"Ok," he said, his face perking up. "I'm Harry."
Luna dragged Harry off and the necromancer found herself engaged in small talk, a rare occurrence as she largely spoke to dead people. Pandora Lovegood was very polite if not a bit eccentric, and had a wealth of knowledge on proper child-rearing. Alabasandria found herself and Harry invited over to the Lovegood home for dinner.
And they ended up going. And they had a nice time. It was a bizarre experience for her and Harry. Harry, having only witnessed a dinner party through the cracks in the cupboard door, had assumed them boring and pretentious and as a way to tell golf jokes. Alabasandria, who made a point to not interact with people, had never been to any sort of social gathering at all.
Xenophilius and Pandora were weird enough people that they did not ask too many questions about her work or how she had spontaneously acquired a child. The most famous wizard child at that. The small talk was absurd and engaging, and the meal was delicious.
Alabasandria refused to admit that it had been nice to get out of her stuffy house for once but Harry had enjoyed himself immensely, bonding with Luna as they ran around outside chasing some imaginary creature.
They left after dinner, as apparently small children were supposed to go to bed early, and she escorted her charge to his room. The newly conjured bedroom was quite plain compared to the intense pastel nightmare Luna Lovegood's room had been. Dark blue walls complemented onyx black furniture, and the only pop of color was the orange dragon-themed bed sheets Harry had insisted he'd needed. She cast a spell to keep the room warm and then turned to the boy.
"Goodnight, then." She said curtly. "I'll wake you up early for your lessons."
"W-wait-" Harry asked. "Will you read me a bedtime story?"
"A what?"
"A bedtime story? Luna said her mum always reads her one, and Aunt Petunia used to do it with Dudley before he thought it was boring. I liked to listen in because I thought they were fun."
Alabasandria nodded, thoughtful. That sounded like something in one of the parenting books. Reading to a child helped them learn. This would be a useful exercise.
"Very well, I will go fetch something." She decided. Reading one of his new children's books about farm animals was a step too far outside her comfort zone. She was grateful her new ward was studious but she hoped he would be studious beyond the sounds a cow and a chicken made. A proper, adult book would be all she would suffer through. After a bit of deliberation, she found her old copy of the Tales of Beedle the Bard. The Three Brothers would be an appropriate story considering Harry's ancestry and was only marginally childish. Look at her, compromising.
She paused a moment and sighed. How had her life turned into this?
A brief moment of consideration led to them both sitting in the bed, with Harry able to look at the words as she spoke. He leaned against her arm, practically in her lap, and watched with fascinated eyes as the pictures acted out the story. Her monotone voice soothed him and he was mostly asleep by the time she'd finished. However, once she was done, closing the book with a final snap, Harry clutched at her arm and refused to let her up.
"Yes, Harry?"
"Will you leave one of the lights - er, candles on? I don't like the dark."
"I will."
The boy did not release her arm.
"Anything else, Harry?"
"What if I have a nightmare? Luna says her mum gives her kisses if she has a nightmare."
Alabasandria tried really hard to not physically recoil at the thought.
"Nightmares are incredibly common among necromancers. The spirits of the dead and demons will attempt to communicate with you while you sleep. This will ease with time as you take on more tattoos." He gave her a very sad look. "Nevertheless, if you are particularly bothered, you may wake me and I will fetch you a dreamless sleep potion."
Harry nodded again. Still not releasing her, he slunk down into the bed and burrowed into the covers, bringing her unwilling hand with him. He played with her fingers, delighted at the contact.
"It's time to sleep," she admonished.
"Luna and Mr. and Mrs. Lovegood all called you my mama. Are you my mama now?"
Her face revealed no emotion except for the twitch of an eye.
"Legally speaking, I am your magical guardian which is typically reserved for a close family member. It will prove to be beneficial that we allow people's first impressions to hold - if people assume I am your mother, they will be less inclined to ask questions about how we have met and what I am teaching you. So, yes, you may refer to me as such in public."
There was an otherworldly rustle of wind, despite them being indoors, that buzzed across the candles and settled a warm weight across her body. The familiar feeling of ancient magic - the tang of iron blood and numbing cold filled the room. It had a strange quality to it, playful, mirthful, such that she could not shake the feeling that something out there, perhaps magic itself, was laughing at her.
Harry gave her a very wide smile, his face lost its usual shyness as his unnaturally green eyes sought out hers. He squeezed her captured hand with all his might.
"Mama," the boy said decidedly. The wind whistled in laughter.