be smart," Harry said in a sharp tone. "I tell you not to run ahead, and you do it anyway. What if there was a car?"

James rolled his eyes. "There's no one around for miles," he said. "Besides, we know how to cross the road. We're not babies."

"Not babies? You sure as hell are acting like babies when you don't listen to me," Harry said, causing Al to look away.

James, on the other hand, stared up at him in defiance. "Well, you don't listen to us sometimes. Does that make you a baby?"

"I'm your father!" Harry said, much louder than he meant to.

He felt a surge of frustration swell within him, but he exhaled loudly and shook his head.

"No…just forget it," he said, holding up a hand. "Forget it. We're not doing this right now, not here."

He turned away from them and paused for a moment to settle himself before pushing open the gate. The soft screeching of the rusted hinges cut through the thick silence that had followed his words. "Come on," he said quietly, beckoning them forward.

The sound of Lily's voice met his ears as soon as they entered. "It's Mummy's birthday, you're not 'posed to be mean," she told James, earning a quick 'shut it, Lily' in return.

James shoved his hands in his pockets and walked a bit ahead of them as they made their way through rows upon rows of old, weathered down headstones covered in mossy overgrowth and overrun by weeds and vines.

"It's just that way, isn't it, Dad?" Al said, pointing to a much neater looking area towards the back where James was already headed.

Harry nodded. "To the right."

Al set off in that direction, rushing to catch up with his brother.

"Daddy," Lily said, looking at each headstone they passed. "How do you spell mummy?"

Harry couldn't help but smile. "It's not going to say 'mummy', Lils. It's going to say her name," he said, looking down at her. "Do you remember what her full name is?"

Lily nodded. "It's Gin…Giv..." She swallowed and then tried again. "Giv...ina?"

"Ginevra," he said.

"Giveva."

"Gin-ev-ra."

"Gineva."

Harry let out a small chuckle. "Just Ginny's fine," he said, brushing a finger against her cheek. "She hated the name Ginevra, anyway."

"Really?" Lily said, looking up at him with her eyebrows raised.

"Mhm," he said, as they continued walking. "Never used to let anyone call her that besides Nana and Grandad."

Lily jumped over a fallen branch and then grabbed his hand, swinging it back and forth. "I like Ginny better, too," she said, matter-of-factly. "More than Givenina."

"I agree," he said as he led her towards James and Al who were already huddled around the grave.

He sat down next to them with Lily by his side, and for a moment, no one said anything.

"All right…who wants to say happy birthday first?" he said, looking around at them all.

Lily jumped back up at once. "Me, Daddy, me!" she said. "Can I go?"

He handed her a section of the bouquet, and she held it close to her chest before turning around and sitting on her legs in front of the headstone.

"Happy birthday, Mummy," she said, placing the flowers down.

There was a small stretch of silence before James spoke up. "That's all you're going to say?" he said.

Lily scowled at him. "No," she said in a defensive tone. She then looked back at Harry and said quietly: "What else do I say?"

He gave her a small smile. "Whatever you want," he said. "She's listening, what do you want to tell her?"

Lily seemed to think about this for a moment before turning back around. "Mummy…I hope you have lots of fun today. And…erm—oh! And I love you," she said, patting the headstone.

"Is that good?" she said, looking over her shoulder.

"It's perfect," Harry said.

She beamed and then rushed over to sit on his lap, nearly bumping her head against his chin in the process.

"Who's next?" Harry said, moving Lily's hair out of his mouth.

James glanced at his brother and then motioned his head forward. "Go on," he said.

"What—why do I have to go first?" Al said.

"Because we're saving the best for last."

"But Dad's going last."

"I meant out of us three," James said. "Dad'll be best no matter what. He's oldest. But I'm going to be second best after him."

"Says who?" Al said, looking offended.

"Look," James said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Why don't we test it out? You go next, I'll go after you, and then at the end we'll see who's better."

Al furrowed his eyebrows as he considered this for a moment and then nodded. "Yeah, all right," he said, grabbing some flowers.

James grinned to himself and moved back a bit so he was sitting next to Harry. "Sucker," he said under his breath.

"You realise it's not a competition?" Harry said, glancing down at him.

"Dad," he said, looking as if he was about to impart some great wisdom on him. "Everything is a competition if you set your mind to it."

The words were uncannily familiar. He'd heard some variation of them a thousand times over, but to hear them again from his son brought an unbidden smile to his face.

"What?" James said, looking confused.

"Nothing," Harry said, reaching up to brush the boy's fringe aside. "You just…sometimes, you remind me of her. Your mum."

James raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I do?"

Harry nodded.

"Oh," he said, smiling to himself. "Cool."

Harry wrapped an arm around James' shoulders, hugging him into his side and placing a kiss in his hair. "But just so you know," he said, looking down at him. "I still haven't forgiven you for earlier."

"Aw, don't ruin the moment, Dad," James said, squeezing him tight around the middle.

He let out a small chuckle and playfully pushed his head aside, getting extra help from Lily who all but shoved James away from them.

When Harry looked up a moment later to see what was taking Al so long, he was unsurprised to find him still in the process of organizing his flowers around the headstone.

"About ready, Al?" he said.

"Almost!"

James rolled his eyes.

"That's fine," Harry said. "Take your time, bud, there's no rush."

Al spent a few more seconds rearranging everything before looking over his work one more time and then scooting back.

"Okay, I'm ready," he said, glancing back at them.

Harry gave him a nod and gestured for him to continue.

"Happy birthday, Mum," Al said in a quiet voice barely loud enough for them to hear. "I really miss you and…and I love you. And…"

He trailed off for a minute, picking at a scab on his knee as he thought of what to say next.

"I hope you like the flowers," he said, adjusting one that had just fallen over. "Dad and Lily picked them out because last time when me and James did—on Christmas, I think—we broke a pot by accident and the lady got mad. And Dad couldn't do magic cause she'd already seen it. It wasn't the same lady this time, but we stayed away cause it's kind of boring anyway, so…yeah…"

He paused again, this time longer.

Harry couldn't tell the expression on his face since his back was turned, but by the way Al's shoulders seemed to deflate all of a sudden, he knew something was wrong.

