In honor of DH2 coming out-- and the end of the HP saga...
This may sound like a last fic before retirement from the fandom but, rest assured, it's not. I have absolutely no intention of stopping fic-writing, if only because I don't think the H/Hr that live in my head would let me. ;-)
All the ads for DH2 have just made me think about the fandom-- the good moments and the bad-- and I wrote this, as something of a tribute to the Harry I love-- no matter what JKR did to him.
Part of my "All He Ever Wanted" series.
Amazing
Harry smoothed a strand of hair away from Sabrina’s sleeping face with a feather-light touch, so as not to awaken her, and then quietly crept out of her room, closing the door behind him.
Andy was just getting into bed when Harry entered.
“Did you brush your teeth, Andy?” Harry checked.
Andy nodded. “Yes, Dad.”
“Okay.” Harry waited as Andy settled into bed before dropping a light kiss on Andy’s forehead. “Goodnight.”
Andy yawned and closed his eyes. “Night, Daddy.”
And Harry smiled to himself, a little poignant smile. Andy was 11 and would be starting Hogwarts at the end of the summer and it really seemed as if Andy had stopped calling him “Daddy” overnight from the day he turned 11, except occasionally. Harry had (finally) resigned himself to the fact that Emily had stopped calling him Daddy as of more than a year ago, and now he found he greedily treasured every time that Andy called him Daddy again, filing each occurrence away with the awareness that it would end much too quickly. At least, he could be sure that Sabrina would call him Daddy for another few years yet.
Harry paused in the doorway of Emily’s bedroom door, a smile curving his lips at the sight of her, sitting curled up cross-legged on her bed with a heavy book perched on her lap. With her head bent over her book, her brown hair being held out of her face with one hand, she could have been Hermione, the familiar position, the familiar occupation. It was a precious sight, one he’d missed in the last year with Emily away at Hogwarts.
He rapped lightly on the door frame with his knuckles. “Hey, Em, don’t stay up too late reading.”
Emily looked up. “Oh, Dad, come in. I want to talk to you.”
Harry’s smile softened as he came into her room, reaching out one hand to brush a lock of hair away from her face, before he pulled out her desk chair and sat. “What is it?” He directed a curious look at her, wondering what Em was going to say. He loved to listen to her, see the way her mind worked, this daughter of his who was growing up so fast and was becoming more like Hermione every day.
“This book I’m reading--” she began.
“Which is?” he interrupted.
Emily held up the book so he could read the cover: A Complete History of the Second Voldemort War.
Harry shook his head a little. “Oh, that. The author made quite a nuisance of herself in asking for interviews when she was researching for it. Why are you reading it?”
“Oh, I borrowed it from Ariel, and Dad, it’s really quite well-written.”
He quirked a slight smile. “I’ll take your word for it. But you already know most of what happened. Your mum and I have told you about it.”
“Oh, sure, I know the basic story but not all the details, and not about most of the things that didn’t happen to you or Mum. I’m just starting to read about all the stuff that happened after the Tri-Wizard Tournament and the cover-up the Ministry tried to do.”
Harry smiled. “Do you want me to tell you again how I faced off against the Horntail or what happened in the Lake for the Second Task?”
Emily didn’t smile, shaking her head quickly. “No, Dad, it’s not that. It’s just… wasn’t that time awfully hard for you? With Cedric Diggory and everything…”
Harry sobered, studying Emily’s earnest face, filled with all the intense sympathy of youth. “It wasn’t so bad,” he began, automatically temporizing, softening the harsh reality as he always did with his children.
“Dad, no. That’s not-don’t do that, okay? You’ve always said that to us, but I’ve been thinking about it and that can’t be true. It must have been hard. Weren’t you scared? I mean, gosh, Dad, you were so young, barely older than I am now and I can’t even imagine what I would do in a similar situation.”
Harry stilled. “Em,” he finally said quietly, “your Mum and I have always prayed that none of you kids would ever have to face what we have.”
“I know, Dad,” Emily said, her voice soft, serious. “But how did you do it? You were so young. Weren’t you scared?”
