Some things are worth waiting for

Chapter 3: Progress

Harry watched as the last rays of the evening sunlight threw a pattern on the ceiling. It was his favorite time of the day lately and he felt at peace. He lay on his bed, his son on his bare chest near his heart, and watched him sleep after feeding him - it was a ritual still new and yet so familiar. His son Nathaniel.

Harry still could not believe he had been blessed with such a miracle. The little boy had been born three weeks ago, after only a little more than seven months of pregnancy. Poppy had told him his body could not cope with the spell induced pregnancy any longer, and he and his son would be in danger if she did not perform a caesarian. Harry had, of course, been afraid that Nathaniel would be too small and frail, but Poppy had assured him everything was going to be fine. She said, if needed, she could help the baby with nourishing potions and a protection spell until it caught up to full-term size.

It had turned out that this was not necessary. Yes, Nathaniel had been small, but he was strong, healthy and had only needed a few stabilizing potions. Harry had been so relieved, he had thanked every deity he knew for having this child. Nathaniel was the most precious gift he ever received.

Taking a closer look at his son and smiling, Harry once again thought how beautiful, how absolutely perfect his little miracle was. He had black, unruly hair, and the most amazing eyes – vivid green with dark brown stripes. It was as if someone had melted his and Severus’ appearance together to create something new.

As he rubbed the baby’s back, he began to stir a bit. Harry watched in fascination as his son brought up his little fist to his mouth and began to suckle lightly. A wave of love and gratefulness rushed over him, mixing with sadness about his lost love. How he wished Severus could be there with him. Witnessing Nathaniel’s first word, first step, first school day. He would miss so many things. Harry’s thoughts drifted back to the night they had shared. Fate had only granted him one single night with the man he loved more than everything, before he was taken from him.

Harry sometimes almost believed that night had been nothing but a dream. Waking up, reaching for Severus, and finding only moonlight on an empty bed – had the passion and love they shared only been a fantasy? His deepest fear was that he would discover his night of passion with Severus existed only in his imagination. This fear was gone now, but it left him with a aching heart. Oh, no he did not need to fear any more - now that he had the living, breathing proof of the love they shared that night – Nathaniel, his son.

Harry wondered how it would be to raise him. Had he inherited Severus’ grace? Maybe he had his talent for potions making or his patented glare and sneer? Would it hurt to look at him if he turned out to be the spitting image of his dead father? Or would he be the reminder that Severus was never really gone? What house would he be sorted into? Chances were good that he would be a Slytherin. Even though Nathaniel had not shown any signs of magical talent, Harry had no doubts that his son would be a powerful wizard one day.

Lost in memories of days gone by, Harry stared at the ceiling, knowing full well, that wishing for Severus’ return would not bring him back.

ooOoo

It was more than ten months since the final battle. Harry had settled into his new life with his son, when Nathaniel’s magic showed for the first time.

Nathaniel was on the floor on his favorite blanket, watching the Muggle mobile Harry put up on the ceiling. It was huge and colorful, sporting elves, dragons and a Pegasus that were moving up and down in slow circles. Harry sat in a rocking chair, watching his son taking in his surroundings. He was a curious child and slept less than Harry wished he would.

Throwing a glance at his happily smiling son, Harry got up and made his way to the kitchen to get himself a glass of juice. Nathaniel was alright for the moment, so it was safe to leave him alone for a few seconds - or so he thought.

Harry had just filled his glass and was about to put the bottle of juice back into the fridge when a shrill shriek sounded from the nursery, followed by hysterical crying. He almost dropped the bottle, running to see what had happened to his son.

The scene that greeted him when he entered the room made him stop dead in his tracks. The mobile had dropped down from the ceiling and would have hit Nathaniel straight in the face, if his son had not used his magic. Harry knew it must have been some kind of reflex, but he was grateful for it.

Now, the Mobile was floating a good meter above him and Nathaniel was crying, his head red with anger and fear. Harry grabbed the threatening toy and put it down on the floor, before leaning over to pick up his still hysterically screaming son.

