Sometimes I wonder if my father will ever grow up.

I witness two figures in what I recognise to be the warm, welcoming atmosphere of the Gryffindor common room. They seem to be showing off in a rather spectacular fashion to their housemates, juggling Butterbeer bottles, around seven each, whilst occasionally passing them from person to person. The boy on the right, a boy with dishevelled, black hair and a plotting look on his face, appears to call to the other boy, distracting him just long enough for several of his bottles to come tumbling into his head. Disgruntled and pained, the second boy wrestles the first to the ground, playfully achieving revenge for his friend's prank.

I move on. A couple, one of whom is the first, messy-haired figure from the previous scene, and his new bride, a flame-haired, green-eyed woman in a flowing white dress – are laughing and posing in front of a picturesque cake. This time, though, they are surrounded by others; a tall, well-built man with shoulder-length, lustrous black hair and sparkling, mischievous eyes and a shorter man with a mop of golden brown hair and the same glint in his water-blue eyes stand on the groom's side. Next to the bride stands another tall, muscular man with sandy, shaggy hair and a rather deep gash on his left cheek As this happens, however, the groom reaches behind his bride to grab the punch ladle before swiftly pouring punch over his best man. Clutching at his now-drenched locks, the man appears to be more concerned over his hair, judging by his anguished expression, than his rather expensive-looking suit, which is now stained with red liquid. The rest of the group laughs whilst the bride feebly admonishes her husband for his antics, although, from the look in her emerald eyes, she found that just as amusing as he did.

I turn to the last photograph in the album now, and as I settle the book down onto my bed I feel a stone weight on my heart. The image on this page has always done this to me, no matter how many times I see it, although nothing will ever bring me to stop. The rusty autumn leaves are swept up in a graceful dance with the wind before settling on the marble set into the ground. I sweep my fingers over the picture of my parents' final resting place. As my fingers run gently over the outlines of the old headstones, I read the inscription again, even though I memorized the words long ago.

James Potter, born 27 March 1960, died 31 October 1981

Lily Potter, born 30 January 1960, dies 31 October 1981

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

As I glance back to the photograph of my father's wedding, the messy-haired figure still pouring punch over the head of my godfather, I sigh.

Sometimes I wonder if my father will ever grow up.

Then I remember he never got the chance.

A/N: This one-shot was written for an 'Opening Line' challenge and the 'Every Word Counts' challenge - in which a story has to be exactly 500 words - on another site. My quote, "Sometimes I wonder if my father will ever grow up," was from Forbidden City by William Bell. Also, the quote in italics from James and Lily's gravestone is from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, page 268. Please, please review! I'm really not sure whether I like this or not, so any outside feedback would be really appreciated.

Thanks!

Grace xxx

Quote is from Deathly Hallows, Godric's Hollow page 268.