He was just about to reach out for him, when the boy's voice sounded once more—so soft, Harry could only hear it because he was already leaning forward.

"Mum…" he said, his head pointed downwards. "Erm…so…I still haven't done magic."

Harry's eyes widened slightly.

"Do you think—is that…is that okay?" Al said, waiting for a second as if expecting an answer. "Cause Dad said it was, but…I dunno. Can you know stuff like that where you are? If you do, can you tell me? I mean…I know you can't tell me. But can you, you know, show me?"

"What's he saying?" James said in Harry's ear, leaning forward, as well.

Harry held up a hand to quiet him.

"If you can't, then…that's okay, too," Al said, lifting his head back up. "I just wanted to ask."

He brought his fingers up to his lips and then placed them on her name, holding them there for a moment the same way Harry often did.

"Love you, Mum," he said, giving the stone one last look before turning back around.

Harry tried to catch his eye as he moved back to sit next to him, but Al seemed to be very interested in his shoelaces at the moment. He'd wrapped his arms tight around his legs and hid his face from view, but nothing could stop the sound of a tiny sniffle from being heard.

"Well," James said in a loud voice. "That was pointless. We couldn't even hear a thing."

"We don't have to," Harry said at once, throwing him a hard look. "You can talk to Mum out loud, or you can talk to her on your own. She's listening, either way."

Al shifted his head to rest against Harry's arm in response, and he lifted it up and placed it around the boy's shoulder, squeezing it gently. James had the decency to look a bit sheepish when he realised the state his brother was in, but it was too late. His words had already done the damage.

Albus was always a bit on the sensitive side, anyway, but Harry could hardly blame him considering James' frustrating habit of injecting callous remarks at the most inopportune moments. And this was definitely an inopportune moment. Al had just finished pouring his heart out about something that Harry, in all his glorifying stupidity, had completely forgotten about.

And that infuriated him.

How could he have forgotten? It wasn't that long ago when he'd sat with the boy on a St. Mungo's hospital bed, looked him in the eye, and promised that everything would be all right. But what good had that done?

He'd just ended up going to his dead mother for help, instead.

Well done, Potter, Harry thought to himself. Ginny would be so pleased.

An image of her disappointed face flashed in his mind, but he quickly dispelled it. The guilt wouldn't do him any good, right now, it never did. No, he would just have to think on this another time when his mind was clear and open.

And he would. He would definitely think on this. No matter how much it pained him to consider the possibilities.

"Happy birthday, Mum!"

The sound of James' voice grabbed Harry's attention at once, and he quickly pushed all thoughts away so he could focus on him.

"It's me, James," he said. "Your favourite."

"Hey!" Lily said, shoving him in the back with her foot.

Harry grabbed her legs and secured them in his arms, but James didn't even seem to notice.

"I'm just going to skip right to the point, okay?" he said, his voice filled with excitement. "I've got huge news, Mum. I'm talking gigantic. Are you ready for this?"

He paused for dramatic effect, looking between each of them before turning back to the headstone with a grin.

"Dad's going to let me play Quidditch!"

The words caused Harry's jaw to clench, but he put on a bright smile when James turned around to give him a thumbs up.

"He said I could make a good keeper, and that I could play on the house team when I get to Hogwarts. And he's going to teach me how to fly, Mum! I don't know when yet, but he said soon. Maybe on my birthday cause, you know, it's only two months away, and it would be the greatest gift ever. And he's just the best dad in the whole wide world!"

Harry made a mental note to teach James the art of subtlety.

"But who knows," he continued with a shrug. "It might be sooner."

"Or later," Al said.

James whipped around to glare at his brother. "But probably sooner," he said in a voice that left no room for argument.

Harry chose not to offer his opinion. Getting his son on a broom was the very last thing he wanted to do at the moment, but he would never voice that thought aloud.

"Anyway," James said, turning back around. "I can't wait, Mum. It's going to be totally wicked. Maybe I can play in the professional league when I get older, like you? Can you imagine? It would just be so…totally…wicked..."

His voice trailed off into silence for a moment as a dreamy look passed over his face.

Harry cleared his throat loudly. "Is there anything else you want to add?" he said, trying to keep his voice even. "You know…besides Quidditch?"

James snapped out of his daze and turned to face him with a grin. "Nah," he said, shaking his head. "Nothing could top that."

"Of course not," he muttered.

Harry then let out a small sigh and picked up the last of the flowers in the plastic wrapping so he could place them next to the others on the ground.

"My turn, then, I suppose?" he said, looking around at everyone. "Right…Happy birthday, Ginny. It's me, Harry, your favourite."

This earned him several giggles and an elbow to the chest from Lily.

"Everything's been said already, but I'll say it again," he said as James shuffled back to sit beside him. "We love you and we miss you and we hope you have a wonderful birthday. And…"

He paused for a moment and swallowed. "And we're doing great, we are," he said, gazing at her name for several seconds before a small smile tugged at his lips. "Jamie's just lost his—what, eighth? Ninth tooth?"

"Ninth," James said.

"And I've lost five!" Al said.

"And Al's lost five," Harry said with a nod.

"But I haven't lost any, right, Daddy?" Lily said, turning her head around to look at him. "Cause I'm still little."

"That's right," he said, giving her a warm look. "But…our little flower isn't so little anymore, is she?"

Lily's eyes widened in excitement as she shook her head.

"She'll be starting full-time at school in September," Harry said, brushing his fingers through her hair as she leant back against him. "Got herself a proper uniform and a new backpack and everything."

"But I need new shoes, still," Lily said, glancing up at him.

"But she needs new shoes, still," Harry agreed. "And I will get on that as soon I can."

A pleased smile spread over her face as she settled back once more.

"And Al, over here…he'll be starting year three. And James, year four," Harry said, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. "It's mad, isn't it, Gin? How fast they grow."

He glanced down at Al who was still buried in his side. "Just yesterday, I could hold them in the palm of my hand. And now…" he said, shaking his head.

"Dad," James said in slight exasperation. "You say the same thing every time we come here. I think Mum gets it."

