Saving Myself || A Drarry Story

LXVIII: Time After

Three years ago, Lily Potter sold the manor for a very large sum, adding it to Harry's balance in Gringotts. She didn't mind that her husband was in Azkaban anymore, just glad to have Harry. Just a few months after he had turned eighteen, Harry had come to the small cottage she owned in Yorkshire, his breath smelling strongly of bourbon, his clothes unwashed and his hair a mess.

"I got her pregnant, " he said simply.

"Who?" Lily asked him.

"Ginny Weasley, " he answered, collapsing into an armchair, holding his head in his hands. "She's pregnant."

"How far along?"

"Dunno, " Harry mumbled. "Five---no, six months? Roughly?"

Lily only nodded. She wasn't upset, but Harry was beating himself up over this. "Mum, I can nearly take care of myself. How the hell am I supposed to take care of a kid, for Merlin's sake?"

"You'll do wonderfully, " Lily comforted him. Harry shook his head and left, Apparating to his cheap, messy flat. At that moment, alone and sobered up for the first time in months, Harry thought of Draco. Surely, he wasn't getting girls pregnant. Surely, he was having the time of his life.

He took out a piece of parchment along with a quill and some ink out, wanting to write to him. It had been a year, but what would it hurt?

Everything, a small voice in his head countered. Running back to Draco when you've got a problem? Pathetic.

So Harry didn't write to Draco. Instead, he wrote to Mr Scamander, asking if he needed an artist for his latest books. A few days later, he got a reply, telling what to draw and to send it back to Mr Scamander to see if he could do it.

Four months later, he was called to St. Mungo's where Ginny was giving birth to his son. He arrived just in time to see his son, marvelling at how his hair was just like Harry's, how his eyes were his own, and how even his nose was like Harry's.

Disappointed, Ginny said, "He looks nothing like me."

"Sure he does, " Harry said.

Ginny shook her head, saying to Harry, " I need you to take him. I'm supposed to be going to America and---"

"Wait, you're leaving me with him?"

"Yes, " Ginny replied, "I can't have him. I'm seventeen."

"But---"

"It's not as if we're a couple. It was a mistake in the first place. Call him what you may, but I can't take care of him."

And, the next day, she was gone. Off to America in a ship, as Harry cursed her name.

He took his son home, still unsure of what to name him. His mother held her grandson delicately as Harry paced, trying to think of a name. "Albus, " he finally decided. "Albus. . .Severus."

Lily cooed, "Little Albus Severus Potter. So adorable."

The baby giggled as Harry picked him up, gazing into his emerald eyes. Was this what Draco saw when he looked at Harry? Large, inhumanly green eyes, faint freckles across the bridge of his nose? A tuft of black, sort of curly hair?

The baby, Albus, wrapped his small, chunky baby hand around Harry's finger, clutching him tightly. He gurgled as Harry grinned slowly. He heard a click and looked up at his mother, who held a camera. "Memories."

Harry nodded. "Do you mind if we stay here for a bit? I want to find a house. And all I have is that flat and it's like a bomb went off in there."

"That's fine, Harry."

Harry sat down, holding his son close for hours and hours, just looking down at him with more love in his eyes than he had in a year.

Time after that, as Harry eventually found a small home for him and Albus, he wanted to send Draco one of the many pictures of him and Albus, but he just couldn't. So, after bringing all of his and Albus' things to his new home, everything became a bit more hectic. With Albus crying and throwing tantrums along with his stubbornness, Harry was being run up the walls by the baby. But he never raised his voice or spanked Albus, not wanting him to live as he had.

Every night, Harry held his son in his lap and would read a picture book to Albus, doing each voice differently and grinning when Albus gurgled. Even if he fell asleep halfway through, Harry would finish the book, laying Albus in his crib and leaving the door open behind him.

When Albus started crawling, Harry followed him everywhere and baby-proofing everything in sight that he thought Albus could hurt himself on. Harry would be standing at the counter, drinking water and feeling Albus tugging on his pant legs, trying to help himself stand.

"Hullo, " he said as he looked down at the boy who looked like him. Albus shrieked and Harry added, "Having fun, are you?"

Albus hit Harry's legs, shrieking again and babbling baby nonsense as Harry picked him up, holding him on his hip as he said, "C'mon bath time."

Albus wriggled in his father's arms and Harry gave his son a bath in relative silence, aside from Albus' giggles and splashes.

When Albus started walking, Harry followed, making his heart pound out of his chest every time the baby came close to falling. He reminded himself of a protective mother sometimes.

When Albus said there were monsters under his bed, Harry would check using his wand to make coloured smoke appear as he stood, brushing his jeans off as he would say, "There. All gone."

"All gone?" Albus repeated. "All?"

"All gone, " Harry smiled, tucking his son safely into bed, asking, "Want the door closed?"

Albus shook his head and Harry gave him a kiss on his forehead, whispering, "Good night, Albus."

"Night, Daddy, " Albus would say quietly, closing his eyes as he watched Harry leave, though he would just stand outside of his son's room for an hour every night. Harry would just listen, hearing his son's breathing and the rustling of his covers as he dreamed.

Harry would go to his own bed, always saying quietly, "Good night, Draco."

His son would wake him up every morning, saying, "I want pancakes."

Harry would sit up, groaning slightly as Albus sat on his bed, his nightclothes still on and his hair a usual mess. "Okay, okay."

Clapping, Albus would rush to the kitchen. His birthday was in a week and he would be three. Harry had told Draco that he was three, but that was technically true. He made his son pancakes, all without magic. Albus watched Harry crack the eggs, wanting to crack one himself. Harry let him even though there were chunks of eggshell in the mix.

They are them together, in relative silence aside from the sound of the television in the den, the volume loud with cartoons. "Albus, " Harry started. "Want to meet Daddy's friend?"

"How many is he?"

"The same as Daddy, " Harry replied, sipping his coffee. "Twenty-one."

Albus held up his fingers one by one, counting aloud. "One, two, free, four, five. . ." That's how high he could count to. "That's a lotta fives."

"I know, right?"

Albus nodded.

"Wanna go later or tomorrow?"

"Later, " Albus decided and Harry smiled.

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