HOME IS WHERE HIS HEART IS

Chapter Four


The next morning Cheyanne bounced on Harry’s bed, tickling his naked torso until he was laughing himself awake. With her urging him all the way, he had a quick shower, got dressed, had a couple of mouthfuls of his coffee, all within a half hour. She was then pressed against Harry’s back as she rode on the back of the motorcycle, on their way to town. They stopped at a closed up store that looked like a bookstore at one time. She looked at Harry who had decided not to change his appearance, but tied his hair in a ponytail, and wore dark sunglasses. “I thought we were going to the wizarding village?” She whispered, clutching his arm.

“We are,” Harry grinned, then pulled out a necklace. “This is charmed so Muggles can see through the Muggle repellant charms that hide us.” He unclasped the chain, then reached behind her neck to close it again.

Cheyanne stood and watched as the closed up shop, shimmered before her eyes, then an old-fashioned book store stood before her, lights in the windows, books displayed in the windows with cauldrons and candles. Harry reached over to push her chin up, closing her mouth.

“Welcome to another world,” Harry teased, then pulled the door open, his hand grasped tightly in Cheyanne’s. They walked through to the back of the bookstore, to the storage room after a nod to the bespectacled old woman behind the counter, and stopped at the stone wall. “This is pretty much the same as the entrance to Diagon Alley,” he quietly said.

Cheyanne watched as he tapped the bricks a certain way, then stepped back as the bricks seem to come to life, shifting and opening to reveal a passageway. They walked through, Harry leading her as they walked past book shops, Quidditch shops, a bestiary shop for magical beasts, and a wand shop, then stopped at a shop that had a sign that read, ‘Smithson’s Apothecary’, hanging over the door.

“I promise we’ll go to some of the shops after this,” Harry said, as she looked back to where they came from. “Want to get this out of the way first.”

Cheyanne nodded, then followed Harry into the tiny candle-lit shop. She glanced around, then stuck her tongue out at her reflection in a glass bottle. ‘Red hair, what was he thinking?’ She mused to herself. She didn’t really have to change but thought it might be fun. She preferred her natural blonde locks. She looked closer at some of the bottles, the writing done in hand, and in calligraphy style. Her nose wrinkled up as she read what was in some of the vials on the shelves. “Dragon scales; hippogriff feathers; unicorn tears, basilisk venom; ashwinder eggs; doxy legs; armadillo bile; eye of newt,” she quietly read, smirking at the cliched last ingredient. “Hey Haze,” she called out.

Harry looked over at her, then turned to the proprietor, an older man with a genuine smile to tell him to wrap his ingredients up. He walked over to Cheyanne who was tapping a fingernail on a glass jar of flobberworms. “You okay, Chey?” He grinned.

“These real, Haze? Dragons and unicorns?” She whispered.

“Yes, as well as elves, goblins, centaurs, and trolls,” he grinned. “We may see some yet.”

“Would your potions cure cancer? I mean when mom was alive, would it have cured her?’ Cheyanne asked.

“When I left a few years ago, there was no cure for cancer in our world,” Harry quietly said, tucking his parcel of ingredients under his arm. “There are potions to lessen the pain, maybe halt the growth of the cancer inside, but not make it go away completely.”

“I remember mom being in so much pain. The radiation treatments she had made her even more sick. It went down in size, but just came back again, bigger and more deadly. Do wizards get some of these diseases?”

“Purebloods rarely get Muggle diseases. There are Muggle borns that I have heard who got sick with cancer or AIDS, but it was controllable with potions and spells. Wizards and witches have a magical core inside of them that help to combat illness from becoming too deadly,” Harry replied.

“So our son, or daughter, can be healthy and strong?” Cheyanne asked.

“Yes, I don’t remember a time I was seriously sick, lots of broken bones and concussions, but not sick. When I left, I was one of the more powerful wizards in our world, so yeah, I think our kid would be pretty healthy.”

