Fic: Remembrance
Title: Remembrance
Pairing: Harry/Hermione
Rating: G
Summary: Even after all these years, Harry still remembers him.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: Written after OotP and contains spoilers for the book. Harry's daughter's nickname is from Monsters, Inc. Thanks to ceilidh for the beta.
Harry Potter eased off his robes and put down his case in the foyer. The warmth of the house instantly drew him in, relaxing him and easing his troubled mind. Padding across to the lounge room, he found his six year old daughter sitting serenely on the lounge, a large tome spread across her lap.
“Hey, Boo,” he said. “What are you reading?”
Lauren’s head snapped up, her bushy brown hair flying madly around her face. “Daddy!” She pushed the book to the side and raced over to his waiting arms.
Harry swung her up in his arms, holding her close. “How was school today?”
“It was okay. We have a nasty boy in my class now.” Lauren’s arms snaked around her father’s neck and her legs around his waist as he carried her into the kitchen, where they found Hermione cooking dinner.
“Why is he nasty, eh?” Harry asked, setting Lauren down into a chair and walking across to kiss Hermione hello. She ruffled his hair as Lauren got up to get herself a drink. “And you didn’t answer my question, what are you reading?”
“I’m reading Hogwarts, A History,” Lauren said in a tone that reminded him so much of Hermione as a teenager. “And he’s nasty because he said something mean about Mummy.”
Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance, then turned back to their daughter.
“What did he say, Boo?” Harry asked.
Lauren’s face screwed up in deep concentration. “He said… ” She hesitated for a few moments. “He said he knew what my name was and who my Mummy and Daddy were and that Mummy was a filthy Mudblood. What’s a Mudblood?”
Hermione tried unsuccessfully to stifle a gasp as Harry paled. He took a deep breath, noticing Lauren’s face looking up innocently at them. She didn’t have a clue what a Mudblood was.
Harry took the seat opposite Lauren as Hermione came up to stand behind him. “Lauren, a Mudblood is a very unkind name for someone who was born to Muggle parents. I never, ever want to hear you call anyone a Mudblood, okay?”
Lauren nodded. “Okay, Daddy. I told you, he’s a nasty boy.”
“He sure sounds like it. What’s his name?”
“Lucian Malfoy. You should see his hair, Daddy. It’s almost white like Grandpa’s!”
Hermione skirted around Harry and leaned over to kiss the top of their daughter’s head. “Boo, you just ignore anything he says, okay? Stay away from him and play with your friends. Don’t let him upset you.”
“Okay,” Lauren chirped happily, gulping down her milk.
“Now, why don’t you go and wash up for dinner then you can help set up the table.”
Lauren got up and left the kitchen. Harry immediately rose and turned around to face Hermione, but she’d already gone back over to the stove, where she stood stirring the contents of the large crockpot in front of her. She didn’t need to be touching the wooden spoon at all; the dinner was cooking itself. But Harry noticed her grip on the spoon was so tight her knuckles were white with the effort.
He came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders comfortingly. “You can’t blame the boy, love. He’s only listening to his father.”
Hermione didn’t answer for a few long moments, choosing instead to concentrate on dinner. Harry moved his arms to wrap around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.
“After all this time, Harry,” Hermione finally said. “Damn Malfoy.”
“Draco Malfoy is and always has been a pretentious, arrogant, stuck up little snot. I’m only sorry he’s allowed to breed.”
In spite of herself, Hermione laughed a little. “We’ll never be rid of the Malfoys of the world, Harry, so there’s no point wishing any different.” She let go of the spoon and turned in his arms, placing her arms around his neck. “How has your day been?” she asked quietly. “I was thinking about you all day.”
Harry looked into his wife’s eyes and saw the love and concern she felt for him. “It was okay. I couldn’t tell you if I did any actual work. I kept losing my train of thought.”
Hermione stroked his hair soothingly. “That’s understandable, sweetie.”
“I still miss him.”
“I know you do.”
He leaned in to kiss her, only to be interrupted by small hands wrapping around their legs. They looked down and found a grinning Lauren beaming up at them. She lifted her hands up to show them. “All clean!” she announced proudly.
“Good girl,” Hermione said. “Why don’t you set the table then?”
Lauren skipped over to the drawer to carefully get out the cutlery while Hermione served up dinner.
