Flash-forward around a month later, it's opening night of the Symphony and let's just say that I was feeling particularly anxious.

"There's a literal thousand people in the bloody auditorium! How in the sodding hell am I going to pull this off?" I said to Andre, who was just as nervous.

"Do that thing where your hand develops it's own mind." He said, patting me on the shoulder, "you're up."

"Lord save me." I sighed, plastering on a smile and walking out as the crowd erupted in loud applause, "good evening, I suppose? Thank you all for coming, for the newbies and also for the recurring fans. If you expected Sylvester Holt, I'd like to say sorry, but he's been dead for quite a bit. Right, I'm Harry, the third, and musical son of Sylvester, and suppose I'll be conducting the meticulous Symphony tonight, the original from when Sylvester performed here." I smiled widely as I got another applause, it felt mighty good, "without further a due I present the Symphony!" I turned around, as people settled down. It was time for the hands to do their own thing and stop shaking; I picked up the stick and then did a small countdown. The opening notes of Blanc filled the air, and there the hands went, all I could do was smile and listen. It was almost a surreal experience, standing in front of this world-renowned orchestra, doing this monumental thing. When the final notes of his fifth Symphony faded out, the audience once again erupted in applause, and I turned around, taking a quick bow, before stepping to the side, and extending my arm as to present the Symphony. Backstage my mother practically couldn't speak she was so baffled, so Winston gave me a rather tight hug and said, "I had no idea you were such an ace."

I smiled and basked in the glory of the praise, and when everyone took a glass of champagne at the after party, I thought 'why not?' and did anyway, because I was so euphoric in that moment.

When the kids and I finally arrived home, Jude had fallen asleep and I had to carry him to bed, which proved hard since he was now about fifteen, and getting quite heavy.

"Dad, I wish I could've met Sylvester." Aubella said, when we had gotten Jude in bed.

"I wish you could've too, love. He was a great person, lovely, and lively." I replied, and smiled.

"Yeah, you were really great up there tonight, it almost looked like you belonged up there, Dad." She said, placing her head in the crook of my neck.

"Can I tell you a secret?" I asked.

"What?" She gazed over to me.

"I was pissing myself beforehand." I said, and she laughed notably.

"Always, father, always." She replied, yawning afterwards.

"Let's get you to bed, love." I said, and she nodded, practically falling into my lap. I helped her up, and into bed, and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead, "love you, Bells. Sleep tight."

"Love you too, Dad." She said, half asleep. I didn't go to sleep immediately, I opened the French doors leading out onto our balcony and watched all the lights for a while. And it reminded me of when Rose and I were on our honeymoon across Europe together. We had just arrived in Stockholm, and it was mighty late, but neither of us were tired.

"I see why this is your favourite city." She smiled, as she scooted closer and I put my arm around her waist.

"Yeah, it lights up in the dark, and it's beautiful, you should see it from the sky. I'll take you on a hot air balloon ride one night, it's magnificent." I smiled.

"Aren't you afraid of heights?" She laughed softly.

"Partially, but I forget about it when I'm with you, because I'm practically always soaring." I said, and even in the low light I could see how she blushed down to the floor.

"Flattery will always be your most fluent language." She stated, smiling.

"Flattery isn't the only thing I'm pretty fluent at, love." I simpered playfully, joining our lips. And the memory stung like a knife being slowly inserted into my heart. Somehow though, I didn't feel like hurling myself off the ledge, or drowning myself in alcohol, I felt content. I felt almost happily nostalgic, I hadn't thought of Rose in such a while, that this was a great memory, a good reality check. I had missed seeing her face constantly in my mind, and for the first time in two years I went to bed feeling pretty great, and not wondering why I hadn't died with Rose.

A/N:

:') my son