Cheyanne linked her arm through Harry’s. “Now, you’re the mechanical bull riding champion and the Casanova of all those gorgeous men out there,” she teased.

“Hey, what can I say?” Harry dramatically sighed, shrugging his one shoulder. “So, you want to try a dragon burger?” He asked, pulling her to the open patio restaurant and pub.

“Uh, don’t they have regular burgers, Haze,” she asked, crinkling her nose up.

“Of course they do. But where’s your sense of adventure, Chey?” Harry teased, pulling out her chair for her to sit before he sat across from her.

Harry looked up at the young wizard who approached the table. “Hello, can we have some menus and a couple of butterbeers while we decide?”

“Sure, anything else I can do for you?” The wizard asked, moving closer to Harry’s side.

Harry looked over at the snickering redhead sitting across from him. “No. Honey, settle down before I kiss that smile off your face,” he grinned.

“Butterbeer coming up, Sir,” the wizard said, backing off.

“Honey? That’s rich, Haze,” Cheyanne laughed.

“He was too young,” Harry grinned.

“You’ve had them that young before, Haze,” she smirked.

“You make me sound easy, Cheyanne,” he grinned.

“You are,” she replied, then looked at the giant mug of foamy drink that was put in front of her. “Is this okay for the baby?” She asked, leaning over to smell her drink. “Smells like root beer kind of.”

“Butterbeer is very low in alcohol content. We used to drink this all the time when we were younger.”

She took a sip, licking the foam from her upper lip. “This is good. Could we bring some home with us?”

“Six, twelve, or eighteen pack?” Harry smirked.

“Twelve should do for now,” she said, taking another sip of her drink.

The wizard came back to take their order of a dragon burger for Harry, a regular cheeseburger for Cheyanne, then sat back to watch passers by who walked in front of the open pub.

They ate their burgers and fries, Cheyanne taking the plunge and tasting the dragon burger. She ended up switching plates, taking the dragon burger and giving Harry the cheeseburger. Harry just shook his head, and silently ate the Muggle-type burger. After, Harry shrank down the twelve pack of butterbeer and potion ingredients to put them in Cheyanne’s backpack. Harry dragged her into the book store, the Quidditch shop, and of course, the sweetshop. While Cheyanne was looking through the children’s books, Harry picked out a few toys from the children’s display. They left with another shrunken package filled with books and toys for their son or daughter.

A few hours later, Cheyanne collapsed back on their overstuffed sofa. “I had a good time, Harry. Do you miss it?” She asked, accepting a bottled butterbeer with a smile.

“Sometimes,” he shrugged. “It’s different here, more laid back. I like my life now, and everything in it,” he added, pulling her to his side to wrap his arm around her back. He reached for the remote on the arm of the sofa and began to flick the channels until they came across a movie neither had seen yet.

“What should we name it?” Cheyanne asked. “Do you hope for a boy or a girl?”

“Doesn’t matter to me. I’ll love him, or her, no matter what. As for the names we should start making a list or something. I’m not too picky – just not Harry junior,” he chuckled.

“Well, we have lots of time,” Cheyanne sighed, tightening her hold around Harry’s waist as she snuggled closer. “Love you, Haze,” she quietly said.

“Love you too, Chey,” Harry smiled, kissing the top of her head.


~*~


“What are you doing Mitch?!” Harry called out, rushing over to Cheyanne and him. “You know she can’t have any coffee.”

“I didn’t give her any, Haze,” Mitch said.

“You can’t leave your cup sitting on the bar. She’ll drink it,” Harry said, taking the cup from Cheyanne.

“Jeez, Haze, I was only sniffing it,” Cheyanne sighed. “I miss my caffeine fix.”

Harry poured her some orange juice then placed the glass in front of her. “Drink this,” he ordered.

“Do I have to put up with this for the whole pregnancy?” Cheyanne said, glaring at Mitch and Harry who were grinning at each other. “It’s been two months since I found out . . . ”

“That’s four months pregnant, Chey,” Mitch grinned.