~*~
“So, the beautiful princess Boo was finally rescued by the handsome prince, and they set off on his Norwegian Ridgeback to live happily ever after.”
Harry looked down to his right where he found Lauren nestled into him, sound asleep. Lauren made him tell her a story every night when he tucked her in, and Harry had ended up creating a series about a beautiful green-eyed bushy-haired princess named Boo who had many a great adventure. They always ended with Boo being rescued by the handsome prince and them flying away on his dragon. Lauren had become quite taken with dragons ever since she’d met one when they’d taken a holiday to visit Charlie Weasley in Spain. Of course, Lauren had had her Weasley cousins to play with too, so she’d had a marvellous time.
Hermione cuddled into him, raising a hand to stroke Lauren’s head while she slept. All three Potters made story time a family event, with Harry in the middle as storyteller and his two girls on either side of him. They watched their daughter sleep for a few minutes, then carefully slid off the bed. Harry picked Lauren up and, after stopping to let Hermione kiss her forehead, carried her into her bedroom, tucking her in with her stuffed dragon Dexter.
He closed the door over and went to go back to his bedroom, but suddenly felt his entire day catch up with him and his eyes began to water. His thoughts hadn’t strayed far from Sirius all day. Not that he expected any different, given that it was the nineteenth anniversary of Sirius’ death, but there wasn’t much that made thirty four year old Harry want to cry more than the thought of his long dead but much mourned godfather.
He got to the open bedroom door and spoke quietly. “I’m just going outside for a bit of fresh air,” he told Hermione, trying to keep his voice even. “I’ll be back soon.” Without waiting for a response, he made his way to the back of the house and stepped out onto the porch.
Although it was summer, the night air was cool. Harry shivered, both from the wind and the memories that danced through his head uninvited. He took slow, deep breaths as the tears pricking his eyes threatened to fall, then gave up fighting them and slumped down on the top step as they trailed down his cheeks.
He heard the door open behind him but didn’t turn around. Harry could sense his wife’s hesitation to disturb him, but was grateful when she sat down next to him, one arm around his shoulders and the other reaching out to grasp his hand in hers.
“Did you see Remus today?”
“Yeah. We had lunch.”
“How’s he doing?”
“He’s okay.” Harry paused, staring out straight into the inky blackness of the night. “He’s looking old, Hermione. I don’t think he ever got over it, not completely.”
Hermione paused for such a long time that Harry was beginning to think she’d lost her voice. “Neither did you,” she said in a quiet tone.
“How could I? I led him to his death.”
“You did what you had to, Harry. You thought you were doing the right thing. You believed he was in trouble and wanted to help him. He wouldn’t have expected any different.”
“You told me not to go. I should have listened to you.”
Hermione’s fingers tightened around Harry’s as she heard her husband’s voice waver. They’d been married for fourteen years, but the ache in her heart for him over his guilt and his grief hadn’t lessened with time.
“You wouldn’t have listened to anyone, Harry. You did what you felt you needed to do. You can’t keep torturing yourself, love. Sirius wouldn’t have wanted you to blame yourself for his death.”
“I... I just... ” Harry trailed off as the lump in his throat got bigger. “I just miss him. He got cheated out of a chance to have a normal life. It’s not fair.”
“No, it’s not,” Hermione agreed, stroking his hair. “Sirius didn’t deserve to die, Harry. But you don’t deserve to keep beating yourself up over it, either. He wouldn’t have wanted that. He would have wanted you to be happy.”
Harry turned to look at her for the first time since she’d come outside. “I am happy, Hermione. You and Lauren are my life, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything. I just wish Sirius was around to see it.”
Hermione leaned in to kiss his cheek. “He can see it, love. He’s watching over us, I’m sure.”
They both turned their gazes upwards to stare at the stars that twinkled above them. They watched a shooting star tear across the sky before fading into oblivion. Somehow, it comforted Harry to know that Sirius was near him.
“He’ll always be with us, in our hearts.”
Harry looked at his wife, whose tear-filled eyes mirrored his own. “I love you,” he said hoarsely, his voice cracking.
“I love you, too.” She reached up and wiped away a stray tear, then stroked his cheek gently before getting up and holding out a hand. “Let’s get some sleep.”
Wordlessly, Harry took her hand and rose, looking up at the sky one last time, and then allowed her to lead him to their bedroom.
~*~
You can read the sequel to this fic, called "Four", here.