Harry met Emily’s eyes, so like his own, and had the sudden realization that his little girl had grown up, was no longer completely the child anymore. He could no longer gloss over the dark moments of his past, try to make light of the danger in an attempt to shield her from harsh realities. At least, not to the extent that he had. She had grown up-and for the first time, he was going to have to talk about the past with her as something more like an equal, was going to have to be more honest and open about it. It went against the grain, his instinct always to protect and shelter his children from harsh realities. If he could have, he would have kept his children in a world that was always safe, always happy, a world where they would never need to encounter unkindness or injustice or pain or suffering… A world where the sort of evil he and Hermione had faced simply did not exist. “I- I was scared,” he finally admitted, wondering how he could walk the fine line between honesty and his conviction that, no matter what she thought, Emily was too young to be told the bare truth of all he’d seen. “And it was hard. I didn’t really know what was happening. And Cedric-we hadn’t exactly been friends but we were friendly enough.”
“What was he like? There’s a picture of him in the book, but…”
Harry managed a slight smile. “You might want to ask your Mum whether the picture does him justice. All I know is that he had all the girls going dreamy about him.”
“Even Mum?”
“No, Hermione wasn’t one of them,” Harry said, half-absently, slipping back into referring to Hermione by name and not just as “Mum”, as he usually did with the children. “But she was never really the type to swoon.”
“I know that.”
He smiled briefly at Emily’s tone, before he sobered. “Cedric was… nice. He was a good chap. I told him about the First Task because Hagrid tried to help me by telling me about the dragons early and so Cedric repaid the favor by giving me a hint about the Egg we received as the clue for the Second Task.”
“Really?” Em looked and sounded fascinated. “What was the hint?”
Harry let out a brief laugh at the memory. “He told me I should take a bath.”
Emily wrinkled her nose slightly. “That doesn’t sound like much of a hint.”
“That’s what I thought at the time too. But what he meant was that the Egg would open up under water and that was the way to find out what the clue was.”
“Oh.”
“He was a nice fellow, an honest one. It’s what made what happened to him worse. We had just thought we were going to win the Tournament together and instead…” Harry trailed off. He might be being more open about his memories with Emily than he had been before, but even so, there were some things about that night that she didn’t need to hear about, the things he’d never told anyone except for Headmaster Dumbledore, Sirius, and, later, Hermione. (He suddenly realized that some of what had happened, he’d never even mentioned to Ron, not then or since.) About the shock of seeing Cedric be murdered like that, the horrible suddenness of it, about Cedric asking him to take his body back to the Diggorys…
“I’m sorry, Dad.” Emily’s voice was quiet. “It must have been awful for you.”
“Yeah. It wasn’t… a good time,” Harry finished lamely, not quite able to say anything more. “But you know, Em, bad as it was at the time-and I didn’t really think about it then-it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.”
“Why not?”
Harry looked up and met his daughter’s eyes. “Because I had Ron and Hermione with me.”
“But Mum and Uncle Ron weren’t there at the end of the Tournament, were they?”
“No, they weren’t there, but afterwards… afterwards, they were there.” Harry managed a wan, sober smile. “I always had your Mum to depend on and that helped.”
“I’m glad. Dad, did the Ministry really put all those nasty things in the papers about you to make people think you were barmy after that?”
“Yes, they did,” Harry said, a little grimly.
“Well, I bet they feel pretty stupid about that now,” Emily quipped with a saucy smile.
He chuckled. “Yes, I believe they do.”
Emily was silent for a moment, looking down at the book, before she looked back up at Harry somberly. “Dad?”
“Yes, Em?”
“You had a really hard time growing up, didn’t you? Reading about it, it just seems like you never got a break from all of it.”
Harry fixed his eyes absently on the wall, remembering his Hogwarts years, before he blinked, returning to the present to give his daughter a small, reassuring smile. Remembering all the assorted dangers of those six years, the fear, and the darkness-but remembering, too, the Quidditch games, the nights spent in the Common Room or in the Library with Ron and Hermione, the visits to Hogsmeade… “I can imagine why it might seem like that, but remember that history, what’s retold later, only tells of the major events, the dramatic ones, and yes, the dangerous things that happened. Living it was a different thing because the major events usually didn’t happen all at once but there were more normal times, moments of fun and of peace in between. Yes, Ron, Hermione, and I had more than our fair share of danger in those years; I can’t deny that. But it wasn’t always darkness and danger, so don’t think that I spent all my school years miserable. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t all terrible either, Em.”
Harry tried not to think about the last year of the War, the one he and Ron and Hermione had spent away from Hogwarts, where it had basically been a time of constant darkness and danger-but then the truth of that year was not something he was ready to talk about with any of his children, maybe never would be ready to talk about with them, not candidly. He only sent up a silent prayer to whatever Higher Powers might be listening that none of his children would ever experience anything even close to what he had, that his children would live in peaceful times.
