Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Summary: She was the brightest star in his eyes.
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Hermione Granger (Pettigrew/Potter), James Potter, Harry Potter, Pokey, Mary McDonald

1.

this brilliant light is brighter than we've known

(You Are Enough by Sleeping at Last)

February 10, 1983

James frowned when he walked out of their bathroom. Hermione was still lying on their bed. The comforter was drawn up to her chin, effectively burying almost all of herself underneath it. The only thing James could see was her riotous curls.

"Hermione?" he called, already walking towards their dresser to pull out his office clothes for the day. "Why aren't you up yet? I thought you said Professor Hypatiaasked you to go to Hogwarts to sit in with her Arithmancy class today?"

Hermione slowly peeked her head out from under their comforter and grimaced. "I'm not feeling well," she simply said. "I already owled her to say I'll do it some other time."

James's frown deepened. "What?" he worriedly asked, hastily throwing a plain shirt and a clean pair of trousers on before sauntering towards their bed. Up close, he saw how her cheeks were flushed red and there were already beads of sweat clinging onto the strands of hair stuck to her forehead.

He reached forward and touched her forehead. His eyes grew wide at noting that she was too warm to touch. He quickly grabbed onto his wand and made a series of simple wand movements. A small number projected upwards on the tip of his wand, stating that Hermione was running a fever.

"Bollocks," Hermione groaned as she tried to haul herself up. She propped herself against their headboard and grimaced. "Molly warned me I shouldn't drop by the Burrow yesterday because the twins were running a fever, but I still went anyway."

James looked down at Hermione disapprovingly. "You should have listened to Molly," he admonished, reaching forward once more to rest a hand on her swollen belly.

Hermione weakly smiled. "I told her in passing this second pregnancy was a bit more difficult than when I was carrying Harry," she explained. "Molly offered to give some potions to help."

She laughed and held his hand, noting the worry in his eyes. "I'm fine, love," she reassured. "It's nothing intolerable. I just need a few help to make me feel a bit better." Her eyes glinted as her hand rested on top of her belly. "I can already predict this little one will be a bigger handful than our Harry."

"Still," he insisted, "I think having a fever while you're six months pregnant isn't normal." He waved his wand and muttered a soft 'Accio parchment and quill'.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to owl Moody and tell him I can't go into work today," he explained.

"You don't have to do that," Hermione protested. "I can just owl Mum and—"

James cut her off with a sigh. "Let me take care of you today, Hermione," he said. "Besides, I think this is a perfect opportunity to ditch work." He gave her a wide grin when Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm sure Moody wouldn't like it if Anya got mad at him for refusing to give me a day off to take care of you."

"Moody wouldn't care what my mother thinks," she grumbled.

"Please, Hermione, that man's besotted," he snorted whilst he scribbled his letter on the parchment.

"It's so weird Mum's dating Moody," she pointed out, shifting back onto the bed to bury herself underneath their comforter.

James laughed and pulled the comforter up to her chin. "If it's weird for you, imagine how Wormtail feels," he said.

"You're still invited to our first-ever dinner with Moody next week, you know."

"Pass," he said with a grimace. "Although it would be mighty fun to watch Peter squirm, I'd rather not casually have dinner with my boss outside of work."

"I'm sure he isn't all bad," she said. "I mean, Mum likes him. As in really, really likes him. I've never seen her happy like that before. Even when she was with Dad or when she dated her boring ex."

James made another face. "It still beats me what she sees in him," he said, summoning another spare piece of parchment. "I'm going to write to Mary too so that she can drop by and check up on you." James placed a kiss on her burning forehead and said, "Rest for now, love. I'll bring you some soup later."

Hermione hummed her thanks, her eyes already fluttering closed.

-ooo-

When James came back to their bedroom after sending out the letters, three-year-old Harry was in tow.

"Listen, mate, your Mum is not feeling well," he seriously told the tiny tot, who was adorably hugging his stag stuffed toy to his chest. Snowball was playfully darting around Harry's legs as she tried to grab onto the stag's tail, but Harry kept on incessantly pulling it away. "Both of us must stay very, very quiet so as not to disturb your mother, okay?"

"Okay," Harry said, his bottom lip protruding in worry.

James grinned and mussed up his messy hair. "Good lad," he complimented. "Now, come on."

Harry's small hand then clutched James's as his father led him into their bedroom.

Hermione was still buried under their comforter, her curls a messy halo around her head. Her blue eyes blinked open when their door creaked open, a small, sleepy smile stretching on her face upon seeing her family. "Hello," she said as she slowly sat up and leaned against their headboard.

"You okay, Mama?" Harry worriedly asked. The little boy tried to wriggle away from James's grasp, but his father's hold on him tightened to keep him in place.

"I'm okay, love," she reassured just to appease their worried son. Up close, however, James noted she looked worse than this morning. "I'm just not feeling well today." Her gaze shifted towards James, her smile now turning into a small frown. "I don't think Harry should be here. He might get sick too."

"I've owled the Snapes," James assured. "Lily's going to look after Harry today, anyway. I asked if she could take in Harry for the night."

Harry tugged his hand, prompting James to look down at him. "I don't want to go," he softly said.

James and Hermione exchanged an amused glance. "Well, too bad but you have to go, mate," his father said with a sigh, bending down to pick Harry up into his arms. "I have to take care of your mother for today and we don't want you to get sick too."

"But I want to take care of Mama too," Harry protested, tears now welling up in his eyes as he tried to reach for Hermione.

"Oh sweetheart," Hermione said with a fond smile, "I'd rather you don't get sick because of me. Your Aunt Lily will take care of you today. Besides, I thought you said you wanted to see Iris again and play with her?"

"But Uncle Sev is always grumpy," he grumbled.

James boisterously laughed and shifted Harry in his arms. "That's just the way he is, Harry," he explained. "I'm going to give you permission to stomp on his feet if he's being annoying."

"James!"

"Right, of course, that was a joke, love," James told Hermione while he threw a secret wink at his son. "Don't listen to me, Harry. That is a bad thing to do."

By that time, the door had creaked open once more and in came a primly dressed Pokey, who was currently balancing a tray of soup and a warm cup of water. "Is Mistress Hermione all right?" the small house-elf asked, pushing James out of the way so she could reach Hermione. "Pokey heard from Master James that Mistress Hermione isn't feeling well."

"I'm fine," she reassured, smiling in amusement as Pokey fussed over their bed by trying to make her pillows fluffier and smoothing out the creases in the comforter. "You didn't have to come over."

"I asked her to take Harry to the Snapes," James said, bending down once more to place Harry back onto his feet. "Thank you, Pokey. You've been a great help."

To their utmost surprise, Pokey turned to James and swatted his arm. "Why isn't Master James taking proper care of the Mistress of the House?" she shrilly cried.

"Merlin and Morgana, Pokey, calm down!" James sputtered, too dumbfounded that his house-elf had hit him. "She's just running a fever."

"While carrying another Potter!" Pokey bemoaned. Big, fat tears welled up in her tennis-ball eyes as she started to sob loudly with her face hidden behind her hands. "Oh, Mistress, forgive Pokey. It is Pokey's fault Master James isn't taking proper care of Mistress Hermione!"

"I am taking care of Hermione," James whined amidst Hermione's soft chuckles. "Why do I feel like you love Hermione more than me now?"

Pokey harrumphed and stomped towards Harry. "Come, Master Harry," she said, grasping onto Harry's hand. "Pokey must teach you how to take care of the future Mistress of the House."

"Merlin, Pokey, Harry's three!" James cried.

"Better to start them early, Master James," she sternly said. She then paused and craned her neck to look at Hermione again. "Pokey wishes Mistress Hermione to get better soon."

"Thank you, Pokey," she kindly said, eyes twinkling in amusement when James lightly scowled.

Before Pokey could pull him out of the bedroom, Harry dug his heels into the carpeted floor. He broke free from Pokey's grasp and toddled closer to his mother. Harry placed a kiss on top of his stag's head and extended it to Hermione. "He'll take care of you while I'm gone, Mama," Harry seriously said.

Hermione's smile turned warm. "Thank you, love," she said, grasping his toy and hugging it close to her chest. "Do have fun with the Snapes today. If Uncle Sev's being a sourpuss again, tell him I will send him a Bat-Bogey Hex when we see each other."

"Hermione!" James mockingly gasped, although his lips were stretched far and wide in amusement. At the same time, Harry mouthed the hex under his breath, as if really trying to burn the spell into his memory.

"Come, Master Harry," Pokey said, reaching for Harry again. They both bid their goodbyes and left the two adults alone.

As soon as Harry was gone, Hermione grimaced and slumped back onto the bed. James was instantly by her side and touching her forehead. "You're warmer than this morning," he pointed out with a frown.

"I feel worse," she grumbled, burying herself deeper under the comforter. "And very cold."

James waved his wand to give her a Warming Charm. Hermione smiled in gratitude.

"Sip some soup first, love," James urged, but Hermione's eyes were already fluttering closed.

"Just a few more minutes," she sighed. Her hand shot out from the blanket and held onto James's hand. She then placed his hand against her cheek and expelled another sigh. "Please stay. You're warm."

His eyes turned fond as he fixed the blanket up to her chin. "All right," he said.

-ooo-

Mary came over that night after her shift and proceeded to kick James out of their bedroom.

"I don't want any hovering over my shoulder while I do my series of check-ups," she explained when James protested. She gave him a reassuring smile and patted his arm. "Don't worry. I'll be quick."

"Fine," he sighed in defeat.

"Be a dear James and prepare me some tea instead," she said. "It's been a really long day for me."

"I'm sorry for bothering you, Mary."

The Healer waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, bollocks," she said with a grin. "I'm glad you called me immediately. It's a bit worrisome when pregnant women get sick so I'd rather Hermione gets checked up immediately."

"Will she be all right?" he worriedly asked.

"We'll know soon," she reassured. "Go on. Prepare some tea."

By the time James returned, balancing a tray with a teapot and some teacups, their bedroom door was ajar. "May I come in now?" he asked.

Mary yanked the door wider and came into view, a small smile on her face. "Yes, come in," she said.

James sauntered inside, his eyes instantly latching onto his wife who was once again propped against their headboard. Hermione was sipping a potion when her eyes connected with his.

"So?" the bespectacled wizard asked, watching as Mary proceeded to help herself to some tea.

"Oh, Hermione will be fine," the Healer reassured. "It's nothing serious. Just simple flu. We just have to keep her temperature down and she'll be back to normal."

"And our baby?"

"She's going to be fine," Mary continued, unable to see the panicked glance Hermione had shot at her back. Her back was also turned from James, and thus, she was unable to see how he stiffened at her claim. "Your little girl will be out and about in no time."

The Healer flinched in surprise and swivelled around to look at James, when said wizard's grip slackened and his wand clattered to the floor. Mary's eyebrows knitted in confusion, before realisation dawned, her eyes now growing wide. "Oh!" she cried, shifting her gaze towards an amused Hermione. "Oh, he doesn't know yet?"

The brunette shook her head. "It was supposed to be a surprise," she said with a laugh. Her eyes then landed on her frozen husband, her lips stretching into a huge grin. "Err… surprise."

James was instantly beside her, pulling her into a tight hug. "A girl!" he exclaimed, his eyes turning starry as he glanced at her swollen belly.

"I knew you'd be over the moon," she chuckled, placing a kiss on his cheek.

May 7, 1983

"Mary—"

"No, James."

"Why can't I be inside?" he cried. "Is it because I'm a man? And I can't tolerate watching childbirth? Mary, listen—"

But the Healer cut him off with a loud snort. "James, please, don't be ridiculous," she said, already pushing James aside so she could enter their bedroom. "I know you and Hermione have reasons why you want her labour to happen in your home. Many Wizarding families actually opt to do that instead of venturing to St. Mungo's. Did you know the maternity ward is the most recently established section in the hospital? I mean really recent. Ancient, wrinkly wizards thought they shouldn't bother building one because, as I said, witches opted to do their childbirth at home. Loads of codswallop, if you ask me. Terribly sexist too because they thought childbirth shouldn't be done in the hospital. Merlin, you should have been there when they were lecturing us about assisting the births of witches. I was about to explode from the ridiculousness of it all."

"Mary," James exclaimed in exasperation.

Mary's cheeks bloomed red as a sheepish smile grew on her face. "Right," she continued, "the point is, I want to make the room as sterile as possible. Meaning, no unnecessary people hovering around, undoubtedly bringing in horrible contamination that may put the mother and child at risk. Besides, you'll just get in the way and I don't need a panicky husband demanding me to do my job properly, which mind you, I've trained in for years, especially if an emergency arises." When James visibly paled, she hastily added, "Which won't happen at all if I don't get distracted from my job."

The Healer made a series of complicated spells towards herself while motioning with her other hand for James to back a few steps away from her. She then crossed the threshold of their bedroom, where Hermione was already waiting for Mary's assistance and held up a hand when James tried to follow.

"I've already made myself sterile enough and you are not," she said. "You're not allowed beyond this point until I've safely delivered your daughter."

"Mary," he pleaded, "please. Let me stay beside Hermione. I promise I'll be a good man and not get in your way It's just that—" James worriedly darted a glance over Mary's shoulder and caught a glimpse of Hermione's curly hair. "This pregnancy is more difficult than her first. Hermione's often gotten sick. You said this pregnancy is riskier too. If something happens I just want…" James puffed out a breath, his hazel eyes colouring with worry. "I just want to be beside my wife."

The Healer looked contemplative for a moment before she finally expelled a humongous sigh. "Merlin Almighty, I can't believe I'm breaching protocol," she said, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

Despite his worry, James gave her a weak, lopsided smile. "I'm a Marauder, Mary," he said. "You know I like breaking protocols."

"Fine, Godric," she exclaimed, now pointing her wand at James.

"What are you—"

"Just stay put, Potter, and let me do my job."

James's eyes widened, surprised that the normally sweet Mary really turned terrifying when she was wearing her lime green robes. He stiffened when Mary made a series of complicated wand movements directed at James, and by the time she was finished, the bespectacled wizard actually felt clean.

Mary then summoned spare lime green robes and offered them to James. "Wear this," she ordered.

He glanced at his own Auror robes and blinked. "I'm good," he haltingly said.

She rolled her eyes and pressed the robes into his hands. "Healer robes are designed with the most advanced magic to be impenetrable to contamination. I've already made a series of spells to make you sterile, but I don't trust you enough that you won't touch any filthy things lying around."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence," he sarcastically quipped.

"Just wear it, James," she insisted. James was about to quip another snarky remark but was reduced to silence when Hermione released a pained cry from inside. "Come on. Wear this now. Hermione's about to go into labour."

The wizard hastily shrugged his Auror robes off and wore Mary's spare Healer robes. It instantly lengthened to fit his height and build, and James briefly wondered what other secret spells Healer robes had. He was soon distracted when Hermione made another soft cry, propelling him forward until he was standing beside his wife.

"James?" she asked, eyes squinting a bit because of pain. "What are you doing here?"

"He begged to stay," Mary sighed, her eyes melting in understanding as she gazed at the worried wizard. "No, wait!"

James flinched, his fingers a few inches away from Hermione's hand, and paused. "What?"

Mary summoned a small vial from her bag and gave it to James. "Pour some of this onto your hands first," she said.

"Mary, I'm already bloody sterile enough," he cried in exasperation.

"Not enough," Mary insisted. "Did you know the hands are one of the dirtiest parts of the body?"

"Frankly, Mary, I don't really care."

"James," Hermione admonished through gritted teeth.

"Just slather some on your hands and you can touch Hermione wherever for all I care," Mary shrieked.

If it were more possible, James's eyes had grown so wide they had almost popped out of their sockets. Judging from Hermione's bewildered face, he knew that she too was surprised by Mary's surprising attitude. The Healer seemed oblivious of their surprised faces as she was now busy preparing a basin and some dry towels.

"Is it just me or is Mary terrifying today?" James softly asked under his breath as he poured the potion onto his hands. He hissed a bit when it stung, but the pain was brief as the liquid coated every inch of his hand up to his fingertips. James looked at his hand in amazement. There was a thin sheen of glove-shaped liquid enveloping his whole hand.

"Peter once told me in passing Mary could be terrifying when she's in her lime green robes," Hermione whispered with a soft chuckle. A pained groan then dragged out of her lips as she placed a hand on her contracting belly. "Merlin, our girl's really ready to come out."

"Are the contractions now regularly constant, Hermione?" Mary asked, her tone of voice softer as she rounded back towards Hermione.

The brunette slightly nodded her head and grimaced again. James instantly held onto her hand.

"Hold onto my hand very, very tightly if the pain is unbearable," he seriously said. "In fact, I think I can transfer your pain to me, can I? Maybe I should—"

He was cut off when both witches simultaneously snorted. "What?" James asked, confused.

"Childbirth is bloody painful, which is why we've developed ways to numb the pain," Mary explained. "Don't worry. Her contractions are getting regular. I'll give her the Numbing Spell soon."

It didn't take too long as Hermione's pained cries became frequent. Mary made another series of complicated wand work and instantly, Hermione's face cleared.

"I can already see the crown of her head," Mary declared. James gazed at the Healer with wide, disbelieving eyes, before dumbly shifting his gaze back towards Hermione. "I'm going to need your help now, Hermione, all right?"

"All right," his wife faintly whispered.

Mary gave her a reassuring smile. "Very good," the Healer said. "I want you to take a deep breath, Hermione. That's it. Take a deep breath and push."

The brunette did as she was told and James held onto her hand tighter. He brought her knuckles to his lips and pressed a comforting kiss there. "That's it, love. Come on. You can do it."

Their mingled words of encouragement increased Hermione's vigour. James kept his eyes reverently glued on Hermione's face, trying to see if there was any hint of pain that could mean something worse. As he was too busy looking at Hermione, he wasn't able to see when their baby finally came out. His eyes only snapped towards their daughter when her loud cries filled their room.

James felt marvellously flummoxed, watching as Mary gently wiped the blood away from their baby's body and swaddled her in one of the dry blankets. Her eyes met James's and a bright smile appeared on her face. "Congratulations," she said. "It's a girl."

She then passed their baby into James's arms and the wizard dumbly stared down at his newborn. Beside him, Hermione started to cry happy tears, reaching forward to gently stroke the baby's head.

James knew he should pass the baby to Hermione. But for some strange reason, he felt frozen, his eyes unable to gaze away from their new baby.

She was so tiny and wrinkly, pink from crying. Her hair was the same shade as Hermione's and he could already see the curls on top of her small head. Her eyes were blue but James could already notice flecks of brown near her irises. Perhaps, he thought, she would grow up to have his eyes too.

When Harry was born, James instantly thought he was beautiful.

But this baby… this baby was so bright.

So, so bright.

"Stella," he breathed out, his eyes clouding with tears as he met Hermione's eyes. A silly grin stretched wide on his face, prompting Hermione to softly chuckle at the ridiculous look on his face.

"Stella," Hermione echoed back.

Chapter Text

Summary: Harry Potter lived a very ordinary life
Rating: T
Warnings: Some mild cussing
Characters: Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley, Iris Snape, Stella Potter, Leon Potter, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Pettigrew-Potter, James Potter, Ginny Weasley, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, Severus Snape

2.

the universe was made just to be seen by my eyes – part i

(Saturn by Sleeping at Last)

1991

This was it.

He was finally a first year.

Harry knew he looked stupid, gawking widely at the large, maroon train whilst billows of smoke spiralled out of the chimney and blanketed Platform 9 ¾ in a hazy veil. Numerous stories from his parents about their adventures in Hogwarts resurfaced in his mind. There was a part of him—a huge one, in fact—that felt excitement upon starting his first year in the said school. The sadness he felt upon leaving home was momentarily forgotten as he beheld the Hogwarts train.

"Come on, Harry. The train's about to leave!" his best friend, Ron Weasley, whined from behind. Harry shook his awe away and sheepishly glanced at the lanky redhead, before hastily clambering onto the train.

Ron was already excitedly reciting everything he wanted to do once he stepped foot in Hogwarts. Harry only leant him half an ear, too busy searching for an empty carriage they could occupy.

"Hey," the bespectacled eleven-year-old suddenly said, skidding into a halt. "Where's Nev?"

Ron's jaw snapped shut, his eyes growing wide in a slight panic. "Bloody hell, did he lose Trevor again?" he groaned.

"Language," Harry tutted, prompting Ron to roll his eyes and completely push Harry inside a blessedly unoccupied carriage. "Do you reckon we should look for him?"

"He'll be fine," his best friend dismissed, plopping onto one of the couches and stretching his legs comfortably. Ron wasn't able to see Harry's frown, as he was now busy pilfering through a small bag holding his snacks. He made a face and set it aside. "Err…"

"I'll treat you to some snacks once the Trolley Lady comes," Harry promised with a smile. "Dad sneaked a few galleons inside my robe pockets before saying goodbye." The redhead's cheeks reddened in sheepish embarrassment, but there was genuine gratitude in his blue eyes.

The train ride was uneventful. Ron and Harry alternated from playing various board games, predicting the outcome of this year's Professional Quidditch Finals, and guessing what would happen in their first year at Hogwarts.

Ron still firmly believed they would be swept away in various adventures, battling three-headed dogs ("That's ridiculous," Harry pointed out) or duelling with secret evil wizards to save the Wizarding World ("Ronald").