“I know,” Cheyanne said, rubbing her stomach. She got up and took the wet cloth to wipe down the tables before they opened the doors. Harry went to take it from her. “Haze, we’ve been through this, I’m pregnant, not an invalid,” she pouted. “Why don’t you go up and mix me a milkshake. I could use one.”

Harry kissed her cheek, then happily went up to their suite to mix her a butterbeer and headache reliever milkshake. “He’s just worried about you, Chey,” Mitch smiled, wiping down the glasses behind the bar.

“I know,” she smiled. “He’s been great.”

“He’ll make a good daddy,” Mitch said. “Why don’t you go lay down upstairs. Rest up for tonight.”

“I think I will,” Cheyanne tiredly smiled, rubbing the small of her back. “See you in a few,” she added, waving behind her as she went out the back to climb the stairs to their apartment.

Harry was there, milkshake in hand. After she drank it down, she lay on her bed, sighing as Harry massaged her lower back. After she drifted off to sleep, Harry went down to the bar to open the place up with Mitch. It was around six, and Friday. They would be busy with the after work people wanting to drink to the weekend.

~*~


It was now eight and half months into Cheyanne’s pregnancy, and she sat at a corner table watching Harry dance close with his new boyfriend, or new lay. Her feet were propped on the chair in front of her. She felt a little useless, but she didn’t want to sit upstairs by herself, and Mitch and Harry wouldn’t let her do anything. She passed the time chatting with the regular ladies that came in every weekend.

Her headaches had been getting worse, and she tried hard to hide it from Harry. He worried enough as it is. She was taking Harry’s potion twice a day now. It was flaring bad every time she felt a twinge to her abdomen this day.

“Are you okay, Chey?” Doreen asked, a kindly woman who comes in with her brother, a couple of times a month to unwind away from their ranch.

“Yeah,” Cheyanne quietly said, then winced in pain as she moved a bit.

“When are you due?” Doreen asked, coming to sit closer to Cheyanne.

“Not for another two weeks.”

“When was the last pain?” Doreen asked, motioning for Harry who had glanced their way.

“I don’t know – maybe about half hour ago,” Cheyanne replied.

“Chey? You okay?” Harry asked, kneeling beside her chair to take her hand in his.

“Hurts Harry,” she whispered, leaning closer to him. “I’m scared, Harry.”

“Come on. We’re going to the hospital,” Harry said, helping Cheyanne to her feet.

“Take the truck, Harry,” Mitch called out, throwing him the keys that he caught effortlessly.

“Thanks, Mitch,” Harry nodded, then looked at Doreen who took the keys from him.

“I’ll drive. You calm Cheyanne,” Doreen said, turning to get the truck.

“Bossy,” Harry muttered, wrapping his arm around Cheyanne’s back after he helped her put her coat on.

“Yeah. She’s great,” Cheyanne chuckled. “Harry?”

“Yeah?” Harry replied, leading her out of the bar.

“I love you, you know,” Cheyanne softly said. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I love you too, Cheyanne,” Harry smiled, kissing her cheek before reaching out to open the truck door. He helped her in then climbed in after her to take her in his arms.

“Hospital’s waiting for you,” Mitch called out from the door.

“Thanks, Mitch,” Harry replied, through the open window. “As fast as you can get us there, Doreen,” he said, turning to the brunette woman in the driver’s seat.

The hospital was about a half hour away in Rune Valley. Cheyanne restlessly moved against Harry, her eyes squeezed shut from the pain in her head. About three quarters of the way, Cheyanne tensed in Harry’s arms, her hand gripping his painfully. A whimper was heard from her before she went limp in his arms.

“Chey?” Harry cried out. “Come on, baby, wake up,” he hoarsely said, turning her face to see her.

“Try Enervating her, Haze,” Doreen said, glancing worriedly at the blonde woman between them.

“What? How?”

“Later, Haze. Try it,” Doreen said, stepping on the gas pedal a little harder.

“Enervate,” Harry clearly said, touching the side of Cheyanne’s face. No response.