Harry chuckled and gazed at a spot in the distance as he continued to play with Lily's hair. "Yeah…yeah, I suppose she does."

A small stretch of silence followed his words, after which he let out a long breath and continued where he left off, sharing light and inconsequential things that he knew would mean to the world to Ginny if only she could hear them.

When it came time to leave half an hour later, Lily jumped up from his lap and stuck her hand into her pocket in search of something.

"What is it?" Harry asked as a distressed look came over her face.

She wordlessly pulled out a handful of broken birthday candles and stared at them as if not believing her eyes. Harry could tell a scene was about to begin even before her breaths started coming out in short gasps. And sure enough, she burst into tears seconds later.

"Lily?" he said, as she fell into his arms.

Her sudden chorus of loud wails pierced through the silence of the graveyard, making him very thankful that they were alone.

"I…I broke Mummy's candles!" she said, her voice coming out muffled as she cried into his chest. "I didn't mean to. I swear, I didn't!"

Harry only sighed as he placed a hand on her back, rubbing up and down. "I know," he said in a soothing tone. "But it was just an accident. Accidents happen, right?"

She nodded vigorously into his shoulder.

"That's right," he said, as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Now, go on, give them here. Nothing to get upset over, I can fix them right up."

Lily let out a few sniffles and handed them over, still wiping away at her face. Harry conjured a tissue for her and helped her blow her nose before he set to work on repairing all the candles.

"What do you need them for, anyway?" Al spoke up.

She turned to him with her eyebrows furrowed. "For Mummy's cake," she said.

"What cake?" James said.

"The one she's going to eat today," Lily said as if it were obvious.

James stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. "You're mad, you are."

"No, I'm not!" she said, slamming her fists to her sides. "She's going to have a cake, and she's going to share it with Abby's mummy, too. And they're going to have a big party together."

It took a moment for Harry's brain catch up, but Lily had already grabbed the candles from his hand and turned around to stick them in the ground before he could respond.

"Er—"

"What are you on about, Lily?" James said, cutting Harry off. "And what does Abby—or her mum—have anything to do with…anything?"

"Cause they're friends," Lily said matter-of-factly. "Abby said so. They play together all the time."

James opened his mouth to retort, but Harry squeezed his shoulder, giving him a look that told him to let it go. He seemed annoyed by this but thankfully dropped the subject.

Harry, for his part, was wondering when—and why—this conversation between Lily and Abby had occurred in the first place. What exactly had the two of them even talked about? Nothing to worry about, by the looks of it, but he was still curious.

Parties and cakes and friends…Yeah, that sounded like Abby, all right.

He let out a long breath and shut his eyes for a moment. The idea of anyone talking to his kids about Ginny was always a touchy subject for him and one that he preferred to avoid. Sure, he didn't mind people sharing memories of her, but things like death and the afterlife were strictly off-limits.

It was just easier that way. They didn't need second or third opinions to confuse them.

But despite all of that, he couldn't find it in him to be mad. Whatever Abby had said, it had made Lily believe that her mother was happy. And there could never be any danger in that.

The house was still.

Harry made his way blindly down the stairs, not bothering to light his wand.

The kids were spending the night at Andromeda's house at her own insistence, but Harry was coming to regret that decision as he knew he would. Being home alone wasn't something he particularly enjoyed anyway. But on a day like this, it was almost unbearable. Hours seemed to pass him by as he lay in bed, staring numbingly at the ceiling. And at some point, he finally decided he'd had enough.

Enough thinking. Enough feeling. He just needed a goddamn break.

His feet led him all the way down to the locked door of his study as if of their own accord. And with a flick of his wand, he entered.

There, on the opposite end of the room, was an unopened package resting upon the windowsill. It was bathed in a soft glow from the moonlight streaming in through the curtains, and for a moment, Harry simply gazed at it.

It had been sat there waiting for him since he'd come home earlier that day, and while he knew it would be best to just go back upstairs and force himself to sleep, the knowledge of what lay inside that box seemed much more appealing.

And anyway, it would be rude not to open it.

With that thought in mind, Harry made his way over, picked up the package, and tore it right open.

A bunch of small foam packaging bits fell to the floor as he wrapped his fingers around the cool glass of the firewhisky and pulled it out. The usual note was attached to the front with Ron's messy handwriting, this time on a bright orange post-it that he must have nicked from Hermione's never-ending supply.

Just in case, it read.

And then in a postscript near the bottom:

Pace yourself, mate.

Harry held the note and bottle in hand as he made his way over to his desk and took a seat. He then stared at the words again for what seemed ages before crumpling up the paper and tossing it in the bin.

"Sure thing, mate," he muttered, pointing his wand at the bottle and causing the cork to pop off. He leant back in his chair and threw his legs up on the desk, bringing the drink up to his lips, at last.

The familiar burning of the liquid down his throat made him wince a bit, and for a moment his insides felt as if they were on fire. But after a few more drinks, he could feel his mouth beginning to grow numb to the taste and his mind to the thoughts that had been racing within it.

And he was beginning to grow warm. So pleasantly warm.

Yes…this is exactly what he needed.

Harry shut his eyes as he took another sip, revelling in the sense of calm that had washed over him. He didn't know how long he sat in that same position, but his thoughts were beginning to take a different turn than where they'd been all night. A more pleasant turn. And he had Ron to thank for that.

Yes, Ron was a good friend. He was always being so nice, after all. And Hermione, too. Hermione was very nice. They were both the best friends a bloke could ask for, really.

He just wished they were here so he could thank them.

Harry's eyes fluttered open at the thought. "I'll go tell 'em," he said, standing up from his chair at once.

The sudden movement caused his head to spin a bit, but he pushed forth, stumbling into the edge of the desk and making his way out the door.

The trip to the fireplace took longer than it probably should have, even after he remembered to light his wand. And when he finally reached the grate, he collapsed onto his knees with a grunt and tossed a handful of floo powder inside.

"Ron? Hermione?" he called, before remembering to lower his voice so as not to wake Rosie and Hugo.

"Shh," he said, putting his finger to his lips.

He then tried again, this time in a loud whisper, but still no response came.