"Why not?" Ron snapped with a small pout. "The Marauders had loads of adventures during their stay at Hogwarts. Uncle James even gave you the Marauder's Map. I don't know about you, mate, but armed with your Dad's Cloak and the Map, we can explore Hogwarts to our heart's content."

"And face Mum's wrath," Harry pointedly replied. "Aunt Molly's too."

"We won't be facing anyone's wrath if we don't get caught," he simply said.

Harry snorted, already rolling his eyes as he imagined his Dad's, and even Uncle Sirius's, proud faces at how eager Ron was in following in their footsteps. Admittedly, Harry was fascinated with his Dad's and best friends' adventures in Hogwarts, and he couldn't wait to have his own. But with the Wizarding World at peace and no lurking evil Dark Lords in the shadows, Harry doubted his adventures would be as ridiculously wild as the Marauders.

Their necks then instantly snapped towards the compartment door when it was slid open. Outside their carriage stood a smirking, blond boy, his pointy nose haughtily lifted in the air.

"Look what I bloody found," Draco Malfoy said, grasping something from behind. He then pulled a teary-eyed Neville Longbottom inside their carriage with Trevor lovingly pressed against his chest. "Longbottom lost his bloody pet again."

"Language," Harry hissed with a frown, while Ron snickered at the expense of the frustrated, plump boy.

"You're not my mother, Potter," the young Malfoy said as he plopped down on the seat beside the bespectacled wizard. His silver eyes then snapped towards the scowling Neville, who was already hastily wiping his tears away. "Where the hell did you place your Remembrall, Nev? Aunt Alice specifically told you to keep it at all times to stop yourself from forgetting things."

Neville's cheeks turned red. "I don't know where I placed it," he murmured under his breath.

"Of course, you don't know where you placed it," Ron sighed.

Neville's scowl darkened, shoving Ron away whilst the Weasley unabashedly roared in laughter.

"Sorry for missing your birthday, Potter," Draco then said, rolling his eyes at his other rowdy best friends. "Mother also sends her apology."

"You made it up with that wicked gift of yours," Ron then pointed out, managing to wrestle his way away from Neville's arms. "You should have seen Aunt Hermione's eyes when she saw the collection of expensive robes."

Draco dismissively waved his hand as if it wasn't a big deal.

"Aunt Cissa's well, though?" Harry asked.

The Malfoy heir's face softened as a small smile appeared on his face. "Very well," he said. "Our vacation in France was what she'd needed after years and years of slaving over the Malfoy estate. If only I was of age already, then I could unburden my mother from such a huge responsibility."

"The Malfoy household will surely crash and burn once you're the Head, I'm sure," Ron cajoled. Draco lightly scowled and smacked him on the underside of his side, prompting the redhead to release a sheepish snort.

The boys had soon settled into amicable conversation, exchanging various anecdotes about their summer vacation. Ron had already challenged Neville to Wizard's Chess. He had been winning consecutively already, which wasn't much of a surprise.

"Where do you reckon you will be Sorted?" Harry softly quipped as soon as they donned their black robes.

"Gryffindor," Neville and Ron echoed without hesitation at the same time Draco confidently replied, "Slytherin, of course."

Harry threw Draco a withering glance. "Won't you be sad we'll be separated?" he asked. He jutted a thumb towards his other two friends and said, "I'm sure these blokes won't be well-suited in Slytherin and you, well, Merlin, I can't even imagine you prancing around with a bunch of Gryffindors."

"Well, if you must know, I've pranced around with Gryffindors since I was a babe because your families are mostly composed of Gryffindors," the blond-haired boy pointed out. "And, it doesn't matter. I've always known we'd be Sorted separately."

Draco then awkwardly scratched his chin and looked away from his best friends. "You'll allow me to still spend some time with you even though I'm a Slytherin, right?" His normally snooty voice was uncharacteristically soft as if he was genuinely scared his best friends would abandon him just because they were Sorted into different houses.

"Of course!" Neville vehemently replied.

Ron reached forwards and smacked him on the underside of his head again. "Weasley, honestly," Draco growled.

"We've long accepted you'll be a Slytherin through and through," Ron sighed whilst shaking his head. "You're getting worried over nothing, Draco."

Harry grinned and tossed a few Chocolate Frogs towards the pale boy. "Dad and the others made a bet where you'll get Sorted, you know," Harry revealed. "Uncle Sirius was the only one adamant you'd be Sorted into Gryffindor. Everybody else begged to differ."

"Well, which House do you think you'll be Sorted into, then?" Draco asked, quirking a blond eyebrow at the bespectacled boy.

Harry was then reduced to silence, a contemplative look on his face. He'd always believed he would be Sorted into Gryffindor; Merlin, he grew up surrounded with the loudest, most reckless Gryffindors he'd ever met and thus, he grew up wanting to be just like them. Now, however, hours away from the Sorting, Harry wasn't too sure.

"I don't know," he deliberately said.

"Well," Neville said as he jumped onto his feet and grasped the handle of his trunk, "we'll know soon."

-ooo-

"Potter, Harry."

It was ridiculous how he grew nervous once his name was called by Professor McGonagall. Nonetheless, Harry paled and stiffly walked towards the stool where the Sorting Hat was resting.

He caught his mother's eyes, an encouraging smile on her freckled face. Professor Potter was sandwiched between his Uncle Sev and Uncle Remus, who both tilted their heads to urge him to continue walking towards the stool.

Harry finally sat on the stool and nervously gazed at the Great Hall. He spied Neville, now Sorted in Gryffindor, giving him a two-thumbs up. Draco was seated at the Slytherin table, his annoying smirk spread wide on his pale face. Ron was the only one who wasn't Sorted yet, still standing with the remaining students bearing no colour on their robes.

His vision was then obscured when Professor McGonagall placed the Hat over his head. It was enormous, its wide brim managing to rest on the bridge of his nose.

"Hmm, difficult," the Hat started. "Very difficult."

"Difficult?" Harry echoed, growing worried. "Why do you say that?"

"Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. Perhaps Ravenclaw?" it mused aloud. Harry grew uncomfortable when he felt the Hat twisting wildly on top of his head. "There's talent, oh yes. And a thirst to prove yourself. Difficult indeed! But where to put you?"

Harry nervously tilted his head. "Anywhere will be fine," he decided. "It will be really wonderful if I'm placed in Gryffindor, though."

"Gryffindor?" the Hat asked, aghast. "Maybe Slytherin. I see proud ambition in your mind, too."

"Well, if it's not too much to ask, I think I'll be better off suited in Gryffindor," Harry insisted. "You've Sorted one of my best friends into Slytherin just a while ago, so I won't be lonely in Slytherin. But also, I really think Gryffindor suits me more."

"Well, if you're sure, better be… GRYFFINDOR!"

Professor McGonagall removed the Hat from his head. It took Harry some time to adjust to the sudden onslaught of blinding lights, but the Transfiguration Professor was already urging him to walk towards his new House. The Gryffindor table had burst into a huge round of applause, prompting his lips to stretch into a wide smile.

Harry craned his neck to look at the teacher's table once more. His mother was clapping the loudest too, but her happy applause was overpowered by the jeers of Professor Lupin, the current Head of Gryffindor. His Uncle Sev looked disappointed, though, but he was most definitely not surprised by the turn of events.

He then continued his trek towards the Gryffindor table, his grin stretching wider at Neville's excited greetings. Harry briefly threw an apologetic smile at Draco, but the blond merely rolled his eyes, also obviously unsurprised with Harry's Sorting.

"We're going to have so much fun," Neville gushed, his plump cheeks reddening with unadulterated excitement.

Harry beamed wide as his blue eyes swept around the grandiose Great Hall.

"I can't wait."

1992

"I don't think this is a good idea," Neville whimpered as they scuttled from one dark alcove to another, evading any possible authority who'd undoubtedly give them detention for being out of bed.

"Shhh," Ron and Draco whispered at the same time.

"Nobody can see us," Harry reassured, tugging the Invisibility Cloak lower to hide his legs. "Just stay quiet and trust me."

Poor Neville had no choice but to sigh and press himself closer to his best mates, lest he slipped out from under the Invisibility Cloak and got himself caught.

"This is the most idiotic plan you've ever concocted, Potter," Draco murmured as they finally stood in front of the abandoned girl's loo on the second floor. "I've always thought you were barmy, but Sweet Salazar, this is a whole different level."

Harry snorted and led them inside, immediately closing the door behind him. "If it's idiotic, then what the hell are you doing here?" he asked, a challenge in his eyes. The only Slytherin in the group gave him a stink eye, his high cheekbones now dusted with pink. "Admit it, you gits; you're curious about it too."

"What if it's still alive?" Neville nervously asked, his brown eyes wide as his gaze swept around the loo.

"Uncle Sirius has retold the tale countless times - every time he's given the chance," Ron pointed out. "I'm sure half of them aren't even true, but I do believe him when he says the basilisk is dead."

Harry rounded on his mates, a bright gleam in his blue eyes. "We'll be hasty," he promised. He cheekily grinned, reminiscent of the smile they'd always seen Uncle James wearing, and raised his hand. "Marauder's honour."

Draco snorted this time while Ron matched his grin and Neville sighed for the umpteenth time. "Don't be stupid," Draco said, "We can't be Marauders. No one can match them."

Harry laughed and waved the Marauder's Map in the air. "Dad secretly gave this to me as his blessing," he reminded them. "I don't know about you, mates, but I think Dad and his friends want us to continue their work in this school."

"And torment Filch until his dying breath, I'm sure," the redhead said with a broad grin.

"Can we just get this over and done with?" Neville whined, waving his hand over where the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets was. "If it doesn't open for us, I won't hesitate in saying 'I told you so'."

"Don't be such a sourpuss," Ron sighed, pushing Neville forwards while Harry and Draco clambered behind.

The four boys stood in front of the sink where a snake with glinting eyes sat. "We'll take turns trying, yeah?" Harry suggested.

Draco strode forwards. "Let me do it first," he said. "Maybe as a Slytherin, I'll be more successful," he said.

"Good luck with that," Ron sniped, grinning widely when the blond shot him a dark glare.

The blond then took a deep breath and hissed a bunch of incoherent sounds at the snake. After trying for a few minutes, Draco started to pout and glanced at his best mates in exasperation. "This is stupid," he grumbled, cheeks reddening once more at failing.

"Let me do it instead," Ron confidently offered, pushing Draco away and bending over the sink. The redhead hissed various words, but also to no avail. Neville also took his turn, but the snake stayed stubborn, refusing to slither away and reveal the entrance to the infamous Chamber of Secrets.

"I guess it's up to me, then," Harry said as he determinedly started forwards and stared at the snake. Harry narrowed his eyes and started to hiss. 'Open up, come on!' he beseeched amidst his furious hissing. The snake continued to mock him with its glinting eyes, immobile.

Such was their concentration they were unprepared when the door suddenly burst open. The students yelped in surprise and whirled around, only to be greeted by their thunderous Potions Professor.

"Uncle Sev, hi," Harry casually said.

"That is Professor Snape to you, Potter," the older wizard said with a scowl on his face. He deliberately strode forward, his piercing black eyes intent on the terrified boys. "And what, pray tell, are you doing out of your beds?"

Neville squeaked and pushed Harry forward. Ron and Draco scuttled further back, eyes trained intently on their shoes. Harry craned his neck to glare at his best friends in betrayal.

"I'm waiting," Professor Snape growled.

Harry nervously glanced at the furious professor. "Err…" He thickly swallowed and sheepishly smiled. "We were in the library, studying, Professor. Honest. And then, we lost track of time and, um, got lost."

"In this abandoned loo?" A vein popped on Professor Snape's forehead.

"In this abandoned loo," Harry echoed, keeping his face straight.

The Potions Master scowled. "And here I was fervently hoping you'd be more like your mother every day, Harry Potter," he sighed, disappointment evident on his face. "I have no energy to deal with all of you. I think it'll be better if I brought you all to Professor Potter to be properly dealt with instead."

"No!" Harry gasped, face paling. "Not with Mum! She's the Head of the Ravenclaw House and none of us is in Ravenclaw. Getting her involved will be unnecessary."

Professor Snape's eyes narrowed into thin slits. "Your mother's the only one who can properly handle James Potter," he simply explained. "And seeing that you are dead-set in following in the footsteps of your incorrigible father, I'd rather she has a say on this matter than me."

All their protests fell to deaf ears as the Potions Master turned around and started to march towards the door.

"Mum might not even be at Hogwarts right now," Harry grumbled.

Professor Snape paused and turned around. "Oh, she's definitely here," he said, quirking an eyebrow at Harry's petulant frown. "And that's Professor Potter to you, Potter."

-ooo-

None of his best friends dared to move and Harry completely understood them. Hermione Potter rarely got mad. Students deemed her strict, yes, but she was an outstanding professor. The Arithmancy professor was famous for making individual colour-coded schedules for all of her students, and the young wizards and witches deeply respected her for her intelligence and kindness. However, when she loses her temper… well, only a few people had ever seen her unleash the infamous Selwyn temper and as Harry Potter's best friends since they were wee babies in their nappies, Neville, Ron, and Draco had unfortunately borne witness to such a rarity.

Thus, Harry knew he had no other choice but to face his furious mother instead. He'd watched his father dance around such a thunderous temper and emerge unscathed and still very much in love with the witch. If James Potter could do it, Harry Potter could do it as well.

"Well?" his mother quietly asked. The way her blue eyes glinted dangerously in her dimly-lit office made him nervous all the more. At this time of the night, Hermione was usually at home with their family. Since it was nearing the end of term, Harry knew she'd been staying the night in Hogwarts to finish her lesson plans and grade end-of-term projects.

Harry cursed the lousy timing of everything and thickly swallowed. "Well, Mu – err – Professor Potter," he slowly started. "It's…" Harry paused and briefly closed his eyes. He took a deep breath before remorsefully looking at his mother once more. "We apologise," he continued. "We were admittedly curious about the Chamber of Secrets, Professor Potter. It was my idea, actually. Please don't give them detention too. I forced them to join me tonight."

One thing he understood was that it would be useless to come up with a half-arsed lie when it came to Hermione Potter. Harry knew he'd be forgiven much quicker if he was truthful.

The silence stretched on for minutes and Harry could feel his best mates growing restless. Harry wasn't sure what his mother was feeling right now as her face was a perfect picture of calm indifference. Which, to his dismay, was scarier than when Hermione's blue eyes were thunderous.

Then, to his surprise, Hermione stretched her hand and curled her fingers. "Give me the Map," she said. "I'm confiscating it."

Harry's blue eyes briefly widened before he schooled his features. "Map?" he innocently asked. "What map?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I know your father sneaked you the Map in first year, Harry," she sternly said. "The Invisibility Cloak, too. I know too that you and your friends had a talk with your father and his friends about all the Marauders codswallop. So yes, Harry, I know you have the Marauder's Map."

"Well, they did say you were the truest Marauder of them all, Mum."

"Don't get cheeky with me, young man," Hermione said. "Give me the Map and the Cloak. I'm confiscating it. I'm also deducting twenty points from the four of you."

"That's not fair!" Ron suddenly cried. He jutted a thumb at the sheepish Malfoy heir. "He's the only Slytherin among us four and we're three Gryffindors. Sixty points will be immediately deducted from Gryffindor!"

Professor Potter's lips curled in dismay. "Well, you should have thought about that before breaking the rules tonight, Mr. Weasley," she coldly said, prompting Ron to turn a furious shade of red. "Also, all of you will have detention with Mr. Filch for the whole weekend."

Collective groans echoed in the Arithmancy professor's room, but Hermione ignored them all. "I'm waiting, Harry," she said.

The bespectacled wizard sighed and reluctantly pulled the Map and the Cloak from his robes. Hermione immediately snatched them away from his hands. "I will return them to you soon," she said, much to his surprise. "It is yours, after all. But remember to use them for a good cause, Harry. I know your father and his best friends are famous in Hogwarts as pranksters through and through, and I understand you boys want some adventure to make your stay here at Hogwarts memorable, but rules are made so that you can adhere to them. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, Professor Potter," the four gloomily murmured.

Hermione sighed. "Alright. You may now return to your dormitories," she dismissed. His mother briefly held his hand, a silent gesture that she wasn't mad at him anymore, and Harry apologetically smiled at her in return.

Before the four boys could leave, Professor Potter suddenly stopped them.

Harry curiously looked at his mother and he couldn't understand the strange expression on her face. "The Chamber…" She faltered, her gaze solely on Harry. "Were you able to open it?"

The young Gryffindor sighed and shook his head. "Only a Parselmouth can open it, Mum," he reminded. "We had our turns but none of us could open it."

"Right, of course," she said, immediately turning her gaze away from the four. "Go on, then."

Harry hesitated, quite sure he'd seen her eyes briefly shine with unshed tears.

"Harry, come on," Neville then said, pulling Harry out of his mother's chambers.

The young Gryffindor stumbled behind his best friends and right before the door closed behind him, Harry craned his neck to look at his mother one last time.

There was a relieved smile on Hermione Potter's face.

1993

It was one of those nights when Harry couldn't sleep. Tomorrow would be a whirlwind of lessons and Quidditch practice, and he knew it would be disastrous to not get enough sleep. Still, try as he might, he couldn't sleep a wink.

The young Gryffindor sighed and hauled himself out of his four-poster bed. After a quick glance around his silent dormitory, he noted that all of his classmates were already asleep.

Harry sighed once more and rummaged inside his trunk, retrieving the Marauder's Map and Invisibility Cloak from inside. Perhaps if he requested some hot cocoa made by the house-elves in the school kitchens, it would help him get his much-deserved sleep.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he whispered, grinning as the ink bled on the old parchment to form an image of Hogwarts. His eyes roamed around the familiar spiel Uncle Sirius had made as a greeting, his lips stretching wider when the words shifted, bearing the words 'Special thanks to Miss Whiskers, Muse and Mentor of the Marauders. The truest Marauder of us all."

The Gryffindor fondly brushed his finger across the words before opening the map. He illuminated his wand over the kitchens and the nearby vicinity to check if there were any patrolling professors around. He spied Filch strolling around the Astronomy Tower. Professor Dumbledore was with Professor Snape in his office.

Harry glanced at his mother's office, just to make sure she was there still checking the papers of her students. But then, to his surprise, Professor Potter's office was empty.

He frowned, wondering if his mother had already gone home for the night. She specifically told him in passing a while ago she'd spend the night at Hogwarts today, as she was still too swamped with work. It wasn't her turn to patrol the corridors, either.

Harry's eyes roamed all over Hogwarts to search for his mother. He finally saw her standing just outside the great oak doors of the castle and she wasn't alone. The four dots of the Marauders were clustered around her, and all five of them were steadily striding out of the castle over the vast expanse of the Hogwarts field.

Without thinking, Harry jumped out of his bed and donned the Invisibility Cloak over his form. He quickly scanned the Marauder's Map for any hindrances along the way. He then strode out of the Gryffindor Tower and ran as fast as he could, to catch up with the others.

Once Harry burst out of the front doors, he peered down at the Map once more. To his astonishment, the group's destination was the dangerous Whomping Willow sitting on top of a small hill near Hogwarts. Harry clearly remembered that place was off-limits to everybody, seeing that its thick branches had almost killed a student before.

Curiosity now got the better of him, and Harry was propelled to quicken his pace.

As he neared the Whomping Willow, Hermione and the others were already gone. What caught his attention, though, was the immobile tree. Harry immediately sought for a possible entrance and spied a small hole just underneath one of the thick branches of the tree.

Harry knew he wasn't supposed to be here. Harry definitely knew he'd be punished if he was caught. But he was too curious to back out now, and with a last glance over his shoulder, Harry crawled through the small hole.

He found himself walking along a narrow cave. His heart was already pounding loudly inside his ribcage in anticipation, and different theories as to what awaited him on the other end rushed into his mind.

At last, he could see a dim light at the end of the tunnel. He could hear soft voices too and Harry hastened his steps.

But then, an ear-splitting howl almost shattered his eardrums and Harry was brought to a standstill. For a moment, fear gripped his heart, afraid of what he'd see at the end of the tunnel. Harry was very much tempted to turn back around and run away as another howl rankled him to the bone, but, he remembered his parents were on the other side.

Cold fear was now mixed with panic, wondering if his parents were alright. Despite the debilitating fear, Harry forced himself to emerge out of the tunnel to save his parents.

"MU—"

His words died down as his mouth hanged open. Opposite him stood a werewolf, his familiar, golden eyes staring widely at him. Harry distractedly noticed his Uncle Sirius and dad in their Animagi form, their huge bodies shielding the werewolf away from him. The young Gryffindor heard a small squeak, prompting him to gasp upon recognising his Uncle Peter scuttling around his feet in a panic.

And then, the cat in the room suddenly transformed into his mother. Her face was pale and her blue eyes were wide open in shock as she cautiously approached him. "Harry!" she breathlessly cried. "What are you doing here?"

"A-a… there's a…" He faltered, eyes growing wider as the werewolf pushed the black dog and white stag away and slowly moved towards Harry.

Instantly, Hermione was in front of him, arms spread wide. "Remus," she strongly started, "you've taken the Wolfsbane Potion. You know that you're not supposed to hurt humans."

"Remus?" Harry faintly gasped.

The werewolf's golden eyes snapped back towards Harry and the bespectacled boy immediately recognised one of his father's best friends. There was also familiarity in the creature's eyes, as he slowly backed away until he was pressed against one corner of the Shrieking Shack, curling tightly into a ball.