“I’m glad of that, Dad. I don’t like to think of you being miserable, but Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“I think you’re amazing.”
Harry tried to smile, making light of the statement by asking with feigned dismay, “You mean you didn’t always think I’m amazing? I’m hurt.”
Emily didn’t smile, only regarded him soberly, looking for a moment rather older than her years. “You’re amazing because you’ve seen a lot of terrible things in your life, but you’re here now, you survived it all, and you’re happy. You won, in spite of all the terrible things you’ve seen.”
Harry bent forward to touch his forehead to Emily’s for a moment. “Thank you, Emily, but the amazing person in this story isn’t me; it’s Mum. Whatever I’ve managed to do, the only reason I’ve survived, is because of her. I want you to remember that, Em, while you read about all the great things I supposedly did. People tell the story like it’s only about me, this great hero’s tale, but I want you to remember that it’s not really my story. Promise me that, Em?”
“I promise.”
Harry smiled. “Good. So if anyone ever tells you that girls can’t be just as brave and strong and even more clever than boys are, you’ll know better than that.”
That got a smile out of her. “I already knew that, Dad.”
He suppressed a grin. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re getting to be just as much of a know-it-all as your Mum?”
“You have.”
Harry nodded. “Just wanted to make sure.”
“Hey, Dad?”
“What?”
Emily grinned up at Harry. “I had no idea you were such a hero until reading this book. You were always just Dad to me. I didn’t understand what all the fuss about you was for.”
Harry laughed. “I still don’t understand what all the fuss about me is for.” He paused and added, “Want to know a secret?”
“Sure.”
“Of all the titles and honors I’ve been given-Boy Who Lived, Hero, Order of Merlin, blah blah blah--”
“Winner of the Most Charming Smile Award,” Emily inserted with a cheeky smile.
Harry made a face. “Yeah, that too. Of all the titles and honors, the one that means the most to me is just Dad.” He lifted a hand to cup Emily’s chin in an affectionate gesture. “‛Just Dad’ is all I ever really wanted to be.”
“That’s good, because ‘just Dad’ is my favorite title for you too,” Emily said with that smile that was so uncannily like Hermione’s when she was touched but trying to sound teasing.
Harry smiled and stood up, kissing Emily’s forehead quickly. “Good, then. And now, I think it’s beddy-bye time for you.”
Emily giggled. “Beddy-bye time? Honestly, Dad, I’m not a baby anymore.”
“Sorry, forgot,” Harry apologized with a quick, teasing grin. “You know Rina still calls it that.”
“Well, Rina’s still a baby but I’m not.”
“I won’t forget again, Miss Potter,” Harry promised with exaggerated solemnity.
Emily laughed and scrambled out of bed to put the book away on her bookshelf and then paused to hug him. “Goodnight, ‘Just Dad’.”
“Goodnight, sweetie.”
He kissed Emily’s forehead and then waited until she was in bed before he turned off the light with a quick wave of his wand and then closed the door softly behind him.
He could still hear Emily’s voice, telling him seriously, I think you’re amazing, see her earnest expression. It was a sentiment he had heard all too often in his life and one he’d never cared to hear, since he’d never felt he deserved it, but to hear Emily say it… He didn’t particularly care about the admiration of the rest of the world, but the admiration of his children was a different matter; he could only hope and pray that he could live up to her opinion of him.
He knew Hermione was in her study right now, getting in a last hour of work before she would come upstairs to check on the kids before preparing to sleep. Normally, he wouldn’t disturb her, since he knew how much she relied on the hour or so she had to work after the kids had gone to bed, but tonight, after the conversation with Emily, he decided to make an exception.
Harry paused in the open doorway of Hermione’s study, his gaze taking in the familiar sight of her head bent over her desk as she worked steadily. His eyes lingered, traced the curve of her neck and her shoulder. It was such a familiar sight, one he must have seen a few million times at least, and yet-- She really was beautiful…
He blinked, suddenly realizing that he’d entirely lost his train of thought, as distracted as he was by her. Even after so many years…
She didn’t look up or otherwise acknowledge him as he stepped inside, even though he knew she was aware of his presence. But then, since the study also functioned as the library, it wasn’t unheard of for him to stop by in the evenings to get a book or magazine to read.
On this evening, though, he instead made his way to stand behind Hermione before he bent to slide his arms around her, nuzzling her ear before he kissed her cheek.
He sensed her smile before she turned her head to allow him greater access, an access he promptly took advantage of by pressing a string of further kisses down her cheek towards her chin.
