Chapter 4 - Transition

The weeks rolled by and turned into months. Harry was becoming very fond of Stella. They were going steady for quite a while before Harry had proposed marriage. Harry abandoned Grimmauld Place and moved into Stella's home to avoid the problems that would arise if he'd asked her to move in with him. How would he explain the fact that his house appears between two others at his whim? Or that he has a little, grouchy elf servant that talks to the moving photos on his walls? It was better to leave all that out of the equation and keep his life as unperturbed as possible. Stella quickly became pregnant after they were married. Harry's life was going great.

He mostly used contact lenses, although he kept his glasses with him at all times, just incase. And he still used the false name Arthur Kipps, but had not bothered to legally change it due to the fact that he felt as if changing his identity would be an insult to his parents; Lily and James Potter. He enjoyed working as a solicitor, though his boss, Mr. Bently, was quite a difficult man than he first appeared to be. He often would reprimand Harry for being late. Though Harry was only late on days when Stella was feeling ill from morning sickness. She would need Harry's attention, and even though Harry didn't want to be late to work, he still cared for her. Sometimes losing track of the time and barely making it to work on time. Other days, Harry would arrive an hour late if he needed to take Stella to her doctor appointments.

He made sure to be on time after he received a substantial pay cut. Harry sighed as he sat at his desk. He was going over some legal papers regarding a man who'd recently passed away due to a sudden accident, and had not left a will and final testament. He owned a large company that sold designer clothes; he was worth millions and now his family was fighting like junkyard dogs for control of his assets. Harry didn't enjoy the insane turmoil some cases brought to his life, but he knew he had to take the good with the bad in every situation. He'd just turned to the next page, when his phone rang.

"Hello?" He answered.

"Arthur!" It was Stella. "I'm going into labour," she said, her voice harsh and breathy.

"Oh, lord! I'll be right there, darling." Harry said and hung up the phone.

He scrambled for his keys, coat, and briefcase. As he was heading out the door he called to Mr. Bently, who was in his own office, "I have to leave early. My wife is going into labour."

And then he slipped out before Mr. Bently could try to stop him or chastise him about not having a good work ethic. He ran to the back of the old building, where he'd parked his car that morning, and unlocked the driver's door as quickly as humanly possible. He was excited and screamingly nervous all at the same time.

"I'm going to be a father. I'm going to be a father." he said to himself as he pulled out of the parking lot, as if saying it out loud would make it any less surreal.

With the additional chaos of running a stop sign, and nearly getting hit by another car in the cross-lane, Harry arrived at his and Stella's home rather quickly. She was waiting for him in the living room in her maternity dress, with her over-night suitcase that Harry had packed for her just last week. Good thing too.

"Come on, love," Harry said, helping Stella stand up from the couch, "I've got the car still running."

"Oh, Arthur. Thank you." She said with a warm smile as he led her out to the car.

He ran back in to grab her suitcase and then lock the front door before getting in the car himself and driving them to the hospital. Along the way, he ran a stop sign, but no one was around to see, so it was all right in his estimation. Stella was in labour and he needed to get to the hospital as fast as possible. Thank goodness most of the lights to the hospital were green. Harry didn't really think about it then, but as they pulled up to the hospital's Emergency Entrance, Harry wondered if he'd had something to do with all the lights staying green. He knew he'd experience bouts of wandless magic before, and he wondered if that was the case now. He wouldn't be surprised if it was.

Harry led Stella inside and called for a doctor and told them what the situation was. The nurses and a doctor came over with a wheel chair for Stella before taking her to the maternity ward.

"I love you Arthur." Stella whispered as he walked with them all to the ward.

Harry took her hand in his. "I love you too."

"I'm scared," she mouthed.

"It's okay. I'm right here," he whispered, and gave her a reassuring smile.

She smiled too and squeezed his hand a little, before they reached the door of a room and she was led inside. Harry meant to follow, but the doctor stopped him.

"I'm sorry, sir. You can't come in. We everything to remain sanitary, and we don't have an extra scrubs you could wear," he said.

Harry hesitated. He wanted to be with Stella and respect hospital regulations, and for a moment he wished he had his wand, so that he could Imperius the doctor, but then decided that would be foolish. So he simply nodded and waited outside the door.

Hours later Harry paced in the waiting room while his wife was in the maternity ward, giving birth. He paced restlessly for the last three hours. What the hell was taking so long? He worried and fretted and garnered some curious glances as he began mumbling to himself like a crazy person who'd escaped from the mental ward on the seventh floor. Though, a considerate nurse did offer to get him some coffee, if he'd like. He politely declined and thanked her for her offer. After another ten minutes, Harry thought he was going to die from anxiety. He'd bitten all his fingernails off in agitation and picked at his cuticles until they began to bleed.

"Shit." Harry groused as his index finger began to hurt.

Just then a nurse walked out of the hospital room, carrying a small bundle of blankets that was crying insistently. The woman seemed sad though, and Harry had direful feeling creeping it's way through his body. She handed the baby to him.

"It's a boy, Mr. Kipps," she said in monotone, the looked at him hesitantly.

For a second, Harry felt a over-joyed warmth spread through his chest as he looked at the little baby boy in his arms - who immediately stopped crying at the sense of his father's embrace. But then Harry diverted his attention back to the nurse, waiting to hear what she had to tell him. She swallowed and sighed, fidgeting with her hand slightly. She was young and probably wasn't used to delivering bad news to poor, unsuspecting people. Harry worried.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kipps, but... your wife... she's gone." The young nurse said, and fearing Harry's reaction, just quietly returned to her work.

