The Years Beyond

Disclaimer: Throughout this entire story, keep in mind that the entire world of which I speak of belongs to J.K. Rowling and that many of the characters themselves do, as well.

Prologue

Green eyes reflected a life of pain once borne, of suffering once known. Round spectacles covered them, not managing to conceal their brilliance in the least. Jet black hair stuck up in every which way, and a bemused smile played upon Harry's face as he leaned against the doorway, looking at his wife with unconcealed fascination. As if she had sensed his presence, quiet though he may have been, her eyes rose from the photo album she had been looking at to meet his, and the two shared a smile. She put a motioned for him to take a seat beside her on the couch, and he willingly obliged, coming up and putting an arm around her. She leaned against him and closed her eyes, snuggling up to him as she had done many times before while she shoved the book away to accommodate him. He planted a kiss on her head and suddenly, the traces of pain that had been in his eyes seemed to drown under a wave of happiness and contentment, the smile that played on his lips now a full-fledged grin.

"I love you," he said quietly.

Her head lifted in order to look up at him, brushing her red hair out of her deep brown eyes as she smiled at him.

"I love you too, Harry," she sighed happily, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

He traced her cheek gently as they parted, still grinning. And he had a reason to. He was alive. The fact of life in itself is extraordinary, but never so much so, perhaps, as for Harry. Of course, there were other things that accounted for his happiness. Foremost on his mind at the moment was his wife of three years, Ginny Weasley - now known as Ginny Potter. Looking at her, memories of fumbling awkwardness and shy smiles filled his mind. That had been life at sixteen for him. Next, during his seventh year, had come the sweet kisses – still mixed with awkwardness, mind you. And from there, their relationship had blossomed. That wasn't to say that they were the only ones, of course. His two best friends, Ron and Hermione, had found a life and love of their own – of course, this life and love took place next door. None of them would have it any other way. He remembered how he had thought that standing up on that altar and taking Ginny to be his wife had been the single, most terrifying moment of his life. It had frightened him even more than when he had had his final battle with Voldemort – and ended up in St. Mungo's for a good six months. He had been sure that nothing could ever match up to the fear and excitement of standing up there and pledging his life to his wife.

He was wrong.

That had been before the big three words. No, not 'I love you'. Those were a piece of cake, now that he really thought about it. As far as the most terrifying words he had ever heard, two phrases came to mind. 'Harry, I'm pregnant' was one of them. The next set of words were far, far worse. 'It's time.' Nothing had prepared him – nothing ever could have prepared him – for childbirth. And he hadn't even been the one experiencing it, really.

Flashback

Harry paced the room, running his hands repeatedly through his hair until he was certain it was going to fall out. He heard Ginny give a cry from the adjoining room, and it was all Hermione could do to reassure him.

"Really, Harry, she's fine," she comforted, "Pain is part of giving birth."

"Right, right," he had muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets only to take them out and run them through his hair again.

He would never forget the smirk on Ron's face. The nerve of his best friend, to sit there holding his own newborn as if nothing was wrong. Just as he was about to tell him off, a scream of pain pierced the room. He vaulted towards the door, and Hermione, in turn, vaulted towards his hand.

"Harry, she's fine!" she began.

"She's not fine, she's dying!" he roared, "Can't you hear her?"

"Harry, she's not dying, she's-"Hermione began, but it was too late.

He burst through the door and vaulted to Ginny's bedside, nearly sending the mediwitch attending her into a dead faint. As he tried to explain that he was her husband, Ginny reached out with another scream and grabbed his hand, enfolding it in such a hard grip that he gave a yelp of surprise.

"HARRY POTTER!" she roared, her voice ten times louder than he could ever make his, "I'M NEVER DOING IT WITH YOU AGAIN!"

She gave another scream of pain and wrenched his arm to her chest as she clutched at it, now squeezing with both of her hands.

"IN FACT, YOU CAN – AHH – SLEEP ON THE COUCH FROM NOW ON! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

"I'm sorry," he had apologized sincerely.