With a frown, Harry pulled his head back out and glanced down at his watch, blinking a few times so the image could focus.

"Whoops," he said, covering his mouth to hide his grin.

It was nearly half past one.

"Pace yourself, Harry. Pace yourself!" he said in a stern voice as he stumbled back into the couch with a chuckle.

Reaching for the firewhisky, he took another long gulp before lying down.

If only it weren't so late, he thought with sigh, as he grabbed a cushion and hugged it to himself. Maybe Ron and Hermione would answer him then, and he wouldn't have to be all alone.

He was always alone, it seemed. And he didn't much like it.

He was like…like a loner.

"Harry, the loner," he said aloud, enunciating the words carefully. "Harry, the loner with a sad, sad boner."

He snorted loudly, patting himself on the shoulder for his own brilliance.

He was pretty funny, after all. Not everyone got his jokes, but when they did, they would practically split their sides laughing.

Ron always got his jokes. Hermione, too, for the most part, but she didn't always appreciate them. And Abby…

Yeah, Abby definitely thought he was funny.

A grin spread across Harry's face at the thought, and then a sudden idea struck him that made him smack a hand to his forehead.

I should call her!

He quickly pulled out his wand to summon the phone, but it took him several tries before it came flying towards him, and then even more to successfully dial her number.

When he finally heard the line ringing, he threw his head back and got comfortable, tapping his fingers against his stomach while he waited.

"Hello…? Harry?"

Harry's eyes widened in surprise at the sound of her voice. "Hey, you answered!" he said with a smile. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, no, you're fine," she said quickly. "I mean you did wake me, but it's fine. Is something wrong?"

He let out a heavy sigh as he twirled his wand between his fingers. "What isn't wrong, Abby? The world's gone to shit," he said, shaking his head. "People always say that, don't they? 'The world's gone to shit'. But it's always been shit, hasn't it? It's a shit world."

"Harry…"

"But you know what makes it better?" he continued, holding up a finger for emphasis.

"What?"

"Good. Friends," he said with a nod of his head. "Good friends are all you need, really. Take you, for example. You're a good friend."

"Oh…thank you."

"You're a great friend!" he said even louder. "I've got like…three great friends. And I love you all equally. I mean…I do love Ron just a bit more. And then Hermione, of course. But you're right up there, as well, you are. And you know what?"

"What?"

"I love you differently," he said. "Equally, but differently."

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Abby cleared her throat. "That's great, Harry," she said. "Have you been drinking a bit?"

He let out a bark of laughter. "How could you tell?" he said, slapping a hand to his knee. "Oh, you're good, you are! I can usually hide it so well."

"Can you?"

Harry nodded.

"Listen, Harry," Abby said in a gentle voice. "Why don't you go on up to bed, eh? I'd come by if I could, but it's late and…well, I don't have a car, anyway."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why are you trying to get me into bed?" he said in a suggestive tone. "Got plans for me, do you?"

"What? Harry…" she said before letting out a loud sigh. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Sure," he said, elongating the word a bit. Then in a more serious tone, he said: "Can I tell you something, though? Something really, really, really heart-breaking?"

"Of course," Abby said, her voice filling with concern. "You can tell me anything."

Harry nodded, trying and failing to hold back a grin.

"I haven't had sex in three and a half years," he said, before bursting out into laughter. "Told you it was heart-breaking! Three years and a half years…nearly four. Can you imagine?"

Abby didn't respond.

"But don't worry," he continued in a reassuring voice. "Everything still works. I've checked. I like to make a habit of checking."

"That's fascinating, Harry," she said, finally. "But I think it's best if you go to sleep now."

He placed a hand over his mouth and gasped. "Oh no," he said, his eyes wide. "I've made you angry."

"No, you—I'm not angry," she said. "You just need your rest, okay? We can talk tomorrow."

"Promise?"

"Yes, Harry, I promise," she said. "Now, goodnight."

He frowned but wished her a goodnight, as well, before hanging up the phone.

And in what seemed only seconds later, he felt his eyes drooping closed and sleep overtaking him, at last.

"You're late."

Harry looked up to see Davis standing just outside his office with a scowl on her face, but he brushed past her without a word.

"And you missed the staff meeting," she said, standing in the doorway as he took a seat. "I gave a very in-depth presentation on the practices of stress management, but only five people ended up sitting through the entire thing. I would've had more if you'd just been there."

"Can we please do this later?" Harry said, opening up several memos scattered across his desk and scanning through them one by one.

"No, we can't," she said in a biting voice. "If you don't respect my time, then I don't have to respect yours."

Harry sighed as he read through the same sentence over again.

"Or perhaps the rules don't apply to you?" she said, crossing her arms. "Perhaps there's a secret policy book that I'm not aware of that just says your name with the words 'can do whatever the hell he wants' printed next to it."

"Piss off, Davis," he said, crumpling up the memo and tossing it in the bin.

"Can't say I'd be surprised," she continued with a shrug. "Must be nice, yeah? Being better than everyone else…being a hero—"

"I said piss off!" he said, snapping his head up and giving her a piercing look. "I don't need shit from you, all right? Not today!"

Davis pursed her lips and stared back at him in silence.

She had a point, Harry knew that. He'd already taken the day off yesterday, and he'd come in nearly half an hour late, today. But for the life of him, he couldn't muster up enough energy to care.

The whole week had just been crap. It had been absolute crap, and he'd gone and made it even worse last night by embarrassing himself over the phone with Abby. When he'd woken up that morning with a pounding headache, parched mouth, and flashes of the conversation he'd had the night before, punctuality hadn't exactly been his first concern.

But he didn't need to be lectured on it. He just needed some goddamn peace of mind.

"You're pathetic."

The words jerked him from his thoughts at once.

"Excuse me?" Harry said, raising his eyebrows.

Davis walked up so she was standing right in front of him, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other.

"You think you're the only one who's ever been through pain. Who's ever lost someone they loved," she said, her voice cutting sharply through the silence. "Wake up, Potter. The world doesn't revolve around you."

Harry clenched his jaw as she leant her hands on the desk to tower over him.

