Some things are worth waiting for

Chapter 4: Dreams and nightmares

Pacing around the living room, Harry sighed and rubbed his scarless forehead in frustration. The feelings he was developing towards John were confusing and scaring him. He felt guilty that he seemed to be attracted to John, despite the fact that he still missed Severus like crazy. It was really ridiculous. Maybe it was the little things that John and Severus had in common, like the way that John seemed to resemble Severus a little more each day. Which was odd, as the absence of Severus' strong magical presence, that Harry once could feel almost like a physical touch, was missing. So what was it that called him to this man despite the fact that he still could hardly stand the pain of losing Severus? What was this feeling, that created this strange familiarity that just shouldn’t exist?

Harry decided that he needed more information and that maybe a talk with an old friend was in order. It would be good to see Hermione again after all this time.

ooOoo

It was an awkward moment when Hermione finally arrived at Harry’s home. The portkey, charmed to work for her magical signature alone, had transported her right into the garden behind Harry’s little house. Now here they were, staring at each other, neither of them moving.

Hermione looked just the same as she had about two and a half years ago, when Harry had last seen her, but he knew she was surprised by his changed appearance. Finally, she rushed forward, robes billowing in a very Snape-like manner, embracing him in a tight hug. Harry noticed she smelled faintly of potions.

“You look great, Harry,” she whispered, throat tight with unshed tears. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you as well,” Harry answered and lead her into the house. Nathaniel was asleep and most probably would be asleep for at least another hour, so he had enough time to prepare her for the news that he actually had a child.

Harry lead Hermione into the kitchen where he had prepared tea for them. Filling two mugs with Hermione’s favorite blend, he finally began his story, “I need your advice, Hermione,” he said and she grinned amusedly.

“That much you said in your last letter. So how can I help you, besides bringing you some asafetida? You owe me an explanation about that as well, by the way,” she chided.

Harry smiled a little smile. “I know that Hermione, but could we please save that part of the conversation for later? I think that topic will take a bit longer and I really need your advice first.”

“Alright then,” she agreed, sitting down across from him at the kitchen table. He handed her a cup of tea, before he began to speak. “I told you about John, remember? He’s…”

“That gorgeous guy you met in the park. Yes, you’ve talked about him repeatedly. What about him? Have you kissed him yet?” she teased.

“Hermione!” Harry snapped. He’d written her about Severus and how he had been in love with him. He had talked about almost everything to her – except Nathaniel. So since she knew he had lost Severus, how could she think he’d begin something with John and betray Severus’ memory?

“What, Harry?” she asked softly. “He seems to be a nice enough guy to me from what I’ve heard. You deserve some happiness after all you’ve been through, and being with someone again will make you happy.” Hermione’s voice was soft and reassuring.

“But…don’t you think that…”

“No, I don’t think that you are betraying Severus in any way. I may not have known him as well as you did, but I think he would want for you to be happy. Don’t you think?” She smiled when she saw the puzzled look on his face.

“How did you…” he started, but was once again interrupted by Hermione.

She placed her own hand over his on the kitchen table and said, “How I knew what you were thinking? Harry, we’ve been best friends for about 12 years now – I know you very well. This is just the thing you’d be worried about and it’s sort of a…tradition that you ask me for help. Besides that – it’s quite obvious.”

Harry closed his eyes and hung his head for a moment. If it was that obvious to Hermione that he was confused about his feelings for John, wouldn’t John see it as well? And if he did what would that mean for their friendship? Sighing heavily Harry touched the baby speaker he had attached to his belt and hidden under the hem of his sweatshirt. He hadn’t dared to put up monitoring charms because he knew Hermione would be able to feel them and ask just the right questions. So, by touching the speaker he felt connected to his son even without he reassurance of a monitoring spell.

Hermione saw the movement out of the corner of her eye and frowned. Harry had twice now touched something that seemed to be attached to his waist but she couldn’t make out what exactly was hidden there. “What’s that, Harry?” she asked, clearly startling him.

