Our death is not an end if we can live on in our children and the younger generation
~Albert Einstein

...

Gentle snowflakes fell, their touch on skin as soft as a mother's kiss. Wind surged, just enough to send the snow scattering carefully into the unwitting faces of travellers who were unprepared. Overhead, the moon hung, high and full, watching with her soft features upon the sleepy village.

Few beings stirred in the snowy night: an old man, stumbling up the road to his house; a cat, prowling the alleys for his meal that night; and a young man, around twenty-two in age, who knelt in the graveyard with tears in his eyes.

In front of him stood a single gravestone, one that he had wiped free from snow with bare hands that had now become numb to the cold. He clasped his fingers together, and bowed his head in respect. For several long moments he did nothing more, and then, as the trees began to shake softly in the wind, he looked up again.

'I know, I saw you not long ago, when I came on Christmas Eve,' he began, and his voice was strangely steady, though any passer-by could see that the tears that had been in his eyes were now flowing freely down his cheeks. 'It's hard to believe, that was only a week ago. Everything's happened so quickly, and I don't know how to deal with it.'

He stopped, swallowed hard, and unclasped his hands. A wreath sat at his knees, a reminder of his visit to the graves to wish those situated within it a merry Christmas, a tradition begun five years before and upheld ever since.

'Would you believe it,' he continued at last, throat tight, 'I found out today that I'm going to be a dad. A father. In less than a year I'll have a child.' Emotion caught, forming a sob in his throat, but he cleared it, eyes blurring with more tears as he focused on the stone. 'But I'm scared. God, I'm so scared. I know that it's stupid, now, that I don't have to be scared of the same things that you were. There's no one trying to kill me now. But I don't want to have this child born and then to be killed, so this child would be an orphan.

'I know things are different. This child will have other family, nice aunts and uncles and cousins. It won't be like it was for me. This child has a better chance at a good life. But I'm so scared that somehow, I'm going to let it down, that I haven't made this world safe enough. I've done what I can – we've killed or captured most of the bad guys, and I'm working to get others … so why do I feel like I haven't done enough?'

Somewhere in the distance, the church bell chimed. Quarter to midnight. He'd known about his impending fatherhood for all of thirty minutes. 'I wish you were here,' he whispered, burying one of his feelingless hands into the snow to touch the earth beneath it. 'All my life, I've wondered who you are and what you were like … but never have I wished for you more than I do now. I need help, Mum, Dad. I need you.'

The air seemed to sigh, and brush against him, as if enveloping him in a hug. His eyes slid shut, cheeks wet with tears. Behind him, snow crunched softly, someone walking across the grounds to him. He paid them no attention, until a warm hand placed itself on the back of his neck and a thump indicated the person had knelt beside him.

'I figured it was time I met my in-laws,' his wife whispered to him when his eyes finally opened again. His questioning gaze searched hers, and she smiled; she'd heard every word. 'I figured I should also let them know that I have the utmost faith in their son that he has done everything possible to make this world a safe place for our children to grow up in.'

Her fingers gently stroked the back of his neck softly, where his hair ended, a spot she had found soothed him when he was stressed and upset. After a few moments, he sighed and slid his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. 'Mum, Dad,' he whispered softly, 'this is Ginny, the woman who has captured my heart. We've been married all of two months.'

Ginny kissed his cheek softly. 'You know,' she murmured, 'I'm not going to let you go that easily. This child will be brought up by both its parents with a lot of love, and so will any others we have afterwards. So please, just … don't worry about it, okay?'

His cheeks were growing cold in the breeze as the tears froze into ice on his face. But right then, the smile that broke across his face ignored the lack of feeling, and he stood, pulling his wife with him. 'I'm always going to worry about you, after everything that's happened,' he said, gripping her hands tightly. 'That's just who I am, what I've been through. But I'll do my best not to get too worried, if that's possible.'

She smiled up at him. 'That's all I'm asking, Harry.'

...

I have not written a Potterverse fanfiction in years.

This is an apology for having been absent from FFN and my stories for so long. I hope you enjoy :)