FicWad

The world is a surprisingly fragile place. One little move, and all the dice fall differently. From the vantage point where I now stand, beyond the border of life and death, I can see all the possibilities of what might have bee. Some turn out better, some worse. Many traits are shared between the different worldlines, many aren't. In most of them, I have a wonderful son named Harry Potter, who, after Lilly and I die, spends the formative years of his life in the tender care of his brutish relatives, before growing up to vanquish You-Know-Who a second time.

But the world which I will tell you about is different. And it all starts with such a minor change, a butterfly flapping it's wings...

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Bright and early one October morning:

“Hey,” Lilly called. “Come look.” A quick glance out of the window showed me what my lovely wife was pointing at. A strange, brilliant blue butterfly, hovering by the windowsill. Lilly pulled out a textbook, Beautiful Butterflies: A Complete Guide, and was attempting to look it up.

What I had been called away from was my second favorite pursuit: Thinking about how wonderful my wife was, and about the joys of our sex life. I was trying to figure out how to distract her so I could sweep her off her feet, and I this pretty little butterfly just gave me my chance.

I wiggled my hand under her blouse, and she giggled up at me gently. As my hand cupped her left breast (Ah! How wonderful! How divine!) I whispered in her ear. “How about we get you out of those clothes?”

Hey, I never said I am the most eloquent talker, but when I comes to Lilly it doesn't matter. Two newlyweds on a honeymoon: What do you expect us to fill the days with? And what to you think my first favorite pursuit is?

She squirmed out of her blouse, and I helped her take off her bra. She focused her attention on my pants, and with a thump they fell to the floor.

I let my hands fun over her superb breast, feeling them in their most exquisite smoothness, caressing their firm tenderness. She gently strokes my cock between her fingers, and before long it is erect and rock hard, pointing straight up at the ceiling.

At this point, I am so aroused I can't stand it and longer, so I sit. More importantly though, I guide Lily's beautiful head down too between my legs. She takes my hint, slowly running her tongue around the tip of my throbbing penis. I don't just sit back and take it, of course. My hands lift her skirt up, and skilfully find her pussy. As I stick a finger in to her center of delight, she moans softly, and redoubles her work on my dick.

Her mouth starts sliding up and down my length, caressing my gently with her soft tongue. When she brings her small soft hands around and squeezes my balls, I grunt in pleasure, but try to hold it off as long as possible.

I slip another finger inside her, and with my other hand I pinch her clitoris. She takes my entire shaft in her mouth in one big swallow, and as my penis hits the back of her throat, I slid my fingers up and down inside her, eliciting a delighted groan, echoing around my cock in agonizing pleasure. I can't hold it any more and cum. I shoot my load into her waiting mouth, and she swallows it eagerly. I redouble my efforts on her vagina, and I am rewarded when she orgasms too in a sudden burst of ecstasy.

I guess that isn't enough for lovebirds like ourselves, so before long we are at it again. I pick her up, and gently set her down on our couch. She is still wearing her skirt, so I make short work of it, and pretty soon we are both as naked as the day we were born. She wiggles seductively on the couch. “Come on! Come and get me! Who's my awesome husband?”

Well, who can turn down an invitation like that? My hand hefts my recovering penis, and she cups her breast, presenting them to me. I have a different idea though. Her hair is so shiny and silk smooth, and as I run my cock through it, it sends electric tingles up my spine. Meanwhile. my fingers creep along the nape of her neck, gently touching her in all the right places.

She wiggles in pleasure at my touch, and before long my dick is as erect as it ever was. She leans her upper body back, presenting me with her amazing vagina. Her hand reach upwards to guide me towards her entrance, and I press in.

Her walls press tight around me, as I slowly slide forwards. Did I already comment on how amazing her pussy is? It felt like a little slice of heaven. I lean forwards, to nuzzle my face against her breasts, as I push the final distance in. She mummers at me her please, and with a grunt I pull out, before slamming back in again.

She moans this time, a mumble I could hardly hear, but I am almost sure it was my name, I pull out and delve back in again, and this time when she calls my name I comes out loud and clear. Again and again, I slide in and out, and she moans my name in pleasure.

Finally, she has had enough, and with a gasp, she goes over the edge. The walls of her vagina contract around my length, as she twists and turns under me in the pure joy of orgasm.

This, in turn, finally sets me off, and for the second time today, spurts of semen shot out, this time burying themselves deep inside her womb. And one of these many sperm would go on to become what was, for the rest of my admittedly short life, the pride and joy of my existence: My daughter, Rose.

Not that she isn't still the pride and joy of my non-existence: I still stick around her, on the other side of the barrier to the netherworld, just to be close to her and see what is happening in her life, despite the fact that she will never know how close and yet so far away I am.

So that's how Rose was conceived. And so the world changed...

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“I'm sorry, Dumbledore,” McGonagle said in a stern voice “But I can not let you leave a little girl with those dreadful muggles.”

Dumbledore sighed. “I must, Minerva. There is no other choice, if the nation of magical Britan is to survive what it will surely go through.”

“I will not allow this madness, Dumbledore.” Minerva McGonagle replied in a voice that brooked no protest.

Their argument came to an abrupt halt, however, when the DMLE arrived on the scene.

“Dumbledore! I'm glad we found you!” came the voice of the head of the DMLE, Bartimaeus Crouch. “We've been looking all over for you! Have you heard the rumors? What are you doing here in Surrey?”

Dumbledore turned to face the newcomers. “Indeed I have heard the rumors, Bartimaeus. And I can confirm that they are mostly valid, although probably not the more unlikely ones. The one about Voldemort slipping on a banana peel is too ridiculous to be considered credible, no matter how hard those who support that theory argue.”

Crouch didn't know quite how to respond to this, so his response was a curt “We need your help rounding up the Death Eaters. With You-Know-Who gone, they are disorganized, and now is our chance to strike, if ever. There is no time to lose.”

“You'd better aid them with that,” said McGonagle. “If you still wish to peruse your mad scheme, we can discuss it after the Death Eaters are safely locked away.”

Dumbledore shrugged in resignation. “Minerva, I entrust you with young Rose's care until I get back.” With a pop, he and the aurors appariting away.

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Well, bureaucracy is ponderous, but hen it gets moving it has quite a bit of weight at its back. By the time Dumbledore got back, the legal system was already debating in which home to place the girl, and no amount of Dumbledore's pleading that he knew best could sway the Wizengamot into placing their savior in the care of muggles.

Lucius had the strongest case: His wife is my second cousin, and so his son is Rose's third cousin, her closest wizarding relatives. Well, Andromeda Tonks and her daughter Nymphadora is just as closely related, but Lucius is the one with money at his back, and in the world of politics, money and power are everything.

And so, Lucius managed to pull off a major political coup. To be the guardian of the Girl-Who-Lived is quite an honor, and growing up in his house, their would be no doubt of her future political views. It would be quite helpful in political arguments to have the Girl-Who-Lived on your side, would it not? Needless to say, I was furious, but what could I do? I had less influence on the world than a gust of air, a mote of dust. I could only observe.