"You may have every reason to believe it does, sure," she said with a nod. "But you're just as human as the rest of us."

She stayed in that same position for a moment, staring down at him while Harry kept his eyes locked on hers.

Then, giving him one last scowl, she turned on her heel and stalked right back out of his office, shutting the door a bit roughly behind her.

The sound rang in Harry's ears for a long time afterwards as he sat there in silence.

His pride wouldn't let him admit that her words had any effect on him, but a smaller, much more sensible part of him knew that wasn't completely true. How else could he explain the tight feeling in his chest that hadn't subsided since she'd left?

It was uncomfortable and frustrating, and he really wished he could just get her damned voice out of his head. But maybe she had a point.

Maybe.

He didn't know.

The thought lingered in his mind for a moment before he let out a long breath and turned his attention back to the now aggressively twitching memos on his desk.

And for the rest of the morning, he drowned himself in his work.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked up at the sound of a knock on his door.

Anna was standing there with her hands clasped primly in front of her. "Would you like me to get you something to eat?" she said. "I'm heading down just now."

He glanced at his watch and shook his head. "No, I'm going out," he said, choosing not to comment on the strangeness of her offer. She'd been acting a bit too considerate towards him today, but so far he'd ignored it.

Anna nodded with a small smile. "Of course, sir," she said. "I'll see you later, then."

"See you," Harry said as she walked back out.

He gazed at the open doorway for a moment, an image of Davis's face popping into his mind, but he shook his head and stood up to leave.

As he made his way to the lift, up into the Atrium, and through the small lunch-hour crowds gathered around Floo entrances and Apparition points, Harry could feel a distinct knot of nerves twisting away in his gut.

He'd been dreading this moment since he'd woken up.

He knew he'd have to see Abby and apologise to her straight away. He just didn't know how she would react. She could be angry or amused or disgusted, or maybe all of those emotions wrapped up together. Or perhaps he was making a huge deal out of nothing.

Whatever the case, he had to prepare himself for the worst case scenario. What that was, he didn't quite know, but he was definitely preparing himself for it.

An image of Abby throwing a steaming hot cup of coffee in his face flashed in Harry's mind for a second, but he shook his head before apparating away.

One glimpse through the windows when he arrived told him that the shop was much busier than he'd anticipated, but he pushed open the door and walked in anyway.

He spotted Abby at the back counter at once, but instead of taking a seat and waiting for her as he might usually do, he made his way over. She was in the middle of talking to a customer, and as soon as she noticed him, the smile on her face seemed to drop just a bit.

It was strange how that tiny reaction caused something in his chest to squeeze.

"Harry," she said, edging towards him once she was finished.

He gave her a small smile and then paused for a moment, thinking of what to say.

"Er…" she said after a bit, glancing at something behind him. "You know, I…I can't be long."

He snapped out of his daze, at once. "Right, yeah. I'll be quick," he said, feeling embarrassed. "I just, erm…well, I came to apologise for last night."

Her lips parted, and she gave a small nod for him to continue.

"I know I probably made you uncomfortable. And you have every right to be angry at me," he said giving her a serious look. "I just…I wasn't thinking straight. Obviously. And…I'm sorry for that. I'm really, really sorry."

Abby stared at him for a moment before glancing down at her fingers. "It's okay," she said, her voice going a bit quiet. "No harm done."

"Are you sure?" Harry said, leaning in closer. "Because I know I said some really—"

"You were drinking. People say stupid things when they're drinking," she said with a shrug. "I know not to take any of it seriously."

He furrowed his eyebrows, but nodded. "So…we're okay?"

"We're perfect," she said, giving him a small smile.

Harry watched as she turned around to pour a cup of tea and then place a few scones onto a plate. He supposed he should leave and let her get back to work, but his feet remained rooted to the spot.

Something was very clearly wrong, he wasn't too thick to miss that. He just wasn't quite sure what it was. Various possibilities were running through head, but each seemed dafter than the next.

Abby just wasn't the sort to get angry over something so stupid. Not unless it really hurt her.

But what exactly had he said last night to hurt her?

His eyes followed her as she walked towards a table to take an order, and all the while, an idea was slowly taking shape in his mind.

A mad idea. The daftest one yet.

"No," Harry said abruptly, shaking his head. "No, it can't be."

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a loud sigh before making his way towards Abby just as she'd finished with a customer.

"Hey," he said, standing in her path and causing her to pause in her step.

Abby gave him a confused look. "I'll bring you your coffee in a sec," she said. "I just need to—"

"Can we hang out tomorrow?"

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oh."

"If you're not busy, that is," he added. "I just thought we could talk."

She brought a menu up to her chest and hugged it tight. "I'm not busy, no," she said, shaking her head.

He waited for her continue, but she didn't say anything more. "Okay, so…I'll meet you at your flat?" he said. "Six o'clock?"

She nodded. "That's fine, yeah," she said. "See you, then."

"See you," Harry said as she walked away.

His eyes stayed on her for a moment before he shook his head and made his way out the shop, wondering all the while if this week could get any worse.

It could.

He realised that as soon as he knocked on Abby's door the following evening and came face to face with a woman he'd never seen before.

She was dressed to go out, it seemed, wearing a rather gaudy outfit that shimmered violently every time she made the slightest of movements. The mere sight of it, along with the numerous bracelets clanking noisily on her arms and the pungent scent of her perfume, was enough to make Harry want to grimace.

But he refrained, forcing a smile on his face, instead.

"You must be Harry," the woman said, sticking her hand out. "I'm Clara, Abby's flatmate."

He gave a short nod and shook her hand. "Pleasure to meet you," he said.

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine," she said, giving him a smile as she flipped her hair behind her shoulders. "Come in, have a seat. Abby's still in the shower, she might be a while."

Spectacular, Harry thought, trying to think up a polite way to decline as he walked in behind her.

"I'm fine here, actually. I'll just wait," he said, leaning against the entryway table and crossing his arms.

"Nonsense," she said, with a wave of her hand. "I insist you have a seat. Go on."

He didn't even have a chance to respond before she grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the couch, gesturing for him to sit down.