All that had gotten from her was the beginning of a laugh, followed by another scream. Conversation ceased, since she was now screaming her head off without a pause, making for a very nervous Harry. He didn't' care that his hand was being cut off entirely from its circulation; all he cared about was Ginny. He repeatedly asked the mediwitch if she was okay, but all the irritated nurse would do was mutter about amateur husbands. And suddenly there came a triumphant "AHA!" from the direction of the nurse, and Ginny fell limp and silent. Her lack of noise was filled in by the sound of a baby crying. His baby crying. Harry looked from Ginny to the nurse expectantly. Ginny looked about ready to pass out, but the nurse was beaming.

"Mr. and Mrs. Potter," she said, "Meet your new daughter."

With that, she had revealed a baby that was still slightly bloody and gory, and Ginny gave a squeal of delight, stretching out her hands for the baby. The nurse performed a quick spell that cleaned it all up, and handed it to Ginny after wrapping it in clean, white linen. Harry had been frozen the entire time, his hand falling to his side when Ginny let go of it. He stared at the baby, who had silenced at once when placed in Ginny's arms and was staring at her. If he had had any doubts about who the father of the baby had been – which he hadn't, of course – but if he had, they would have all been put to rest right then. Emerald green eyes sparkled vibrantly, and a small tuft of black hair was visible. It was him all over again. Except, he reminded himself, in girl form.

"Kayla," Ginny whispered, lifting her eyes to meet his.

He didn't know how she could speak in light of the amazing bundle she was holding in her arms – his throat was dry just by looking at it. They had decided on names beforehand, but they hadn't known if it was to be a boy or a girl. He nodded slowly, and Ginny spoke again.

"Kayla Lily," she added.

He felt a lump rise in his throat, and he opened his mouth to speak, his voice raspy. "Kayla Lily," he agreed.

"Hold her."

And that had been the most frightening order he had ever been given. He reached out his shaking arms, and Ginny placed the bundle within them. He stared down at the baby, emerald meeting emerald, and then, freeing one of his arms, he presented his index finger to it. With no thought at all, the small creature reached up and grabbed a hold without even seeming to look at it. Oh no, his daughter's eyes were focused on him. He had heard that babies had unfocused vision when they were first born, but he was quite certain that his daughter could see him as clearly as he could her.

"I love you, Kayla," he whispered, finding that his eyes were suddenly threatening to spill.

How could he feel such love, such devotion, to one that had just come into the world a few minutes ago? He heard a sob and looked up to see Ginny crying – tears of joy. She reached out for the little girl, and Harry gingerly presented her with the baby that she had worked so hard to conceive.

"I love you, Ginny," he added gently.

A smile lit her face through her tears, and she reached out with one arm to pull his head into the crook of her neck, where they stayed for quite a few minutes, staring down at the bundle of life that was theirs. Harry knew that his life would never be the same.

End Flashback

He jumped as the sound of crying from the upstairs bedroom reached his ears. Far from being annoyed, it was music to his ears. It was the sound of a life that he was going to do his damned best to keep stable and steady. He lifted his head up off of Ginny's, and the two looked at each other. A mischievous smirk crossed over her face, and he soon mirrored it.

"Diaper," he declared confidently.

She gave a cry of outrage. "You're crazy, that's her hungry cry!"

"Is not!" he practically yelled, jumping off of the couch.

"Is too!" she retorted, mimicking his actions, "I'll bet you ten kisses!"

"I bet you fifteen!" he retorted.

They set off for the stairs at a run, both of them having dissolved into laughter by that point. The sound of them thundering up the stairs probably sounded like more of a stampede than the sound of comfort to the baby, but they were on their way just the same. Panting, Harry nearly slammed into the nursery door before opening it with such gentleness that one would have thought the baby was sleeping rather than crying. Ginny tiptoed in behind him, and they both peered over the lid of the bassinet at the same time. The baby stopped crying almost instantly, instead becoming reduced to hiccupping sobs.

"Come here, sweetie," Ginny cooed, picking her up and resting her on her shoulder.