"Harry," his mother urgently said, her hand snaking around his wrist. "Let's go."

The white stag transformed into his father, a gaunt expression on his face. "Let me come with you," James said, his hazel eyes almost dark brown under the dim lights of the Shack. His lips were pressed into a grim line, and Harry instantly knew he'd done something gravely wrong.

James latched onto his other arm and pulled him away. Harry didn't protest, allowing his parents to guide him back out of the Shack into the tunnel. Before they completely left, however, Harry craned his neck once more to look back at his Uncle Remus. Uncle Sirius in his Animagus form was partially shielding the werewolf from Harry's astonished gaze, but Harry was able to meet Remus's golden eyes once more.

Shame.

There was shame in his eyes.

"Harry," Hermione urged, prompting the young boy to snap his gaze forwards and continue their trek back to Hogwarts.

Thick silence blanketed over the small family as they meandered through the dark corridors of Hogwarts until they reached the Arithmancy Professor's office. Hermione sat Harry down on one of the chairs in front of her desk and disappeared inside her personal bedchambers to prepare some tea. His father had chosen to stiffly stand near one of the windows, the uncharacteristic grim expression still etched on his face.

Harry determinedly stared at his lap even when his mother placed a steaming cup of tea in front of him.

"Have a sip, Harry," she then urged, pushing the hot beverage closer to him.

Still not meeting their gazes, Harry tentatively lifted the cup from the saucer and pressed it against his lips. He took a few sips before he noted a peculiar taste washing over his tongue. Instantly, every nerve in his body had calmed down until there was only pleasant humming in his mind.

He shot a surprised look at his mother. "Calming Draught," she explained. "I'm sorry, love. You looked like you needed it."

Harry merely nodded his head and placed it back down on the small plate. At the same time, his father pushed himself off the wall and deliberately approached him. "Harry," James started, "you're not supposed to be out of bed."

"I know," he remorsefully said, glancing at his lap once more. "But I couldn't sleep tonight so I thought of sneaking to the kitchens to get myself some hot cocoa. I checked the Marauder's Map to see if other professors were near but then…"

He left his word dangle. They all knew what had happened next, anyway.

Hermione expelled a huge sigh. "I knew it would be disastrous when you gave him the Map, James Potter," his mother tutted. Harry watched as his mother threw a glare at his sheepish father.

"It's rightfully his," he reasoned out. "The Cloak, too."

"The werewolf," Harry suddenly blurted out. Both of his parents stiffened and cautiously looked at him. "It was a werewolf, wasn't it? And that werewolf, it was… it was Uncle Remus."

"Harry," Hermione sighed. "It's—"

But the young Gryffindor wasn't done. "He recognised me, Mum," he insisted. "And I saw his eyes. They're the same as Uncle Remus's."

"You're not supposed to know," James then said. He sauntered towards Hermione's desk and leaned against it, facing his son.

"Everything suddenly makes sense," Harry replied. "I always thought it was mighty weird that all of you are Animagi, except Remus. One thing I understood about your friendship is that you do almost everything together, Dad. Besides, Remus is very much capable of becoming an Animagus like the rest of you."

The boy grew quiet and silently nibbled his bottom lip. He'd speculated long before that something was definitely iffy with their Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. There were days when Remus looked tired to the bone to the point that he had to ditch classes and Uncle Sev would teach them instead. Now that he properly thought about it, Remus was always absent at least once a month. The weird scars on his body, the strange colour of his eyes, his odd preferences when it came to meat… everything finally made sense and Harry felt so stupid for failing to piece everything together before.

"Since when was he a…"

"Since he was a small boy," James softly replied. His father's face grew forlorn, his lips stretching into a sad smile. "He always had it worse before the Wolfsbane Potion was invented. Thank Merlin he remembered to drink his potion tonight or else…"

Both of his parents paled, identical looks of terror appearing on their faces. Harry felt remorseful once more for putting himself into danger and he would never forgive himself if something disastrous had happened tonight.

"We've known since we were in second year," his father continued. "Remus was incorrigible when we found out. He wanted to push us away but we're persistent. We're the Marauders, for heaven's sake! Brothers through and through. So, we tried to research how to at least accompany Remus during his transformations."

"By becoming Animagi," Harry said, clarity now on his face. "I remembered Remus once lecturing us that werewolves never recognised Animagi as humans. Hence, they're not prey."

James nodded. "Naturally, we tried to become one," he said. "Took us a few years because you know how painstaking the instructions are." A grin appeared on his father's face when he jutted a thumb at the silent witch beside him. "Your mother managed to do it in just a few months, what with her unending patience."

"Harry," Hermione then said, reaching forward to hold his hand. "No one must know about this, okay? You know how obstinate the laws are with regards to werewolves. Remus is… he couldn't control himself, which is why he's religiously taken the Wolfsbane Potion. We try to be with him during his transformations, just to protect both him and Hogwarts."

"I'm not going to tell," Harry promised with vehemence. "Just because he's a werewolf doesn't make him any less of a human, Mum."

The proud smile on Hermione's face was unmistakable. His father grinned and mused up his already messy hair. "Now that it's settled," James started, "I think it is best if you return to your dormitory now, mate. We don't want Filch to catch you out of bed, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry grinned, mirroring the mischievous grin his father was sporting.

"Before you leave, though, I'm afraid that's twenty points from Gryffindor for being out of bed," James tutted, his grin morphing into a stern frown. "I'm very disappointed with you, Harry Potter."

"You can't do that!" the young Gryffindor cried. "You're not even a professor here, Dad."

"But I can," Hermione piped in. "So yes, twenty points from Gryffindor. Also…" She extended her hand and curled her fingers. "The Map and the Cloak, Harry."

Harry sighed, not even bothering to protest, as he produced his trusted possessions and passed them to his mother.

"Very disappointing, Harry," James tutted, the corners of his lips twitching.

The bespectacled boy rolled his eyes. "I'm sure from your stories, you're worse than me, Dad," Harry shot back.

"Much worse," Hermione agreed with a solemn nod.

James broke into a huge grin and snaked an arm around the witch. "But you still love me," the Auror singsonged, smacking a loud kiss against her cheek.

"Please don't be gross in front of me," Harry grumbled, making a face.

"You have no right speaking to us like that, young man. Especially after giving us quite a scare," James immediately shot back, his smile now teasing.

Harry was reminded once more of how lucky he was tonight that Remus had taken the Wolfsbane Potion and that his parents were there with him. "I'm sorry for making you both worry," he murmured.

Hermione sighed and pulled Harry into a small hug. "I know you've inherited your father's annoying thirst for adventure," the brunette started, "but I wish you're more careful in the future, Harry. Your father's already a handful and I wish my children would be good and obedient."

"Yes, Harry, don't be like me," James concurred wholeheartedly.

A laugh escaped from Harry's mouth as he tugged his father to join in their hug.

-ooo-

"Professor Lupin."

It didn't escape Harry's notice how the DADA professor stiffened upon being called out. "Harry," Remus coolly asked, his golden eyes looking anywhere but the young Gryffindor.

Harry took a deep breath and offered him a kind smile. He then rummaged inside his robe pockets and produced a chocolate bar. "I'm not going to tell," he said. He then lifted his right hand, his smile stretching wider. "Marauder's honour."

Remus's eyes slightly misted as a shaky smile appeared on his face. "Thank you, Harry," he softly replied.

The young third year bid him goodbye and almost ran out to catch up with his best mates, but the professor called his name once more.

"Yeah?"

Remus slowly sat down on his desk and beamed at Harry. His golden eyes were impossibly bright as he leant forward and said, "Are you familiar with the Patronus Charm?"

1994

Draco whistled as he sidled behind his best mates in the Gryffindor table. "Nice robes, Weasley," he laughed.

Ron's face matched his red hair as he darkly glared at the Slytherin. "Shut up, Malfoy," he growled, hastily stuffing the atrocious dress robes his mother had sent him inside the box. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I saw some commotion from the Slytherin table, so I got curious," Draco casually shrugged, pushing Neville and Harry aside just so he could climb in the middle. "Tell you what, Ron. If you promise to sneak me some of your twin brothers' wicked inventions, I'll lend you some of my less frilly robes. Deal?"

Harry snorted when Ron eagerly thrust his hand. "Bloody hell, yes," the redhead cried, furiously shaking Draco's right hand with evident relief on his face.

"Why do we have to go to this ridiculous Yule Ball?" Neville whined as his forehead connected with the tabletop. "This is such a hassle."

"I think it's brilliant," Harry retorted. "Imagine seeing Fleur Delacour in a lovely dress."

A glazed look settled on the four boys' faces, their eyes seeking out the beautiful Beauxbatons Champion chatting with students from the Ravenclaw table. Harry spied his eleven-year-old sister, Stella, not too far away from Fleur, who was clearly enraptured by the French witch.

"Do you think she'll agree to come with me?" Ron sighed, a besotted look settling on his face.

"Wanker, keep dreaming on," Draco snorted. "I heard she already agreed to go with Roger Davies."

Ron made a face. "I'm more good looking than him!" he cried.

"Right, and I have the best vision in this whole school," Harry sniped, earning him an annoyed smack from the Weasley. The bespectacled boy laughed while rubbing his smarting arm, his eyes now landing on the Hogwarts Champion, Cedric Diggory. "Diggory's the luckiest bastard, though. I heard he's going with Cho Chang. She's beautiful."

"Ack, the googly eyes must stop, Harry," Neville cried. "You know you have no chance with her, right?"

Harry's cheeks reddened. "Hey, a guy can bloody dream," he grumbled.

Ron swung an arm over Harry's shoulder and grinned. "To hell with girls," he said. "Why don't we just go stag and pester Viktor Krum 'til the ball ends with our inane Quidditch talk?"

"He's not much of a talker, if you must know," Draco pointed out. "He mostly kept to himself. Weird bloke, but he's a really brilliant Quidditch player." A sneaky smirk appeared on his face. "Fawley's having a field day with all of Krum's Quidditch tips, so watch out next year, Potter. Slytherin will definitely crush the Gryffindor Quidditch Team."

Harry snorted. "That's not possible, Malfoy," he growled. "You know that."

"Oh yeah? Want to bet on it?" the blond asked, grey eyes glinting with a challenge. Harry had seen the same look from Sirius one too many times. Draco Malfoy was definitely a Black through and through.

"A yearlong supply of toffees if I win, Malfoy," Harry said.

"Fine. But if you lose, I get to borrow Firebolt for two games."

"What?!" Harry cried. "No way!"

"The stakes must be high, Potter," Draco said, his smirk morphing into a wide grin. "Take it or leave it."

"Merlin, here they go again," Neville sighed.

"Fine," Harry said, vehemently clutching onto Draco's hand for a vigorous shake.

"I'm sure you will forget about this anyway," Ron pointed out with a laugh.

Both Harry and Draco glared at Ron. "Shut up, Ronald," they snarled at the same time, prompting the redhead to raise both of his hands in surrender.

-ooo-

Asking a witch as his date for the Yule Ball was starting to stress Harry out. Going alone without a date seemed tempting; he honestly would rather hang out with his best friends and enjoy the ball all throughout the night, but his best friends all had dates already. Neville asked Hannah Abbot, Draco managed to make Pansy Parkinson agree, and Ron was going with Padma Patil. He knew he'd be left alone during the Yule Ball if he attended without a date.

His thoughts were snapped back to reality when he felt the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room sink beside him. His blue eyes met the emeralds of one of his childhood friends, second year Iris Snape, prompting him to smile. The raven-haired witch, on the other hand, rolled her eyes. "Quit moping around, Potter," she sighed. "And just ask Ginny Weasley to the Yule Ball."

His cheeks instantly flushed red. "G-Ginny Weasley?" he stuttered, shifting his gaze away from the Gryffindor witch. "Don't be ridiculous, Iris."

"Merlin, you do realise you make these googly eyes when you look at her, yeah?" she asked, a small smirk that was eerily reminiscent of Professor Snape's slipping onto her freckled face. "I heard she's yet to be asked to the Yule Ball so quit being a ninny and just bloody ask her out, Harry Potter."

"Language," Harry tsked, but the corner of his lips twitched in amusement. "And… you know that it'll be mighty weird, Iris. She's Ron's little sister."

"And?" she asked with a laugh. "It's definitely common in your family, yeah?"

Harry echoed her laugh, remembering a particular story of how his Uncle Peter almost hexed his father to the moon and back when he found out he was taking his little sister on a date in Hogsmeade. "Ron's good with his spells," he pointed out. "I'm sure he'd be merciless."

"And you're good with defence," Iris flippantly offered. "I don't see any problem here, Harry. Except for your cowardice."

"Always the sweetest girl, aren't we?" Harry sighed, reaching forward to pinch Iris's cheek. "I was thinking of taking you to the Yule Ball instead, you know."

To his surprise, her cheeks turned ruddy. "Eww, Harry, please," she cried, pushing him away. "I'm in second year. And I don't see you in… in that way."

Harry laughed and teasingly mused her hair. "As friends, Iris, blimey," he said. "What the hell were you even thinking?"

The younger Gryffindor narrowed her eyes into thin slits and punched him on the arm. "You're an annoying git," she grumbled.

"If only I was the Hogwarts Champion, perhaps I'd easily snag a date," he joked.

Iris snorted, clearly unamused. "Don't be ridiculous, Harry," she said. "A fourth year cannot be a Triwizard Champion. Besides, Cedric Diggory is way better than you, in all ways, if I'm being perfectly honest."

"Right, okay, I think that was unnecessary," Harry said, quirking an eyebrow in amusement.

"If you don't ask Ginny Weasley now, I'm going to do it for you instead," Iris then said.

Harry weakly laughed and shook his head. "I'm not going to bother anymore," he sighed. "I think I'll just go alone to the Yule Ball and try to embarrass my best friends in front of their dates."

Iris frowned and Harry suddenly didn't like the look in her eyes. He'd seen the same expression on his Aunt Lily numerous times, right before she'd do something that would exasperate her husband. Harry knew he should have sprung into action before Iris did something stupid, but the second year Gryffindor was already jumping to her feet.

"Hey Ginny!" she called.

"Wha— Are you insane?" he cried, trying to tug Iris down but the emerald-eyed Gryffindor refused to budge.

"Yeah?" the youngest Weasley asked, prompting Harry to hide further into the couch.

"Harry thinks it'd be wicked if you go to the Yule Ball with him," Iris bluntly said. Harry felt his cheeks reddening in mortification, but Iris hauled him onto his feet and forced him to look at Ginny.

To his surprise, Ginny's face matched her hair, prompting him to awkwardly grin. "Err, so umm, will you, err…" He flinched when Iris smacked him on the underside of his head.

"Talk coherently, you berk," she furiously whispered under her breath.

Despite his nervousness, Harry laughed and ran a hand through his impossibly messy hair. "Will you go to the Yule Ball with me, Ginny?"

If it were possible, Ginny's face turned redder. "Alright," she said, a shy grin now appearing on her face.

"Alright," Harry echoed, unable to suppress his silly grin anymore. "Alright. Brilliant. So, um, I'll wait for you here, yeah?"

Ginny tucked a stray red strand behind her ear. "Yeah," she said. "Um, goodbye." She then turned to her friends, who started giggling under their breaths while dragging the redhead away.

"Well, that wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Harry felt his cheeks smarting from his too-wide smile. "I really dislike you right now, Iris Snape," he simply replied. "But Godric, thank you. How can I ever repay you?"

"How about I get half of the yearlong supply of toffees you'll be getting from Draco?" she cheekily asked.

Harry snorted. "You heard that ridiculous bet?" he asked.

"Well, you boys are always the loudest when you're together," she stated matter-of-factly. "Everybody practically knows about this bet of yours."

Harry laughed once more. "Alright, fine," he said. His grin turned cheeky as he reached forwards and pinched one of her cheeks once more.

Chapter Text

Summary: Harry Potter lived a very ordinary life.
Rating: T
Warnings: Some cussing
Characters: Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley, Iris Snape, Stella Potter, Leon Potter, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Pettigrew-Potter, James Potter, Ginny Weasley, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, Severus Snape

3.

the universe was made just to be seen by my eyes – part ii

(Saturn by Sleeping at Last)

1995

Everybody knew why Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge was sent to Hogwarts.

The Ministry insisted Hogwarts needed to be supervised for a few months, especially after the disastrous Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament that almost cost Cedric Diggory his life. His father, a respectable Ministry employee, was furious at the mishap that had injured his precious son and had demanded some sort of compensation from Dumbledore. The Headmaster was deeply remorseful, of course, and had met Amos's demands.

Cornelius Fudge had then taken this opportunity to send one of his trusted employees to oversee the appropriateness of the curriculum in said school, making sure that the students were well-equipped in case they were confronted with similar events in their future.

Everybody in Hogwarts knew, of course, that this was just Fudge's stupid lie, so he could snoop around and search for a possible scandalous piece of news that could implicate Dumbledore in something nefarious. Fudge was known to have a not-so-secret hatred towards the Headmaster of Hogwarts for the longest time. Even Dumbledore knew about this, but he'd indulged the Minister lest he weaved a web of lies that would be more disastrous to handle.

Harry instantly felt dread when Dolores Umbridge was introduced during their Welcoming Feast. Her gaudy pink outfit and simpering smile were enough to warn Harry that she was bad news and thus, he'd made it a point not to cross paths with her as much as he could.

The Senior Undersecretary was perhaps the most condescending person Harry had ever met. He silently observed as she criticised his professors without batting an eye, her sickeningly sweet smile enough to send shivers down his spine. She even dared to insult Uncle Sev's way of teaching right to the sourpuss's face; it was a miracle she had left the Potions Lab unscathed.

Harry also heard how she'd been incorrigible in his mother's class. He wasn't interested in Arithmancy too much—that was more Stella's expertise—and thus had no qualms in not taking the subject. But then, one day, Stella cornered her older brother, a thunderous expression on her face.

"I hate her," she vehemently spat, her bushy hair almost crackling with unsuppressed rage. Harry cautiously pulled Stella away from any spectators, knowing full well unleashing her Selwyn temper would be catastrophic for anybody within a five-meter radius. As her older brother who'd grown up with her for years and also the possessor of the infamous Selwyn blood, Harry was long immune to her terrible tantrums.

"Umbridge?" he tentatively asked, flinching a bit when her hazel eyes dangerously flashed.

"She insulted Mum," she harshly cried. Her hands were now balled into tight fists at her side. "Said her colour-coded schedules for her students were too over-the-top and, I quote the bloody bint, 'Are a waste of her time when clearly no one appreciated her efforts'!"

Harry's blue eyes grew wide in horror and indignation. At the same time, angry tears gathered in Stella's eyes. "Mum's colour-coded schedules are wonderful and I know she's a bit barmy for painstakingly making one every year for all of her students but how dare she tell her no one appreciates her efforts!"

Stella angrily swiped her tears away, her hazel eyes now growing darker with fierce determination. "I'm going to Owl Dad and tell him what happened," she resolutely said. "He's already a Senior Auror. He might be able to do something about that… about that… that toad!"

The older Gryffindor sighed and patted her head. "I don't think that will be necessary," he said. "Dad will fly into a blind rage and make everything worse, I'm sure." He cracked a wry smile when she made a move to protest. "And Stella, honestly, do you think Mum will let this slide? You and I both know she's already formulating a plan that will scare the ugly toad away."

Stella petulantly pouted. "I will never forgive her," she softly spat.

Harry grimly nodded his head. "Neither will I."

-ooo-

Harry frowned when Dolores Umbridge suddenly barged inside their DADA classroom, that same simpering smile colouring her face.

"Good afternoon, Professor Lupin," she sweetly greeted. It didn't escape Harry's notice when Remus grimaced a bit upon seeing her, before schooling his expression behind a mask of politeness.

"Senior Undersecretary Umbridge," he greeted in reply.

"Please do continue," she said, already sauntering towards the back of the classroom to sit one of the chairs. "I'll be here just to observe."

"I'm getting nauseous just looking at her clothes," Ron whispered under his breath, prompting Neville and Draco to burst into soft sniggers. Harry quickly shushed them when Remus threw a warning glance at their table, before the werewolf went back to his lessons.

Remus then cleared his throat and smiled at his class. "Now, as I was saying, today we will be learning about the Reductor Curse," he said. "Simply put, this spell will blast whatever solid object it hits into pieces."

He then waved his wand and a few dummies appeared in front of his class. "The incantation for this spell is 'Reducto'," he said. "Repeat after me, please. Reducto."

The class eagerly echoed the incantation, prompting his smile to widen. "Excellent," the DADA Professor said. "Now, I will call you by fives and you will simultaneously aim your spell towards these dummies and—"

"Hem, hem."

"—whoever can successfully blast a dummy first will receive ten points for their House and—"

"Hem, hem."

"—whoever is unable to blast the dummies will—"

"Hem, hem."

—will get - Yes, Senior Undersecretary Umbridge?"

Remus looked deeply annoyed, but Umbridge was unfazed. Harry watched as the Ministry employee sauntered towards the very front of the room, that irritating condescending smile once again plastered on her face. "If I may ask, Professor Lupin, what are you teaching the children?" she asked.

The werewolf knitted his eyebrows, confused. "The Reductor Charm, Ma'am," he matter-of-factly stated. "I'm sure you were listening when I said it a while ago."

"Hmm," Umbridge said, glancing down at her clipboard and jotting down notes that made Remus mighty uncomfortable. "And you are teaching these students how to practically apply these dangerous spells you're teaching?"