“That erm, that is…” he began but then decided to just show her. No use in denying it now anyway. He removed the baby speaker from his belt and placed it on the table between the two of them. Hermione stared at the item as if she’d never seen one in her life before.

“That 's a baby speaker, Harry.” She finally brought out, still looking completely confused. In all the time they had owled now, Harry had never even hinted of having anything to do with babies – let alone having one at his home. Why would he, he wasn’t likely to father a child with the next best woman, he was gay after all, wasn’t he? Or else why would they be having this discussion about John?

“Yes, Hermione, I know that.” Harry replied with just a hint of sarcasm entering into his tone. He liked the look of confusion on his best friend’s face.

“No, let me rephrase that; why do you carry a baby speaker around, Harry?” she asked curiosity lacing her voice. Harry was acting really strange about this whole ordeal.

“Maybe because I need to hear when my son wakes? I haven’t put up monitoring charms after all and I really don’t like to keep him waiting,” Harry answered Hermione’s question in the most innocent voice possible, obviously enjoying the way her jaw dropped when he said ‘my son’”

“Did you just say you have a son?” Hermione asked when she found her composure again. “How come you didn’t mention him before? And who is the mother? How old is he anyway? Is that the reason why you are confused about your feelings for John? Are you not really gay after all? How could you not mention such an important fact?” She shot questions at Harry faster than he would ever be able to answer, wanting, demanding to know what this was all about.

“Calm down, Hermione, I’m going to answer all of your questions. I understand that you are confused and angry, but let me explain, please? There is a good reason why I didn’t tell you or anyone else about him sooner. And I need you to promise me that you won’t tell a soul either. Promise, or I’ll take care of that for you myself.” His voice had gone hard on his last words, making it perfectly clear what would happen to her if she revealed the existence of his son to anyone at all.

“Sure, Harry. I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you want. I haven’t told anyone about you, have I? Why would I talk about your son?” She sounded a bit hurt and angry and avoided looking him in the eye, playing with her tea-cup instead.

“I needed to be sure, Hermione,” Harry replied. “You’ll understand once I've told you everything. So, to answer your questions, I didn’t mention him before because I was not yet ready to tell you about him. His existence however has nothing at all to do with my confusion about John, but his parentage most definitely does. Which brings us to the difficult part. Come with me,” he requested, rose form his chair and offered her his hand to help her up.

Dumbfounded Hermione rose to her feet as well, letting herself be lead into the living room and the computer that was sitting on a desk in one corner of the room. She had seen it when she came in earlier, but hadn’t paid too much attention to it.

Harry reached for the mouse, clicked some folders and a moment later a picture appeared on the screen. It was a snapshot of a happily smiling boy, waving into the camera. The child had delicate features, framed by tousled hair that was as black as night. Long dark lashes were making the unusually colored eyes seem even bigger and stood at a stark contrast to the flawless, pale skin.

Hermione gasped. Whatever she had expected, this was definitely not it. This was no infant any more, this was a toddler, far older than she had imagined. Also, even though she had expected to see something of Harry in his son, the coloring - for lack of a better word – of the child’s skin and eyes were so unlike Harry’s and yet so terribly familiar. She needed a second to think about why the child’s looks were so special, when realization dawned.

“How old is he?” She whispered, her eyes glued to the monitor and the picture of Harry’s son.

“Nathaniel will be two years old soon.” Harry answered, knowing that she was about to figure his secret out. “The asafetida I asked you to bring is for him, as you might have guessed. I thought it was time to provide a bit of magical protection for him And who would be better suited for that task than Potions Mistress Hermione Weasley?”

Hermione seemed to shake free from her trance like state and murmured, “His other father, maybe, if he were still alive?”

A sad look crept into Harry eyes as he answered, “A lot of things would be different, Hermione, if Severus were still alive.”

“So it’s true then.” Hermione whispered to herself. “Sweet Merlin, Harry, how?” she asked, sounding awed and sad at the same time. A whole lot of things finally made sense to her. Harry’s sudden disappearance, Poppy delivering the first letter when no-one seemed to have contact to Harry at that time; and the fact that even after owling him and getting some answers, it always felt as if there was more. Something Harry wasn’t able or willing to tell just yet. Now she finally understood why.