“You’re very affectionate tonight. ‘Fess up, Harry, what is it?”
He released her with a last kiss on her temple as she turned to face him fully. “I think I should be offended that you assume I must have something to confess when I kiss you,” he said teasingly.
She laughed. “Poor, innocent Harry and your suspicious wife.”
He affected a sigh, trying to look beleaguered. “I know. It’s a terribly sad thing not to be trusted.”
She stood to give him a quick kiss on the lips-or at least, she meant for the kiss to be a quick one, but he slipped his arm around her waist, keeping her in place as he deepened the kiss into a leisurely exploration of her mouth. He kissed her until she softened against him, making a small sound in the back of her throat as she pressed closer to him. He kissed her until he knew her knees would be weaker, until she sagged against him even when he ended the kiss softly, kissing her nose before he drew back.
Her eyes fluttered open and he loved that she had to blink a few times before her gaze sharpened, full coherence returning to her. “Now I know something’s up.”
He smiled, his expression softening. “I love you, you know.”
“I’ve never doubted that.”
“Good. I just had an interesting talk with Emily and it made me realize again how lucky I am.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Me, actually. She’s reading that book that just came out, the complete history of the War, and she wanted to know what it was like for me.” He paused. “She’s growing up so quickly. For the first time, she didn’t let me play down the dangers or pretend it hadn’t been hard; she really wanted to know what I had to go through because of what happened at the end of 4th year.”
“So what did you tell her?”
“I told her that it was hard at times but not as hard as it could have been because I always had you to help me.”
“I didn’t help you that much, not back then, not for the Third Task and all that happened later. I wasn’t even there, remember?”
He kissed her nose. “You were there for me afterwards, though, and that was when it mattered the most. Haven’t I ever told you that?”
Her expression softened. “No, but then you never did talk much about that time. Did it really help that much?”
“You always helped and I don’t mean with figuring out spells and hexes. You helped because you were there for me so I always knew I wasn’t alone. Even during 5th year when I was such a git, it meant something to me that you were on my side.”
“You really have developed a silver tongue, Harry,” she said teasingly, but her eyes told him what his words meant to her.
“Yes, well, I’m quite something,” Harry said, lifting his nose in the air as he adopted his best impression of Gilderoy Lockhart. “I have it on good authority that I’m amazing.”
Hermione laughed. “Oh, really? And who is this authority?”
He sobered, dropping the pose. “Emily did, just now. She said I was amazing,” he repeated again, his voice almost shaky with something like awe. “I don’t know what I did to deserve that.” He let out a half laugh. “If she only knew how terrified I was most of the time and how I was basically making it all up as I went along…”
“She is right, though.”
“Right?”
Hermione gifted him with one of her occasional, soft smiles that showed all the depths of the love she was capable of, one of those smiles that never failed to make his breath hitch and his heart fill with warmth. “You are amazing. You’re amazing because with all that you’ve seen and endured, with the way you grew up, you could so easily have ended up bitter and cynical and hard, but you didn’t. You-your heart, your kindness-rose above all that happened to you.”
He couldn’t speak. He was half-amazed he hadn’t melted into a puddle on the ground. He’d never even imagined-Hermione rarely said anything so sentimental, which made it all the more precious when she did, but this… He opened his mouth, closed it again, swallowed, and then finally managed to say, his voice sounding oddly unlike himself from suppressed emotion, “Now, who’s the flatterer?”
Her smile changed, deepened. “Enjoy it while you can; I’ll go back to my usual role of keeping your ego in check soon,” she said teasingly.
But for once, he didn’t respond to her humor, only lifting his hands to cup her cheeks until her eyes met his directly. “It’s because of you, you know. All that I am-that I’m not bitter and cynical-it’s because of you. I couldn’t become that cynical because, no matter what else I saw, I also saw you, saw your kindness and your loyalty. It’s because I knew you…”
“Oh, Harry…” A smile trembled on her lips. “Stop trying to make me cry.”
He smiled and then he kissed her. Softly, his lips lingering on hers, worshipping hers. It was not a kiss of desire or of passion or of playfulness. It was a kiss of love. He kissed her with all the tenderness he felt, with all the warmth in his chest from her words, and he kissed her with all the reverence he still sometimes felt when he thought about her strength and her caring.
He kissed her and he could only think that he wasn’t amazing. What was amazing-what never failed to amaze him, even after all these years-was her, the strength of her heart, the depths of her love. This was amazing-this love and desire between them, as strong, as true, as tender as it had ever been, as it always would be.