Pairing: Harry/Hermione
Rating: G
Summary: Even after all these years, Harry still remembers him.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: Written after OotP and contains spoilers for the book. Harry's daughter's nickname is from Monsters, Inc. Thanks to ceilidh for the beta.
Harry Potter eased off his robes and put down his case in the foyer. The warmth of the house instantly drew him in, relaxing him and easing his troubled mind. Padding across to the lounge room, he found his six year old daughter sitting serenely on the lounge, a large tome spread across her lap.
“Hey, Boo,” he said. “What are you reading?”
Lauren’s head snapped up, her bushy brown hair flying madly around her face. “Daddy!” She pushed the book to the side and raced over to his waiting arms.
Harry swung her up in his arms, holding her close. “How was school today?”
“It was okay. We have a nasty boy in my class now.” Lauren’s arms snaked around her father’s neck and her legs around his waist as he carried her into the kitchen, where they found Hermione cooking dinner.
“Why is he nasty, eh?” Harry asked, setting Lauren down into a chair and walking across to kiss Hermione hello. She ruffled his hair as Lauren got up to get herself a drink. “And you didn’t answer my question, what are you reading?”
“I’m reading Hogwarts, A History,” Lauren said in a tone that reminded him so much of Hermione as a teenager. “And he’s nasty because he said something mean about Mummy.”
Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance, then turned back to their daughter.
“What did he say, Boo?” Harry asked.
Lauren’s face screwed up in deep concentration. “He said… ” She hesitated for a few moments. “He said he knew what my name was and who my Mummy and Daddy were and that Mummy was a filthy Mudblood. What’s a Mudblood?”
Hermione tried unsuccessfully to stifle a gasp as Harry paled. He took a deep breath, noticing Lauren’s face looking up innocently at them. She didn’t have a clue what a Mudblood was.
Harry took the seat opposite Lauren as Hermione came up to stand behind him. “Lauren, a Mudblood is a very unkind name for someone who was born to Muggle parents. I never, ever want to hear you call anyone a Mudblood, okay?”
Lauren nodded. “Okay, Daddy. I told you, he’s a nasty boy.”
“He sure sounds like it. What’s his name?”
“Lucian Malfoy. You should see his hair, Daddy. It’s almost white like Grandpa’s!”
Hermione skirted around Harry and leaned over to kiss the top of their daughter’s head. “Boo, you just ignore anything he says, okay? Stay away from him and play with your friends. Don’t let him upset you.”
“Okay,” Lauren chirped happily, gulping down her milk.
“Now, why don’t you go and wash up for dinner then you can help set up the table.”
Lauren got up and left the kitchen. Harry immediately rose and turned around to face Hermione, but she’d already gone back over to the stove, where she stood stirring the contents of the large crockpot in front of her. She didn’t need to be touching the wooden spoon at all; the dinner was cooking itself. But Harry noticed her grip on the spoon was so tight her knuckles were white with the effort.
He came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders comfortingly. “You can’t blame the boy, love. He’s only listening to his father.”
Hermione didn’t answer for a few long moments, choosing instead to concentrate on dinner. Harry moved his arms to wrap around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.
“After all this time, Harry,” Hermione finally said. “Damn Malfoy.”
“Draco Malfoy is and always has been a pretentious, arrogant, stuck up little snot. I’m only sorry he’s allowed to breed.”
In spite of herself, Hermione laughed a little. “We’ll never be rid of the Malfoys of the world, Harry, so there’s no point wishing any different.” She let go of the spoon and turned in his arms, placing her arms around his neck. “How has your day been?” she asked quietly. “I was thinking about you all day.”
Harry looked into his wife’s eyes and saw the love and concern she felt for him. “It was okay. I couldn’t tell you if I did any actual work. I kept losing my train of thought.”
Hermione stroked his hair soothingly. “That’s understandable, sweetie.”
“I still miss him.”
“I know you do.”
He leaned in to kiss her, only to be interrupted by small hands wrapping around their legs. They looked down and found a grinning Lauren beaming up at them. She lifted her hands up to show them. “All clean!” she announced proudly.
“Good girl,” Hermione said. “Why don’t you set the table then?”
Lauren skipped over to the drawer to carefully get out the cutlery while Hermione served up dinner.