“Oh Nate, I’m so sorry,” Harry whispered, rubbing the child’s small back soothingly. Harry’s hands were shaking slightly from the shock, when he began to walk around the room, rocking Nathaniel in an attempt to calm down the screaming child. He hadn’t felt so scared since the moment he sensed something had happened to Severus. Harry was sure he would not survive losing his son as well. Pushing that thought away and concentrating on his slowly calming son, Harry whispered in a soothing voice, “I’m sorry I didn’t think of putting up protection charms for you. My poor baby, did it scare you when it fell down? You don’t have to cry any more, love, daddy will see to it that this can’t happen again. You did so good, Nathaniel, so good. I’m glad you’re not hurt…” Harry kept talking and stroking and kissing Nate until the wailing of the little boy died down and he fell asleep.

ooOoo

Hearing came back first. As the man in the hospital bed slowly woke, he realized he was surrounded by strange beeping and wheezing sounds. With great effort he managed to open his eyes to find out where he was. Slowly, all his other senses kicked in. The room was lit so brightly it was hurting his eyes and the air smelled somehow…medical and had a sharp tang of disinfectant to it.

The man in the hospital bed tried to move a bit, but found he did not have the strength to do so. He was so tired and weak and his right side felt like a heavy weight was tied to it. Suddenly there was movement somewhere in the depth of the room and, a moment later, the face of a young woman swam into his visual field. The man in the hospital bed once again tried to move and this time he managed to lift his left arm.

Checking something beside his bed, the young woman dressed in white then turned to him, smiling slightly. “Hello! I’m glad you decided to come back to us,” she said, before pressing his arm down on the sheets again. “I’ll go get the doctor and inform Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Please don’t move again, until we can free you from some of the cables; you could hurt yourself. I’ll be back in a second.” With that she was gone.

The man in the hospital bed closed his eyes again. He was tired, so tired. He was also confused. Where was he and what had happened? He felt so off, so out of place, so strange. Panicking, the man in the hospital bed realized he could not recall what had happened to bring him to this place, wherever he was. What was even worse was the fact that he could not remember anything, anything at all. Not how he ended up here, not who he was nor what he had done before he woke in this bed. Nothing! His entire past - his life - was gone from his memory.

The beeping sound that was coming from beside his bed sped up, soon joined by some sort of alarm. In an instant, the nurse was back in his room, checking whatever was stationed beside his bed and then turning to him with a worried face. “Please calm down, Sir!” she said, reaching for a small glass phial and filling a syringe with the contents of it.

At this moment the doctor entered the room, exchanging a few words with the nurse before turning to address him. “Hello, Sir. Welcome back, I‘m glad you’re awake! I know you must have a lot of questions and you are confused, but you will see, everything will turn out alright. I’ll give you a mild sedative now – why don’t you rest while we run some tests on you? We will discuss everything when you had a little rest.” With that he emptied the contents of the syringe into the infusion that was attached somewhere around his collarbone.

Tired, the man in the hospital bed gave in to sleep.

ooOoo

The next time he woke, the man in the hospital bed saw two people sitting beside him. The elderly couple seemed to have waited patiently for him to wake up.

The woman touched his hand and smiled happily at him, “Oh, John, I’m so glad you woke up. We’d almost given up hope this would ever happen. You don’t know us, but we have been at your side almost since you were brought here….”

She was interrupted, when the man, most probably her husband, touched her shoulder and said, “Emily, please, don’t you see he’s not even really awake yet? Wouldn’t it be better to get the doctor and have him explain what happened? We wouldn’t want to upset him, would we? I think we shouldn’t even call him John, since that is most probably not his name.”

The man in the hospital bed tried to say something, to ask where he was and if the knew who he was. The name ‘John’ didn’t sound familiar at all, but there was no other name coming to him either. The man in the hospital bed was fighting down the panic again. Unfortunately, his voice didn’t cooperate. On top of it all, the right side of his face – or more precisely the whole right side of his body felt odd. It was some strange feeling between prickly and numb. His thoughts were interrupted when the doctor came in

Later, John – he didn’t know his real name and neither did the hospital personnel nor the Smiths – would remember the talk only as a blur. Something about serious injuries to his head that left him in a state similar to suffering from a stroke. On top of it, his vocal cords had been damaged during intubation and speaking would be a problem. He would have to re-learn speaking along with the use of the right side of his body. He would need time and patience for his recovery as well as a good rehabilitation-clinic. The latter was not the problem, since the Smiths had decided to pay for everything he might need; that had included the specialist for cosmetic surgeon that had ‘worked’ on his face.

