This story is the result of an idea that came to my mind while reading Deathly Hallows and coming to grips with Snape's fate. I hope you'll like it.
21 Years Later
Chapter One: Hogwarts Express
Platform 93/4 was as busy as usual on September 1st. Groups of excited students, proud and anxious parents, sulking younger siblings were moving through swirling clouds of steams, talking to each other, laughing, waving to each other, hugging each other; trunks, trolleys, cages and baskets with animals were littering the platform, getting in people's ways, making them stumble and bump into each other.
Ten minutes to go. The Potters were standing next to the last carriage, talking to Ron and Hermione Weasley. Their children had already boarded the train, even Lily and Hugo, the youngest, on their way to their much longed for start at Hogwarts, barely had eyes for their parents any more. Ginny and Hermione had started to discuss the imminent arrival of Fleur and Bill's first grandchild, Ron hoisted his son's heavy trunk onto the train. Harry let his eyes roam over the platform. As always the excitement at the Hogwarts Express made him feel nostalgic. More than twenty years ago he had travelled on this train with his friends, bound to a new school year, more knowledge of magic, more exciting Quidditch matches and new adventures; two decades, so much had happened in the meantime – and yet it seemed like yesterday.
Suddenly he gasped.
"Mum," he whispered involuntarily.
A few steps to his right a woman was standing. She was dressed in an elegant grey Muggle trouser suit and her hair, dark red with strands of grey, was tied in an elaborate bun. Harry didn't want to believe his eyes. This woman looked exactly like his mother – or rather, like his mother would have looked, if she had still been alive. She was talking to a young man, tall and thin, his black hair trimmed accurately and fashionably, who also seemed vaguely familiar. Suddenly the woman became aware of Harry's stare, said something to her companion and both of them looked back enquiringly. Harry blushed, suddenly aware of his blatant staring and embarrassed. Feeling compelled to apologize, he went over to her.
"Sorry, Madam, I didn't want to be rude, but – well, it may sound strange, but you remind me of somebody."
The woman blinked. She turned her head and studied the crowd on the platform, her hands opening and closing convulsively. After a long moment she met Harry's eye again.
"Somebody called Lily?"
Harry's mouth fell open.
"Y-yes, my mother, how do you know?"
"You're not the first one to spot the resemblance," she said sadly and looked at the young man, who put a reassuring arm around her shoulders.
"I must go, Mum, the train's about to depart. Good-bye, see you at Christmas."
He gave a curt nod in Harry's direction.
"See you, David," she said and hugged him, "good luck and don't forget to write."
The whistle sounded.
"Harry!" That was Ginny's voice.
"Coming!" he answered and turned back to the woman. Something about her fascinated him and made him feel that there was a story attached to this extraordinary similarity in looks.
"Would you mind telling me more about it? Do you have a moment afterwards? Can we talk?"
"Well - yes, I suppose," she said carefully.
"What about the coffee shop outside platform 9?"
"Harry!"
He turned to his wife.
"Yes, Ginny."
And back to the woman.
"Will you come?"
She nodded.
The whistle sounded again and while the train started to move, Harry hurried over and joined his wife, waving good-bye to his children.
Fifteen minutes later he entered the coffee shop. Hermione and Ron having expressed their intention to do some shopping, with Ginny volunteering to come along as an adviser, it had been no problem for Harry to find an excuse for staying behind.
He scanned the premises and saw her at once, sitting at a table in the back of the room. Quickly he went over and introduced himself.
"I'm sorry about my behaviour, but your likeness to my mother is absolutely striking. I was totally baffled. I'm Harry Potter, by the way."
"I know," she answered, "you're still a celebrity. I'm Rose Henderson."
She had already bought a cup of coffee, so Harry went to the counter to get one for himself.
When he returned to the table, the woman looked at him with calm determination. Harry noticed that her eyes were different, not bright green like his mother's and his own, but a soft greenish brown.
"So you would like to hear my story? Very well. You're the first one I'm going to tell it to."
Thanks to J.K.Rowling for the inspriring characters