And he thought, not for the first time, he was the luckiest man in the world.
~The End~
All the ads for DH2 have just made me think about the fandom-- the good moments and the bad-- and I wrote this, as something of a tribute to the Harry I love-- no matter what JKR did to him.
Part of my "All He Ever Wanted" series.
Amazing
Harry smoothed a strand of hair away from Sabrina’s sleeping face with a feather-light touch, so as not to awaken her, and then quietly crept out of her room, closing the door behind him.
Andy was just getting into bed when Harry entered.
“Did you brush your teeth, Andy?” Harry checked.
Andy nodded. “Yes, Dad.”
“Okay.” Harry waited as Andy settled into bed before dropping a light kiss on Andy’s forehead. “Goodnight.”
Andy yawned and closed his eyes. “Night, Daddy.”
And Harry smiled to himself, a little poignant smile. Andy was 11 and would be starting Hogwarts at the end of the summer and it really seemed as if Andy had stopped calling him “Daddy” overnight from the day he turned 11, except occasionally. Harry had (finally) resigned himself to the fact that Emily had stopped calling him Daddy as of more than a year ago, and now he found he greedily treasured every time that Andy called him Daddy again, filing each occurrence away with the awareness that it would end much too quickly. At least, he could be sure that Sabrina would call him Daddy for another few years yet.
Harry paused in the doorway of Emily’s bedroom door, a smile curving his lips at the sight of her, sitting curled up cross-legged on her bed with a heavy book perched on her lap. With her head bent over her book, her brown hair being held out of her face with one hand, she could have been Hermione, the familiar position, the familiar occupation. It was a precious sight, one he’d missed in the last year with Emily away at Hogwarts.
He rapped lightly on the door frame with his knuckles. “Hey, Em, don’t stay up too late reading.”
Emily looked up. “Oh, Dad, come in. I want to talk to you.”
Harry’s smile softened as he came into her room, reaching out one hand to brush a lock of hair away from her face, before he pulled out her desk chair and sat. “What is it?” He directed a curious look at her, wondering what Em was going to say. He loved to listen to her, see the way her mind worked, this daughter of his who was growing up so fast and was becoming more like Hermione every day.
“This book I’m reading--” she began.
“Which is?” he interrupted.
Emily held up the book so he could read the cover: A Complete History of the Second Voldemort War.
Harry shook his head a little. “Oh, that. The author made quite a nuisance of herself in asking for interviews when she was researching for it. Why are you reading it?”
“Oh, I borrowed it from Ariel, and Dad, it’s really quite well-written.”
He quirked a slight smile. “I’ll take your word for it. But you already know most of what happened. Your mum and I have told you about it.”
“Oh, sure, I know the basic story but not all the details, and not about most of the things that didn’t happen to you or Mum. I’m just starting to read about all the stuff that happened after the Tri-Wizard Tournament and the cover-up the Ministry tried to do.”
Harry smiled. “Do you want me to tell you again how I faced off against the Horntail or what happened in the Lake for the Second Task?”
Emily didn’t smile, shaking her head quickly. “No, Dad, it’s not that. It’s just… wasn’t that time awfully hard for you? With Cedric Diggory and everything…”
Harry sobered, studying Emily’s earnest face, filled with all the intense sympathy of youth. “It wasn’t so bad,” he began, automatically temporizing, softening the harsh reality as he always did with his children.
“Dad, no. That’s not-don’t do that, okay? You’ve always said that to us, but I’ve been thinking about it and that can’t be true. It must have been hard. Weren’t you scared? I mean, gosh, Dad, you were so young, barely older than I am now and I can’t even imagine what I would do in a similar situation.”
Harry stilled. “Em,” he finally said quietly, “your Mum and I have always prayed that none of you kids would ever have to face what we have.”
“I know, Dad,” Emily said, her voice soft, serious. “But how did you do it? You were so young. Weren’t you scared?”
Harry met Emily’s eyes, so like his own, and had the sudden realization that his little girl had grown up, was no longer completely the child anymore. He could no longer gloss over the dark moments of his past, try to make light of the danger in an attempt to shield her from harsh realities. At least, not to the extent that he had. She had grown up-and for the first time, he was going to have to talk about the past with her as something more like an equal, was going to have to be more honest and open about it. It went against the grain, his instinct always to protect and shelter his children from harsh realities. If he could have, he would have kept his children in a world that was always safe, always happy, a world where they would never need to encounter unkindness or injustice or pain or suffering… A world where the sort of evil he and Hermione had faced simply did not exist. “I- I was scared,” he finally admitted, wondering how he could walk the fine line between honesty and his conviction that, no matter what she thought, Emily was too young to be told the bare truth of all he’d seen. “And it was hard. I didn’t really know what was happening. And Cedric-we hadn’t exactly been friends but we were friendly enough.”