Harry did so, gritting his teeth when she plopped down next him and crossed her legs, causing her dress to hitch up even higher than it was before.

"So…tell me about yourself, Harry," she said, bumping her arm against his. "Abby hardly ever speaks of you. Isn't that strange?"

"Not really."

She laughed lightly as if he'd told a funny joke. "Well, go on, then," she said, patting him on the knee. "What is it that you do for a living?"

Harry sighed loudly and rubbed at his face.

He really needed her to piss off before he said something he'd regret. The only thing stopping him from doing so at the moment was the fact that she was Abby's flatmate, but even that was proving to be irrelevant. It wasn't as if they were particularly close, after all. Abby rarely talked bad of anyone, but the few times she'd complained about Clara in the past were enough to convince Harry of what a shit person she really was.

"Hey? You feeling all right?" came Clara's voice suddenly, sounding uncomfortably close to his ear.

He snapped his head up to glare at her only to find her inches away from his face.

"What the hell?" he said, drawing back in surprise. "What do you think you're doing?"

She gave him a coy smile, seemingly unfazed by his reaction. "Just trying to have a little fun," she said, resting a hand on his thigh and leaning in once more. "I think we'd both like that, wouldn't we?"

Harry let out a dry laugh as he stood up. "No, I think you're just terribly confused," he said, walking past her to get to the door.

She clicked her tongue loudly. "Where are you going?"

"Downstairs," he said over his shoulder. "You can let Abby know I'm waiting for her."

"Should I also let her know that you're a right poof?" she said with a bit of an aggressive tone. "Best she quits now while she's at it, yeah?"

Harry was just about to open the door when he paused abruptly in his step.

"What?" he said, turning around to face her with a piercing look. "What are you on about?"

Clara raised an eyebrow. "You fancy other blokes, innit?" she said.

"Not that," he said in annoyance. "The other thing. You said 'quit while she's at it'. At what?"

A smirk spread across Clara's face as she slowly walked up to him, eyes boring straight into his.

She then stood up on the tips of her toes to whisper in his ear. "At trying to get into your pants," she said, her voice sounding amused.

Harry pulled his head back to look at her. "You're lying," he said.

"Am I?" she said.

"There's no way she would say those words to you," he said.

Clara let out a sudden bark of laughter. "That prude?" she said, her voice going higher in pitch. "Well, of course not!"

Harry stared at her, fighting the urge to cast a Silencing Charm as she continued to laugh annoyingly in his face.

"She doesn't need to though, does she?" she said after a bit, wiping carefully at her eyes so as not to smudge any make-up. "It's just obvious."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "How is it obvious?" he said, knowing for a fact that it was anything but.

Yesterday morning was the first and only time he'd ever suspected anything of the sort, but he had pushed the thought from his mind right away. It just seemed too ridiculous to even consider.

"Because, Harry," Clara said, staring up at him through her lashes while he felt her fingers run along his chest and down to his belt. "You're fit as hell. Who wouldn't want you?"

Harry clenched his jaw tight, grabbing her hand and pushing it away from him. "Don't fucking touch me," he said.

And then without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and slammed the door shut behind him, feeling his blood pounding hard as he strode down the stairs.

As soon as he exited the building, he collapsed onto the front steps and breathed in deeply, welcoming the fresh air.

He wanted to forget everything having to do with that woman, but his mind kept replaying what she'd said about Abby.

Could it be true? Could she really have feelings for him?

Before yesterday, he would have never even considered it. But now...

Harry thought back to the conversation he'd had with her over the phone, stretching his mind to recall exactly what he'd told her. There was, of course, the obvious mention of his…abstinence. But even if she did have feelings for him, he couldn't imagine how that knowledge would upset her. If anything, she would probably just end up pitying him.

No, it had to be something else.

Harry shut his eyes as he attempted to go through their conversation in his head.

There was something about him having good friends, he knew that. He mentioned Ron and Hermione, and then her.

He said he loved them all the same. And then…

And then something.

Harry dug the heels of his hands into his eyes in frustration. "What else?" he hissed, willing himself to remember.

It took only a few more seconds before it came to him—those words, playing in his mind clear as day.

'I love you differently.'

'Equally…but differently.'

Harry snapped his head up.

"Bloody hell," he breathed.

He stood up at once to pace in front of the stairs, running a hand through his hair multiple times as he tried to figure out what all of this could mean.

If she didn't fancy him…then it didn't mean anything. He'd simply imagined her being upset while in reality, she most likely couldn't care less.

Or…he didn't imagine it, and she was upset. But not at him.

That thought made Harry pause in step. "Then, what's she upset about?" he said, feeling concerned all of sudden.

He shook his head after a moment, deciding to think on that later.

"Okay, option B…" he said aloud, resuming his pacing.

If Abby did fancy him…then—

"Harry?"

He stopped abruptly in his tracks, turning to see Abby standing at the top of the stairs.

"Were you just pacing?" she said, her mouth twitching slightly as she walked towards him.

"Er…" he said. "Yeah, I got bored."

She gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry," she said. "It was a really long day. I thought maybe drowning myself in the shower would help."

"Did it?"

"No."

Harry nodded. "Are you okay?" he said, feeling a strange urge to comfort her. "I mean, is it only work stuff, or…?"

She let out a small sigh and glanced down at her fingers for a moment. "I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "I suppose it's a lot of…stuff."

He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Listen, erm…" she said suddenly, looking back at him. "I'm sorry about Clara. I'm just going to go ahead and assume she did something to irritate you seeing as you're waiting down here."

Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. "Yeah, we, er…didn't exactly get on," he said, preferring not to go into too much detail. "But that's not your fault."

Abby frowned. "I told her not to bother you," she said, her voice sounding a bit weary. "Guess I should've realised she wouldn't listen."

"Doesn't matter," he said with a shrug. "I do appreciate the gesture, though."

She gave him a small smile. "So…what do you have planned?" she said, glancing around as if the answer would appear in front of her. "You said you wanted to talk about something?"

He nodded. "Let's sit somewhere first," he said, beckoning for her to follow him.