Remus gave her a clipped nod.

"Oh, dear me," the witch gasped, furiously jotting more notes on her clipboard.

Now, Harry knew that his Uncle Remus was the most patient among his father's group of friends. He'd seen how his father and Uncle Sirius were the most incorrigible. His Uncle Peter had his surprising moments, too, and Remus had merely sighed and shaken his head, exasperated by his best friends' antics.

Which was why, to his surprise, a dark look crossed over Remus's face. He'd only seen this expression a handful of times, mostly directed at his best friends, and Harry knew this look didn't bode well.

"If I may ask, Senior Undersecretary Umbridge," Remus said through gritted teeth. "What are you writing on your clipboard?"

"Oh, my notes about your class, of course," she simply said, her simpering smile stretching wider when Remus narrowed his eyes. "Frankly, Professor Lupin, I think your way of teaching will bring more harm than good to your students. Young Mr. Diggory suffered from injuries due to the various dark spells thrown at him by the other Champions of the Triwizard Tournament. I believe that if you teach these innocent children more dangerous spells, it will only lead to more casualties."

"And surely, if young Mr. Diggory wasn't able to properly defend himself, he wouldn't be listening to his lessons right at this very moment," Remus harshly sniped.

Umbridge grew affronted and jotted more notes on her clipboard. Harry thickly swallowed, noting how Remus was growing more thunderous as minutes passed by.

"If I may suggest, Professor Lupin," she continued, ignoring the dark glare given to her by the DADA Professor. "I think it will be better if the children read the standard DADA textbook instead. At least they will enrich their growing minds with theories of various defensive spells and avoid getting injured whilst in class. If I were their professor, that is what I'd do."

"Good thing you're not the professor then," Remus coolly said.

Umbridge's eyes widened. "I beg your pardon?" she gasped, scandalised. She furiously wrote things on her clipboard once more. "I think you are not suited for this position, Professor Lupin. After reviewing your records, I also noticed that you're always absent at least once a month. Why is that?"

The scars on their professor's face grew starker as his face paled. "Health issues," he clipped.

"Well now, I don't think students deserve a teacher with certain… 'health issues'," Umbridge deliberately said, her eyes narrowing with a calculated look.

"You can't fire him. Professor Lupin is a brilliant teacher!"

It was too late when Harry realised he'd spoken out of turn. All eyes were immediately on him and his cheeks grew hot, yet he lifted his chin resolutely. Umbridge's eyes were now settled on him, a surprised look on her face. Her annoying smile grew on her face once more as she walked away from their pale professor towards Harry.

"What the hell are you doing, Potter?" Draco furiously whispered as he tried to pull Harry back down onto his seat.

Harry stubbornly stayed put and continued, "Professor Lupin has been teaching us since we were first years and he's been brilliant. I think letting us students read the textbook instead of practising the spells will defeat the very purpose of why Defence Against the Dark Arts class was created. This can prepare us in case we came across some evil wizards in the future."

Umbridge's smile grew tight. "Evil wizards?" she gasped, a hand flying to her chest. "Dear me, there are no such things. The Wizarding World is safe. There is no Dark Lord anymore."

"Well, yes, of course, Voldemort's dead," Harry said through gritted teeth, ignoring how Umbridge flinched at how he'd casually mentioned the deceased wizard. "But my Dad is an Auror and he's still battling evil wizards every day."

The witch was steadily growing purple. "What is your name, lad?" she demanded.

"Harry Potter," he proudly said.

A surprising sneer appeared on Umbridge's face. "Ah, James Potter's son," she spat. "That explains it."

Harry's blue eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Harry," Remus called, a warning glint in his golden eyes. "Sit down."

"No!" Harry snarled. "She's insulting you, Uncle Remus. I can't just keep quiet." He recalled Stella's words story a few days ago and grew angrier. "She insulted Mum."

"Oh, Merlin, the Selwyn temper appears," Neville bemoaned, glancing at Ron and Draco for help. Harry's best friends grabbed onto his arm and with one mighty tug, they were able to sit him back down on his seat.

Harry bristled and tried to pull away, but the three just kept their hold tighter.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for your insolence today, Mr. Potter," Umbridge shrilly cried. "As appointed by the Minister himself, I have the power over both the professors and students during my stay here in Hogwarts. That includes giving me the temporary ability to deduct points and to give detention."

"Senior Undersecretary Umbridge, I think giving him detention is unnecessary," Remus reasoned out.

"Silence, Professor Lupin," she said, her eyes still trained intently on the furious Gryffindor. "You are to come to my office tomorrow night to serve your detention, Mr. Potter." She then turned to Remus and flashed her simpering smile. "Good day, Professor Lupin. Please expect to hear my report in a few days or so."

Umbridge then strolled out of the DADA classroom, her kitten heels annoyingly clicking and clacking against the stone floor.

All Harry was able to do was glare at her pink, frilly back.

-ooo-

Breakfast the next day brought some startling news from Headmaster Dumbledore. Senior Undersecretary Umbridge was met with an unfortunate accident last night and was immediately rushed to St. Mungo's. At the same time, she was forever banned from Hogwarts upon discovering illegal Blood Quills in her office, which she used during her detention sessions with the students.

Ron whistled under his breath. "Aren't you supposed to have your detention with Umbridge tonight?" the redhead asked, glancing at the surprised raven-haired boy. "Lucky, that's what you are."

"Thank Merlin she's gone," a pale Neville said. "I heard Blood Quills are nasty tools used for torture. Our parents will surely go berserk when they discover Umbridge was using Blood Quills for detention."

"Yeah," Harry distracted said, his eyes landing on his mother seated in between Remus and Sev.

Harry firmly believed his mother had something to do with Umbridge's strange accident and immediate dismissal from Hogwarts.

Merlin, her smile was frightening.

1996

"Wake up!"

Harry's eyes flew open as pain bloomed in his arm. He wildly blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark. Seeing as he'd inherited his father's atrocious eyesight, Harry was only able to make out an outline of a girl hovering over his bed.

A girl in their dormitories!

"What the hell?" he cried, reaching out for his glasses and pushing them up the bridge of his nose.

"Shh," Iris furiously whispered. "We don't want the others to wake up."

"Iris, bloody hell, what are you doing here?" he asked, this time softer.

"Get up," she said instead. "We have an emergency meeting."

"What?" he stupidly asked, still disoriented from sleep. Iris was now tugging him out of his bed and threw his Invisibility Cloak towards him.

"If you're not out of this room in five minutes, I'm going to Bat-Bogey Hex you, Harry Potter," she sternly said as she completely strode out from his room.

Harry sighed and glanced at his bedside clock, noting it was only one in the morning. A soft yawn tore out of his lips as he groggily tore his curtains open. He quickly scanned his bedroom, noting that both Neville's and Ron's beds were empty.

Frowning, Harry finally walked out of his bedroom. In the Common Room stood Iris and Neville, the latter sporting a sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry, mate," he said. "I couldn't wake you up but Iris was determined to get you so…"

"What's going on?" Harry then asked, his question directed at the emerald-eyed witch.

"We have an emergency meeting," she repeated, tugging the Invisibility Cloak out of Harry's grasp and draping it over the three of them. Iris was sandwiched between the two towering boys and Harry's eyes widened a bit, wondering when the witch's skin had started to feel this soft.

"Where's Ron?" Neville whispered, breaking Harry out of his surprised stupor.

"He's already in the kitchens with the others," was her simple explanation.

"Kitchens?" the bespectacled boy echoed. "What the hell's going on?"

Iris merely shushed him and urged them to quicken their steps. Harry sighed in frustration and reluctantly followed the determined witch.

By the time they reached the portrait guarding the entrance to the kitchens, Iris had pulled off the Invisibility Cloak. She then tickled the pear, which giggled before a doorknob materialised. Iris turned the knob and pushed the door open, ushering the two boys inside.

Harry was drawn to a halt, eyes widening in surprise at the scene right before his eyes. The house-elves were in a frenzy, preparing various scrumptious snacks and steaming cups of hot cocoa. There was a bewitched long table in the middle of the kitchen, and seated on the different seats were Harry's friends. Ron was playing Wizard's Chess with Ginny and Draco. Stella was animatedly talking with Luna Lovegood and a wide-eyed, twelve-year-old Ivy Snape about god-knows-what.

He felt like he was back home in Potter Cottage, where all of his friends and family were gathered around one long table, conversing over food and drink.

"What the hell's going on?" Harry asked once more, bringing all conversation inside the kitchens to a halt. His eyes immediately landed on his sister, who stiffened upon seeing him and resolutely looked away.

This brought out a frown on Harry's face. He knew his relationship with his sister was always strained every time the Quidditch finals were fast approaching. As both Seekers of their respective Houses, they understandably clashed one too many times mid-air. Harry acknowledged Stella's wicked skills, but he was still the best Seeker of his generation (not that he was boastful about that, no). Stella just couldn't accept that and strived harder every year just so she could prove that she was better than her brother.

"That," Iris quipped, unabashedly pointing her finger at the annoyed Ravenclaw.

Harry blinked and glanced down at the younger witch. "You mean, you dragged everybody into the kitchen just so my sister and I can reconcile?" he asked incredulously.

Two, pink patches bloomed on Iris's cheeks but her gaze was resolute. "It's always so inconvenient for us when you two fight," she pointed out. To Harry's surprise, all of his friends nodded their heads in unison. "It's annoying, Potter. And over something as frivolous as Quidditch!"

"Quidditch is not frivolous!" the Potter siblings cried at the same time, prompting them to glance at each other in surprise.

A snort flew out of Iris's lips. "Well, it's good to know you both agree about something," she said. Iris then pulled Harry and sat him down beside Stella. She then directed Harry's best friends to make sure the two wouldn't leave without making up.

"I need to sleep for the match tonight," Stella whined.

"Then the faster you make up, the faster you go to sleep, yeah?" Iris simply said, sauntering towards Luna and her younger sister.

"She's so annoying sometimes," Stella sighed, frowning at the tabletop.

Despite his initial annoyance, Harry managed to crack a smile. "That's Iris Snape, alright," he chuckled.

His sister tensed a bit at his laugh and resolutely looked away from him once more.

"Stella," Harry sighed, "Come on. This is getting ridiculous. We shouldn't fight over Quidditch, of all bloody things."

Stella's cheeks turned ruddy. "You wouldn't understand," she spat. "You're always the best when it comes to Quidditch."

"Does it really matter?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. "You weren't this obsessed with Quidditch before. I mean, compared to me, you viewed it more like a hobby than a potential career in the future, you know."

The bushy-haired witch expelled a huge sigh and glanced at him warily. "Dad's going to watch tomorrow," she stated matter-of-factly.

"So?" he asked. "He always watches the final Quidditch match of the year."

"Never mind, I knew you wouldn't understand," she grumbled, already half-way out of the bench.

"Bloody Merlin, wait," Harry said, clarity now on his face. "Are you always mad at me before the final Quidditch match because Dad's watching andyou don't want to disappoint him?"

She turned her face away from him, but Harry had caught the expression she made, which was answer enough for Harry already. "Merlin and Morgana, so it really is because of that," he exclaimed in disbelief, a laugh slipping past his lips.

"Stop laughing, you berk," she said, slapping his arm to silence him. "I don't want to disappoint Dad. He expects so much from me."

"Oh Merlin, Stella," the bespectacled boy grinned, running a hand through his hair. "You will never disappoint Dad. You're his bloody favourite, for Godric's sake. Everything you do in his eyes is nothing short of perfect."

Stella snorted, although there was already a smile on her face. "Dad can be such a sap sometimes," she concurred.

"I can't believe you stop talking to me days before a match between our Houses just because of that," Harry chuckled. He laughingly dodged her hand and grinned. "You know I still won't go easy on you tomorrow, yeah? I'm the Captain, Stella. It won't do well for my record if my little sister bested me in Quidditch."

"I'll beat you into a pulp tomorrow, Harry Potter. You just wait," she determinedly said.

Harry grinned. "Oh, I can't bloody wait."

-ooo-

The Gryffindor Quidditch team won against the Ravenclaw Quidditch, with a final score of 180-170. The Gryffindor team was, predictably in an uproar at the final result but the Quidditch Captain was nowhere near happy.

"That was brilliant!" Neville cried, running towards Ron and Harry once they landed back on the ground.

"Gryffindor wins the House Cup again," Draco pointed out with a sigh, rolling his eyes. "No surprise there."

Ron swung an arm over a grumpy Harry's shoulders and offered a smile. "Cheer up, mate," he said. "Our team still managed to win."

"But I didn't get the Snitch," he sighed.

"Harry!"

His frowned deepened, recognising his father's voice. Harry searched for the Auror and saw him standing near the Gryffindor stands beside his mother, who was clutching onto ten-year-old Leon Potter.

"I'll meet you guys in the Common Room for the celebration," he murmured, breaking away from his best friends to meet with his family. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw his sister walking not too far away, a disappointed look on her face.

"Why the long faces?" James quipped, opening his arms to warmly hug his only daughter. He glanced at Harry and grinned. "Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup, after all."

"I didn't catch the Snitch," he grumbled once more. He frowned and glanced at his younger sister. "Congratulations."

Stella scowled. "We didn't win, you berk," she said, swatting him on the arm. "I'm the one who's supposed to be saying 'Congratulations'."

"Language," Hermione tutted, prompting Stella to sigh and apologise under her breath.

"You were both brilliant," James reassured. "I haven't had this much excitement watching Quidditch since forever." He beamed and pulled Harry for a hug. "I'm proud of both of you."

Stella's frown melted into a small smile, cheeks flushed from flying and their father's praise. "For the record though," she deliberately said, "I'm still your favourite?"

"Stella, princess, I love you three equally," James promised.

"Liar," Harry and Leon piped at the same time, smiles on their faces.

James sheepishly smiled.

"Will you still watch the games once I start going to Hogwarts?" Leon then asked. "I think I'll try out for the Chaser position."

"Of course I will," James said. "I wouldn't miss them for the world."

1997

"Leon, come on. We still have to get Stella."

His younger brother was trying his very best to suppress his tears, but a few stubborn droplets slid down his freckled cheek. "O-okay," he stuttered, turning his head away from Harry to hastily wipe his tears.

Harry sadly smiled and patted his head, urging him to start walking.

The trek towards the Ravenclaw Tower was uncomfortable, mostly because the stuffy black robes he was wearing was itchy at the collar. Harry constantly fidgeted and by the time they'd reached the Ravenclaw Tower, he knew his collarbone was red from his constant scratching.

Stella, who was wearing decent black dress robes like a proper Pureblood witch, was leaning against one of the bannisters, waiting for them to arrive.

"Stella," Harry called.

She whipped her head around upon hearing his voice. "Harry," she whispered, face now crumpling as Stella started to earnestly cry. Leon was unable to suppress his tears any longer and matched her sister's cries.

The eldest Potter sighed and opened his arms, allowing his siblings to cling to him whilst they pressed their wet faces into Harry's robes.

"Alright, alright," he soothed, rubbing comforting circles on their backs. "Come on. Mum's waiting for us."

Both Stella and Leon clung to Harry's hands as they meandered through the deserted corridors of Hogwarts. Thankfully, it was a weekday, and all students were sitting in their classrooms. The Snapes, the Weasleys, Neville, and Draco would attend as soon as the classes were done for today, but the Potters were allowed to leave early to help with the preparation.

His heart was heavy as they passed through various corridors. With the silence—save from his siblings' occasional sniffling—Harry's mind was filled with fond memories he'd shared with his grandmother. He knew it was only a matter of time; Nana was sickly with age, frequently being admitted at St. Mungo's to be tended upon. Her health had worsened after Granddad Fleamont's death. Inevitably, she'd follow him too.

Still, despite how they'd been bracing themselves for this day, no amount of preparation could dispel the grief away. Harry had spent most of his youth in the Potter Manor, surrounded by the abundant love of his grandparents' every time his parents had other matters to attend to. Nana baked the best treacle tart he'd ever tasted. Harry wondered if he'd ever had the chance of eating them again.

Soon, they were standing in front of the Arithmancy Professor's office. Harry took a deep breath and blinked his tears away, then knocked against the door. He waited for his mother's soft 'Come in' before opening the door.

Hermione's eyes were red-rimmed and there were dried tearstains on her cheeks. Her tears were long gone, however, with her blue eyes softening in sadness upon seeing her children.

"Is Dad okay?" Stella quietly asked, haphazardly wiping her tears away.

Their mother merely smiled and ushered them towards the fireplace. She threw a handful of Floo Powder and let Leon and Stella go first.

"Mum…" Harry called as soon as Stella disappeared. "Are you okay?"

She gave him a watery chuckle and fondly brushed his fringe away from his forehead. He was now a foot taller than his mother, almost as tall as James, but he still felt like a well-loved child every time his mother did it. "Truthfully? I'm not," she sighed, not bothering to wipe the tear that slid down from her eye. "But your Dad's worse, Harry. He needs us today, alright?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod.

Hermione then wordlessly pushed him towards the fireplace, the fire roaring emerald green.

-ooo-

It was an odd feeling, to be in Potter Manor when the atmosphere was sad and sombre. Harry was so used to the ringing laughter and bursting energy in this house every time he was here. The only time this place had the same ambience was during Fleamont's funeral.

Most of the guests were gathered in the Drawing Room, quiet conversations being exchanged over tea prepared by Pokey. His siblings had blessedly stopped crying as they were too enamoured with Uncle Sirius's stories, who was trying his very best to distract them from their sorrow.

After another quick look around the room, Harry noticed his father was missing. He met his mother's eyes across the room, prompting her to smile.

"He's in the cabin," she simply said, understanding the question in his eyes.

Harry dropped a kiss on the crown of his mother's head and left.

He greeted the portraits of his ancestors, stopping a bit longer when he stood in front of Linfred of Stinchcombe. The wizard in the portrait started quizzing him about his life as a seventh year Hogwarts student. Conversations with the Potter's founding father was always a delight for the Potter heir, but Harry had another agenda in mind and asked to be excused.

Harry stepped out of the back door of the manor and took a few moments to marvel the beautiful garden Euphemia Potter loved and cared for so much. Despite her ailing health, his Nana still had enough energy to tend to her pretty flowers, pouring her love into every dancing petal like they were her own children.

He felt his eyes misting once more, terribly missing his grandmother, propelling him to continue his trek towards the small cabin near the manor.

He spied his father sitting on the grass just in front of the cabin. He was nursing a bottle of butterbeer to his chest, hazel eyes unseeingly gazing heavenward.

"Dad," he called.

James blinked and glanced at him. A small smile appeared on his worn face. "Ah, I've been found," he said, briefly turning his face away to hastily wipe his tears away. Harry offered him a small smile, walking closer to his father and plopping on the small patch of grass beside him.

The respectable Auror wordlessly offered Harry the half-empty butterbeer. Harry accepted and took a swig, before grimacing at the aftertaste.

"Terribly sorry," James said with a sheepish smile. "I needed a little alcohol in my system today."

Harry tried to form the right words to say. How was he to console his father when he himself was heavily grieving the loss? He remembered his father during Fleamont's funeral, but he didn't have enough time to grieve that day as he was too busy holding his mother upright. Now with both of his parents gone…

The young wizard thickly swallowed. He imagined how it would feel if both of his parents had gone—just the mere thought of being unable to see James and Hermione anymore already made him choke up. Harry couldn't, for the life of him, imagine how his father was feeling.

"Merlin, you really are like your mother sometimes," his father sighed.

Harry blinked. "What?"

James took another swig from his alcohol-laced butterbeer and wryly smiled. "I can hear your mind thinking very loudly," he explained. His hazel eyes turned sad as he stared heavenward once more. "It's all right, son. You don't need to say anything. Knowing that you worry about what to say to me is already enough."

He felt his cheeks blooming red. "I'm sorry," he said, because he really couldn't think of any decent words to say.

"What for?" James asked, softly chuckling. "It's inevitable. I know Mum's already in a better place right now. It just puts my heart at peace, knowing she's finally reunited with Dad." He laughed once more, this time not hiding the fact that he was wiping his tears away. "I'm sure Dad's happy my Mum's there to pester him again."

Harry felt his tears forming once more, glancing down at his lap to hide them from his father.

The silence between them stretched far and wide like the fields surrounding the Potter Manor. Harry was content to reminisce about the days when his grandparents would play with him on this vast field, bringing both tears and small smiles on his face.

"Your Mum and I decided we'll be moving here as soon as possible."

Harry's blue eyes widened. "What? Why?" he asked.

"It was one of your Nana's dying wishes," James said, cracking a small, fond smile. "It's a tradition for the Head of the Potter Family to reside in our ancestral home, she said."

"But what about Potter Cottage?" Harry asked. He loved the Potter Manor endlessly, but the Potter Cottage was his home. He couldn't imagine his life away from it.

The older wizard scratched his chin. "Well, it's officially yours," James said with a half-shrug.

"What?"

"As my firstborn, it's always been rightfully yours," his father explained. "You'll be graduating soon, Harry. You're an adult now. Soon, you'll pave the way to the future you want, establish a career, build a family…"

Harry snorted. "I'm just seventeen, Dad," he pointed out. "I don't think I'll be having a family any time soon."

"I mean, Stella said there's a girl, so I don't think that future's too farfetched," he pointed out.

"W-what?" Harry sputtered in indignation, cheeks turning splotchy red. "There is no girl."