“She’s cold. Cheyanne, please wake up,” he cried. “Enervate,” he tried again.

“We’re here, Haze,” Doreen said, reaching to place her hand over Harry’s and Cheyanne’s clasped hands.

They drove right up to the emergency doors, where Cheyanne was lifted onto a gurney. The nurse and doctor leaned over her, taking her pulse and checking her heartbeat, as well as the baby’s. Harry tried to follow but was stopped by another nurse. “Are you the father?” She kindly asked.

“Yes,” Harry said, trying to push past the nurse to be stopped by her again.

“We need to take her into surgery to do an emergency caesarian section,” the doctor said, nodding to the other doctor as he wheeled Cheyanne away. “The nurse will show you to the maternity waiting room.”

“But . . . ” Harry began.

“Come on, Haze,” Doreen softly said, putting her arm around Harry’s back for them to follow the nurse.

“Why would she need surgery, Doreen? Do you think she’ll be okay?” Harry asked, sitting down on the edge of the chair, his elbows leaning on his knees.

“I honestly can’t tell you what’s going to happen, Haze,” Doreen said, taking his hand.

The two of them grew silent, each in their own thoughts. Harry got up and began to pace the small waiting room. “This isn’t normal, is it?” he asked, his pacing slowing.

“Have things ever been normal for you, Harry Potter,” Doreen smirked.

Harry stopped in his tracks. “How? ”

“My brother and I are magical, Haze. Not as powerful as you, but we make do,” she replied.

“How long have you known?” Harry asked, sitting down again, glancing at the clock to see that he had been pacing for about a half hour.

“Since I first met you.”

“But, that was almost three years ago.”

“We have relatives who live in Britain, and they send us the Daily Prophet. Your pictures were in them constantly when you disappeared. You looked a bit different from your pictures so we didn’t catch it till we got home. That first night at the bar, I kept looking at you like I should know you from somewhere.”

“And you’ve kept my secret?” Harry asked.

“You had been through so much, Haze. You deserved your anonymity.”

“Thanks, Doreen,” Harry said, giving a small smile as he got up to pace again.

“You will always be Haze to me,” she smiled, then got up. “I’ll get us some coffee and find out what’s going on. You sit,” she ordered.

Doreen came back, coffees in hand to see Harry sitting, his head in his hands. He heard her approach, and looked up. “Thanks, Doreen. Did you find out anything?”

“Not much, Haze. I’m not family, but they did tell me she was still in surgery.”

“Do you think they would tell me?” Harry asked. “I am the father of the baby.”

“The nurse told me the doctor will be in when he can, Haze. Let’s give it a bit of time, before bugging the nurse again.”

Harry nodded, then looked at the time again, then back again. “Thanks for staying with me, Doreen,” Harry tiredly smiled, taking her hand in his.

“Not a problem,” she smiled in return.

“Won’t Michael miss his mommy?” He teased.

“Michael will be fine. The ranch hands will keep him busy,” she grinned.

“And tire him out?” Harry smirked.

“There’s that too. He’s a little dynamo, but he’s my son,” she proudly said.

“How old is he now?” Harry asked.

“Just turned five last weekend,” she replied.

“Did you ever want other children?”

“Before Brian died, we had talked of it, and after the accident I didn’t really think much on it. I loved Brian. He was my whole life, but he wouldn’t want me to be alone. I’m only thirty years old, I can still have another child sometime,” she said.

Harry nodded. “So, has Chris popped the question yet? I saw him steal a kiss from you earlier tonight,” he teased.

“No, he hasn’t,” she laughed. “So, did you and Chey decide on any names?” She asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah,” Harry grinned. “Calista if it’s a girl. Colby if it’s a boy.”

“Nice names,” she smiled, then looked up to see the doctor approach them.

“Mister Sutton?” The doctor asked as he came closer.

“Yes, that’s me,” Harry said, standing up, wiping his sweating hands on his jeans.

“I’m Doctor Michaels. Can you please come with me to my office?” He requested.