“What was he like? There’s a picture of him in the book, but…”
Harry managed a slight smile. “You might want to ask your Mum whether the picture does him justice. All I know is that he had all the girls going dreamy about him.”
“Even Mum?”
“No, Hermione wasn’t one of them,” Harry said, half-absently, slipping back into referring to Hermione by name and not just as “Mum”, as he usually did with the children. “But she was never really the type to swoon.”
“I know that.”
He smiled briefly at Emily’s tone, before he sobered. “Cedric was… nice. He was a good chap. I told him about the First Task because Hagrid tried to help me by telling me about the dragons early and so Cedric repaid the favor by giving me a hint about the Egg we received as the clue for the Second Task.”
“Really?” Em looked and sounded fascinated. “What was the hint?”
Harry let out a brief laugh at the memory. “He told me I should take a bath.”
Emily wrinkled her nose slightly. “That doesn’t sound like much of a hint.”
“That’s what I thought at the time too. But what he meant was that the Egg would open up under water and that was the way to find out what the clue was.”
“Oh.”
“He was a nice fellow, an honest one. It’s what made what happened to him worse. We had just thought we were going to win the Tournament together and instead…” Harry trailed off. He might be being more open about his memories with Emily than he had been before, but even so, there were some things about that night that she didn’t need to hear about, the things he’d never told anyone except for Headmaster Dumbledore, Sirius, and, later, Hermione. (He suddenly realized that some of what had happened, he’d never even mentioned to Ron, not then or since.) About the shock of seeing Cedric be murdered like that, the horrible suddenness of it, about Cedric asking him to take his body back to the Diggorys…
“I’m sorry, Dad.” Emily’s voice was quiet. “It must have been awful for you.”
“Yeah. It wasn’t… a good time,” Harry finished lamely, not quite able to say anything more. “But you know, Em, bad as it was at the time-and I didn’t really think about it then-it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.”
“Why not?”
Harry looked up and met his daughter’s eyes. “Because I had Ron and Hermione with me.”
“But Mum and Uncle Ron weren’t there at the end of the Tournament, were they?”
“No, they weren’t there, but afterwards… afterwards, they were there.” Harry managed a wan, sober smile. “I always had your Mum to depend on and that helped.”
“I’m glad. Dad, did the Ministry really put all those nasty things in the papers about you to make people think you were barmy after that?”
“Yes, they did,” Harry said, a little grimly.
“Well, I bet they feel pretty stupid about that now,” Emily quipped with a saucy smile.
He chuckled. “Yes, I believe they do.”
Emily was silent for a moment, looking down at the book, before she looked back up at Harry somberly. “Dad?”
“Yes, Em?”
“You had a really hard time growing up, didn’t you? Reading about it, it just seems like you never got a break from all of it.”
Harry fixed his eyes absently on the wall, remembering his Hogwarts years, before he blinked, returning to the present to give his daughter a small, reassuring smile. Remembering all the assorted dangers of those six years, the fear, and the darkness-but remembering, too, the Quidditch games, the nights spent in the Common Room or in the Library with Ron and Hermione, the visits to Hogsmeade… “I can imagine why it might seem like that, but remember that history, what’s retold later, only tells of the major events, the dramatic ones, and yes, the dangerous things that happened. Living it was a different thing because the major events usually didn’t happen all at once but there were more normal times, moments of fun and of peace in between. Yes, Ron, Hermione, and I had more than our fair share of danger in those years; I can’t deny that. But it wasn’t always darkness and danger, so don’t think that I spent all my school years miserable. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t all terrible either, Em.”
Harry tried not to think about the last year of the War, the one he and Ron and Hermione had spent away from Hogwarts, where it had basically been a time of constant darkness and danger-but then the truth of that year was not something he was ready to talk about with any of his children, maybe never would be ready to talk about with them, not candidly. He only sent up a silent prayer to whatever Higher Powers might be listening that none of his children would ever experience anything even close to what he had, that his children would live in peaceful times.
“I’m glad of that, Dad. I don’t like to think of you being miserable, but Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“I think you’re amazing.”