James quirked an eyebrow and gave him an indulgent smile. "Right," he enunciated. "Your sister also tells me you're a ninny."

The young Gryffindor expelled an exasperated sigh. "Can we go back to the issue of me inheriting the Potter Cottage?" he asked.

"There is no issue here, Harry," his father said. "I don't even know why you're surprised."

"But… but Potter Cottage is our home," he explained.

"It's not as if we'll never visit," James laughed. "It just means we'll be moving out to live here, while you do whatever the hell you want with that house. Your Mum and I have so many memories of that place, and I admit I am a bit sad that we'll be leaving, but we both want to honour your grandmother's request. She'd been with us through everything that has happened over the years and we owe everything to her."

James's face became clouded at his dark past, and Harry was left to wonder once more as to the extent of such horrors his parents had witnessed during the First Wizarding War. He knew they had played a significant role at the height of war; his parents didn't even hide the fact that Voldemort died in his very home, right where his nursery had been. The history books always mentioned his family's name, and his Uncle Peter even had his very own Chocolate Frog card as the hailed hero that had put an end to the Dark Lord's tyranny.

But despite these stories, Harry still wondered just how nightmarish the past had been. He knew his parents kept a colossal secret from him, one he knew they would take to their graves. He remembered weird conversations from his parents and their friends, exchanged anecdotes that never made sense.

Admittedly, he tried to investigate. It was an open secret that his nursery was off-limits to them. The wards his parents had placed were strong enough to drive away three, curious children during their playtime. But as Harry grew older, he became more interested.

He spent one night during his sixth year removing the wards one by one. He didn't know what to expect when he crossed the room. From his parents' warnings, Harry honestly thought this room would house dark secrets that could shake his world. But all he saw in that room was a pensieve, with rows and rows of white, glowing vials lining a small shelf—housing memories, he understood. But before he could further satiate his curious mind, Hermione had caught him.

"What are you doing here, Harry?"

He remembered her face, clear as a day, how her face crumpled in deep terror that he'd never seen his mother wear. "Whose memories are these?" he'd asked.

And then, she'd started crying.

Hermione pulled him into a hug and sobbed in his hair. "Promise me you'll never come into this room again," she said.

He promised just to appease her, and he pushed the thought of the strange room to the deepest part of his brain. It didn't mean he never thought about the room occasionally. His mother's reaction to his discovery had fuelled his curiosity and Harry had tried to sneak in once more on the summer before his seventh year.

The thing was, however, the pensieve and all of the memories were gone.

"Harry, mate, I lost you for a while there," his father called, snapping him out of his reverie.

"Right, sorry," he said, lightly shaking his head to rid himself from those worrying memories. "So, back to moving out of the Potter Cottage. I can't really stop you, can I?"

James shook his head. "We've decided, and you know how mighty stubborn your Mum is," he joked.

"Does Stella and Leon already know?" Harry asked.

"We'll tell them after the guests have left," James reassured. "I think they'll be fine with it, though. They both love Potter Manor."

"Yeah," Harry sighed. A small smile then appeared on his face when he saw his mother standing just outside the back door of the Manor, calling them over. "I think it's time to go back, Dad."

Both father and son climbed onto their feet and journeyed back to the Potter Manor.

"Thanks, Harry," James whispered just before they reached Hermione.

Harry gave him a sideways glance in surprise. "I didn't do anything," he incredulously said.

James's eyes misted, but he looked better now compared to how Harry had found him. "I thought I needed to be alone for a while," he confessed. "Turns out I just need a short heart-to-heart with my eldest to make me feel better."

The younger wizard snorted, a small amused smile on his face. "Glad I could be of help, Dad," he pointed out.

"So… this girl Stella talks about…"

Harry's cheeks reddened like the blooming roses in Euphemia's beloved garden. "There is no girl."

James sighed and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, halting him in place. "Some word of advice, Harry: if you found someone who you think will make you the happiest in this world, don't let that someone go. Even when things get rough." James's lightly squeezed his shoulder and smiled. "Especially when things get rough."

The young Gryffindor's eyes widened, surprised with his father's words. But his mother had called them over once more, and James had let him go.

"Cold, love?" he heard his mother ask.

Harry watched as his father quirked a small smile. "A bit," he replied.

Hermione reached forward to touch his askew eyeglasses but, to his Harry's surprise, instead of fixing it, she'd removed it from James's face. His father's face crumpled almost immediately, bending down to press his face against Hermione's neck. Her eyes watered, arms wrapping tightly around his father.

No words were exchanged between his parents but Harry knew they weren't needed. He'd always found it odd how they could communicate with each other even without speaking. Perhaps, it was because their bond was forged and strengthened by a war Harry only had read in his history books. Nevertheless, he found it admirable, overwhelming, even, how easily they understood each other.

'Especially when things get rough,' Harry echoed in his mind, his eyes filling with tears when he noticed James's trembling.

"Harry."

His blue eyes met his mother's. "Yeah?"

"Make sure Stella and Leon are okay, yeah?"

Harry blinked his tears away and nodded his head. "Alright."

-ooo-

The party thrown by the younger Gryffindors for their graduating seniors in the Common Room was at its peak, but Harry needed to get away.

It wasn't because he wasn't enjoying it, no. But it was Harry's last free day to roam around Hogwarts before graduation, and he wanted to wander around before he left for the real world. After all, Hogwarts was his second home.

He walked through different corridors, smiling silly upon remembering a specific memory he'd had with his best friends. Although they were nowhere as infamous as the Marauders, Harry was proud to say he and his friends were still able to leave a legacy in this school. Filch's exasperated face every time Harry, Ron, Neville, and Draco instigated another prank was enough proof that they'd make the Marauders proud.

Harry visited the different classrooms, the Astronomy Tower, the Quidditch Pitch, Hagrid's Hut, and other places filled with fond memories of his years in Hogwarts, until he finally reached the Black Lake. The lake was serene, save from the ripples made by the lazily swimming Giant Squid. Harry took a moment to marvel at the greenery, wondering if he'd ever see such a beautiful sight once he left Hogwarts.

Sadness bloomed in his heart as he laid down on the grass, tucking his hands behind his head as he contentedly stared at the clear blue sky.

His momentary peace was disrupted when gleaming, emerald eyes and a curtain of raven hair obscured his vision of the sky.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Iris asked with an amused smile on her face.

Harry sighed. "I just needed to get away for a moment," he explained. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Your bloody friends are setting off fireworks in the Common Room," she pointed out. "I came to find you so that you can put a stop to their idiocy."

The bespectacled boy snorted, watching out of the corner of his eyes as Iris laid down on the grass beside him. "Let the berks have their fun," he said. "Ron's already swamped with paperwork from Fred and George's shop. Neville's terribly nervous for his interview for the Herbology position, and Draco's already losing his mind with all the Malfoy business mumbo jumbo." He closed his eyes and sadly sighed. "Tomorrow, we won't be able to act like a bunch of children anymore."

"Then, why don't you join in the fun?" she asked.

"Like I said, I needed to get away for a moment," he repeated, slightly smiling when he felt her incredulous gaze. "This might take a while, Iris. I think it's best if you just go back to the Common Room."

"It's too rowdy," she complained. "I think I'll stay here for a moment, too."

His smile grew wider, but he still kept his eyes closed.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, already content with the comfortable silence between them. Harry was actually almost lulled into sleep, but Iris suddenly asked him a question.

"What do you plan to do now once you graduate?"

Harry gathered his thoughts, cracking one eye open to glance at the curious witch. "Why do you ask?" he asked.

She lightly shrugged. "Just curious," she simply said.

"Good to know you're curious about my future, Iris," he teased, prompting the younger Gryffindor to snort. "Are you worried you won't have a place in it anymore?"

Her cheeks reddened. "You wish, Potter," she grumbled, lightly swatting his arm whilst he burst into soft chuckles.

"Alright, alright, Merlin, no need to get flustered," he laughed, his grin broadening. "If you must know, I plan on applying to the DMLE as an Auror in a few weeks."

Her eyes widened in surprised. "What? I thought you said you wanted to become a Professional Quidditch Star, or maybe a Dragon Tamer," she pointed out. "I mean, back in your sixth year, you were dead set on joining Puddlemere United as their reserve Seeker."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he sighed. "I think I needed to do something more worthwhile. Like… like chasing evil wizards all over the world, like Dad."

"Aunt Hermione won't like it, I'm sure," she said.

"Oh, I know she won't," he laughed. "But Mum loves me endlessly and will support whatever decisions I make in my life."

"Why become an Auror?" Iris asked. "You never once mentioned you wanted to become one."

Harry shifted his gaze back at the blue sky. "I don't know," he claimed once more. "There's this part of me that has always felt like I'm supposed to do something… big."

"And becoming an Auror will help you achieve that?"

"Godric, Iris, you're really full of questions today, aren't you?" he teased. When she shot him a withering glare, Harry sighed and continued. "I really can't explain it properly, Iris. Don't get me wrong; I love Quidditch and becoming a Professional Seeker is still bloody tempting for me. But whenever I think of the times when my father returns after a successful Auror mission, I always remember how he looked like he was doing something worthwhile. And I thought, I wanted that for myself too. There's this niggling voice in the back of my mind that urges me - I'm better off chasing the bad guys and bringing at least some peace to a few people every single day."

"Well," Iris murmured, "I for one think you'll be a brilliant Auror."

He felt his ego swell at her words. "Yeah?" he cheekily asked.

She snorted. "And now I've awakened that stupid confidence of yours," she sighed. "But fine, yeah. I think you'll be a brilliant Auror, Harry Potter. The world will be a much better place if you become one."

"Thank you," he genuinely said. "It's rare for you to say kind words to me."

Iris laughed. "Only if you deserve them, you berk," she pointed out.

"Merlin, how the hell will I survive out there in the real world without you, Iris Snape?" He felt his heart thudding inside his ribcage when she blushed prettily.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said with a wobbly smile. "You can't get rid of me that easily, Harry. I only have two more years in Hogwarts before I can pester you endlessly without thinking about my studies. You just wait."

'Waiting,' he echoed, closing his eyes once more. 'That I can do.'

They were silent for a few moments once more, Harry's mind mostly filled with the fond memories he'd had in this school and with the fifth year lying beside him.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?" he hummed.

"Are you happy?"

His eyes flew open in surprise. "Why do you ask?" he asked, turning his face to look at the witch.

Iris shrugged, a sad smile spreading on her face. "Seven years flew by in the blink of an eye," she said.

Harry turned his face once more, eyes staring intently at the drifting clouds in the blue sky.

He contemplated his seven years in Hogwarts. Compared to the wondrous stories he'd heard from his parents and their friends, Harry could wholeheartedly conclude that things had been pretty… normal. Sure, he'd had little adventures with his best friends, and there were memorable moments that would forever be etched in his heart. Still, there were times when he sometimes wondered what it would have been like if things were different somehow, someway.

Despite the normalcy of it all, however, his mind was filled with memories he knew he would cherish until the end of time.

And so, was he really, truly happy?

A blinding smile stretched far and wide on his face.

"Very."

Chapter Text

Summary: Hermione offered to show them what their future might have been if she wasn't reborn as Hermione Pettigrew.
Rating: T
Warnings: Angst, Some cussing
Characters: Hermione Pettigrew-Potter, James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Regulus Black, Lily Evans-Snape, Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter, Iris Snape

4.

darkness exists to make light truly count

(Uneven Odds by Sleeping at Last)

July 10, 1979

"Miss Pettigrew, our scheduled attack of the basilisk is two days from now," Headmaster Dumbledore greeted when Hermione strode inside his office. "Is something the matter? For you to request to meet with me today?"

Hermione awkwardly shifted on her feet, an uncertain look now crossing her freckled face. "I promised I'd let you show my memories… Hermione Granger's memories," she explained. Dumbledore's blue eyes shone with understanding. "I came here wondering if today's the right time to start doing that."

The old wizard grew silent, weaving his fingers together to stare at Hermione with his uncomfortable, calculating gaze. "I do trust you, Hermione," he deliberately started. "I think our conversation back at Potter Manor already proved that your tale, albeit terribly bewildering, was true. Perhaps, surrendering your memories will not be necessary anymore."

The brunette sighed and plopped down on one of the couches, uninvited. "Her memories are starting to… fade," she confessed, her eyebrows meeting at the middle. "If we want to bring down Voldemort, we cannot afford to miss any important details."

Dumbledore's lips drew into a grim line. "You are intelligent, Hermione," he stated matter-of-factly. "I think you know what the consequences are when extracting memories to be viewed on the Pensive."

Hermione paled. Of course, she knew that. If she had to extract memories from her mind, she had to remember. Every detail. Which meant she had to relieve all the horrors she had undergone in the past before she found herself reborn as a different person.

"I've… I've read somewhere," she quietly said, "that to help those who are suffering from terrible nightmares, extracting memories that trigger such may be helpful."

Dumbledore sighed and wearily leaned behind his chair. "I do not wish to subject you to any more distress, Hermione," he said. "Triggering your trauma, and processing through them, maybe helpful, yes, but I'm afraid it will bring more harm than benefit to you right now. You have yet to collect the last horcrux; we haven't killed the basilisk. This may be selfish, but I am the leader of the Resistance, Hermione, and we need you."

Tears pooled in her eyes as she shakily took a deep breath. "As I said, I am starting to forget," she murmured.

The Headmaster's eyes softened. "And like I said, I trust you," he said. "I don't need your memories anymore."

She miserably slumped and tightly closed her eyes. "I just want some of the nightmares to go away." Her voice was barely a whisper, not even bothering to wipe away the tears now sliding down on her cheeks. Most of the days, she was managing, especially now that she had to focus on her horcrux hunt with the Order and subsequent destruction of the evil artefacts. But there were some days, terrible, terrible days, when hauling herself out of her bed was already difficult.

She was reminded of how she'd frozen during the attack of the Death Eaters in Hogsmeade. If it weren't for Dirk Cresswell, she might have been badly injured right now or worse, dead. And she didn't want that to happen, especially if she were to face Voldemort once and for all and bring him down for good.

"I have a friend at St. Mungo's," Dumbledore said, breaking through her thoughts. Hermione blearily opened her eyes and glanced at the Headmaster in question. "Her expertise is of Mind Healing. Perhaps, if I reached out to her and told her about you, she'd be able to help with the nightmares."

"But, she'll know everything," Hermione said, meaning in her blue eyes.

Dumbledore serenely smiled. "Mind Healers are bound by an oath," he simply said. "I don't think she'll betray your trust and, by extension, the Order."

"Okay," she finally said, slightly nodding her head. "Thank you, Headmaster."

She rose from the couch and was about to excuse herself, but Dumbledore called her name once more.

"What you are doing… it is commendable, Hermione," he said, a gentle smile on his face. "I know I've placed too much of a burden on your shoulders, even though you'd been through a lot before. You must dislike me very, very much."

Hermione's cheeks bloomed red, unable to neither confirm nor deny his claim. She'd remembered all those moments she'd aired out her frustration about Dumbledore to Regulus, and suddenly felt ashamed. Although her opinions of the Order Leader had never changed, Hermione still felt a little shamefaced for thinking negatively about a person of authority.

"It doesn't matter," he dryly chuckled, blue eyes dimming with emotions Hermione had never seen him wear before. "To lead a huge cause that will shift the tides of this long and arduous war, one must be required to commit thousands of sacrifices."

"People die," she blurted out before she could stop herself. "These sacrifices can equate to the deaths of innocent people."

Dumbledore aged before her eyes. The normally composed Headmaster looked weary, dark shadows dancing on his wrinkled face. With a jolt, Hermione realised that in this room, she wasn't the only one being tormented by terrible nightmares at night.

"Which is why I need your help, Hermione," he firmly said. "Help me to not commit the same mistakes the different version of myself made, which ultimately caused my demise and doomed the war you've come from to be unending."

Hermione's eyes widened. "How did you—"

"I just know," he said. "I always had a feeling I would never survive the war."

The brunette thickly swallowed, her hands curling into tight fists. "I partially blamed you for the Chosen One's death," she said, her tone of voice steady despite how shaky she felt. "If you had not withheld important pieces of information from us, since the beginning, the war wouldn't have stretched on for so long. My best friend… he wouldn't be—"

She took a deep breath to calm her miserable heart. "He trusted you, anyway," she said, cracking a small, sad smile.

Dumbledore looked stricken, and for the very first time, Hermione managed to make the great and almighty Albus Dumbledore speechless. He looked as equally shaken as she was, and it disoriented Hermione to see the usually collected headmaster looking as such.

"I'm sorry," she then quietly said. Turning her gaze away from the pale wizard, she murmured a soft goodbye and left his office.

October 30, 1982

An hour had passed, and yet, Healer Bradford was yet to make any comment. Hermione was already used to her Mind Healer's strange behaviour and had opted to gaze around her simple office, waiting for the healer to break the silence.

She spied the book she'd gifted the healer before and smiled. Although Healer Bradford maintained her professionalism all throughout their sessions, Hermione actually considered the older witch a friend. After all, she was the only one who knew everything about Hermione Granger, having been there with Hermione every time she had to relive a memory.

"What are you still doing here, Hermione?" Healer Bradford asked.

The brunette looked back at her healer once more but instead of answering her immediately, she weighed in her question. 'I have a session with you today, of course,' was the most logical answer to say, but she'd spent a lot of exhausting days with the witch; Hermione knew her question demanded an entirely different answer.

And thus, Hermione turned contemplating, her eyebrows knitting together as she thoughtfully nibbled her bottom lip. A year and a few months had already passed since she'd started attending these sessions. The first few days had been the most horrible; Hermione remembered breaking down in this very same room as soon as she'd revealed her best friend's identity and her deep fear of his possible nonexistence. Hermione then opted to focus all of her energy on aiding the Resistance, before putting herself first, hence her sessions had ceased.

Hermione had started attending once again when everything had settled in the Wizarding World after Voldemort's demise. Her nightmares were terrible once more, but as the months flew by, reliving a painful memory started to become bearable. When she thought of everything she'd remembered about the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione had merely shed a few tears and managed to go home with only a heavy heart. Everything soon after was easy for Hermione, recounting everything she remembered whilst Healer Bradford extracted her memories and bottled them up in a vial.

There were moments when conjuring a memory was particularly difficult, the details fuzzy and distorted. 'Perhaps, your memory loss was a side effect of the dark potion you took,' Healer Bradford offered as an explanation one time. 'After all, you aren't supposed to have a memory of another person.'

They even started talking about her life as Hermione Pettigrew. She processed her thoughts and feelings when the prophecy was revealed, and it was about her child. They talked about hiding with her family until after the events that led to Voldemort's death.

With a jolt, Hermione realised that the nightmares were almost completely gone and she was… she was okay.

"You're right," she breathed out, great clarity spreading all over her face. Her blue eyes shone and her heart felt light, her lips tearing into a huge smile. "What the bloody hell am I still doing here?"

Healer Bradford uncharacteristically snorted and offered Hermione a rare, kind smile. "You don't need these sessions anymore, Hermione," she kindly said. "You are better off living your life to the fullest now."

Her healer then pulled out her wand and gave it a small flick. A huge, wooden box emerged out from her desk and flew towards her. Hermione could hear some glasses clinking inside and eyed it curiously as the box finally landed on Healer Bradford's lap.

"These houses all of the memories I've extracted from you," she explained, extending the box to her. "Now that your sessions are complete, consider this as my parting gift."

"Oh," Hermione said, accepting the box from the healer's hand. Her eyes widened as her arms almost gave away. "Merlin, it's heavy!"

"Well, Hermione Granger's life had been a busy one," Healer Bradford pointed out, prompting Hermione to laugh.

"Thank you for everything, Healer Bradford," Hermione said, placing the heavy box on the floor to grasp her healer's hands. "I mean it."

The healer fondly squeezed her hands, her smile never leaving her face. "I only helped, Hermione," she replied. "It was mostly you."

Hermione beamed and bid her goodbye, even daring to pull her into a grateful hug. Hugging the heavy box against her chest, she stepped out of the room and smiled upon seeing James waiting on one of the chairs, browsing through a Quidditch magazine.

"Hi," she called.

His eyes immediately landed on her face. "Hi," he guardedly replied, eyes roaming around her to see any telltale signs of a breakdown. But Hermione merely smiled, watching as his worry slowly melted into relief. "What's that?" He tilted his chin at the heavy box in her arms.

"Hermione Granger's memories," was her reply.

James' eyebrows flew to his forehead, abandoning the magazine as he stood up and strode towards his wife. "Yeah?" he asked, already stealing the box from Hermione's hands. "It's heavy!" he cried. "Why did Healer Bradford let you carry this when you're pregnant?"

She rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore his last question. "Hermione Granger's life had been a busy one," she claimed instead, echoing Healer Bradford's words with a chuckle.

He shifted the box in his arms just so he could clasp their hands together. "So same time next Saturday?"

She shook her head, her curls whipping against her cheeks. "No, there will be no next time," she said. "Today's my last session actually."

His hazel eyes widened in surprise. "Really?" he gasped. "But—"

"I'm okay, James," she beamed. "Really, really okay."

James' face softened, hooking an arm around Hermione's waist just so he could bury his face on her voluminous curls. "I'm glad," he whispered, his lips brushing against the crown of her head.

October 31, 1982

Celebrating the first anniversary of Voldemort's death had been tiring for Hermione. The Ministry insisted that she and her family attended, having been pivotal in the downfall of the Dark Lord. Hermione very much wanted to stay home and watch inane cartoons on the television with her son, but Peter, who was asked to deliver a speech in front of the whole crowd, begged her to come for support.