~*~
“So, the beautiful princess Boo was finally rescued by the handsome prince, and they set off on his Norwegian Ridgeback to live happily ever after.”
Harry looked down to his right where he found Lauren nestled into him, sound asleep. Lauren made him tell her a story every night when he tucked her in, and Harry had ended up creating a series about a beautiful green-eyed bushy-haired princess named Boo who had many a great adventure. They always ended with Boo being rescued by the handsome prince and them flying away on his dragon. Lauren had become quite taken with dragons ever since she’d met one when they’d taken a holiday to visit Charlie Weasley in Spain. Of course, Lauren had had her Weasley cousins to play with too, so she’d had a marvellous time.
Hermione cuddled into him, raising a hand to stroke Lauren’s head while she slept. All three Potters made story time a family event, with Harry in the middle as storyteller and his two girls on either side of him. They watched their daughter sleep for a few minutes, then carefully slid off the bed. Harry picked Lauren up and, after stopping to let Hermione kiss her forehead, carried her into her bedroom, tucking her in with her stuffed dragon Dexter.
He closed the door over and went to go back to his bedroom, but suddenly felt his entire day catch up with him and his eyes began to water. His thoughts hadn’t strayed far from Sirius all day. Not that he expected any different, given that it was the nineteenth anniversary of Sirius’ death, but there wasn’t much that made thirty four year old Harry want to cry more than the thought of his long dead but much mourned godfather.
He got to the open bedroom door and spoke quietly. “I’m just going outside for a bit of fresh air,” he told Hermione, trying to keep his voice even. “I’ll be back soon.” Without waiting for a response, he made his way to the back of the house and stepped out onto the porch.
Although it was summer, the night air was cool. Harry shivered, both from the wind and the memories that danced through his head uninvited. He took slow, deep breaths as the tears pricking his eyes threatened to fall, then gave up fighting them and slumped down on the top step as they trailed down his cheeks.
He heard the door open behind him but didn’t turn around. Harry could sense his wife’s hesitation to disturb him, but was grateful when she sat down next to him, one arm around his shoulders and the other reaching out to grasp his hand in hers.
“Did you see Remus today?”
“Yeah. We had lunch.”
“How’s he doing?”
“He’s okay.” Harry paused, staring out straight into the inky blackness of the night. “He’s looking old, Hermione. I don’t think he ever got over it, not completely.”
Hermione paused for such a long time that Harry was beginning to think she’d lost her voice. “Neither did you,” she said in a quiet tone.
“How could I? I led him to his death.”
“You did what you had to, Harry. You thought you were doing the right thing. You believed he was in trouble and wanted to help him. He wouldn’t have expected any different.”
“You told me not to go. I should have listened to you.”
Hermione’s fingers tightened around Harry’s as she heard her husband’s voice waver. They’d been married for fourteen years, but the ache in her heart for him over his guilt and his grief hadn’t lessened with time.
“You wouldn’t have listened to anyone, Harry. You did what you felt you needed to do. You can’t keep torturing yourself, love. Sirius wouldn’t have wanted you to blame yourself for his death.”
“I... I just... ” Harry trailed off as the lump in his throat got bigger. “I just miss him. He got cheated out of a chance to have a normal life. It’s not fair.”
“No, it’s not,” Hermione agreed, stroking his hair. “Sirius didn’t deserve to die, Harry. But you don’t deserve to keep beating yourself up over it, either. He wouldn’t have wanted that. He would have wanted you to be happy.”
Harry turned to look at her for the first time since she’d come outside. “I am happy, Hermione. You and Lauren are my life, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything. I just wish Sirius was around to see it.”
Hermione leaned in to kiss his cheek. “He can see it, love. He’s watching over us, I’m sure.”
They both turned their gazes upwards to stare at the stars that twinkled above them. They watched a shooting star tear across the sky before fading into oblivion. Somehow, it comforted Harry to know that Sirius was near him.
“He’ll always be with us, in our hearts.”
Harry looked at his wife, whose tear-filled eyes mirrored his own. “I love you,” he said hoarsely, his voice cracking.
“I love you, too.” She reached up and wiped away a stray tear, then stroked his cheek gently before getting up and holding out a hand. “Let’s get some sleep.”
Wordlessly, Harry took her hand and rose, looking up at the sky one last time, and then allowed her to lead him to their bedroom.
~*~
You can read the sequel to this fic, called "Four", here.