John had not yet been able to ask why those people were doing this for him. If he understood the doctor correctly, the Smiths were neither family or friends of his. Right now, though, he did not care too much. All he wanted was to get back to strength, learn to control his body again and stop being helpless. Not being able to do anything on his own was driving him insane. He knew he had a long way ahead of him.


ooOoo

John looked into the mirror in front of him and stared at the face of the stranger it showed. Two months ago, when he first came out of the coma, they had given him a mirror hoping to trigger some kind of memory in him. All hopes had been shattered when he had neither recognised himself nor did it help him to remember.

The face that was reflected in the mirror had high cheekbones, dark, almost black eyes, lips a bit too thin to be considered sensual and a nose that - surprisingly enough - didn’t even look broken. His hair was short and black as night, making his skin look even paler. John wondered briefly if the paleness of his skin was just a result of too many months inside hospital rooms, or if he had to watch out not to get a sunburn. He had been told his face had been damaged badly during his accident and John wondered if he looked anything like before. His new face could almost be considered attractive. See it didn’t help with his amnesia, though. He still couldn’t remember his real name, where he came from and what he had done before. Frustrated, he looked away again. He felt helpless, lonely and even a bit angry when he thought about the fact that he would maybe never get his memories back. His past was nothing but a black hole. If only he could get a glimpse of what lay behind him – but it was useless. Trying to think about his past only made his head ache.

The door opened and a nurse came in. He was to be moved to a rehabilitation clinic today – another debt he would owe to the people who treated him like their own son.

The Smiths had been supportive and patient to a point John could not understand. He was after all a stranger to them. Nevertheless they had paid for his care, for his cosmetic surgery and were now making sure he got the best rehabilitation one could get for money. John had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to ever pay them back – if he ever got his memory back and had the money to do so. Of course Emily and Greg had told him that he would not have to pay them back – ever – but John somehow felt uncomfortable with that thought.

Blending out the chatter of the young nurse who pushed his wheelchair through the corridors, John once again wished he could just get up and walk away form all of this. Unfortunately this wish would not come true.

ooOoo

“He looks a lot like Severus,” Poppy said. She was paying Harry and Nate their monthly visit, checking up on both of them as well as keeping Harry updated about the wizarding world. They were in Nathaniel’s room, standing around the cot the child was currently lying in, playing with his own fingers and ‘talking’ to himself. He would squeal once in a while to get the adult’s attention, but other than that he was occupied with himself.

Nathaniel was a very well behaved child, making it easy for Harry to raise him alone. He was energetic and curious as well, yes, but he brought joy to Harry’s life every single day. Their life could have been perfect, had there not been the aching, empty place Severus’ death had left.

“Yes, he does.” Harry finally agreed, smiling sadly at his son who looked up at him with huge, curious eyes. “Sometimes when he looks up at me like this, with that slightly curious, slightly suspicious look, I somehow expect him to sneer at me. I don’t know what it is that reminds me so much of Severus, but he does have a lot of his father,” Harry said, the pain about the loss of his love still audible in his voice.

“At least he didn’t inherit Severus’ nose,” Poppy tried to joke, but Harry only smiled sadly once again.

“I loved everything about Severus,” he whispered, pain lacing his tone. “Even his big nose.” The young wizard set up the monitoring charm once again, and turned around to leave the room. Memories of the one perfect night of love with Severus threatened to overwhelm him.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Poppy apologized, seeing the distress on his face. She could have slapped herself for causing pain. “I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories. I just thought that you might want to speak about it,” she offered, rubbing the small of his back before following him out of the room.

“Thanks, Poppy. It’s ok, I feel a lot better since the therapy, but I still miss him so much and it just won’t stop hurting,” Harry confessed, sitting down on the couch in the living room and gesturing for her to do the same.

“I know that, Harry. I miss him too – today even more than usual,” Poppy replied, memories of her own time with Severus coming back to her.

Harry looked up questioningly. “Why today? What is special about today?” he asked when she didn’t elaborate her answer. Poppy debated with herself as to whether or not she should tell him about it. After a second, she decided to tell him.