Harry sighed, closed the picture on the screen and said, “I suppose you want the whole story; that will take some time. How about we sit down and I fill you in on the facts I have been hiding from you in my letters?”

The two of them moved to sit on the couch and Harry began his lengthy explanations about the way Nathaniel had been created and pregnancy, birth and all the other things Hermione was curious about.

When Hermione finally left two hours later, Nathaniel – who had woken in the meantime - had wrapped her around his little finger. Leaving the asafetida on the kitchen table she disapparated away with a permanent portkey and the promise to visit again very soon.


ooOoo


It wasn’t the first time that John had been to Jim’s house and still, something was different today. John couldn’t put a finger on it, but the house seemed to feel different and it somehow smelled different as well.

Shaking himself out of the weird mood he suddenly was in, John concentrated on the task at hand; Nathaniel’s second birthday was coming up in less than two weeks time and they planned to do something special together then. Maybe visit a circus or amusement park, but definitely having a cake and lots of fun. So, this was one topic that would be discussed over the next few hours.

John had the feeling that Jim was somehow nervous and fidgety today and he thought about talking to him about it. He followed Jim into the kitchen where he had gone to fetch some orange juice for them.

When John entered the kitchen, he found the answer as to why the house smelled so different. There was a small cotton bag lying on the kitchen table that emitted a very strong and very…odd scent. John moved closer to the table, not able to resist the urge to touch, to feel, to smell the bag that held the source of that unpleasant smell.

As if in a trance, John took the little bag from the table, feeling the texture of the cotton before lifting it to his face to smell it more thoroughly. John had a feeling he should know what this was, should know it’s purpose. Before he could finish his thought, white hot pain seared through him, making him feel like his skull was being split in half. Suddenly there were images in his head, he saw a room full of children, stone walls, parchment on a desk beside a pot of red ink. As fast as the images had appeared, they vanished again and John was left dizzy and disoriented. He grabbed the edge of the kitchen table for support, groaning at the pain that was still throbbing behind his temples.

Jim, who had been standing with his back to John, roaming around in the fridge, whirled around to see what was wrong. In an instant he was by John’s side, a worried look upon his face. He grabbed John’s arm and helped him sit on the kitchen table, before asking, “John, what’s the matter? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine” John replied through gritted teeth. “Suddenly have a bit of a headache. Must have overdone it at the clinic today.” He brought out, trying not to worry Jim any further.

“Are you sure you're okay? Would you like a painkiller?” Jim asked, watching John carefully. “Maybe you should lie down for a while.”

“I don’t need to lie down, but a pain killer would be welcome. Thank you for your concern, I appreciate it.” John replied, rubbing his eyes tiredly when another flash of pain shot through him, accompanied by the image of a phial of some sort. But once again it was gone as fast as it had come. When John opened his eyes again, he found a very pale Jim staring at him with wide eyes.

“Is something the matter, Jim?” he asked, when Jim didn’t move or say anything at all.

“Ah…no…” Jim replied pulling himself together visibly. “Just for a second, you sounded like someone I knew a long time ago.” He turned around and took a bottle of painkillers from one of the top shelves and handed John two little white pills with a glass of juice. “Here, take these, that should help.”

John took the painkiller without hesitation, trying not to get excited about what might actually be a breakthrough in finding his past. If those flashes had been memories, then maybe he had a chance to actually remember his past one day. He might have a chance to find out who he had been, after all. For now he just hoped there wouldn’t be any more flashbacks – they were painful and disturbing. He couldn’t use any distractions right now, not when he had a nice time of planning and plotting in good company ahead of him.

Fortunately for him, the flashes didn’t come back that night.

ooOoo

John woke with a start panting heavily, his belly sticky with his own cooling semen. He had had an incredibly weird, yet arousing dream. It had begun like every other dream he had had lately. He was someplace he did not know - someplace old. There was this strange old man in purple clothing and a man with long blond hair. Usually at this point his dream turned into a nightmare when a shadowy figure with glowing red eyes appeared. This time, his dream had turned out different, though. A young man appeared and stepped between him and the scary creature, smiling at him brightly.