They walked side by side in silence for a while before Abby let out a small 'ah' of realisation as they took a left up at the crossing.

"We're heading towards our spot by the river," she said with a grin. "Look at us, with a spot. We are so cool."

"Aren't we just?" he said, smiling down at her.

She chuckled softly as they continued on their way until they reached the familiar path overlooking the water.

Preferring a bit of privacy, Harry didn't stop until they found a less crowded area that was vacant save for a young couple a few benches down. But the pair of them seemed far too interested in each other to pay any mind to their surroundings, so he gestured for Abby to take a seat.

"Am I not going to like this conversation?" she said, tucking one of her legs up to her chest as she turned to look at him.

"Why do you say that?" he said.

She shrugged. "Dunno," she said with a small shake of her head. "I just keep thinking about last Saturday and everything Hermione said—whether it's too good to be true."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Well, I haven't come to take it all back, if that's what you think," he said, surprised she'd even considered it. "If you're having any doubts, though—"

"I'm not," she said quickly. "I still want to do this, I just…I guess I'm finding it hard to believe that I can."

"Skill-wise or law-wise?"

Abby licked her lips as she looked out into the water. "Both, I suppose," she said, hugging her leg a little closer to her.

Harry took a moment to stare at her as he contemplated her words.

"Is this what's been upsetting you?" he said.

"What?" she said, turning her head towards him with a confused look.

"You've been upset about something," he said, again. "I could tell when I came to see you yesterday, and you said so yourself today. Something's wrong."

"Harry…I was just—"

"Don't," he said, cutting her off before she could make an excuse.

He wasn't sure how or why the thought came to him then, but as they sat there on the bench facing one another, he suddenly remembered the last time they were in this same position.

It had been her birthday. He'd given her a bracelet and she'd showed him her necklace and he'd learned of her mother's death. And Harry realised now why that conversation stuck out so much more than the hundreds of others in his mind.

It was because they'd talked about her.

And they rarely ever did that.

Harry's stomach lurched at the thought. He could hear Davis's words from yesterday playing in his mind all over again, and he understood now why they'd bothered him so much.

They were true. Everything she'd said was true. He was a selfish bastard too blinded by his own pain to see anyone else's. And he couldn't believe how long it had taken him to notice.

Hadn't Abby explicitly said that there were things she wanted to tell him? It had been weeks ago, and she'd never brought it up again.

Weeks ago, and he'd never asked.

"Harry," Abby said, pulling him from his thoughts, her face set in a deep frown. "What is it? What did you want to say?"

He shifted his eyes away from her, staring down at his hands instead as he folded them in his lap.

"I've been a prat," he said, his words sounding heavy in his ears. "In more ways than one. But you already knew that."

Abby clicked her tongue softly. "If this is about the other night—"

"It's not," he said, looking back at her with a sad smile. "It's about a lot of things. But mostly…it's the fact that I haven't been a very good friend."

Her eyebrows rose just a bit, as if the words had surprised her. "That's nonsense, Harry," she said. "You've been great."

He chuckled. "No, I really haven't," he said, shaking his head. "Because you know something? Even after all this time—months and months of talking to each other—I've still got no idea what might be bothering you."

She dropped her arms to her sides and sat up straight.

"And that's my fault," he said, nodding slowly. "Because I do that. I see people day after day and never bother to ask how they're doing. And maybe it doesn't matter. Not with them. Not with my co-workers or—or friends I've grown up with. But you…it matters with you."

Her lips parted just a fraction as she stared at him. "Why?" she breathed.

He swallowed hard before casting his gaze towards the ground. "It just does," he said, quietly.

Neither of them said anything after that, letting a tense silence fill the air.

Harry knew he should be the first to break it. He should tell her that he was ready to listen. Apologise for having made her wait so long. And he should prove to her, with any amount of effort it took, that he could be the good friend that she deserved.

Yes…he should do all of those things.

He really, really should.

"My father's getting married at the end of the month."

Harry snapped his head up.

"Er...right," he said after he'd finished staring at her like an idiot. "Are you…not pleased by this?"

She gave him a small smile before brushing her fingers through her hair and letting out a long sigh. "Just forget it, Harry. It's a really long story."

"No," he said, at once. "I want you to tell me."

Then in a softer voice, he added: "Please."

Abby regarded him carefully, as though weighing the decision in her mind. Then after a moment, she let out another sigh and nodded. "All right, fine," she said. "But I'll give you the short version."

"Whatever you like."

She licked her lips as her fingers moved towards her necklace. "Okay, well…I guess I should start by saying that my dad and I aren't very close," she said, shifting her eyes away from him. "Even before my mum died we weren't. He…well, he worked a lot, and I barely ever saw him. And I suppose we just…didn't get on."

She paused for a moment, her face growing a bit weary. "But then afterwards…it became even worse," she said, still playing with her necklace. "It broke his heart, my mum's death. Just like it broke mine and my brother's, but he didn't see that. Or…he just didn't care."

Harry frowned, but didn't say anything.

"If he wasn't home before, he was barely ever home, now. And that left me and my brother alone most of the time," she said, before letting out a humourless chuckle. "I was thirteen. Ryan was ten. And...I had to take care of nearly everything. Especially him. He was like…like my son. And I loved him so much."

Her voice caught at the end of her sentence, but she cleared her throat and continued. "I still do," she said with a wistful look on her face. "More than anything in this world."

Harry was burning to ask where he was now, but he didn't dare interrupt. He could tell just by the slump of her shoulders that there was a whole lot more she had yet to say.

"But it wasn't all bad," she said with a small shrug. "I had some wicked friends throughout school. Kept me…pretty sane, you know? And I know that without them, without Ryan…life would've been pretty crap."

"Do you still speak to them?" Harry couldn't help but ask. "Your friends."

Abby smiled sadly as she looked down at her fingers. "Not really, no," she said with a shake of her head. "We all went to different universities, and I suppose…we just drifted away, as you do."

"I still call them sometimes, though," she added. "But…they're all over the country, now. Some even outside of it."

He nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said, softly.

She shrugged. "It's life," she said. "People come and go."

Harry stared at her for a moment, wondering if that was what she thought of him, as well.

