Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Warnings: Hints of slash

Note: Written for A Demigod Wizard's Duel at the Hunger Games Comp: Write about someone loving a certain characteristic/feature of another person. Prompts: "What have we got here?", wrapped gift, exactly 1,123 words (not counting the disclaimer, warnings, notes, and title); If You Dare Challenge: 47 (favorite recipe)

Bright Hope

Harry smiled softly, whisking the cloudy mixture in the ceramic bowl expertly. He let out a steady breath, puffing out his cheeks as he set the concoction aside.

Oddly enough, it hadn't been too hard to adapt to the whole time change. In fact, it wouldn't be too far off to say that his life was better here than it was back in the future. Harry felt a bit guilty to admit it, but here, there were no wars that needed to be fought, no all-powerful dark wizard that needed to be eradicated, no one to expect him to be more than he was, more smart, more responsible, more, more, more. But here, there was none of that. Peace, quiet, and most of all, happiness. Harry Potter was happy. When had he ever had the chance to ever say that and truly mean it in his life?

Just then, Clara burst into the shack, a little skip to her steps. She peeked over his shoulder, brown curls brushing against his neck as her hair fell down in waves. When she recognized the ingredients, an excited squeal left her lips.

"Are you making the cake with the strawberries?" Clara grasped his shoulders, hopping in her spot, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing tightly.

Harry chuckled slightly as he pried her off, choking momentarily on the pressure. Clara had always been more fit to work the fields and Harry the housework, something that had garnered much teasing from the other teens in the village but his sister had been quite vocal, and even physical, about her opinions on those insults.

"Well, it is your nineteenth birthday. I have to make it special, right?"

"Speaking of special," a voice called out boisterously. A tall man with a strong build emerged from the doorway with a smirk, exerting a very loud presence, one that demanded attention like moths to a flame. And unfortunately, Harry was one of those moths. He was being burnt alive in the inferno that was Antioch Peverell, and he couldn't resist.

"What an entrance," came another voice, this one followed by a slightly shorter man with dark eyes, a scholarly air surrounding him, accompanied by the youngest of all who had a smile on his face. Though he was their junior in age, Harry would readily admit Ignotus was the brightest of the brothers.

Clara immediately threw herself into Cadmus's arms before shooing them all into the living space where the fireplace was brightly lighting the entire room to leave Harry be. It seemed that it wasn't to be with Antioch staying behind and distracting Harry to no end just with his presence alone.

Harry did his best to ignore Antioch.

"You would make a good housewife."

"So you say every time you come here," Harry retorted back easily, wiping his hands with a washcloth, glancing at Antioch who was leaning against a wall lazily and tracing his every movement.

"It's only true."

Harry rolled his eyes at those words before joining the others in the main room, Antioch following closely behind.

Immediately upon his entrance, Harry could feel the warm heat of the fire envelop him.

Not too long after, his parents joined them from their trip to the main village, carrying with them a small package, which they soon gifted to Clara. It was a simple hair ornament, but Harry knew that must have cost them a great deal.

Harry grinned widely as he carefully carried the cake out of the oven. Everyone gathered around the birthday girl as she sat on the only stool, smiling from ear to ear. Harry presented his own gift, wrapped up neatly and tied tightly with string.

He handed the gift to his sister who made no move to open it, something that Antioch noticed and loudly pointed out.

"What have we got here?"

Clara blushed brightly at his words, and oddly, Cadmus did as well.

Harry leaned back against the straw bed, closing his eyes. The rest would figure it out later, and he suspected Ignotus already had.

A few weeks later found the same gathering crowded around the table, all shell-shocked as the blushing couple informed their audience about the engagement. Well, Harry and Ignotus were the only ones not too caught off guard since one was too observant for his own good and the other was the one to buy them the rings in the first place.

"Harry?" a weak voice called from the corner of the room, hidden behind a dark curtain, a shadow of the vibrancy it once held.

"Yes?" Harry answered, eyes red-rimmed from many countless nights weeping, tearing his stare from the flickering fire struggling to keep alive.

A hand waved tiredly at him, the color a horrid tinge of green, the silver band around her finger glinting in the dim light. A cough resounded the room, briefly lighting up the place as flames erupted dangerously from her mouth.

"Promise me," she rasped out, breathless in-between words.

There was a knock on the door, and Harry forced himself up from the straw bed, the same bed his sister passed just a week prior. His family had sent in healer after healer, but Harry knew that a cure wouldn't be found until about three centuries later.

The fire had long since died out, no one bothering to light it up again. And Harry was fine with that; the cold darkness made it easier to mourn.

Harry slowly opened the door, frowning when he noticed the three Peverell brothers decked in their traveling robes.

He leaned in closer, whispering softly to Ignotus.

"Take care of your brothers for me."

Cadmus stood off to the side of the group, staring into space blankly, dark bags under his eyes accenting his pallor, fingering the ring he still donned.

It was no question why Harry asked for Cadmus. Though he had been more productive, throwing himself into work and research after the death of his fiancee, it was apparent that he was driving himself to the brink of death. While Cadmus locked himself tight to the world, becoming cold and uncaring, Antioch seemed to grow more hot-headed, exploding at every wrong word, starting fights left and right to prove his self-worth. Harry was worried one day that Antioch's ego will get ahead of him.

Harry watched them go, staring as their backs shrank in size. Examining the silver band in the light, Harry frowned slightly as he pondered.

Promise me that you'll let yourself be happy.

He'll follow through with his promise. When Antioch gets back, Harry will confess his feelings. Pocketing the ring decisively, Harry turned to the room with a great sigh. Now then, time to light the fire.