The young man was handsome, well built, with soft lips, tousled dark hair and bright green eyes full of emotion. There was an angry red scar on the young mans forehead, but he did not seem to care. To John's great surprise, the young man had leaned over and kissed him.

His surroundings changed and John found himself on a bed, naked, the green eyed youth on top of him. Grinding against him, his dream lover licked his earlobe, whispering into his ear, "Take me now. Make me yours!"

Flipping them over, John could do nothing more than obey. Burying himself into the tight heat of his mysterious lover, John soon tumbled towards orgasm, enjoying the look of pure bliss on the younger man’s face.

Moments later he woke alone in his bed.

Sighing, John got up and made his way to the bathroom to clean himself up. While doing so, he thought about the young man from his dream and what his appearance might mean for him. If he were honest to himself, John had to admit that his dream lover had more than slight resemblance to Jim.

Was his subconscious trying to tell him something? Had the quick hug James had given him upon leaving today caused this?

Yes, he found Jim Evans attractive, yes he had watched him secretly, knowing he could never let Jim know he was attracted to him. The young father would most probably be scared away by such a confession. He obviously liked women, since he had a child and had been married. That he had loved Nathaniel's mother was more than obvious. No, the friendship he shared with Jim was too precious to risk it by telling him the truth. Jim would eventually overcome his grief for his late wife and find a nice woman who would be a good wife for him and a loving mother for little Nate.

John ignored the feeling of longing he felt when he thought about the little boy. He was a charming child and Jim had every right to be proud of his son. Even though John could not remember any of his past, he somehow knew he had no children of his own. Not only was he homosexual, but also no-one seemed to have searched for him. Maybe he had no relatives at all.

Somehow that thought saddened John.

ooOoo


The next day found John at Emily’s and Greg’s house again. He had just had another appointment with his rehabilitation therapist and was now visiting Emily for tea.

Lowering himself into a comfortable chair in the living room, John dropped his cane to the floor. In an instant, Emily was by his side setting down a cup of tea on a little table near him.

"How was your therapy, John?" she asked and smiled warmly before she sat down opposite of him.

John sighed. "It is getting better, but I would prefer to not have to go there any more. I am so sick of Muggle hospitals." he answered.

Emily looked at him dumbfounded and just when John began to wonder what he had said that had caused this reaction, the woman spoke again. "What did you just say?" she asked.

John blinked surprised. "I said that I would prefer to not have to go there any more, because I am tired of the hospital?" he offered.

Emily shook her head, a look between sadness and awe on her face. "No, John, you called it a MUGGLE hospital."

"I did?" John asked surprised. He had spoken without further thought and was a bit irritated that he had used such a strange word. "Maybe something from my past," he mused. "Do you know what it means?" John asked curiously. From the look on Emily's face, he would have bet she did.

She looked at him, clearly debating with herself if she should tell him, but then decided to do so. Sighing slightly she answered, "'Muggle' is the wizarding term for non-magical people. It seems you are a wizard, John. That would make sense - you could have been hurt in the final battle against 'you-know-who'.” she said.

John looked at her as if she had lost her mind. "What are you talking about? Magic, wizards... You must be kidding me. There is no such thing as magic." he said sternly.

"You are wrong, John," Emily replied softly. "I will prove it to you when the time is right, but first I would like to see the things you had with you when you were found. I hope you still had your wand with you."

"My wand? You mean that odd looking wooden stick that I had with me? You can't be serious!" Panic gripped John. So, he had not imagined the tingling sensation he had felt when he had touched this stick...wand. Suddenly, John felt dizzy. The dreams he had had might have been real then. The figure with the glowing red eyes, the young man in his dreams with the bright green eyes, who looked so frighteningly like Jim, the bearded man in the strange purple robes - they were real? Did that mean even his dreams of making love to the green eyed youth were real? Or were they a product of wishful thinking?

TBC

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