“Today the Ministry ended the search for Severus’ and declared him dead. Albus will place a tombstone on the castle-grounds tomorrow. He also decided to give up the search for you. The headmaster seems to know that you are alive and well, but don’t want to be found. He respects your wishes and decided to leave you be. Also, Professor Dumbledore has convinced the Ministry to call back the Aurors who were searching for your magical signature. Don’t ask me how Albus convinced them that you are not in danger, but he did it. That means you can relax a bit, the intensive search for you is over. I expect your friends won’t give up so easily, though.” The medi-witch smiled. “Ron and Hermione were pretty upset and worried when you disappeared, you know. They still refuse to believe that you might have left of your own volition.”

A sad smile once again appeared on Harry’s face. “I knew they would never give up so easily, but I couldn’t risk letting anyone know about my whereabouts, especially not Hermione. Can you imagine what would have happened if she found out I was pregnant? Me – the first pregnant male in over thousand years. She would have disappeared into the library for weeks to research everything about male pregnancy. You know, even if she had been able to hide it from the world, Ron would have ended up letting it slip sooner or later. Eventually Nate and I would have ended up as lab-rats, savior of the wizarding world or not. Maybe if Severus had been alive and he could have been by my side…but like this…no! It’s too dangerous.”

Poppy nodded in understanding. “I know that, Harry, I understand. That is, after all, the reason why we got not only fake Muggle birth certificates, but wizarding ones as well.” She sighed at the memory of how difficult it had been to get a false wizarding birth-certificate that had the name “Potter” on it. Even on the black market it had been almost impossible to find someone who was willing to name “Harry James Potter” as the father of a child birthed by some random witch – someone they had made up of course. The Muggle papers had been easy. By now, Harry was in the possession of not only the false wizarding papers, he also had a birth certificate stating that he, Jim Evans, was indeed the father of Nathaniel Evans.

There was no hint at all that he was the one who had carried this child to term and Harry was eternally grateful for that.

Standing to leave him alone, Poppy placed a hand on Harry’s arm to get his attention. “Harry, maybe you should at least let Hermione know. Now that Nathaniel is born and no one can prove your pregnancy without your permission, maybe it would be good to have her on your side. I’m sure she would understand…and she could make sure that Ron doesn’t search too hard for you, since he and the Weasley clan might eventually be able to find you.”

Harry nodded in understanding. He had suspected the whole Weasley family was using every single source to find him; maybe a letter to his old school friend was in order. He would ask Poppy to deliver it to Hermione when she visited the next time. This way, no-one could track him down.

ooOoo

Ten months later

John sat on a bench by a little lake in the park, watching the various animals around him, when something touched his right leg, startling him. It was a little boy, maybe 18 months old, who looked up at him with a curious look. He was a cute child, with soft looking black hair, skin like porcelain and bright green eyes that had dark brown streaks in them. The boy smiled up at John tentatively and lifted his little arms as if to say, ‘Pick me up please?’

Scanning the park for any adult who had accompanied the child, John spotted a young man nearby rushing towards them.

Since the little boy still looked up at him with an expectant look John leaned down to the child a bit, saying softly, “I’m sorry, little one, but I can’t pick you up, I fear. I’m not yet strong enough to lift you.” Ruefully he looked at the cane that was leaning against the bench he was sitting on.

“I’m sorry my son disturbed you!”

The young man John had noticed moments ago had arrived and picked up the little boy.

“Don’t you worry about it,” John replied, looking up into hazel eyes. The boy’s father was attractive and the tentative smile on his face even added to that. Surprised, John wondered why he thought about another man in those terms. The warmth and the tingling feeling in his belly felt completely natural and right to him. ‘Seems like I am more into men, then’ he finally decided, filing away the information. That would maybe explain the absence of a family of his own.

Harry was about to apologize again and leave the man alone, when the stranger’s gaze met his. His heart dropped a notch when he realized the other man’s eyes were almost the same color as Severus’ used to be. A sharp sting of loss shot through Harry when he thought about his lost love.

His emotions must have shown on his face, because a worried look appeared on John’s face and then the stranger asked, “Are you alright? You look a bit pale all of a sudden. Why don’t you sit down beside me for a moment, before you drop your son? You have not disturbed me at all and your son seemed to want to sit with me anyway.” Moving his came to the other side of the bench, the stranger gestured for him to sit down.