Harry walked up and pulled the backside of her diaper out, blocking Ginny's view with his own head. He conducted a thorough investigation – well, as thorough as one can get while keeping a safe distance and avoiding any contact with the contents that may have lain within the diaper – before giving a disappointed sigh.

"Fine, you win," he grumbled, "Empty diaper."

"Ha!" Ginny exclaimed triumphantly, "I believe you owe me fifteen kisses. And don't you think I'm going to forget!"

"Oh trust me, I won't," Harry replied mischievously, grinning and winking at her.

She giggled, and at that moment the doorbell rang, canceling anything Harry may have been planning once they were done feeding the baby. Or rather, since he was incapable of breastfeeding, once Ginny was done feeding the baby.

"Drat it, who invited those Weasleys over," he said in mock annoyance, causing Ginny to giggle once more.

"I believe it was you, sweetie," she reminded him.

He merely grinned at her as he turned and headed back down the stairs in order to let Ron, Hermione, and their recent addition into the house. He slowed as he reached mid-staircase, his eyes catching a picture hanging on the wall. It was him and Ginny on their first date, and they were looking at each other with shy smiles, Harry offering a rose to a blushing Ginny. And he saw his own, sixteen year old eyes looking haunted and empty, devoid of all emotion except for one spark – the spark that had only occurred when he was with Ginny. But seeing his eyes like that caused a sudden and inexplicable panic to rise up in him. He ran back up the stairs and into the hallway until he came level with the mirror, and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw his own green eyes twinkling merrily back at him. Sometimes, bouts of panic such as those rose up in him for no particular reason – as if he were afraid that time would rewind itself and he would be stuck in the period of hopelessness and emptiness he had once been in. It was times like these that he ignored the doorbell ringing repeatedly as he listened to Ginny talk softly to their baby in the other room. He could make out her gentle words when he listened closely.

"I love you, my darling," she was saying, "No harm will come to you, my sweet, because I love you."

She proceeded to begin to sing a lullaby, not even seeming to notice that the doorbell was now ringing nonstop. Harry did notice, however, and vaulted down the stairs at breakneck speed in order to open the door.

"What took you so long, mate?" Ron grumbled, although a grin was on his face.

Harry looked from tall, red-haired Ron to petite, businesslike Hermione before transferring his gaze to the bundle in her arms. It promised to have Hermione's bushy brown hair and Ron's clear blue eyes.

"Earth to Harry," Ron was saying, waving an arm in front of his face, "Gee, you've got one of your own, you know."

"Yeah," Harry said, now grinning from ear to ear, "I know."

He met his friend's gazes, and they all grinned at each other, babies momentarily forgotten.

"Missed you."

The sentiment would have been nice, coming from Harry, but Ron missed the sentimentality.

"Are you bloody insane? You just saw us an hour ago when you came over to drop off that book for 'Mione!"

Hermione gave an impatient 'tuh', apparently annoyed at Ron for having missed something so obvious. It took Ron a few seconds as he looked, puzzled, down at Hermione, but suddenly realization dawned in his eyes.

"Oh," he said slowly, "I mean...I missed you too, Harry."

For a moment, the three of them just stared at each other. The next, they all burst out laughing, thoroughly frightening Ron and Hermione's new daughter, who began to scream in a most terrified manner. Hermione, however, was nearly doubled up with laughter, and unable to comfort her daughter. But that was the last thing on any of their minds as they engaged in a delicate three way hug so as to not crush the wailing bundle.

Author's Note: Alright, everyone, what you have just read is a prologue. This takes place before the actual story, if you need a definition. If you liked it, I'm delighted. But this story isn't going to be about grown-up Harry's life, really. It's going to be more about his daughter and her years at Hogwarts, to tell the truth. So, if you're looking for a story from Harry's point of view, this isn't it. If you're looking for a story where it's all about Harry, this isn't it, although he will show up quite often. If you're looking for a story that's new and different while still following the rules of J.K.'s universe, congratulations...you've found it.