"Harry? Have you ever taken a look through that old trunk in your vault?" Bill asked. The entire Weasley clan had gathered to celebrate yet another Christmas, and the guys were settled in the kitchen.
"What trunk?" Harry asked.
"I'm not surprised you never noticed it. There's a small trunk in the corner of your vault. Want me to pick it up tomorrow?" Harry shrugged, surprised.
"Sure, yeah. That'd be great." Before anyone could say anything more, Ginny burst into the kitchen, a screeching toddler on her hip.
"Harry, could you please help me?" she asked impatiently. Harry jumped to his feet and walked over.
"No, not her. I've got her handled. But the boys are in the sitting room, fighting again." Harry kissed his frazzled wife on the cheek and gave her a reassuring smile.
"I've got it sorted," he said, leaving the kitchen.
-LINEBREAKYTHINGY-
"Here you go, Harry," Bill said, dropping a small trunk on the table the next day.
"Oh, thanks." Bill nodded and left the room.
"What d'ya think is in there?" Ron asked, staring at the box. Harry slid it towards him, looking for some sort of lock.
"I guess, we're about to find out," he responded. Hermione shifted her sleeping son in her arms.
"Do you want us to leave?" she asked quietly. Harry looked up at her, shocked.
"No. You can stay." He pulled out his wand and muttered a quick unlocking charm. The trio watched as the lid popped open.
"What's in there?" Ron demanded. Harry lifted it wide open and stared at the contents.
"Books," he said, disappointed. Hermione peered at them and smiled.
"Harry, I think those are journals," she said. He reached in and pulled out the top-most book. It was thick and leather bound. Inscribed on the front were the words:
Lily Marie Evans
7th Year
"It's my mum's," he said quietly, flipping through the pages. "It's her diary." Hermione gasped and Ron looked at the box in awe.
"Wow," he whispered, "she sure wrote a lot. I bet there's more pages in here than in all of those advanced grade level spell books combined."
"You should read them, Harry," Hermione suggested. He opened to the first page of the one he held.
Dear Diary,
September 1, 1977
He spent the entire Prefect's meeting ignoring me. I don't get it! One year he's professing his undying love for me and the next he won't even look at me? How are we supposed to represent a team if he won't even speak to me? He makes me so angry! I don't even know why Dumbledore chose him as Head Boy. I would have been happy with anyone else. Remus would have been an excellent choice. Or Chase Abbott, I wouldn't mind working with him. But why did he have to pair me with Potter? He must be out to get me. Merlin, I'm going to kill myself by the end of term.
Harry looked up, wiping his tear-blurred eyes.
"She hated my dad. I'd forgotten. Lupin told me he spent six years trying to get her attention but she absolutely loathed him. He said that finally Dad gave up their seventh year. And that was when she fell in love with him."
"You're reading their love story? Blimey, that's weird," Ron said, as usual foregoing any sensitivity.
" I think it's sweet. That she recorded all of this. And it's incredible that it's been sitting there all this time, waiting for you." Harry smiled and looked down at the diary.
"I think I'm going to keep reading."
He sat by me at the feast but he didn't say anything to me. He just sat there and ignored me, talking to his stupid friends about stupid Marauder things. And of course, just as I'm thinking of a nice evening away from him, Dumbledore drops the bomb that we have to live together. WHAT? Bloody hell, live with Potter?
It's actually not that bad so far. We came to our new dormitory, quickly agreed on a password, and then walked into our separate rooms. And Merlin only knows what he's doing now. Probably concocting some ridiculous scheme to send me singing flowers in the middle of class or something equally ridiculous…again.
I'm completely exhausted but I can't even sleep knowing that he's so close. That's a new feeling. Normally it's revulsion that he's so close. But right now, I'm…I don't know. I'm not disgusted, but I'm certainly not happy. Is there a middle ground? I think I'm feeling somewhere in between there.
Dear Diary,
September 2, 1977
He said a total of three sentences to me today. "Good morning, Lily." "Always Slughorn's favorite." "I've got Ravenclaw doing the rounds tonight." What exactly is he playing at? Why is he barely speaking to me? I hate to say it but this is actually worse than him showering me with praise and affection! Of course Alice thinks I'm going crazy, and maybe she's right. Since when have I ever wanted James Potter to talk to me? It's absurd. And yet, I can't stop thinking about it. Argh, he's driving me mad. I'm going to be committed to St. Mungo's within a fortnight.
