Enternity Chapter 14, part two
The paperwork was signed and filed. It was official: Sirius Black was the adopted father of Harry Potter. Harry still kept his last name and all of the Potter assets, but Sirius was his father now, legally. He ran his fingers over the document again.
He had a dad.
He looked up at Sirius, who had a huge smile that lit up his whole face. Remus was sitting next to him, looking the happiest Harry had ever seen him.
“So… who’s who?” Harry asked quietly. The smile slipped a little from Sirius’ face, and Remus blinked a few times. Harry bit his lip, hoping he didn’t ruin the moment.
“Technically, I’m not really a part of your family. I’m not allowed - ”
“I don’t care if you’re legally allowed to call yourself my parent or not. You’re with Sirius, which makes you my family.” Harry really didn’t want to hear about how the Ministry was full of bigots. Remus didn’t look offended at having been cut off.
“Well, obviously, Remus is the mother.” Sirius said casually flinging an arm around said man. Remus laughed.
“What’s this ‘obviously’? You’re the only one with legal rights; therefore you should be the mother!”
“But, you’re the one that’s fussy like a mother!”
“Your mother was fussy? Well, that’s news to me.” Remus got out as he was laughing. Harry laughed.
“Well, Sirius, your hair is longer then Remus’, so I guess that makes you the mother.” Harry teased.
“Hah! Even he’s on my side!” They all laughed. Harry threw himself into Sirius’ arms, holding on tightly.
“You love me?” Harry murmured into Sirius’ robes.
“Yes, I love you.” Sirius pressed a kiss to Harry’s temple. Harry could feel himself trembling, trying to hold his tears inside.
“Even though I was raped?” Sirius’ arms tightened around him, and he could feel Remus’ fingers card through his hair.
“Yes.”
“Even though I gave birth to a dead baby?” A sob broke out from his lips at that admission - he had never told anyone about her, his beautiful would-be daughter.
“Yes, though I think maybe you should talk to someone about that.” Harry closed his eyes; his stillbirth might not have bothered him so much if he didn’t know from past lives just what he was missing. Children were a sore point for him; after all, he was used to being a mother.
“I don’t want to talk about that.” Harry tightened his arms around Sirius. He wasn’t an idiot; he knew that the second he tried talking to someone about his stillbirth he’d just collapse in on himself. At least now, maybe he’d be able to talk about it later. Maybe.
“Alright, you don’t have to talk about it now, then.” And they were very quiet for a while afterward.
HPDM HPDM HPDM HPDM HPDM HPDM HPDM
Hermione thought that this year’s Christmas was going rather well. The opening of presents had ended already, after Draco woke everybody up at some ungodly hour.
‘Who knew Draco was so excitable?’ Hermione thought with a smile.
Ron had given her a new book series, Wizarding Fiction, a series about the different ways muggles portray magic. He bought her the whole set, which included four books. The gift was actually from Ginny and Ron both, as they both helped to pay for it, but it was Ron’s idea. The Twins got her a bag of quills that not only turned her hand different colors when she used them, but were also edible. Neville had sent a picture book of different plants that was interesting to look at and Eleanor sent a very nice card, sparkles and fireworks shooting off of it. Harry had gotten her earrings and a book on the use of jewelry in ancient rituals. Luna and Draco had conspired together to get her a scrapbook. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had gotten her what she had taken to calling “the Weasley Christmas kit” - a Weasley sweater, chocolate of some kind, and a few extra quills.
The highlight of the morning was also the most understated. While most everyone was distracted by the Twins giving a demonstration of their newest invention - household firecrackers that chuckled with each spark of fire - Draco had given Harry a gift. A small gift - Hermione didn’t see what it was- but when Harry opened it he looked very happy, happy enough to kiss Draco with no regard to the other people in the room. She really wondered what it was that Draco gave him.
“Hey, Hermione, have you seen Harry or Draco at all since present opening?” Ron stuck his head into the bedroom - since Ginny was staying with Luna, Hermione was all alone in the room.
“No, did you need them for something or are you just wondering where they got to?” Ron came to sit next to her on the floor. Scattered around her were different photos she had gathered through the last five years, there were quite a few.