Harry’s grip tightened on Doreen’s hand. “Please – don’t leave me Doreen,” he softly pleaded, dreading what he was going to hear.

Harry and Doreen sat at the edge of their seats while the doctor leaned his hip on his desk. “I’ve been Cheyanne’s doctor for quite a few years now, and this is one of the hardest parts of my job.”

“She’s gone, isn’t she?” Harry hoarsely asked.

“Yes, Cheyanne was risking her life to give life. She was a strong, amazing woman.”

“What do you mean – risking her life?” Doreen asked.

“She never told you, did she?” Doctor Michaels sighed, seeing the grief on his favorite patients’ friends’ faces. They both shook their heads.

“Cheyanne had been diagnosed with cancer over a year ago. The tumor was in her head.”

“That’s why she had the headaches?” Harry asked.

“Yes. The tumor was pressing on nerves in the brain, causing the headaches for Cheyanne. I would like to do some tests to find out the exact cause of death though. The last time she came in for tests, I was quite surprised to see that the tumor had not grown. They usually grow or spread without treatment.”

“Treatment?” Harry asked, silently thinking the potion he made for her kept her going a bit longer.

“Radiation treatment. When a cancer-diagnosed woman is pregnant, her choices are to abort and take the treatment, or go throughout the pregnancy with the pain. It was risky. She was prescribed a form of a light pain reliever for her headaches, but wouldn’t take anything else,” Doctor Michaels stated.

“What do you think caused her death, Doctor?” Doreen asked.

“When I checked her eyes, they were quite dilated. That is a possible sign of a stroke or cerebral aneurysm. I won’t know for sure until we do some tests.”

“And the baby? Is it okay?” Harry asked.

“He is in intensive care. We had to do a caesarian section when Cheyanne stopped breathing. The baby was not breathing very well on his own at the beginning. We cleared the baby’s airways, drawing out the fluid that was interfering in the baby’s breathing. We have a ventilator hooked up to him to help him breath normally. We will be watching over his breathing and his heart rate and to make sure he is warm. Once he is stable enough to be moved, we will do some blood tests to rule out any problems and check the baby’s blood count and blood sugar levels,” the Doctor said. “He may be with us for a few weeks.”

“I have a son,” Harry quietly said.

“Yes, you do,” Doctor Michaels smiled. He went around the desk and took out a long envelope. “Cheyanne asked that I give you this if she did not make it through the birth.”

“How long ago?” Harry asked, accepting the envelope with shaking hands.

“A few months ago.”

“So, she knew?” Harry asked, letting the tears break free.

“She knew there was a good chance she wouldn’t make it. This baby was important to her regardless if her own life was at risk.”

“If she wasn’t pregnant, would she have been okay?” Harry asked.

“She had a couple of years at the most without treatment. She did not want to go through what her mother went through,” the Doctor replied.

“Can I see my son?” Harry asked.

“Of course, although you can’t hold him as he is in an incubator to help monitor his life signs and keep him warm. Did you and Cheyanne decide on a name for your son?” Doctor Michaels kindly asked.

“Yes,” Harry whispered, getting up when the doctor did. “Colby James.”

“Colby James,” the doctor repeated. “A fine name,” he smiled. “Follow me then and we’ll go see Colby.”

Harry followed the doctor to the large window and looked at the tiny pink baby with the wires and tubes connected all over his little body. He saw the little arms and feet move and smiled when he saw that the baby was actually moving on his own. He placed his hand on the window as if reaching through the many layers of glass to touch his son, his last link to his friend, and let the tears flow freely down his cheeks.

Behind him, Doreen and Doctor Michaels stepped back, letting Harry alone with his thoughts as they talked quietly amongst themselves.


Note: Rune Valley - fictional (as far as I know). Got it from a name generator

Butterbeer has been written as alcoholic in a lot of fics, a few that I've written myself. In this story, it is non-alcoholic (thanks harrydraco4life for pointing that out)

tbc