I Want To Be Loved: Chapter Three
It was nice to be alone. Hermione and Ron loved him, but sometimes they were overprotective. They knew more than most how much he craved touch, to be loved and loved in turn. Still, there were times when he needed to be in solitude, to gather himself in silence.
Especially now, when there was a twist of magic tugging at him. It was dark and desperate, something that was familiar and foreign at the same time. He couldn't help but follow it, even if it wasn't the best idea, but that had never stopped him before. It reminded him of time magic, an echo of the second year. It was different, chaotic, and wild, begging him to follow and accept the gift it offered.
Harry walked forward absentmindedly, his feet guiding him as if he were going somewhere familiar. It was akin to muscle memory, the whispering that says 'you've been here and 'this is the way. He listened and allowed the magic to guide him, not afraid.
There's something just beyond his reach, something he can almost touch.
He can feel it in the way the air caresses his face and blows his hair back; it creates a dark halo around his face, and he doesn't care, not when that's the truth. They'll never notice, not when people only see what they want.
The magic burns in his chest, electricity rising from deep within.
Here is a forgotten ritual room. It's dusty, abandoned, and empty.
But Harry knows. He can feel it, can sense it in a way that feels personal. Whoever it is, they're coming from him. Maybe he should be scared or worried. Hermione and Ron would want him to be cautious and on guard, but whatever this is doesn't feel dangerous- or at least not to him. It feels soft and hopeful, even if the magic is dripping with darkness. That's why he's not afraid.
He's not quite sure what he expected, but the appearance of a child was not something he had thought of.
A little girl manifested in front of him around the age of five. She was so tiny, doll-like in her delicacy, so familiar his heart ached. Her eyes were wide and watery, one hand holding tightly to a stuffed rabbit and the other to a time-turner. The child looked at him with stunned yet unafraid eyes, wet starry eyes as if she had been waiting her entire life for this. No child has looked at him like this, as if he were their whole world.
Harry's not stupid. He knows what that look means; he saw it in how Dudley used to look at Aunt Petunia. No one had ever looked at him as if he were their entire world. Yes, people have worshipped him and thought the world of him. But they saw Harry Potter, the Savior of the wizarding world. They never saw Harry, just Harry. Yet this child, young as she was, saw who he was and still looked at him as if he were her saving grace, with complete trust and love.
"Mama!" She sobbed and slammed into him.
"Hey, it's okay." He quickly drops to the floor, cradling her in his arms. "It's okay, baby; I've got you."
He knows that this is his child, no matter how absurd it seems. This beautiful girl with heterochromatic eyes and silvery-white hair clinging to him for dear life was his daughter.
It was a welcome surprise, but a surprise because he never planned on having children. He didn't think he'd live long enough to have a child. His best friends hate that train of thought and have tried to pull it out of him, but he's always thought he wouldn't make it out alive. There is too much on his shoulders. He is hard where he shouldn't be and too soft to make it out alive. The volcano will get him, swallow him alive. One day, he knows, it will be a tsunami that swells against him until nothing is left of him.
But this, having a child, changes everything. Harry won't make the same mistake his parents did. He won't make an orphan out of his child.
"What's your name, baby?" The words are soft and gentle, everything he's wanted to be.
"Delphini." She pulls back to look at him, a small hand touching his face. A larger one takes her hands. Harry, her mama, has hands that are rough in some places and soft in others. "I missed you, mama."
"Can you tell me what happened?" He rubbed her back, grimacing at the prominent ridges of her back. It was all too similar to the days of starvation at the Dursleys.
"Papa was dead." She whispered. "Papa died and left us. He left us, and everyone hated me. They tried to take you away from me." Her soft cries turned into aching wails. "They keep trying to take you away from me."
He held her tighter, pressing his chin against the top of her head. "I'm here now. I have you."
"Don't let them take me away from you." She cried. "I don't want to leave you again, mama!"
"I won't let them take you away." And he wouldn't, not when this was his family. Delphini was his child, and would do whatever it took to protect her, even if her father was who he thought it was. "You're my child, my baby, and I'll never let anything happen to you again."
"Yes." The answer was immediate. "I have you."
Harry's voice softened. "I'll always have you."