Harry was in shock. He'd felt like he was suddenly doused with ice-cold water as his world simultaneously shattered and crumbled around his feet. To keep from falling over, Harry sat down in one of the cushioned chairs. Although the rest of him felt unstable, his arms were clenched tight in fear of dropping his precious son. His son. He looked down at the small piece of Stella in his arms. The baby's eyes were open and looking up at him curiously. His eyes were a beautiful bluish with flecks of green. He had his mother's eyes.

"It'll be all right," Harry said to the baby, "It's gonna be all right, Albus Severus Potter."

Harry named his son so in honour of the two men whom had worked so hard to protect him in his adolescence at Hogwarts; Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore, and Severus Snape. He'd swore to himself that his son would he named after them. In memory of their loss and the loss of his wife, Harry broke; sobbing uncontrollably as he held his son close. On some level, he really missed Hogwarts...

They kept baby Albus Potter at the hospital overnight for observation to make sure he was a healthy newborn and told Harry that he could take him home tomorrow morning. Harry left for home. The only home he'd felt like he'd truly belonged. Grimmauld Place. If only just for this one night. It's too fresh a wound; the loss of Stella. He can't spend the night there. Not so soon. He'll have to go back there tomorrow with Albus, but for now he'd rather dwell in comfortable nostalgia that was Sirius' abode.

Over the next few weeks, Harry kept working and taking care of his son. He threw himself into his job and the well-being of his only child to avoid his emotions. It was his way of grieving. He'd also hired a nanny to care for his son while he was working. A lovely middle-aged woman, named Meredith Godderson. She was an incredible woman who was alway polite and nurturing in her duties. Harry also paid her extra for any additional house-work while he was away. They remained at Stella's home, what with the fact that his hired nanny was a muggle and Harry was working with Stella's family on the matter of her passing. Not that there was much to do... Harry arrived home late in the evening, tired as usual. Meredith greeted him at the door.

"Hello, Mr. Kipps. Albus is tucked away in his crib, sleeping like a baby." she smiled warmly and moved to take his coat.

Harry laughed. "That's because he is a baby."

She divested him of his large black coat and hung it on the coat rack. An enticing smell wafted from the kitchen and hit Harry's nose. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the rich scent.

"What is that delicious smell?" Harry asked, as he stepped further into the house, rolling up the sleeves of his white, collared, button-down shirt.

Meredith moved to the kitchen, while Harry busied himself with looking at the new mail, most of it junk. "Beef and lamb stew, with cheese and asparagus fried rice," she said from the kitchen, metal utensils clinking on cast-iron skillets.

Harry looked at a letter from Mr. Bently, assigning him to the new Wenton Forth case, and telling him that the Forth family is eager to work with him. Harry groaned aloud in utter frustration, that's a bloody lie. Harry's not the type of solicitor whose reputation precedes them. He's messed up more than once with a person's assets.

Just then there was screeching coming from the living room window that was slightly ajar. Harry glanced over to see what it was, and he paled. An owl! Oh dear, if his nanny sees a Horned Owl with a letter in it's beak addressed to Harry Potter, she's going to think he's mental! Or at the very least that the owl is mental. Or that the whole situation is just complete madness! Harry raced to the window, quickly grabbing the letter from the owl.

"Shoo, you can't be here!" Harry whispered harshly, waving his hand frantically.

The owl hooted indignantly and flew away, but not before biting Harry's finger and giving him a nice little gash from a razor-sharp beak. Harry quickly closed the window and hid the letter in his trousers just as Meredith asked from the kitchen, "What was that noise?"

"Nothing!" Harry lied smoothly, "I'm gonna go shower before dinner."

"All right. Don't be too long." She told him in response, "Food will be done soon!"

"Okay." Harry said and darted into the bathroom.

Harry locked the door behind him and pulled the letter out of his trousers. It was indeed addressed to a Harry Potter. The parchment was a soft cream colored shade, and it smelled of musty old books and something distinctly familiar. He opened the letter and saw the neat and near-perfect scrawl that was unforgettable. Hermione.

'Dear Harry,

I hope you're doing well. I'm worried about you.

And although he won't admit it, Ron is too.

We haven't heard from you in over a year!

Molly has been asking about you.

And Ginny sends her sincere apologies.

Please write back soon.

- Love, Hermione.'

Harry inhaled deeply and placed his hand over his mouth in thought. Emotions surfaced and he wanted to either cry or scream; he didn't know which. He honestly didn't know what to write back. Tell them what happen with Stella? He loved Ron and Hermione, but some things he'd rather keep private. And then he started wondering why he'd left the wizarding world in the first place. Was it really that bad to be a celebrity for destroying the Darkest wizard of all time? He supposed not, but now he's stuck between a rock and a hard place and he doesn't know if he wants to go back or stay in the muggle world. So instead of thinking about it too much, Harry walked to his bedroom and pulled out a little stationery set - that stella gave to him on his birthday - and began to write a letter to Hermione.

'Dear Hermione,

I miss you. And Ron.

Hope you're doing well.

I'm fine. Write any time.

I'll be in touch.

-Love, Harry.'

Fair warning: I am, after all (as you probably very well know, if you've read my fics) a slash writer. So... keep that in mind, my dear readers. ;)