Dear Diary,
September 10, 1977
I've been absolutely swamped with homework. Who knew being a 7th year would be harder than being a N.E.W.T. student? Especially Ancient Runes. I don't know what possessed me to continue with that class but I am sorely regretting it. And on top of all that, I have to deal with Slug Club (Merlin help me) and Potter still refusing to acknowledge my existence.
I'm so exhausted. I would take a nap but then I just know I'd get too far behind. It's Saturday and I still have tons to do. Finish my essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Write up the schedule for this weeks rounds and detention shifts. Write to Mother and Father. Try to figure out why Potter won't speak to me. And Alice wants me to help her get ready for her date tonight. I'm so ready to be done with school.
Unfortunately, I don't know where that will take me.
"Harry? It's nearly three o'clock in the morning. Are you coming to bed?" Harry looked up to see Ginny standing there, a worried look on her face.
"Hermione told me what was in the box." Harry stared at his wife, not fully comprehending what she was saying.
"Harry, put the book down and come to bed. Please?" He looked down at the diary in his hands and yawned.
"It's late. You have work in a few hours." He sighed and set the book down on the table.
"Ginny, it's like I'm there. Or like she's here, telling me the stories. I can hear her, in my head."
"I think you need some sleep, love. Come on."
-LINEBREAKYTHINGY-
"Blimey, Potter, looks like you had a pretty rough night, eh?" Abbott asked, glancing over at his coworker. Harry yawned and leaned back in his chair.
"I went to sleep about two hours ago. I'm absolutely exhausted."
"And I'm sure sitting around doing paperwork isn't helping much." Harry chuckled and shuffled the stack of papers resting on his desk.
"I just don't have the energy for this."
"I hear ya, mate. I spent the entire weekend arguing with Sarah and her parents about what to name the new baby. Her mom wants the new granddaughter to be named Raquellin. Her father is positive it's going to be a new grandson and wants to name him Rufus."
"Rufus?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Exactly," Abbott stated tiredly.
-LINEBREAKYTHINGY-
"Hello, Harry," Luna Lovegood said, greeting her friend in the street.
"Oh, hello Luna. How are you?"
"Oh, I'm fine. How are you?"
"Good. I uh, read the latest Quibbler the other night."
"Did you read the article about the Wrackspurts?" she asked lightly.
"Yeah, I did. It was…interesting. Is it true the Ministry is going to acknowledge them next week?" Luna grinned and nodded.
"Yes. They're acknowledging a large amount of new species and I finally have them convinced that Wrackspurts do exist. Of course, there will always be some skeptics, like Daddy said, but I'm okay with that."
"And uh…are you and Neville still a thing? I thought Ginny said something about the two of you earlier."
"Neville is a great man. You know the other day we were talking about the way Regladerps affect our society. It was a really enlightening conversation."
"…Regladerps?" Harry questioned, almost afraid to hear the answer.
"Yes. They're invisible creatures that float above peoples' heads to influence them. They're like floating moral compasses. A lot of Muggle politicians have them."
"That's…interesting."
"Well, I have to go now, Harry. Daddy and I are going hunting for Flitterfluckers."
"Right, er…have a good night, Luna."
"Thank you, Harry." He watched the carefree blonde walk off, a skip in her step.
-LINEBREAKYTHINGY-
"Daddy, look what I can do!" Harry watched as his five-year-old son James ran to the swing set in their backyard. Harry grinned and followed, Albus close behind him.
"Are you watching?" James yelled as he climbed into the swing, pushing off with his feet.
"I'm watching, James." James grinned widely and swung as high as he could before jumping off, suspended in mid-air. For a second, Harry was transported to a memory when he had seen someone else do that. His mother, with Snape watching her closely and Petunia fretting the entire time. His son landed on his feet and ran towards his father.
"Did you see me? Wasn't that the coolest, Daddy? Wasn't it?" Before he could respond, Ginny walked outside, wiping her hands on a towel.
"James, I told you not to do that anymore. It's dangerous. I don't want you getting hurt."
"Oh come on, Mum. I'm fine! Right, Daddy?" Harry shook his head at his daredevil son and grinned.
"Listen to your mother, kiddo," he said. James sighed.
"Fine!" Harry laughed and followed his wife into the house.
