I wish.

I've only got eyes for you (July, 2035)

Warnings from the first chapter still apply. I do not own Harry Potter in any way shape or form. Thank you very much to Dramione Perfected and Lauren for the help with this chapter and a huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed . I appreciate it so much and it really dose encourage me to write :)  

I was nine when dad died. It was the year Al started Hogwarts, and the year when Teddy was training to be an Auror. Dad never really got to see me start anything, save my birth, let alone finish. He didn't get to see me off on the platform; didn't get a letter saying I was in Hufflepuff. He didn't get to scare my first boyfriend or see my first Quidditch match. Would he have been happy that I was a chaser? Or would he have been worried that I was acting so much like his wife?

I don't know and I'm never going to.

I barely remember that day. It's strange that, for the most part, the day my dad died had been a happy one, full of excitement and laughter. It had all passed by in delightful whirl and the only thing I remember now is the night. Granddad had taken us back to the burrow and we'd had hot chocolate and I'd laughed at the tales Gran told me about mum as a little kid. I'd gone to bed feeling happy and warm and safe. I'd dreamt of the magnificent ballroom we'd spent the evening in and imagined dancing with a handsome man one day; looking as graceful and beautiful as mum had in dad's arms.

However, my dreams were entwined with another scene I'd witnessed that evening; one that stood out for all the wrong reasons. I had been hiding, from Lorcan and Lysander, thinking they wouldn't dare come in the girl's toilets, when the door was opened and I'd heard a man's voice. Stifling a squeal, I'd ducked into one of the cubicles. I'd let out a relieved sigh when I'd recognised my dad's voice, quietly protesting at being in female territory. I'd smiled and had been about to jump out and surprise him when I'd heard my mum's irate voice,

"Who the hell does that tart think she is?"

"She was just being polite," my dad replied, trying to sound light-hearted and I'd wondered who they were talking about. I heard mum's heels click on the tiled floor, as if they were just as angry as she.

"She was all over you," she'd fumed.

"She never touched me!" Dad had protested. There had been nothing light-hearted about this, not the usual banter that existed between them - but it couldn't be an argument. My parents didn't argue. I'd never heard them argue.

"I suppose you like the way she says ''Arry'," she'd scoffed and I remember how surprised I'd been at the spite in my usually fair-minded mother's voice.

"She's just a friend." He'd sounded exasperated at this point, as if he'd been through this more than once with her. I'd decided to risk it and opened the door a crack. Mum's back had been to me and I could just make out dad as he'd leant against a sink, rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

"You know her!" I couldn't understand the heat of the accusation: my dad knew a lot of people and after all, it had been a Ministry event. He'd shrugged casually.

"She's our Misuse of Muggle Artifacts liaison."

"I bet she'd like to do more than liaise with you!" I was only vaguely aware what she meant by that, and made a face. I couldn't blame mum for being mad if someone was trying to take him from her, but I didn't get why she was upset with him. It was hardly his fault; some women just acted weird around him. Dad had sighed, as if he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"She knows I'm married. She's seen pictures of the kids." His hand had wandered down to his pocket and I'd half expected him to get his wallet out and look through them. He'd done that often.

"That doesn't stop people like that." She'd dumped her bag on the sink beside him with a clatter and started rummaging through it.

"People like that?" I'd seen a look of annoyance cross his face before it became neutral once more. He'd taken a breath and his tone had turned placating again. "You've only just met her, Gin."