Did she really expect him to drift away like all of her other friends? She was a part of his life now, he couldn't just let her go. The mere idea of it made his chest ache in an uncomfortably familiar way.

"But anyway," Abby said, oblivious to his current thoughts. "When it did come time for me to go to university…it was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make. Because I knew that…if I went, I'd be leaving my brother behind."

"And he wasn't like me, see," she said, her eyes shifting out of focus as she gazed at the river. "He didn't have good friends or a passion for music. He didn't have anything, really. And I…I couldn't leave him like that. I couldn't."

She let out small breath and shut her eyes. "But I did," she said, her voice going flat. "And I hated myself for it."

Harry creased his forehead. "But you had every right," he said, causing her to look up at him. "It was your life, wasn't it? Your future."

Abby blinked rapidly as she nodded, but he could tell she was only trying to appease him.

"I used to talk to him over the phone that first term…just to see how he was doing, you know," she said, placing her hands in her lap and wringing them together. "He was…well, he sounded horrible, to be honest. But I pretended like everything was all right. Just like I always do. Kept telling him how I'd be home soon for Christmas…"

She cut off then to take a deep breath as she looked up at the sky.

"And I did come home," she said, her voice growing faint. "He was still at school, but I came home."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

"And as soon as I stepped foot inside that house, I realised something was missing," she said, her fingers going back to her necklace. "My mother's piano—the one she'd taught me to play on. The one I'd run to anytime I was feeling down. The only real thing I had left of her. It was just…gone."

She paused for a moment, her nostrils flaring as she breathed heavily through her nose.

"My father sold it while I was away," she said, turning her head back to look at him, her eyes shining now with unshed tears. "And I can't even tell you how much that broke my heart."

Harry felt himself deflate at her words. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, feeling her melt against him.

"I couldn't stand to be in that house for one more second," Abby said, a few tears running silently down her cheeks, now. "We had this huge row, and I left. Before I even saw my brother."

"And I never went back," she added in a whisper, her face screwing up in pain at the very thought. "Not even once."

Harry swallowed hard as he rubbed circles onto her back. He moved his other hand towards his pocket and carefully pulled out his wand so that he could cast a Muffliato around them.

"But I tried calling, you know," Abby said after a moment, sounding a bit congested. "I called so many times, but he never answered. And I deserved that. I deserved it."

"Don't say that," Harry said quietly, feeling a deep sadness swell in his chest.

She swiped at her tears in frustration and shook her head. "It's been eight years, Harry, and I've never once heard from him," she said, leaning back to meet his eyes. "I have no idea where he is. No idea what he's doing. If he's even okay."

"And now…after all this time, my father has the nerve to invite me to his wedding," she said, her tone filled with disbelief. "As if nothing ever happened…as if he could just erase everything!"

She squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her head into her hands, breathing heavily.

"You think he might be there," Harry said, leaning against his knees so he was level with her. "Your brother, I mean."

She nodded.

Harry stared at the ground for a moment before looking back up at her. "Do you have any reason to believe he's not living a normal, happy life somewhere?" he said, speaking as gently as he could. "I mean you don't know, do you?"

Abby let her hands fall to her lap, her entire posture shrinking a bit. "I don't think it's that simple," she said, shaking her head. "Because the thing is…my dad mostly ignored me, but with my brother…he could be quite cruel with his words. To the point where Ryan started lashing out…getting into all sorts of trouble. And I just know that me leaving made it a hundred times worse."

She let out a long breath and creased her forehead, looking so much older than Harry had ever seen her.

"You see now, Harry," she said, meeting his eyes. "Why you were wrong when you said I had nothing to apologise for."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

"All those years, I could've gone home. Just once. Just to see him," she said, sounding desperate. "And then one day…I called the house and my dad picked up. And he told me that Ryan had gone. And I knew at that moment that I might never see him again."

"And I'll never stop blaming myself," she said, leaning back against the bench. "For being too afraid. Too selfish…"

Harry shook his head as he gazed at her, trying and failing to come up with something to say. "Abby…"

"And I know what you think of me," she said, staring back at him. "That I'm this kind-hearted, innocent girl…who's always happy..."

Her voice broke as she said the last word.

"But that's not me," she said. "Not really."

She turned away from him, then, trying to hide the tears now spilling freely from her eyes, but Harry reached out a hand and gently turned her face back.

He'd seen her cry before, but never like this. Never with so much distress. And he just wished he knew how to comfort her or even where to begin.

"It's okay," Abby said after a while, placing her hand over the one he still had resting against the side of her head. "I'll be fine, I promise. I'm just emotional because…well, I haven't really talked about this stuff with anyone for a long time."

Harry couldn't help but let out a sniff of amusement. "You're comforting me," he said, wiping at her cheek with his thumb. "It should be the other way round."

Abby shrugged. "I don't need to be comforted, Harry," she said, her eyes filling with warmth. "I just need to be heard. That's all I want. To be heard and understood."

He nodded. "I can do that."

"Good," she said with a smile.

"And just you know," he said, letting his hand fall from her cheek. "I don't think any less of you, now. There's no reason to. If anything…I respect you even more."

Abby stared at him for a moment, a fresh set of tears slowly spilling from her eyes which only caused him to grin.

"Those better be happy tears," he said, pulling her in for a hug.

She clung to him, wrapping her arms tight around his middle and nodding into his chest. "They are, I promise."

They stayed in that position for a long time afterwards, Harry leaning his head back against the bench as he stared up at the evening sky. And though he thought of many things, his mind kept going back to the fact that Abby had presumably just shared everything with him. Her family, her friends, her past. Everything that made her who she was today.

And with a heavy heart, he wondered if he could ever do the same.

It was one thing to tell Abby about magic. But it was something entirely different to tell her about him.

The Boy-Who-Lived.

The Chosen One.

The bloody saviour of the bloody wizarding world.

No…not now. Not yet.

He hated having to keep even more secrets from her after all this time. But he just couldn't bring himself to consider the possibility yet. The moment she knew the truth about him, he feared nothing would ever be the same again.

And he liked the way things were now. He really liked them.