Harry tried to smile, making light of the statement by asking with feigned dismay, “You mean you didn’t always think I’m amazing? I’m hurt.”
Emily didn’t smile, only regarded him soberly, looking for a moment rather older than her years. “You’re amazing because you’ve seen a lot of terrible things in your life, but you’re here now, you survived it all, and you’re happy. You won, in spite of all the terrible things you’ve seen.”
Harry bent forward to touch his forehead to Emily’s for a moment. “Thank you, Emily, but the amazing person in this story isn’t me; it’s Mum. Whatever I’ve managed to do, the only reason I’ve survived, is because of her. I want you to remember that, Em, while you read about all the great things I supposedly did. People tell the story like it’s only about me, this great hero’s tale, but I want you to remember that it’s not really my story. Promise me that, Em?”
“I promise.”
Harry smiled. “Good. So if anyone ever tells you that girls can’t be just as brave and strong and even more clever than boys are, you’ll know better than that.”
That got a smile out of her. “I already knew that, Dad.”
He suppressed a grin. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re getting to be just as much of a know-it-all as your Mum?”
“You have.”
Harry nodded. “Just wanted to make sure.”
“Hey, Dad?”
“What?”
Emily grinned up at Harry. “I had no idea you were such a hero until reading this book. You were always just Dad to me. I didn’t understand what all the fuss about you was for.”
Harry laughed. “I still don’t understand what all the fuss about me is for.” He paused and added, “Want to know a secret?”
“Sure.”
“Of all the titles and honors I’ve been given-Boy Who Lived, Hero, Order of Merlin, blah blah blah--”
“Winner of the Most Charming Smile Award,” Emily inserted with a cheeky smile.
Harry made a face. “Yeah, that too. Of all the titles and honors, the one that means the most to me is just Dad.” He lifted a hand to cup Emily’s chin in an affectionate gesture. “‛Just Dad’ is all I ever really wanted to be.”
“That’s good, because ‘just Dad’ is my favorite title for you too,” Emily said with that smile that was so uncannily like Hermione’s when she was touched but trying to sound teasing.
Harry smiled and stood up, kissing Emily’s forehead quickly. “Good, then. And now, I think it’s beddy-bye time for you.”
Emily giggled. “Beddy-bye time? Honestly, Dad, I’m not a baby anymore.”
“Sorry, forgot,” Harry apologized with a quick, teasing grin. “You know Rina still calls it that.”
“Well, Rina’s still a baby but I’m not.”
“I won’t forget again, Miss Potter,” Harry promised with exaggerated solemnity.
Emily laughed and scrambled out of bed to put the book away on her bookshelf and then paused to hug him. “Goodnight, ‘Just Dad’.”
“Goodnight, sweetie.”
He kissed Emily’s forehead and then waited until she was in bed before he turned off the light with a quick wave of his wand and then closed the door softly behind him.
He could still hear Emily’s voice, telling him seriously, I think you’re amazing, see her earnest expression. It was a sentiment he had heard all too often in his life and one he’d never cared to hear, since he’d never felt he deserved it, but to hear Emily say it… He didn’t particularly care about the admiration of the rest of the world, but the admiration of his children was a different matter; he could only hope and pray that he could live up to her opinion of him.
He knew Hermione was in her study right now, getting in a last hour of work before she would come upstairs to check on the kids before preparing to sleep. Normally, he wouldn’t disturb her, since he knew how much she relied on the hour or so she had to work after the kids had gone to bed, but tonight, after the conversation with Emily, he decided to make an exception.
Harry paused in the open doorway of Hermione’s study, his gaze taking in the familiar sight of her head bent over her desk as she worked steadily. His eyes lingered, traced the curve of her neck and her shoulder. It was such a familiar sight, one he must have seen a few million times at least, and yet-- She really was beautiful…
He blinked, suddenly realizing that he’d entirely lost his train of thought, as distracted as he was by her. Even after so many years…
She didn’t look up or otherwise acknowledge him as he stepped inside, even though he knew she was aware of his presence. But then, since the study also functioned as the library, it wasn’t unheard of for him to stop by in the evenings to get a book or magazine to read.
On this evening, though, he instead made his way to stand behind Hermione before he bent to slide his arms around her, nuzzling her ear before he kissed her cheek.
He sensed her smile before she turned her head to allow him greater access, an access he promptly took advantage of by pressing a string of further kisses down her cheek towards her chin.
“You’re very affectionate tonight. ‘Fess up, Harry, what is it?”