The morning had been a blur for her, mechanically smiling and greeting those who'd come to celebrate at the Ministry's Atrium. Peter delivered his big speech as the Great Saviour, fumbling with his words because it was Peter, but he'd managed to finish up to the end and earned a huge round of applause from the survivors.

"You look like you will pass out soon," James had murmured on top of her head, his lips curled into a knowing smile.

"I'm feeling a little under the weather," she confessed with a sheepish smile. "I think my pregnancy hormones are acting up." Her smile grew fonder, her hand resting on her small bump. She was almost done with her first trimester, but Hermione still felt mightily tired with this second pregnancy. She'd rather be home today, than anything else.

James understood her silent plea, holding onto to her and his son, as they hastily bid their friends and family goodbye and Flooed back to Potter Cottage.

Her husband insisted to be the one to put Harry to sleep. "Go rest," he urged, fondly brushing her curls away from her face. "You look like you need it."

She sighed and gave him a grateful kiss.

That was a few hours ago and James was already asleep beside her. Her eyes already felt heavy but sleep still eluded her. Everything in her felt tired and she just wanted to sleep. But Hermione knew why she was restless, her mind constantly filled with bothersome thoughts about her memories stored in the vials.

Her gaze sought the huge box once more, and a sudden ridiculous idea popped into her mind. Before she could stop herself, she was already sitting up from the bed and slipping out.

Hermione threw a glance at her sleeping husband, making sure she didn't disturb his rest. She then carried the heavy box out of their bedroom and determinedly walked towards the warded room. She paused midway right in front of Harry's room, peeking her head in to see if her son was fast asleep. Two-year-old Harry was lying on his stomach, a chubby cheek pressed against his pillow as he dreamt away. She smiled and continued her trek, this time her plan now becoming more resolute.

She removed the wards with a few waves of her wand and pushed Harry's nursery open.

For a moment, Hermione stood stock-still before the threshold. An onslaught of memories of that fateful night filled her mind until it was all she could see. She remembered Voldemort's face, the barrage of spells, the destroyed horcruxes on the floor, and finally… finally his lifeless eyes, and Hermione felt the tears forming in her eyes once more.

The room was filled with unused trinkets and furniture, a far cry from the beautiful nursery Harry used to sleep in. Even the place where Voldemort fell was occupied by various things.

They rarely frequented this room now, even placing a few wards just to keep people out. James still reckoned it would be best if they just moved out of the house, but Hermione thought they shouldn't bother doing that.

Sighing, she placed the heavy box on the floor. She then waved her wand, murmured a soft 'Evanesco' and everything inside disappeared. She made a series of wand movements to dispel the dust that had settled on the floor until everything was bare and clean.

Hermione sat down on the wooden floorboards and opened the heavy box. Her eyes widened, realising just now how abundant the memories she'd extracted from her mind were, before one by one removing them inside and placing them on the floor beside her.

Once the box was empty, she waved her wand once more and transfigured the box into a simple wooden cabinet. She levitated the glittering vials, carefully lining them along the shelf.

"Accio Pensieve," she murmured, waiting for a few moments before the small stone basin flew into her arms. Hermione placed the pensieve on the floor, just in front of the shelf.

"Hermione?"

She swivelled around, eyes landing on a very sleepy James Potter looking at her from the threshold with a frown on his face.

"What are you doing?" he rasped out, voice scratchy from sleep. "Come back to bed. Mary said sleeping late now that you're pregnant again is bad for you and our baby's health."

Hermione kept silent, watching as his heavy-lidded eyes scanned the room. His gaze stopped on the glowing basin sitting at the foot of Hermione.

"Is that—"

He looked very much awake now, his eyes quickly snapping towards the glowing vials filled with Hermione's memories.

"I told you before. I'll tell you everything about my emerald-eyed best friend," she quietly said.

James' hazel eyes landed on his wife this time. His lips were pressed into a grim line, his eyebrows pinched together in deep worry. "Does it really matter now?" he asked. "The war is over, Hermione. Voldemort is dead. We have our own Harry now."

"Aren't you curious about Hermione Granger?" she shot back. "About her Harry Potter?"

The way he clammed up was already telling. "I thought so," she whispered with a knowing smile.

"Hermione—"

"It's fine," she reassured. "If you want to view my memories, I won't stop you." She walked closer and reached for his hand. "I can't show my memories about you, though. All I know about you are pictures from Harry's photo album and golden stories from the other Sirius and Remus."

James grew quiet, hazel eyes dark as he mulled over her words. "I think… I think I need some time to ready myself," he said. "I'm already predicting it won't be a pleasant trip down memory lane."

"All right."

"Now, why don't we go back to sleep?" he suggested, tugging her closer to himself. "It's three in the morning and it had been a tiring day."

Hermione mutely nodded, allowing him to bring her out of the room.

November 5, 1982

He decided to randomly look at her memories tonight. Hermione wasn't sure what triggered his sudden resoluteness, but she didn't offer any words as she pressed a kiss on his lips, whispering to him how much she loved him, even after all these years.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" she asked.

James merely smiled and shook his head.

"I'll be here when you're done," she said.

Her husband took a deep breath before venturing towards the room.

James took a long time. Hermione reckoned he'd viewed all of her memories of Harry from the very first moment she saw him to the last time she'd seen his bright eyes. Although some details were murky, remembering green-eyed Harry Potter was the easiest as he'd been a huge part of Hermione Granger's life.

The sunlight was already peeking through their kitchen window when James finally stumbled inside. Hermione was instantly on her feet, noting the dishevelled appearance of her husband. James looked like he'd been through war – which wasn't too farfetched as he had to relieve Hermione Granger's experiences of war. There were tearstains on his cheeks but his tears had long since dried.

In three, huge strides, he was in front of Hermione and pulling her close. Her eyes filled with tears, noting how shaken he'd become.

No words left his mouth, but James told her how he felt through his actions. She understood his grief when he pressed his face against the crook of his neck. She understood his relief when he squeezed her tight, unwilling to let go. And she understood his gratitude when he pressed a kiss against her skin.

-ooo-

She Owled the others too, offering to show them Hermione Granger's memories. Hermione explicitly told them she didn't expect them to see them at all. She didn't even expect them to view all of her memories. She could only show them memories of their other counterparts, just to satisfy their curiosity of how their future would have ended if Hermione Pettigrew had not come into their lives.

November 16, 1982

Hermione wasn't surprised when it was Sirius who came forward first. He was the most curious of them all, constantly wondering aloud what would have happened to him if Hermione Pettigrew hadn't come into their lives. Hermione had seen his questioning gaze, too, every time she divulged some snippets about her past life.

Besides Peter, Sirius was the one she dreaded to show her memories to the most. The man who was wrongfully imprisoned for twelve years, framed by a man he'd trusted until the end. Hermione Granger's memory of Sirius Black was a far cry of this bright-eyed Auror who'd Flooed into their home that day, announcing his desire to view the witch's memories.

"Why do both of you look like you've seen a ghost?" Sirius asked with a laugh. This only drained more colour from James' face, so he excused himself quickly to hide inside their bedroom.

The shaggy-haired Auror, clad in his favourite leather jacket gifted by the brunette, glanced at Hermione with a frown. "What's wrong with Prongsie, kitten?" he asked.

Hermione sighed and ushered Sirius to follow her. "James has seen everything already," she simply said. "Including you."

"Oh," Sirius said, now faltering in his steps. "That bad, eh?"

"Do you want me to come with you?" she offered instead.

Sirius had now become more worried and took some time to think about her suggestion. In the end, he shook his head and gave her a small smile. "I'll be fine, Whiskers," he assured, patting her head. "Besides, you should be getting more rest. Think of Prongslet No. 2."

Hermione snorted. "I don't think this one's going to be a boy," she said.

"I bet James is praying to everybody who can hear him right now the babe inside you will be a girl," he pointed out with a laugh. The humour on his face disappeared when Hermione wrapped her arms around him, giving as much comfort as she could. The wizard sputtered out another laugh, but tightly squeezed Hermione in his arms before letting her go.

Once Sirius had gone inside, Hermione sought for James and found him sitting unseeingly on their bed.

"This will be difficult for him, Hermione," he warned.

She expelled a heavy sigh. "I know."

-ooo-

Sirius stayed much longer than James, and it had worried the couple.

"Do you think we should check up on him?" Hermione asked, worriedly shooting a glance at the tea she'd prepared for Sirius which had now turned tepid with time.

James worriedly stood up from the chair and strode out of their kitchen. Hermione hastily followed, brandishing out her wand just in case because, well, this was Sirius. She'd grown up beside this ridiculous boy and Hermione knew his emotions always turned tumultuous depending on the situation.

She paused when James stood frozen at the threshold. One look at James' face made her deduce that it was bad, really, really bad, and this had propelled Hermione to hasten her steps once more. She pushed her husband away and stumbled inside, her wand already raised to protect Sirius.

But then, to her bewilderment, the shaggy-haired Auror was bent over the Pensieve, guttural sobs pushing out from his mouth. His tears were mingling with the swirling memories over the magical basin. A quick survey around the dishevelled room gave Hermione an idea he'd seen almost all of her memories with only a few vials untouched on the shelves.

"Sirius?" she tentatively called, uncertain on how to approach him. The only times she'd seen him so unlike himself was always because of Regulus. Hermione was sure tears were shed between the brothers when she'd finally revealed her past and her mission with Regulus back at Potter Manor. But, he was never like this, and Hermione was at a loss.

His swimming eyes slowly met hers and Hermione grew more worried when his cries were now mingled with shaky laughter. She wondered if he had gone a tad barmy after seeing his counterpart's life.

"Sirius?" she said once more, daring to take a step forward.

"Thank you, Hermione," he gushed out, bending over the Pensieve once more. He chanted those words, again and again and again, his strangled cries still mixed with the weird laugh Hermione now realised was of relief.

Hermione was surprised when James suddenly bolted right past her and fell on the floorboards right beside his best friend. His hold on Sirius' arm was secure, his hazel eyes bright and determined at the same time. 'I'm here,' she read in his eyes. 'I'm here, mate. I'm not going anywhere.'

The brunette decided to quietly leave the two blokes alone and went back to the kitchen to reheat the tea.

December 1, 1982

"Already finished?"

Hermione whipped around to glance at a very tired Remus leaning against the threshold of their kitchen. James was instantly on his feet, approaching his best mate, but the werewolf merely smiled and waved him off.

"I… can't finish it," he sighed, striding towards the chair beside Hermione and sitting down. He cradled the warm mug of hot chocolate between his hands, a thoughtful look settling on his face.

Hermione met James' gaze, quietly asking him what they should do, but he only shrugged, seemingly lost himself. Sirius had been quite shaken last time, so they knew James would be the best person to comfort him. Looking at Remus right now, however, Hermione wasn't sure how much he'd seen. Judging from his red-rimmed eyes, the grim line on his scarred face, and the slight shaking of his fingers, meant he'd seen enough.

"So Peter was the…" He trailed off, golden eyes shining with unshed tears as he met Hermione's eyes.

"Yeah," she breathed, already having an inkling of what he was about to say.

Remus thickly swallowed, his hands tightening around his cup. "And Sirius— in Azkaban… I mean—" He grew frustrated, frowning deeply as he hunched over his seat. "Holy fuck, that was a shitty universe, Hermione."

She blinked in surprise, sputtering out a small laugh at his chosen words. The corner of Remus' mouth twitched upward, concealing a smile. "How far did you see?"

"I stopped when Dumbledore died," he said, lifting the mug against his lips to take a few sips. When he placed it back on the table, all the tension from Remus' system seemed to leave him completely. "I didn't want to see how I died. It was already difficult to know I outlived them all so…"

"How'd you know you'll die then?" she asked.

The werewolf shrugged and took a few more sips from his comfort drink. "Lucky guess, I suppose," he said. "You used to have really sad eyes when you looked at me, Hermione."

Remus' gaze then shifted to a very alive James, a grim look on his face. "I couldn't imagine a life without you blokes, though," he said, voice growing softer and shakier. "Merlin, all the lives that were lost…"

"Yeah," James croaked, sauntering back onto his seat.

"Thank you for letting me see your memories, Hermione," Remus then said. He reached forward and grasped both of Hermione's hands. "And for everything else."

She squeezed his hands with equal strength, a watery smile on her face.

December 15, 1982

Their fireplace chimed, signalling an arrival, and two-year-old Harry immediately ran towards their living room to greet the visitors. James chuckled and quickly followed, Hermione not too far behind.

Sev was the first one to stumble out, brushing soot off his deep black robes. Hermione paused as an incredulous smile stretched on her face; her best friend was looking more and more like the cranky Potions Master Hermione Granger had once known.

Lily was the next to arrive, a small purple bundle hugged tightly against her chest. "Iris! Iris!" Harry immediately exclaimed, lifting his hands in the air to try to grasp the sleeping five-month-old.

"Well, hello to you too, Harry," Lily cooed, bending down to let the excited toddler see Iris.

He giggled when she pinched his cheek, shying away from her grasp just to touch the sleeping infant instead. "Daddy said Mummy's baby will be a girl."

Behind Hermione, James loudly cleared his throat, but Harry was oblivious to his father's embarrassment. The brunette glanced over her shoulder to give her husband a bemused smile, prompting James to grow sheepish. "I really think this one's going to be a 'Stella'," he confessed, cheeks growing a tad red.

"I'll visit Mary in St. Mungo's soon," she reassured with a wide smile. Her smile faltered, however, once her eyes landed on the silent Sev. Upon closer look, he looked paler than usual, and Hermione was reminded why Lily and Sev decided to visit today.

She looked at her husband once more. "James," she said, meaning in her blue eyes.

James nodded and approached Lily. "Why don't you play with Iris in your room, mate?" he asked as Lily transferred the sleeping infant into his arms.

Harry grew excited and started yammering on and on about his toys he would like to show to Iris. James gave the other three a small smile in goodbye, quickly ushering Harry and Iris out of their living room.

Once they were gone, the pregnant witch glanced at her best friends. "So," she softly started, "who wants to go first?"

"Actually, I think we'll view them together," Lily said, her hand already reaching for her husband's. "I – well – the other me died during the First Wizarding War, so I'm sure you won't have any memories about me. And besides…" She trailed off, emerald eyes boring down at her very pale, very quiet husband. "I'm curious how his life would have been without me."

If it were possible, his face grew starker. Hermione sadly smiled at their clasped hands, looking as if they were both holding onto each other for dear life.

"Do you want me to come with you?" she offered, but Lily was already shaking her head midway.

"No, no, we'll be fine," the redhead reassured. She reached for Hermione's hand with her free one. "Go spend some time with your boys and Iris while we view your memories."

Hermione squeezed Lily's hand. "All right," she said. The younger witch also reached out for Sev's other hand, who caught her extended hand and clasped it just as tight. For a moment, the three best friends relayed whatever meagre comfort they had for each other, before Lily and Sev pulled away from Hermione.

-ooo-

Hermione was surprised to see that both Lily and Sev were already seated in the kitchen. She had just excused herself from Harry's playroom after tucking in both her son and infant Iris for their nap, claiming to James she'd prepare some tea for her best friends once they were finished.

She immediately plopped down on the chair with the two, noting the dried tearstains on their cheeks. Sev looked several years older, hunched over the tabletop. A few of his hair strands obscured his eyes, so Hermione wasn't able to see whatever expression he was making.

Lily, however, lifted her head upon Hermione's arrival. Her green eyes filled with tears and she quickly held onto Hermione's hand once she was seated.

None of them spoke for a while. Lily had started to silently cry, steady tears streaming down from her eyes as she continued to tightly hold onto Hermione.

"I—"

Lily's voice cracked, mightily sniffing as she retrieved her hand back just to wipe her tears away. "I've always known you'd lived a very tiring life as… as Hermione Granger but to see it, with my own eyes, I—" She threw her arms around Hermione and cried on her shoulder.

Hermione threw a watery smile at the inconsolable redhead. She then glanced over her head, noticing finally that Sev was looking at her. His eyes were red-rimmed, a pooling of tears also giving off a brighter sheen to his black eyes.

She reached for him, realising that the Potions Master had started to quiver. Hermione knew among the three of them, he was the most shaken. To continue trudging on without Lily by his side was a bleak, bleak world. And Hermione knew that, especially after spending time with Lily, practically growing beside her through the years.

December 22, 1982

"Well, fancy seeing you here."

Hermione craned her neck in surprise, a smile growing on her face upon seeing Regulus standing just a few paces away from her. "Regulus!" she greeted, pleasantly surprised.

Upon noticing the wizard, the toddler in her arms squirmed in excitement. Hermione had no choice but to put two-year-old Harry back on the ground, who didn't waste any time in barreling towards the Pureblood. Regulus expelled a humoured snort, crouching down to meet Harry and picked him up in his arms.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, noting that he was wearing very formal wizard robes that looked too ostentatious in a dingy bookstore in Diagon Alley.

"I just came from a meeting," he explained, oblivious to Harry who'd started to play with Regulus' collar. "What are you and Harry doing here?"

Hermione lifted the small basket in her hand. "Christmas shopping," she explained. "The next few days will be a whirlwind of preparation so, I might as well finish it already." The brunette strode closer and tried to reach for her son. "Come on, Harry. I'm sure Uncle Reggie is busy."

"Actually, my schedule's free for the rest of the day," he corrected. "Why don't I treat you and Harry for lunch?"

She flashed an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry," she said. "I promised the Longbottoms we'd have lunch with them today. Probably next time, Regulus. It's really good to see you, though."

"Oh, all right," the wizard said, visibly disappointed. He crouched down and placed Harry back on the ground, who immediately ran back to his mother. "Well then."

He bid his goodbye, but Hermione suddenly remembered the Owl she'd sent him a few weeks ago, which was still left unanswered. "Wait," she called, stepping forward to stop him.

Regulus glanced at her questioningly. "What is it, Pettigrew?" he asked.

"Potter," she absentmindedly corrected, unable to notice the small, amused smirk he was trying to stifle.

"Well?"

"I sent you a letter about… well… about my memories," she said, lowering her voice as a small family strode past them. "You haven't replied yet, so I was wondering if it even reached you."

Regulus looked confused for a while, before realisation dawned. "Ah," he said, "I remember." He grew sheepish, an apologetic smile on his face. "Apologies, Pettigrew. I was meaning to pen you a reply, but I got swamped with this Black family business for a while."

"It's fine," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I was just wondering if you'd like to see my memories. Sirius, Remus, and the Snapes had already seen it and I thought you might be interested too."

He grew contemplative for a while. "Actually," he started, "I don't see any point in sifting through your memories."

Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief. "You don't?" she asked, confused. A frown grew on her face when Regulus merely shrugged. "You're the first one to refuse, if you must know."

"Well, it is pointless, isn't it?" he insisted. "It's your past – it didn't happen. Besides…" He trailed off and cleared his throat, unable to meet Hermione's eyes this time. "I'd rather not see this version of me who sacrificed himself just for everything to still blow out of proportion."

He hesitantly shifted his silver eyes back at the brunette, this time with two pink patches on his cheeks. "There isn't a day I let pass without thanking the lucky stars above for bring you to us, Pettigrew. I'm – well – I'm already quite happy with how things are right now. Moreover, was I even in your memories?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip, trying to stifle a smile, and shook her head. "My only memory of you was the fake locket Harry found in the Cave with your letter to Voldemort," she confessed.

"What letter?" he asked, his interest piqued.

"You wrote Voldemort a letter, in case he realised you'd stolen the real horcrux," she explained. "Terribly melodramatic, to be honest. It definitely was written by you."

"Hmm," Regulus said. "I'm rather curious as to what I wrote to the bastard." He absentmindedly tugged a loose curl on Harry's forehead, earning merry chuckles from the quiet toddler. "Maybe I'd like to see your memories after all."

-ooo-

He came late for their supposed meeting, and Regulus, ever the perfect Pureblood, brought a bottle of wine for his apology.

"You shouldn't have bothered," Hermione pointed out, but the raven-haired wizard dismissively waved his hand. "And besides—" She wordlessly gestured at her baby bump, meaning in her eyes.

Regulus glanced around instead, a small frown on his face. "Potter isn't here?" he asked, trailing behind Hermione who'd started to lead him towards the room where her memories were.

"He's away for a few days on some Auror business," she sighed.

"Harry?"

"At the Burrow," she replied. "Molly thought it would be lovely to let him sleep over for today."

His eyes widened in bewilderment. "In that house filled with rowdy Weasleys?" he asked incredulously.

Hermione laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. "Molly's amazing," she gushed out. "Harry's already a handful and now with another baby along the way…" She sighed and placed a hand on her swollen belly. "I'm already tired imagining the sleepless nights I'm sure we'll have once Baby No. 2 arrives."

They finally arrived at the room with her memories. Hermione pushed the door open and gestured inside. "I'll make some tea in the kitchen while you view them," she said.

Regulus looked at her in confusion. "You're not coming with me?"

"You want me to come with you?" she asked, eyebrows meeting in the middle.

"I mean, why not?"

"You're the first one to actually invite me to view my memories with," she pointed out with a laugh. "The others refused for me to come, even just for support."

Regulus' eyes widened, sheepish realisation colouring his pale face. "Oh," he said. "Would you rather not see them, then?" He awkwardly fiddled with his collar and glanced at the glowing light inside the room. "Considering what you've been through in your past life, maybe it's best if you don't come."