"Are you going to keep reading those diaries?" Ginny asked, glancing at her husband. Harry glanced over to where they were stacked and sighed.
"Yeah, I think I so." He grabbed the one on the top and opened to where he had left off.
Dear Diary,
September 11, 1977
I don't know what happened to me in the past few days that possessed me to do this, but I confronted Potter this morning. I demanded he speak to me and tell me why he has been avoiding me at all costs. The prat just looked at me all confused-like and said "I thought you hated me." ARGH! Of course I hate him, but I hate this awkward, uncomfortable silence more. And when I told him this, do you know what he said?
"I'm not going to speak just to make you feel better." THE ARROGANT SON OF A…I just can't believe this. I ask him to leave me alone for six years and straight and he can't listen. But when I finally want him to speak to me, he decides he's not going to. This is ridiculous.
Dear Diary,
September 13, 1977
I hate him. I hate James Potter. He…that little…ugh. I got detention! And it's all his fault! We finally go on rounds together and he just has to say "What's up with you and Abbott? Are you two an item now?" WHY DOES HE CARE? So of course, I say something and it leads to full-blown argument in the middle of the night in some random corridor! Which is how Professor McGonagall found us. She was…less than pleased. And now here I am, sitting in detention because of him. I detest James Potter.
"Harry, this fell out of the diary." Ginny handed him a piece of parchment that was folded as many times possible. He unfolded it and scanned the page, then smiled.
"It's a note. A note they wrote in detention," Harry said with a smile.
So, Evans, what's going on with you and Abbott?
I don't want to speak to you.
You were just complaining the other day that I wouldn't speak to you. Now you don't want to speak to me. Are you PMSing or something? Merlin!
No. I am not "PMSing or something". I'm angry because I'm sitting in detention with an arrogant prat while my homework goes unfinished. Oh, and did I mention that I'm HEAD GIRL? This is not a good example.
Blimey, Evans, relax. Minnie already said she wouldn't tell anybody about this as long as we served it.
Which is all fine and good for you because you practically spend your life in detention. Nobody would care or be surprised. But this is my first detention and I happen to be serving it with the only person I truly loathe.
Wait, I thought you "loathed" Padfoot, too? Or am I the only that gets special treatment?
I don't despise him as much as I do you, Potter.
Hey, Evans, what are you doing Saturday?
Studying. Why?
You're going to study? On a Hogsmeade weekend? Bloody hell, Evans! Get a life!
You think what you have is life? Running around, acting like an immature five-year-old? Disrespecting everyone you meet? Bullying people just because they're not "cool"? That's not life, Potter.
Blimey, you get so sensitive. I take it you're talking to Snivellus again?
Don't call him that! And no, I'm not. Not that it's any of your business.
Listen, Lily. You wanted me to talk to you, so I'm talking to you. Now I want you to do something for me. Come to Hogsmeade with me. It won't be a date, it'll be two…acquaintances getting to know each other better. And we do need to be more civil towards each other if we're going to be working together.
I can't.
Well, if you change your mind, meet me at that hill, past Madame Puttifoot's, or whatever it's called. That tea place. Now, I'd love to stay and chat but my watch says that I can leave now. Good night.
"Harry?"
"Read it," he handed her the note with a grin on his face. "She really hated him." She read it quickly and then gave it back to him, wearing a smile.
"It's kind of like Ron and Hermione, except they didn't truly hate each other."
"This is incredible. I mean, to be able to read all of this, know this. It makes them more real, you know?" She nodded and rested a hand on his shoulder.
"But it's hard, isn't it? Reading them?"
"Yeah, it is. It makes me miss them, miss what we could have been. But if I could go back, I don't think I would change anything. I mean, if they hadn't died for me I might not have been able to defeat Voldemort. And then where would we be? But it's still hard."
"You're a strong man, Harry. And a sensible one. I doubt most people would be able to see past their hurt." She kissed him lightly and then turned away.
"Kids! Dinner is ready!"
A/N Well? Do you like it? This idea just popped into my head in the middle writing my other story, 365 Days, so I had to take a pause and start writing this one. Luckily, I'm on summer break so there's plenty of time for writing all of my stories. I hope you like it, I hope you review! And don't worry, I'm nowhere near finished. This is gonna be a pretty long story, for surely.
~Rebecca~