He released her with a last kiss on her temple as she turned to face him fully. “I think I should be offended that you assume I must have something to confess when I kiss you,” he said teasingly.
She laughed. “Poor, innocent Harry and your suspicious wife.”
He affected a sigh, trying to look beleaguered. “I know. It’s a terribly sad thing not to be trusted.”
She stood to give him a quick kiss on the lips-or at least, she meant for the kiss to be a quick one, but he slipped his arm around her waist, keeping her in place as he deepened the kiss into a leisurely exploration of her mouth. He kissed her until she softened against him, making a small sound in the back of her throat as she pressed closer to him. He kissed her until he knew her knees would be weaker, until she sagged against him even when he ended the kiss softly, kissing her nose before he drew back.
Her eyes fluttered open and he loved that she had to blink a few times before her gaze sharpened, full coherence returning to her. “Now I know something’s up.”
He smiled, his expression softening. “I love you, you know.”
“I’ve never doubted that.”
“Good. I just had an interesting talk with Emily and it made me realize again how lucky I am.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Me, actually. She’s reading that book that just came out, the complete history of the War, and she wanted to know what it was like for me.” He paused. “She’s growing up so quickly. For the first time, she didn’t let me play down the dangers or pretend it hadn’t been hard; she really wanted to know what I had to go through because of what happened at the end of 4th year.”
“So what did you tell her?”
“I told her that it was hard at times but not as hard as it could have been because I always had you to help me.”
“I didn’t help you that much, not back then, not for the Third Task and all that happened later. I wasn’t even there, remember?”
He kissed her nose. “You were there for me afterwards, though, and that was when it mattered the most. Haven’t I ever told you that?”
Her expression softened. “No, but then you never did talk much about that time. Did it really help that much?”
“You always helped and I don’t mean with figuring out spells and hexes. You helped because you were there for me so I always knew I wasn’t alone. Even during 5th year when I was such a git, it meant something to me that you were on my side.”
“You really have developed a silver tongue, Harry,” she said teasingly, but her eyes told him what his words meant to her.
“Yes, well, I’m quite something,” Harry said, lifting his nose in the air as he adopted his best impression of Gilderoy Lockhart. “I have it on good authority that I’m amazing.”
Hermione laughed. “Oh, really? And who is this authority?”
He sobered, dropping the pose. “Emily did, just now. She said I was amazing,” he repeated again, his voice almost shaky with something like awe. “I don’t know what I did to deserve that.” He let out a half laugh. “If she only knew how terrified I was most of the time and how I was basically making it all up as I went along…”
“She is right, though.”
“Right?”
Hermione gifted him with one of her occasional, soft smiles that showed all the depths of the love she was capable of, one of those smiles that never failed to make his breath hitch and his heart fill with warmth. “You are amazing. You’re amazing because with all that you’ve seen and endured, with the way you grew up, you could so easily have ended up bitter and cynical and hard, but you didn’t. You-your heart, your kindness-rose above all that happened to you.”
He couldn’t speak. He was half-amazed he hadn’t melted into a puddle on the ground. He’d never even imagined-Hermione rarely said anything so sentimental, which made it all the more precious when she did, but this… He opened his mouth, closed it again, swallowed, and then finally managed to say, his voice sounding oddly unlike himself from suppressed emotion, “Now, who’s the flatterer?”
Her smile changed, deepened. “Enjoy it while you can; I’ll go back to my usual role of keeping your ego in check soon,” she said teasingly.
But for once, he didn’t respond to her humor, only lifting his hands to cup her cheeks until her eyes met his directly. “It’s because of you, you know. All that I am-that I’m not bitter and cynical-it’s because of you. I couldn’t become that cynical because, no matter what else I saw, I also saw you, saw your kindness and your loyalty. It’s because I knew you…”
“Oh, Harry…” A smile trembled on her lips. “Stop trying to make me cry.”
He smiled and then he kissed her. Softly, his lips lingering on hers, worshipping hers. It was not a kiss of desire or of passion or of playfulness. It was a kiss of love. He kissed her with all the tenderness he felt, with all the warmth in his chest from her words, and he kissed her with all the reverence he still sometimes felt when he thought about her strength and her caring.
He kissed her and he could only think that he wasn’t amazing. What was amazing-what never failed to amaze him, even after all these years-was her, the strength of her heart, the depths of her love. This was amazing-this love and desire between them, as strong, as true, as tender as it had ever been, as it always would be.
And he thought, not for the first time, he was the luckiest man in the world.
~The End~