Hermione was already shaking her head midway through his sentence. "It's been years, Regulus," she said. "I think I'll manage."

He still looked a little hesitant, but Regulus then pushed the door wider, gesturing for Hermione to come inside first.

"We can just view your memory with the letter I allegedly wrote to the Dark Bastard," he offered. "That's honestly the only thing I'm curious about."

"All right," she said, brandishing out her wand. She gave it a little wave and a vial amongst the neatly lined ones flew in her direction. She then poured the swirling memory into the Pensieve and allowed Regulus to submerge his face first.

Hermione took a deep breath, readying herself to peek into a hazy memory from her past, before following suit.

Everything was a blur when she landed beside Regulus. Wisps of white smoke swirled around the two before a familiar room materialised, with three teenagers hunched over something somewhere beside the dilapidated bed. Regulus expelled a startled gasp, recognising his room in Grimmauld Place.

"Well this is… weird," Regulus commented, for lack of a better word. He eyed the filth practically covering every inch of his room and scrunched his face. "How the mighty had really fallen during your time, huh?"

"Sirius was the last Black after he was released from Azkaban before his unfortunate end back when Hermione Granger was in fifth year," she murmured, unable to notice how all the colour on Regulus' face disappeared. "Kreacher wasn't exactly a, well, a sane house-elf during that time, so I'm sure cleaning hadn't been his top priority then."

When Regulus continued to stay silent, Hermione glanced over at him, confused. "What?" she asked.

His Adam's apple bobbed when he thickly swallowed. "You said my brother—" He let his words dangling, prompting Hermione to remember Regulus didn't have any idea what happened in the other universe.

"Right," she slowly said, "but our own Sirius is still very much alive and still very much annoying so…" She nervously glanced at the pale Pureblood and offered, "Maybe it'd be best if I showed you everything from the beginning?"

"After what you'd just told me, I'd really rather not, Pettigrew," he grumbled, obviously trying to compose himself. "Let's just get this over and done with. I don't even know why I agreed to do this stupid thing."

"We can get out now if you like," she said, but Regulus was already approaching the Golden Trio. Hermione had no choice but to trail behind, peeking over Hermione Granger's shoulders to read R.A.B.'s infamous letter to the Dark Lord.

It was mighty bizarre to see this version of herself, together with past Harry and Ron. Surprisingly, Hermione felt fine. Of course, there was still a certain sadness in her heart, but her memories of them were quite hazy already.

"That's one, melodramatic letter, Sweet Salazar," he pointed out with a scoff, although the corner of his mouth was twitching in amusement. "You should have told me about this when we stole the locket back in the Cave, Pettigrew. We should have done this too."

"Oh I'm sorry," she snorted, "I was busy trying to come up with a plan to leave the Cave unscathed with the bloody horcrux. Forgive me if penning that ridiculous letter hadn't been my top priority at that time."

He chuckled at her sarcasm, glancing once more at the Golden Trio. Hermione followed suit, her blue eyes sweeping from one miserable teenager after another. "Merlin, we really had it rough," she reckoned, her eyes lingering a bit at the lightning bolt scar on the green-eyed Harry Potter.

She shifted her eyes to look at the silent Pureblood beside her once more, noting the strange expression on his face. Hermione followed his line of vision and saw him staring at her alternate self. "What is it?" she asked. "Why are you looking past me like that?"

Regulus glanced down at her and frowned. "It feels odd seeing you like… that," he lightly gestured at the now pacing past Hermione while she laid down some facts to figure out who this elusive R.A.B was. "It's all – well – it's all wrong."

Hermione snorted at his odd choice of words, prompting his cheeks to lightly colour. "I just can't imagine you without the blue eyes, Pettigrew," he insisted with a small scowl on his face.

The older witch glanced down at her younger, alternate counterpart. For a brief moment, she felt like Hermione Granger was actually looking at her and holding her gaze. "Yeah," she breathed out, an incredulous smile growing on her face. "Yeah, me too."

September 19, 1991

"Have you seen Peter?" Hermione asked, touching James' elbow to catch his attention. Her husband distractedly glanced at her and lightly shook his head, before looking back at Regulus and listing down all the ridiculous reasons why the Tutshill Tornadoes were going to win this season. The Head of the Black House didn't even spare Hermione any glance as he too was busy spouting facts about why Puddlemere United, without any ounce of doubt, would win the championship this season.

"I don't think you should be talking with these stupid blokes," Remus then quipped, sidling beside Hermione with an amused smile on his face. "Once they start talking about Quidditch—"

"—they never stop," Hermione finished with a snort. "Why am I not even surprised they bonded over Quidditch, of all bloody things?"

The werewolf chuckled and passed a bottle of firewhiskey to the brunette. "I saw Peter go up the second floor a while ago," he offered. "I think he needed an escape from your rowdy birthday party."

"Thanks," she said, accepting the proffered bottle. "I'll be back in a jiffy. And Remus…" She sweetly smiled at the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, who rolled his eyes in return.

"Yes, yes, I'll look after the kids and make sure that none of them will get into trouble," he reassured. When her smile widened, Remus sighed and continued, "I'll also make sure they won't stir up any trouble." He was jutting his thumb in James and Regulus' direction, who both looked equally impassioned defending their favourite Quidditch teams.

"We really can't live without you, Remus, you know that, right?" She gave him a one-armed hug while he rolled his eyes.

Hermione then proceeded to climb up their stairs, her eyes keenly scanning the corridors in search of her brother. She knocked at the bathrooms and peeked her head inside their bedrooms and still, Peter was nowhere to be found.

Her eyes widened, however, upon noticing that the door of the room where she kept her memories was ajar, dim light flooding outside. For a heart-stopping moment, she wondered if any of her children were able to break through the wards she'd placed. But then, she remembered that Harry was currently in Hogwarts for his first year; Stella and Leon were surely too young to remove any wards.

Which only meant…

Her mouth ran dry, not sure if the fact that Peter might be inside was a better alternative.

Hermione quickly strode towards the room and walked inside, consequently halting in her steps upon seeing Peter standing stock-still just a few paces away from her. Peter looked like he'd seen a ghost, blue eyes frozen at her swirling memories trapped inside the glass vials.

"What are you doing here?" she faintly asked.

Peter rapidly blinked in surprise and glanced over his shoulder. "Hermione," he softly said. She was instantly beside her brother and tightly held his hand. His grip was just as tight and dread bloomed in Hermione's heart.

"Did you… did you look?"

The wizard expelled a weird sound and briefly glanced down at Hermione. "I tried," he replied. "I really did, Hermione. But try as I might I—" He took a deep, shaky breath and nervously glanced at the vials once more. "I can't. I can't move. I can't take a step at all it's—"

"It's okay," Hermione said, gripping onto his hand more tightly. "It's okay. You don't have to see them at all, Peter."

Peter didn't protest when Hermione pulled him out of the room. She closed the door and then slashed her wand with vehemence to put back the wards.

By the time she was done, she glanced back at her brother who surprisingly was now sitting on the floor beside the door, his back pressed against the wall.

Hermione cautiously approached him and slowly slid down on the floor beside him. She wordlessly offered the firewhiskey she was holding, which he gladly accepted and took a generous gulp.

For a moment, she allowed the silence to stretch between them. Hermione already had an idea what may be going on inside Peter, but no matter how much she tried, she didn't know what words of comfort to offer.

"I… I'm sorry."

She glanced at him, surprised. "What for?"

Thankfully, he gained some colour but Peter still looked shaken. "I didn't know what came over me," he confessed. "And on your birthday too!" He ran a hand through his sandy-coloured hair and expelled a too-shaky laugh. "I didn't even mean to go there today. You see, I was meaning to go to the loo but I got distracted and…" He weakly gestured at the now heavily-warded room and sighed. "I know I'm the only one who hasn't seen anything, Hermione."

"You don't have to, Peter," she firmly said. "I honestly thought you wouldn't even attempt to. It's been years since I last sent you a letter, offering to show Hermione Granger's memories. To be really honest with you, I wasn't even surprised when you didn't reply to my last letter."

"I thought it'd be a while before I become ready to view your memories," he murmured. "You're right – it's been years. And I thought today might be the day. Apparently, I thought wrong."

Hermione wordlessly grabbed his hand and gave it a tight squeeze.

"I don't think I'll ever be ready," he sighed. At the corner of her eyes, she could see the forming tears in her brother's eyes. "I don't think I'll ever bear seeing this cowardly version of myself, who betrayed the very people who did nothing but care for him."

"That's fine," she reassured. "It's fine; that universe is nonexistent now, Peter, because I'm here. Everybody we love and care about is still alive and that is all that matters."

He weakly squeezed her hand in return, conveying his appreciation. "Was there ever a time when… you know." He sighed and threw her a watery smile. "A time when you hated me, Hermione? Was there ever a time?"

She sputtered out a laugh, tears also in her eyes. "Oh, there was," she confirmed. "There was a time when I questioned if I'd ever done something so atrocious in my past life to be reborn into a person who's related to that slimy traitor. It may have crossed my mind it was perhaps my punishment for brewing a very illegal, very dark potion."

"You know you're not supposed to brew very illegal, very dark potions, Hermione," he reminded her with a small smile, drawing out a soft chuckle from his sister.

"Yeah, probably not a good idea now that I look back," she joked, prompting Peter's smile to widen. "But, seriously, Peter, after I got to spend all my life growing beside you, after I got to know how brave and kind my big brother was, how could I hate you, Peter? You and Mum – Merlin, I love you both so, so much. I still thank the blessed stars above I was born in your family."

Peter's smile grew wobbly as he drew Hermione into a hug. "For the record," he murmured, "you're still my most favourite sister."

Hermione laughed. "Berk, of course you have no choice," she pointed out.

January 6, 1997

"James."

The Auror yelped in surprise and pulled out his wand, falling into his usual battle stance as his eyes swept around their dark kitchen. Hermione sighed and waved her own wand, igniting all the candles in the room.

When James' eyes found hers, her husband slowly relaxed. "Merlin Almighty, Hermione, don't surprise me like that," he lightly admonished, sauntering towards Hermione to drop a kiss on her forehead. He pulled away and glanced down at her, prompting a small frown to appear on her face. "What is it? What's wrong?" He slowly knitted his eyebrows and looked like he was deep in thought. "Did I… do something wrong?"

She softly snorted and fondly rolled his eyes. "You didn't," she reassured, smiling slightly when James ridiculously sighed in relief.

"Then, what's wrong, love?" he insisted. "You look like you've seen a dementor."

Her smile faltered and remembered the events that had happened the morning before she accompanied her children to King's Cross to return to Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays. "It's about Harry," she slowly said.

"Harry?" James asked, now looking worried at the expression on his wife's face.

"Yes, Harry." Hermione paused and took a deep breath, before saying, "He was able to see the room with my memories."

His hazel eyes grew wide in shock. "You mean to say—"

"No, no, he didn't see," she reassured just to appease the panicking wizard. "But, he was able to break through my wards and enter the room. I was able to catch him before he even attempted to look at a memory."

James groaned and plopped on the chair beside Hermione. "I knew there would come a day his curiosity of that forbidden room would spur him to investigate," he sighed. "He has your genes, after all."

"He's a bloody prankster like you, Potter," she snapped. "You're equally at fault here."

"What are we going to do now?" he asked, choosing to ignore her previous comment.

Hermione grew quiet and curled her hands into fists. "What I should have done years ago."

-ooo-

"Inviting them over wasn't necessary," Hermione pointed out as she carried the heavy box housing her vials of memories outside the Potter Manor.

James unburdened her and led her to the blazing bonfire near the cabin. "I'm sure they'd want to be here for support, love," he explained. "This is something huge, Hermione. I don't think you should be alone right now."

"Well, you are here," she said. "I'm not technically alone, James."

"They'd want to be here too," he insisted.

The brunette sighed and wordlessly trailed behind the Auror in the end.

As they neared the bonfire, she couldn't help but snort at the small picnic placed beside the roaring fire. There was her brother, Sirius, and Remus, engaged in a soft conversation with Regulus. Lily and Severus were lost in their little world, silently glazing at the blazing fire right in front of them.

All conversations ceased when Hermione and James finally arrived. "The picnic isn't necessary either," Hermione pointed out with a sigh.

"This calls for a celebration, Whiskers," Sirius said, tipping a bottle of firewhiskey at the wooden box James was holding.

In spite of her exasperation, Hermione smiled at the people she had come to love so much in her second life. Her eyes then shifted at the memory-filled box James had placed on the ground. A part of her felt melancholic at the thought that in a while, those memories would completely disappear. Hermione Granger's memory was already hazy in her mind, and her only connection with her past self was the numerous vials filled with her memories.

But Hermione knew holding onto them seemed pointless now. She was able to build a new life, build new relationships and memories. She may have long accepted that the past was just that – the past – but Hermione thought that perhaps it was time to completely put everything behind her. And the only way to do that was to get rid of all the memories she'd extracted.

The others had grown quiet as Hermione wordlessly approached the box. She crouched down and grabbed a vial, wondering what memory it held.

She fondly cradled the memory against her heart and strode back in front of the roaring fire. For a moment, she stared at the licking flames, her hold on the vial tightening as each minute ticked by.

"Love," James then called, touching her elbow for support.

Hermione felt silly upon feeling tears in her eyes. But more than sad, she was glad she was finally doing this.

She glanced back behind her and smiled at her friends and family. James was right; she was glad she wasn't alone today.

Hermione then pulled out her wand from her pocket and levitated the vial until it was hovering above the fire. Then, with a mighty breath, she vanished the vial and watched as the liquid spilt into the fire. Her memory then turned into smoke, swirling towards the inky black sky until it vanished with the wind forevermore.

James was suddenly beside her and copied what she had done, levitating another vial over the fire and letting the liquid spill into it. The others followed suit and Hermione smiled at them with watery eyes.

By the time her last memory had vanished, Hermione was finally, truly at peace.

Chapter Text

Summary: Sev dreads the day when one of his precious flowers blooms.   
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Characters: Hermione Pettigrew-Potter, Severus Snape, Lily Evans-Snape, Iris Snape, Ivy Snape, Stella Potter, Harry Potter

5.

  our definition of perfect was written when you were born

(Life by Sleeping at Last)

October 15, 1999

Severus Snape was unsure why he continuously chose to stay and teach these hormonal pubescents. 

His lips curled when the cauldron of one fifth-year Hufflepuff, James Tuckett, burned his Draught of the Peace, and billows of black smoke wafted through the classroom. Those surrounding the idiot started coughing and Snape sighed. He brandished his wand and waved it around, Evanesco-ing the offending smoke away. He couldn't afford another post-lesson of sending students to the infirmary and suffering the wrath of worried parents through angry Howlers. Was it truly his fault this generation was atrocious with learning and skills?

“Or maybe you’re just an atrocious teacher,” Professor Hermione Potter teased one time when he lamented about the performance of his classes.

“Mister Tuckett,” Snape drawled, snapping the terrified boy to attention. “10 points from Hufflepuff. And detention this weekend.”

“But Professor, I have Quidditch—”

“Let’s make that two weekends then.”

The Hufflepuff boy grew redder like the poisonous toadstools on his workbench, looking like he wanted to protest more, but thankfully kept quiet.

He ignored the death glares his classmates were giving him. Tuckett was their golden Seeker but Snape couldn't care less. "Go back to your potions," he ordered, equally matching their glares.

His eyes briefly landed on his youngest daughter, Ravenclaw Ivy Snape, who fondly rolled her eyes in return. Thank Merlin his daughter was here today. A brief check on her cauldron showed him she was close to finishing the potion properly. He still lamented the lack of Slytherins in his family, but at least Ivy's potion skills were promising.

As for Iris… Snape unconsciously grimaced. His firstborn definitely got all the smarts from her mother, but her Potion skills were slightly below average at best. Her lone ‘A’ in her previous O.W.L.s were from Potions and Lily hadn’t lived it down ever since. Still, he was infinitely proud of his Head Girl.

Speaking of Iris, Severus had heard a troubling rumor from some of Iris' friends during the study time of fifth to seventh years in the Great Hall a few days ago. He wasn't technically eavesdropping, but Stella Potter couldn't whisper to save her life and Sev caught some snippets from their conversation.

“—your boyfriend is coming over this Friday?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Iris hissed under her breath, cheeks blooming red in embarrassment.

“Yet,” Stella teased with a suggestive grin.

Iris rolled her eyes but giggled nonetheless and huddled closer to Stella. "Well…”

Severus couldn't bear to hear any further and panicked, so he escaped to write an urgent letter to his wife.

That had been three days ago, and he still had not heard from Lily. He remembered she was recently swamped with a huge project somewhere in Wiltshire regarding the Malfoys and hadn’t come home for weeks, opting to sleep over in Malfoy Manor with Narcissa until her business was done.

Sighing, he glanced at the wall clock and noted it was nearing lunchtime.

'Only ten minutes more and I'm free from these menaces,' he thought, internally groaning as he already imagined shutting himself in his private chambers and finally finishing the book he'd been reading for the past days.

But then, to his surprise, the door of the Potions' classroom opened with a resounding bang. All activities ceased as Severus and his students stared at the wild-eyed and disheveled Unspeakable Lily Snape. She was short of breath and panicky, and this alarmed Severus once he got over his initial shock of seeing his wife in Hogwarts. 

“Lily?” he tentatively asked. “What are you doing here?”

"Oh Merlin, I've only read your letter an hour ago!" she cried, bordering hysterical. "I came over as soon as I could. I'm so sorry I wasn’t able to come over when you said it was urgent!” Honest-to-Merlin she looked like she was going to cry soon. “What is it? What was the emergency? Are our daughters okay? Are you okay?”

Her sleep-deprived, glassy eyes roamed all over the classroom. Upon spying an equally shocked Ivy, unscathed and very much alive, she calmed down a tad bit.

Severus was confused and slowly frowned. “What emergency?” echoed.

The school bell had already rung, signaling the end of the class, but his students remained seated in their chairs as they watched the little excitement unfolding before their eyes.

Lily, now also growing confused herself, stalked closer and handed the letter he'd penned to her three days ago. "From the way you wrote these words, it sure sounded like someone got hurt or died!" she cried, pointing at the words like 'devastating news' and 'the day I feared the most came'.

Severs slightly colored and cleared his throat. “Oh,” he started. “I believe I… err… maybe exaggerated a bit? It’s about… Iris. Nobody got hurt. I swear.”

“Iris?” his wife asked, very confused.

It was at that time he remembered he was in a class and glanced at the students. “What in Merlin’s name are you still doing here? Get out,” he ordered.

His students shot up from their seats and quickly scrambled out from the Potions' dungeons. Lily also chose that time to slap him loudly on his arm, shrilly crying out she thought somebody seriously died and already feared the worst. All these were witnessed by the students, who snickered under their breaths and bent their heads together to talk among themselves. One scathing glare from their Potions' Professor clammed them up as they continued on their way.

“Is everything all right?” Ivy worriedly asked. "What about Iris?"

“Never mind it now, love,” Severus reassured as Lily pulled their daughter into a brief hug. “Run along now and have lunch with your friends at the Great Hall.”

“O-kay,” their youngest daughter slowly said, slightly narrowing her eyes at her father. “You’re acting real suspicious, Dad.”

He merely waved his hand dismissively. Thankfully, Ivy was pulled away by her friends after she threw another suspicious glance his way, leaving him and his wife alone.

Lily now looked annoyed. “Well?” she impatiently asked.

"Well…" Severus made a face, unsure how to start. "I am not entirely sure. This is based purely on hearsay, but in my defense, they are not doing a good job in keeping it a secret."

“You mean gossip?”

“I mean, well.” Severus colored and scratched his chin. “Is it really gossip when I overheard it accidentally?” Lily stared, unamused. “Fine, I overheard Iris and Hermione’s daughter talking about a…” His lips curled once more. “A boy.”

Lily continued to stare at him, this time disbelief coloring her glassy eyes. “A boy,” she echoed.

"Yes, a boy!" Severus exclaimed loudly. "Now you understand the urgency of my letter? A boy, Lily! Cavorting with a boy behind our backs when she has enough responsibilities as a graduating seventh-year and the Head Girl!"

“A bloody boy, Sev!” Lily exclaimed, slapping his arm once more as a laugh bubbled out her lips. “You dragged me all the way to Scotland from Wiltshire just to tell me our eldest daughter finally got herself a boyfriend?”

He glowered. “She said he’s not her boyfriend,” he protested.

Lily shook her head, giggles still escaping her mouth. “She’s seventeen, my love,” she pointed out. “Let her do some teenage things.”

“I agree, she’s seventeen. She’s a teenager,” he grounded out. “Which is why this is very concerning to me.”

She fondly pinched his cheek until he scowled. "We got married at nineteen, sourpuss," she reminded him. "I'm not sure what's the problem here."

"What's the problem? The problem is—”

Lily cut him off with a sigh, looping her arms around him for a comforting hug. “I am exhausted, my exasperating husband. I’m going to find Hermione and have a laugh with her over this ridiculous issue.”

“This is not a laughing matter, Lily!” Severus protested, but Lily was already walking out of his classroom and he had no choice but to follow her out.

-ooo-

"This feels like the old times, yeah?" Lily asked, lying down on the grass near the Great Lake under their favorite oak tree during their Hogwarts years. On her left was Professor Hermione Potter, also lying down on the grass, eyes closed as she basked under the warm sunlight.