“I was just wondering. Come to think of it, they’re probably in Draco’s room.” He picked up a photo of Hermione’s parents eating breakfast one morning.
“Did you get anything from your parents? I didn’t see you open anything from them.” Ron looked a bit worried, no doubt realizing that if she didn’t get anything from them she might not want to talk about that.
“Oh, my parents are Jewish, I never get anything from them. I get everyone gifts because Christmas for the wizarding world is actually just the continuation of the Winter Solstice celebrations - you all just call it ‘Christmas’.” She picked up the Daily Prophet clipping from when the Weasleys won all that money and went to Egypt to put in her scrapbook, under a caption that read “Ron’s Family”.
“Why does it matter that they’re Jewish?” Ron asked, genuinely confused.
“Christmas, in the Muggle world, is a Christian holiday celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ. And, since my parents are Jewish, they don’t celebrate it.”
“Oh.” Ron blinked, digesting the information. Hermione picked up a family portrait her parents had taken over the summer, just a few days after the end of fourth year. What she told Ron wasn’t the complete truth. Her parents had bought and wrapped gifts to give her for as long as she could remember - but when she got her Hogwarts letter that all changed. Hermione liked to tell herself that it wasn’t her Hogwarts letter that caused it; no, it was her age. Her parents were always going to stop celebrating Christmas when she turned eleven, because by then she might not have been teased for not celebrating it. It had nothing to do with her getting her letter.
A few tears dropped onto the picture she was holding.
‘Oh, really, Hermione! You’re being silly!’
“What’s wrong, why are you crying?” Ron asked with a note of urgency in his voice. He pulled her down so she was resting against his chest.
“No-nothing’s w-wrong.” She sobbed out. She told herself that she was being silly, that there was nothing to be upset about, but the tears didn’t stop.
‘Stop crying! Honestly, crying over presents, how old are you?!’ She berated herself silently. Ron ran his fingers through her hair, no doubt wondering what was wrong with her. And she was glad he didn’t ask, because she wasn’t sure what she would have said.
HPDM HPDM HPDM HPDM HPDM HPDM HPDM
There was nothing left.
The house was in shambles, the street ripped apart and fire seemed to be everywhere. The air smelt of burnt flesh, charred wood, and singed hair. The muggles had gotten there first; they were claiming that a gas pipe had exploded. It wasn’t completely untrue - a gas pipe did indeed explode, but the Dark Mark above the ruined street spoke another story.
The Ministry -but more specifically, the Unspeakables- had already modified the memories of the muggles so they hadn't remembered seeing the Dark Mark, and all that was left was for the Order to get rid of the damn thing. Molly Weasley was already working alongside a few other Aurors to unravel it, with the rest of the Order trying their best to clean everything up. It was a lucky thing that the fire had already burnt all the bodies and surrounding structures to ash; it meant there was less for the Order to do.
Albus stared down at a pile of ash, an identification spell lingered around it, and a little card placed near it said: ‘Marietta Edgecombe, Hogwarts Student - Ravenclaw, 16 years of age’. A few feet away there was another pile, the little card reading ‘Carlotta Edgecombe, 8 years of age’. Two children dead.
This was the hardest part of fighting a war, seeing children sacrificed to such hate and violence.
“Albus, there isn’t much else left to do. The whole family was wiped out, so there isn’t anyone we need to inform of this… all that’s left is for the Ministry to write death certificates and record the event itself.” Severus spoke quietly and matter-of-factly.
“Did you see anything from Miss Edgecombe to suggest that she was frightened for her life, Severus?”
“No. I only saw her in class and at meal times though, so it’s hard to say if she or her family had been threatened…”He trailed off. Albus nodded - he knew that. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to ask such a thing.
The full moon above them seemed out of place. With two innocent children dead, the moon should be hidden behind rain or clouds, not merrily shedding light down on the place. But, alas, this wasn’t a novel or fairy tale. This was real life, and in real life horrible things happened at any time of day and in any weather.
“Albus, the Dark Mark has been removed. There really isn’t anything more we can do.” Molly Weasley said, leaning on her husband. Albus nodded.
‘There isn’t anything more we can do… Yes, I’m rather starting to feel that way about a lot of things.’