Coming out of his daze, Harry realized his mistake. It was completely impossible that this man was his Severus. Beside the eyes and the hair color, the stranger looked completely different, he sounded different, he moved different. Hell, he even was slightly tanned.

Putting Nathaniel down on the ground, Harry sat beside the other man on the bench. He extended his hand to the stranger, saying, “Thank you for the invitation. My name is Jim Evans and this is my son Nathaniel. He usually doesn’t run off to bother strangers, but he is a bit bouncy today. I hope we really didn’t disturb you.”

“Not at all,” the stranger replied politely, taking the offered hand in his own. “My name is John Doe and I am pleased to meet you and your son. I was just sitting here, doing nothing at all. It’s nice to actually have someone to talk to. Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes, in fact I am. Thank you. What do you mean when you say you are glad to ‘actually have someone to talk to’?”

A shadow fell over John’s face and Harry realized his curiosity might have appeared rude. He was about to apologize, when John spoke, “I am currently living in a rehabilitation clinic so I can re-learn to control my body after the accident I had. Unfortunately I have not managed to ‘make friends’ there, partly due to the fact that I couldn’t speak for long time, and partly because I don’t particularly enjoy the company of anyone I met there. So the only people who talk to me – beside the speech therapist – are the Smiths, who visit me twice a week. They are very nice but…” he broke off, looking into Jim’s face, who listened carefully while rocking Nathaniel, who had climbed on his lap.

“I honestly don’t know why I am telling you all of this. I am usually not that…open about myself or my situation. I am sorry to have been rambling…” John apologized, ashamed he had lost his composure so much and talked about private things to a complete stranger.

“No, honestly, if it’s okay with you, I don’t mind you telling me those things. I know how it feels to have no-one to talk to. I only have my son to keep me company most of the time and as much as I love him, from time to time a talk between adults is very welcome…”

ooOoo

After their first meeting, Jim and John agreed to repeat the experience and soon they settled into a regular schedule of meeting two or three times a week. This would leave John enough time to meet with the Smiths, but not enough time for either Harry or John to feel lonely or isolated again. A friendship began to form between the two men and it wasn’t long before they were talking about the more private aspects of their lives.

One day, a few months after their first meeting, found the three of them in the park again, on a blanket under a tree, having a picnic. Nathaniel was sleeping peacefully between the two adults and after a period of silence, John asked something he had wanted to know for a long time now. “Jim, I know this probably still hurts, but…would you tell me about Nathaniel’s mother? He is such a great child and you are doing such a wonderful job in raising him alone…I’d just like to get to know something about his mother.” He looked at the slumbering toddler with fondness, before lifting his gaze to the young man opposite of him. “Of course I’ll understand if you don’t want to talk about it.”

After a moment of silence, James took a deep breath and answered, “No, it’s ok. I think I can talk about it. It’s been a long time since,” he hesitated, “since her death.”

John waited patiently for his friend to continue. It was obvious to him that even though Jim tried to not let it show, the death of his wife had affected him deeply and he was still grieving for her.

“Her name was Samara,” Harry began his fake story in a distant voice. This was not the hard part, since it was a lie anyway. The hard part would be to describe what he had lost. The love and the friendship he had shared with Severus, the feeling as if a part of himself had died that day along with him.

“I met her shortly after school and we fell for each other head over heels. When she got pregnant, we married. Don’t get me wrong, I would have married her anyway, this just sped things up a bit.” Harry thought about Severus now and the fact that he would have loved to marry and bond with him one day. His next words were authentic. “I just thought I’d have more time. More time before…”

“Before she died,” John completed his sentence softly. The grief he could see in his friend’s face tore at his heart.

“Yes,” Harry murmured, avoiding John’s eyes and toying with a leaf that had fallen onto the blanket instead. “She died during childbirth,” he lied. It was so much harder than he had imagined, to tell anyone this fake story – it felt like betraying Severus. “All I have left is Nathaniel…and my memories,” he choked out, unable to fight the burning pain in his chest about the loss of the person he had loved most in his whole life.

“So you still love her?” John asked softly, ignoring the nagging voice in his mind that demanded to know why the hell this was important

This question Harry could answer sincerely. Looking straight into eyes that were so much like Severus’ had been, the young wizard answered truthfully, “Nathaniel’s other parent was the love of my life. Nothing can ever change that!”

ooOoo

TBC