“I can’t remember the last time I took a break like this,” Hermione sighed, turning her head to look at the redhead beside her. “Thanks for pulling me outside to appreciate this lovely afternoon sky.”

“See, just like the old times!” Lily pointed out with a lovely laugh. “Seriously, Hermione, don’t overwork yourself too hard. Take breaks as needed.”

Hermione fondly smiled and scooted closer to the older witch. "Speak for yourself, Lils," she pointed out, noting the dark bags under her eyes and her unruly hair. "And you sound like James, Merlin Almighty."

“At least Potter and I agree on something,” she replied.

“But, what are you doing here?” the Arithmancy professor asked. “Last I heard, you were with Narcissa solving another curse at the Malfoy Manor?”

Lily pointed a finger at the silent, brooding Potions professor and grinned. "Our favorite sourpuss sent a letter to me three days ago talking about an urgent matter. I had no choice but to drop everything and storm to Hogwarts because I was afraid somebody had gotten hurt!" Lily lifted herself and frowned at her husband. "Now, you owe me a few butterbeers, Professor Snape."

“An urgent matter?” Hermione echoed, sitting up also as her eyebrows knitted in worry. “Did something happen, Sev?”

The redhead rolled her eyes when Sev glowered and kept silent. “My lovely husband worries about a boy our daughter fancies and felt like it was the end of the world,” she stage-whispered, a wide grin on her face. "Poor old man because his heart couldn't handle our baby's all grown up."

“You know I can hear you loud and clear, Lils, right?” he grumbled, prompting Lily to give him a lovely smile. She hooked her arm around his and gave him a comforting pat. “And, why aren’t you worried about this? Our daughters tell us almost everything. Why didn’t we know about this?”

“Who said I didn’t know about this?” Lily said matter-of-factly.

Sev’s jaw dropped, a mixture of surprise and betrayal on his face. “You knew about the boy?” Lily merely nodded, earning her a scowl from her husband. “And you didn’t tell me?”

"Because we know you'll act like this," she stated.

“Sev doesn’t know about it yet?” Hermione asked, surprise in her eyes.

The wizard’s eyes grew larger. “You knew about this too?” he exclaimed, an accusatory tone in his voice. “And none of you told me?”

Lily and Hermione exchanged knowing glances, which annoyed Sev more.

Before he could probe further, shadows fell over their forms.

“Mum? What are you doing here?”

Their eyes simultaneously landed on a worried Iris Snape, her younger sister and Stella Potter standing a few paces behind her.

"Iris, my love, look at you!" Lily immediately jumped onto her feet and engulfed her daughter in a hug. She pulled Ivy towards them also to join the hug, while Lily smiled warmly at Stella.

"Is everything all right?" Iris worriedly asked, darting a few glances at Severus and Hermione. "Ivy said you burst into Dad's class this morning and spoke about an emergency. Did somebody get hurt?"

“No, no, sweetheart,” their mother reassured. “Your father’s just being a typical sourpuss.”

Sev's indignant 'Hey' fell on deaf ears, but their daughters still looked worried.

"Then, what's the problem?" their eldest daughter asked. "You rarely visit Hogwarts because you're swamped with work, Mum."

Severus bristled when Lily and Hermione exchanged worried glances once more. "My loves, maybe it is best if you all went back inside. Lunch is almost over, yes? We don't want you to be late for your next classes."

“Oh, I actually have a free period after,” Iris insisted. She hugged her books tighter to her chest, cheeks slightly turning into a lovely shade of red that matched her mother’s hair. "Harry and his Auror buddies will come over to teach us seventh years on Defense for our NEWTs."

As if on cue, a booming 'Iris!' resounded throughout the open field. They spied Harry Potter standing near the double oak doors of Hogwarts, waving an excited arm in the air. He was accompanied by some of his Auror colleagues, wearing the official Auror robes provided by the Ministry.

Severus frowned when Iris' cheeks darkened into a deeper shade of red. The two girls behind her giggled and whispered among themselves. Hermione and Lily exchanged another knowing glance, this time slightly with alarm in their gazes, and Severus… Severus knew.

“Oh Merlin,” he gasped. “Bloody Merlin. You’ve got to be kidding me!”

The three girls glanced at Severus in confusion. “Dad?” Iris tentatively asked.

Harry was still shouting Iris’ name from afar, this time excitedly jumping up and down to get her attention once more. Harry also called out his hello to his sister and mother, and the other Snapes, then went back to beckoning Iris once more.

“Lily!” Severus implored, wild disbelief in his eyes. “You—I-I don’t—what is—”

“Mum… is Dad all right?” Ivy asked, frowning at their blubbering father.

“Girls, maybe it’s time to go,” Lily placated, giving them a tight smile.

“But Dad—”

“Iris, I’ll handle your father. I promise,” the Unspeakable said, meaning in her eyes. Iris’ eyes widened, finally understanding the situation as color slowly drained from her face.

“Oh my god, Dad, I wanted to tell you but—”

Lily lightly pushed Iris towards Ivy and Stella. “Please leave us for now,” she kindly requested. The other two girls understood and dragged Iris away. The seventh year Gryffindor still looked pale-faced as they pulled her towards Harry and his mates.

The redhead didn't wait for the students to reach the Aurors. She turned to Hermione and said, "Help me drag him to his office. This will be a difficult conversation and I don’t think the whole of Hogwarts would like to see it.”

Hermione was trying to suppress a laugh. “Oh, believe me, Lils, they’d love to see this spectacle,” the younger witch said as she gestured at a short-circuiting Severus Snape.

“Hermione!” Lily cried in exasperation, but a sneaky grin was unmistakably forming on her lips.

The Arithmancy Professor couldn't stop her giggles any longer as she wordlessly grabbed onto Severus. The two witches dragged the shell-shocked wizard and didn't stop until they arrived at the Potions dungeons. A swarm of first-year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were crowded outside the door, waiting for it to be unlocked by their Professor.

Knowing it would be futile for Sev to teach at this state, Hermione faced the students and said, "Children, Potions class this afternoon is canceled. Professor Snape is not feeling well and he’d like to rest for the remainder of the day.”

A chorus of 'hoorays' echoed around the dingy hall. Hermione ushered the children out of the dungeons, promising to update them on the schedule of their make-up class. While Hermione was busy with the students, Lily rummaged inside her husband's robe pockets until she pulled out his keys. She opened the door and dragged her silent husband inside and didn't stop until the three of them were safely locked inside his private chambers.

Lily sat Sev down on his comfortable armchair while Hermione arranged a calming pot of tea.

"Sev, come on, please say something," Lily urged as Hermione thrust a cup of tea into his hands.

This seemed to snap him back from his stupor. He unceremoniously placed his teacup on the hardwood of his table and glared darkly at his sheepish wife. “Harry fucking Potter, Lily? Really?”

“Hey, watch it. That’s my son, you idiot,” Hermione pointed out with a frown.

“You knew about this too, Hermione?” he angrily accused, prompting Hermione to roll her eyes.

“This is exactly the reason why we didn’t tell you yet," Lily sighed, shaking her head. She made herself some tea and plopped down on the couch, thoroughly exhausted. She hadn't slept for days, helping Narcissa with the curse problem in the manor and now she had to deal with this. “We were waiting for the right moment, maybe after Iris had finished her NEWTs, before telling you about Harry’s intentions.”

Severus grew thunderous. “Intentions? What does that even mean?” he demanded. “Marriage?”

“Courtship,” Lily corrected, rolling her eyes yet again. “Sev, really, you’re making this a bigger deal than it initially is.”

“Courtship?” he echoed, face twisting like he’d eaten something sour.

“Some Pureblood shite and all,” his wife explained. “Harry Owled me a fortnight ago, asking to meet me in the Leaky if I’m free. He actually asked if I could bring you also, but having already an inkling what this meeting would be about, I told him it would best to exclude you for now.”

This made Sev angrier and Lily raised both of her hands to appease him. “I know, I know, it wasn’t the best decision on my part. But you know me, my love. I sometimes don’t make great decisions. For example, I agreed to marry you!”

“Lily!” Hermione admonished, laughter bubbling out of her lips. “Honestly!”

Lily also laughed when Severus’ face grew redder. “I’m kidding, all right. Merlin, Severus, you're the best decision I've ever made," she sweetly said, trying to appease him. "But fine, I excluded you from this meeting, okay? Because I know how you'll react. I know how you scoff at the ridiculous Pureblood customs the Potter still sticks to in this time and age. So, to save poor Harry from your wrath, I’d met him alone and talked about his intentions to court our daughter and to plan on how to break it to you, well, gently." Lily smiled knowingly, reaching out to hold Sev's hand. "I know you love our daughters, Sev. I love that about you so much. But Iris isn't a child anymore and she found herself a man that loves her very much." She squeezed his hand. "Iris is also scared of how you will react. You've always been a little hard on Harry and she didn't know what you'd do if you found out."

“I’ll bloody kill him. That’s what I’ll do,” he swore.

“Again, we are talking about my son, you berk. Watch your words,” Hermione warned.

Severus glared at the younger witch. “And why are you okay with this?” he hissed.

“Because who am I to stop this relationship?” Hermione said, shaking her head. She reached out for Sev’s other free hand. “Sev, come on. Lily’s right; our children are growing up. Harry had spoken with James about this.”

“That’s the worst part,” he bemoaned. “I’m sure he gave shite advice.”

Hermione playfully slapped his arm. “Actually, he warned Harry you won’t like this at all,” she corrected. “And advised him to tread carefully because you’d make all this courtship mumbo jumbo very difficult for him”–

—“Damn right, I will!”—

—"But my stubborn Harry accepted it and asked for Lily's permission anyway," Hermione finished. "Harry might be James' son, but he is my son too. He is a brilliant boy. I know he won't be the best in your eyes. I mean, let's face it, no one will ever be worthy of your daughters. But, I've raised Harry well and you damn well know it, Severus Snape. If you give Harry a hard time, I'm going to kill you myself."

“O-kay, I think emotions are running too high now and we’re saying things we do not mean,” Lily said, breaking the glaring contest between her husband and their best friend. “Let’s call this a day and sleep on it for now, yes? We’ll figure something out.” She gave Severus a hard stare and continued, "For now, I forbid you from talking with Iris alone without calming down. Promise me, Sev."

He frowned and refused to answer.

“Promise me, Severus,” Lily insisted.

“Fine,” he spat. Then, to Hermione, he said, "Tell your son to come over to Spinner's End next Saturday or else."

Hermione fondly rolled her eyes. “Merlin, you’re hopeless,” she merely replied, shaking her head. “Fine. I’ll tell Harry.”

  October 23, 1999

 Severus woke up today with a great purpose in mind.

He did his morning routine mechanically, too distracted by what this day meant. By the time he strolled into the living room in Spinner's End, he was ready to face Harry Potter.

“Dad,” Iris said in mild exasperation, Lily trailing behind her. “Honestly. Why are you making a big deal out of this?”

He glanced at his daughter and sighed. He wasn’t sure when Iris started growing up. He still remembered how she cried easily over the Sunday movies the Snape family usually had before the girls started studying in Hogwarts. Or how she'd run up to him immediately after she got a scrape from a fall. Young Iris always had a habit of wiggling herself in between her sleeping parents during a great thunderstorm, terribly afraid of the loud noise and rattling wind.

She was so young and innocent.

When did she start thinking about boys and love and courtship and all?

“He’s late,” he pointed out instead, realising he had yet to answer her question.

"Which he told us about," Lily reminded him. "We can't fault him his Grandpa Moody's been working them like a horse. You've seen Moody, my love. He's terrifying.”

“I can show him terrifying,” Snape petulantly said, prompting Iris to groan and plop on the seat opposite him.

“Mum, please do something,” she begged as Lily sat beside her husband.

The only calm person in the living room smiled at the other two. "You know what you and Harry were getting into when you both decided to fall in love with each other, Iris,” she merely said.

Severus made a face and was about to say something in return when somebody started knocking at their front door. Iris jumped onto her feet and ran towards the door. Before she opened it, however, she looked back at her parents and shot a warning glare at her father. "Be nice," she mouthed.

She then opened the door and standing on the other side was a very nervous-looking Harry Potter. His usually unruly hair was tamed and styled, and he was wearing formal robes that made him look like a Pureblood attending a ball.

Severus was hit with a wave of déjà vu, recalling the time James Potter dropped by their house just so he could ask their permission to propose to Hermione. That memory did nothing to alleviate his tension. In fact, it made him all the more annoyed with the Potter boy’s presence. Harry Potter looked every bit like his arrogant father, and while he had tolerated James ever since he married Hermione, they were still not the best of friends.

Based on how Iris’ eyes had started throwing daggers in his direction, he knew his face showed how he couldn't genuinely welcome the Auror at his home.

"Hello, Harry," Lily said, breaking the tense silence, a sweet smile on her face. Harry briefly shot a nervous look at the still seated, silently fuming Potions professor and managed to crack a lopsided smile.

“Aunt Lily, hi,” he said, his voice cracking. “Um… Uncle Sev, hello.”

Severus' frown deepened.

Harry then patted down his robes and pulled out a gift from his pocket. “I brought something for our dinner,” he said, offering it to Lily who kindly thanked him.

It might be done unconsciously, but Severus watched as his daughter tried to reach out her hand to hold Harry's. She only stopped herself when her father slowly stood up, his scowl still firmly on his face.

“Iris, sweetheart, why don’t you bring Harry to our kitchen?” Lily suggested. “I think the treacle tarts are almost ready.”

Iris wordlessly grabbed onto Harry’s arm and dragged him away from her angry father.

Once they were out of earshot, Lily turned to Sev and playfully slapped his arm. “Quit it, sourpuss,” she commanded. “If looks could kill, Harry had already died even before he entered our home. You very well know Hermione will never, ever forgive you if that happens.”

Sev turned away without a word and stomped towards the kitchen. The door was left ajar, and he was about to burst inside when through the small crack, he spied Iris and Harry huddled together near the kitchen sink, murmured words exchanged between them. Sev didn’t need to be a genius to know they were talking about him.

For some reason, he stilled himself and tried to eavesdrop.

“—know this was a really, really bad idea, Potter,” his daughter whispered, unfiltered panic painted on her pale face.

“No kidding,” Harry replied, an almost maniacal glint in his eyes. “Uncle Sev seemed ready to lunge at me and kill me. I was half-tempted to pull out my wand in self-defense just in case, but I was afraid it would trigger him more.”

Iris groaned loudly and playfully pinched Harry's cheek. "Berk, why'd you have to follow all these Pureblood protocols?” she growled, slightly shaking him while still pinching his cheek. “It’s 1999! All this courtship shite is so outdated.”

Harry lightly scowled and batted her hand away. “Iris, love,” he said with a sigh. He looked like they’d already had this conversation before. “Dad said the only reason why he got Mum to say yes to him was because he followed all the Pureblood traditions my Nana drilled into him since he was young.”

“Really? Besides how obvious Aunt Hermione loves him very much?” his daughter said, grinning.

The bespectacled auror rolled his eyes and pinched Iris’ cheek this time in retaliation. “Besides that, yes,” he said. “So, if we want to make this work, I have to follow everything to the dot.”

Iris made a face. “Freaking Purebloods,” she murmured. “You lot are so weird.”

"Well, technically I'm three-fourths so…" He faltered and grinned, seeing her glare. "Dad said my Nana would roll in her grave if I didn't follow one of her dying wishes."

“Which is?”

“To woo the woman I love with our amazingly outdated Pureblood traditions, of course,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Iris lightly blushed, fondly shaking her head. “So, so weird," she said.

She darted a glance at the door and Severus took a quick step back. Iris, satisfied that her parents weren't going to stroll in unannounced, stole a kiss. A huge smile stretched on Harry's face and Severus thought he looked very much like Hermione at that moment.

“I honestly don’t know why you never saw this one coming,” Lily whispered from behind him, also smiling at the lovely scene their daughter painted with Harry inside the kitchen. “Hermione and I saw this a mile away, you know. I can’t believe Harry waited until our daughter’s in seventh year before he started showing his true feelings.”

Maybe he had seen some signs before. He'd seen how during the monthly get-together of Hermione's friends in the Potter Cottage, Harry always gravitated toward Iris. He'd seen the stolen glances, the shared secret smiles, the accidental touches… Maybe he was just in denial that Iris was growing up too damn fast and he couldn’t do anything about it.

Severus wordlessly looked into Lily’s eyes for comfort. The annoyance and tension for the Potter boy had ebbed away, and now overwhelming feelings tried to crowd inside his heart.

“Oh, my love,” Lily said, a bittersweet smile on her face as she understood his look. She placed a hand against his face and rubbed a comforting thumb over his stubbled cheek. “I know. It makes me a little sad she’s growing up too.”

He sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. “I was a bit too harsh, right?” he asked.

“A little?” Lily teased. “Sev, be honest.

This made him smile a little. “I still won’t go easy on him,” he said. “I’ll try to be… civil, but that doesn’t mean he’s off the hook.”

“Of course not,” his wife fondly said. “Just don’t make it too hard for your daughter, Severus. Iris loves this boy very much. It honestly reminds me of how Hermione and James when they just started dating and you know how I’ve never seen that kind of love before.”

“Why is it Potter’s boy, of all boys in the whole bloody world?”

“He’s Hermione’s boy, too,” she reminded. “And that makes it so much better.”

“Hey guys?” Iris then called, poking her head out the door. “Is everything okay?”

Lily smiled. “Yes, Iris, we’re just on our way to the dining area,” she assured. “Why don’t you start setting the table.”

“I’ll help, Aunt Lils,” Harry piped in, sidling beside Iris.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the redhead said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You’re our guest, Harry.” She then glanced at her silent husband and smiled once more. “Sev, love, why don’t you bring Harry to the dining area.”

Iris looked alarmed. "Mum, I don't think—"

“Of course,” Severus curtly said. Harry shot him a wary glance, but that stubborn frown on his face that was definitely Hermione was on his face. “Come, Harry.”

He turned around and didn’t wait whether the boy would follow him or not. The only indication that Harry followed him was the tentative footsteps behind Severus.

Soon, they’ve reached the dining area. Sev had been readying himself to apologise for his atrocious behavior and was about to do so when he turned around, but then, Harry had beaten him into it.

"Uncle Sev, I'm so sorry," the younger wizard earnestly said. "I should have insisted when Aunt Lily said we shouldn't have included you the first time I made my intentions official."

He couldn’t stop himself from scoffing at the ridiculous Pureblood tradition the Potter family still insists on doing. “No, your aunt was right,” he grumbled. “That wouldn’t end well if I came into the picture.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow. “Honestly, with the way you’re behaving today, it kind of feels like it’s not going to end well either,” he pointed out.

“Do not get cheeky with me today, Potter,” he warned.

The boy blessedly clammed up, a sheepish smile growing on his face. “But Uncle Sev, all jokes aside, I’m serious about your daughter,” he continued. “She’s… so much better than me in all ways. I don’t deserve her at all, but she loves me too. Merlin knows why.”

“No, you absolutely don't," Sev vehemently concurred.

Harry’s smile grew nonetheless. “Iris and Aunt Lily warned me you’re not going to like this. They warned me you’re going to make this so bloody hard for me. Hell, even Dad told me you’d eat me alive for pursuing his eldest daughter. But I don’t care, Uncle Sev. I mean, I do bloody care. I very much want it if we’d just go on our merry ways and you wholeheartedly accept that we love each other very, very much. But if you are not going to make it easy for me, then so be it. Dad once said that if I found someone who makes me the happiest in this world, I shouldn’t let go. Even when things get rough. Especially then.”

He was surprised that advice came from James Potter.

Severus wasn’t given the chance to answer as Lily and Iris came into the dining area, plates of delectable food floating behind them. Iris gave a brief once-over at Harry once their eyes met, and Sev couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t do anything to him, Iris,” he snapped back. “Bloody hell.”

Iris frowned at him and then glanced back at Harry, who was giving her a reassuring smile.

“Come sit now, Harry,” Lily offered. “Iris and I prepared the food you love, so don’t be shy and eat until you can’t eat anymore.”

“Everything smells amazing, Aunt Lily,” Harry beamed. “Thank you for the meal.”

They all settled down around the table, with Iris and Lily flanking both of Sev’s sides and Harry sitting in between the witches.

Lily was her usual chatterbox, inquiring Harry about his auror work and talking with Iris about her plans of pursuing Healership like her Aunt Mary.

“May I have the mashed potatoes, please?” the raven-haired boy politely asked.

“Of course, love,” Iris sweetly said and she was about to grab onto the bowl when Severus beat her to it. She glanced at her father in surprise, watching as Severus wordlessly passed the food to Harry’s waiting hands.

He saw how Iris and Lily shared surprised looks on their faces, prompting him to sigh. Lily merely smiled and started talking once more, telling Harry this time about her stay at Malfoy Manor helping Narcissa get rid of the centuries-old curse bestowed by the Malfoy ancestors. Harry equally matched her excitement and looked genuinely curious, asking smart questions that delighted his Unspeakable wife.

Severus contented himself by only listening, quirking a smile or snorting for his reaction to their conversation. Then, he felt a small hand resting on top of his on the table. He glanced at his silent daughter, who was brightly beaming. No words escaped her lips, but her expression already spoke volumes.

Sev squeezed her hand in return, understanding the gratitude in her eyes.

How could he ever say no to those eyes?