Not wanting to risk me accidently bonding with her son again, one week after I have given birth, Astoria declares that my services have come to an end, and I will no longer be required to express milk.

"You've done enough," she says, handing me a Gringotts cheque for five hundred thousand galleons. "And I will let you know when my soon to be ex-husband finally pulls his finger out and agrees to sign the adoption papers. If he wants his divorce finalised, then he knows what to do."

Astoria cannot be named the legal mother without Draco's consent. And he's refusing to give it. So, even though I signed on my dotted line, as promised, the documents are completely useless without Draco's signature.

I haven't seen Draco since I handed over the baby to Astoria. He's made no attempt at contact. Not that I expected him to. I broke his heart. As far as he's concerned, I've torn his family apart. But we were never supposed to be a family in the first place. He was someone else's husband and I was just the surrogate who also donated some eggs.

My job here is done.

Slowly, I pack my things. I've been shut away in the room for the past week with only Marge visiting with food and drink and in turn collecting my expressed milk. Astoria hasn't even been to see me before she dismissed me. Her manner had changed completely towards me, acting curt and professional. I suppose she saw me for what I really was on that day: a husband and almost baby stealer.

It didn't matter to her that I had changed my mind and kept to my promise after all. She saw in that moment what I was capable of, and I guess that was it for her. I don't really blame her.

So no one was there to wave me off when I walked out of the manor for the very last time.

Due to the amount of stuff I have, I ordered a taxi to pick me up.

"Where to, love?" the gruff, balding taxi man asked once I loaded my bags into the boot and slid into the back seat.

I shrug, not having actually planned anything from this point. I think of the cheque tucked in my purse. "Diagon Alley, I guess."

"Eh? Where's that then? Never heard of it."

Shit, yeah. Muggle things.

"Um, I meant Charing Cross Road in London."

"London? Blimey! That's over one hundred miles away! You good for the fare?"

I nod, trying to stem the dull ache in my gut as I bite back the tears. "Yes, I'm good for it."

As we begin to roll down the drive, I dare let myself steal a glance back at the manor. My heart stops and breaks as, on the steps, watching me leave, is Astoria holding a baby.

My baby.

******

I check myself and my things into the Leaky Cauldron the second we arrive. I'm not sure where I will stay after this. The thought of going through with my plan to buy my old family home back makes me feel sadder than ever.

I wonder if Draco will move back into the manor, and if so, where will Astoria go? And the baby? Will he stay with her or Draco? Will they try and work on their marriage for the baby's sake? Somehow, I doubt it. Thinking about it makes me cry and I find myself sobbing on my bed in utter sadness. I feel as though someone has died, the grief is so consuming and I do not know how I'll ever get through this.

I wish I had never met the Malfoys, wished with all my heart that I had listened to Ginny when she implored me not to do this.

But I can't dwell on it. I have to move on. I have to remember a time before the Malfoys, otherwise I will drive myself insane with grief.

I walk along Diagon Alley, making my way to Gringotts. It's fairly busy with lots of small bodies bustling about, and I realise the summer holidays must have started. I keep my head down and hurry along, praying I do not bump into anyone I know. I am not ready to speak to anyone yet. I don't think I could face the questions.

I make it to Gringotts without being stopped. I sigh with relief as I run up the stone steps. But then I groan upon seeing all the long queues inside. I consider coming back at a quieter time, but the idea of making the journey again puts me off.

I'm in the queue for about twenty minutes before the elderly wizard in front of me complains loudly that the wait time is ridiculous and storms off. My first instinct is to run when a woman cradling a newborn baby is revealed to have been in front of him.

Don't be daft, I scold myself. You can't run every time you see a baby.

I try to distract myself by focusing on a family in another queue. Two children - likely siblings - are arguing. The mother with them is getting angry. "I should have given you both up at birth!" she yells at them.

More pain. I turn back to my queue only to find the baby has started grizzling. The woman starts gently rocking it and sings softly. She looks down at her child with such a tender look of love it makes my heart twist and I look down, hate that it hurts so much.

And that's when I discover my t-shirt is drenched through with milk.

It's too much, I turn and run from the bank before anyone can notice. I hurry down the street and do not stop until I get back to my room in the Leaky Cauldron. I quickly get changed and replace my breast pads. I wonder how long I am going to continue lactating before my body realises there is no baby to feed anymore.

Realising I need a friend to talk to, I sit on my bed and grab my phone.

"Harper!" Ginny says, answering immediately. "Why haven't you been answering your phone? We've been worried sick! Have you given birth yet?"

"Um- yes." I say, my voice horrifically strangled. "The baby was born a week ago today. Astoria is thrilled."

"What?" Ginny splutters. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"I've been... busy," I say, finding this a lot harder than I had anticipated. "With expressing... you know."

"Tell me about it," Ginny says. "Albus won't stop sucking on my nipples they are so cracked I want to cry."

I close my eyes as that familiar pain engulfs me. I think of the little baby in my arms, feeding from me, his little curled fists and Draco looking so happy as he tenderly sweeps his fingers over soft white-blond wisps of hair.

"Harper?" Ginny says, her voice full of concern. "Shit are you crying? Where are you? Are you alright?"

"No," I sob choking out the words as I sit alone in my room, clutching my empty stomach in grief. "I'm not alright, Ginny. I'm not alright at all."

*****