The Bravest Women We Ever Knew

AU, because of the pairing. Very short oneshot. I own nothing, yada yada.

Harry cradled his hours-old daughter in his arms as Luna watched with a dreamy smile. They'd been discussing names, throwing ideas back and forth, trying to find something that fit. Something that they both liked.

They'd known for several months that their child would be a girl, but they'd held off coming up with names until they met their daughter. Months ago, Luna had commented that she thought that children, even at birth, seemed suited to one name or another.

So far they'd decided against any names that might have negative connotations or might remind them negatively of someone. They also didn't want any names too formal; overly formal names were generally a pureblood tradition, and their children were half-blood owing to their father's Muggle grandparents. Of course, it didn't really matter, but neither Harry nor Luna had been fond of ancient names.

Luna had liked Olivia, but she now wasn't so sure that it fit the little girl.

Harry had wanted to honour people, particularly those he loved or admired, by giving his children their names. Luna considered this as she watched her husband smooth his fingers over the baby's hair. Already, she had a few tufts of dark-blonde hair. It looked like she had inherited her father's messy hair, and the colour was something of a combination of both her parents.

Luna absently ran her fingers through her own hair, wondering about her mother's name. Somehow, she wasn't quite sure about it. She'd had more years with her mother than Harry had, before her mother had died.

The baby opened her eyes from her sleep and Luna noticed the bright green. Harry had always been told that he had his mother's eyes. She knew he got tired of hearing it: it was nice to hear, but it never said anything about Lily as a person.

Then again, knowing that Lily had sacrificed her life for her only son said a lot about what she was like.

Luna was reminded that Harry wanted to honour people he'd loved or admired. Whenever he'd spoken of his mother he did so in a tone that was respectful and loving, admiring and maybe a bit disbelieving.

"How about Lily?" Luna pushed herself into a sitting position as she spoke, and watched as Harry started out of his reverie. "She has your eyes, your mother's eyes…"

Harry nodded, his eyes growing slightly bright. He no longer had the glasses that had been his school-years trademark, having had his eyes permanently corrected years ago.

"Any ideas for a middle name?"

Luna shook her head, not sure. She'd picked Lily for both of them, to honour one of the grandmothers their daughter would never know. Now, she felt like picking a middle name should be up to Harry.

Harry wrapped her small hand in his own, thinking. Their daughter had green eyes, he'd noticed as soon as the mediwitch had handed her to them. Now, he remembered another woman with green eyes, one who'd been a constant presence in his life for several years. He remembered all the times Minerva had guided and helped through some difficult times, been steady and solid. Even after he'd left school, he and Minerva had kept in touch frequently, and he often went to her for advice.

"How about Minerva? After my Head of House… she was a mother figure to me when we were at school."

"Lily Minerva…" Luna tried it out, liking the way the names fit together. They seemed to fit the little girl too, and it felt right that they give their daughter the name of their former professor. The woman was, had been more than just a teacher, for both of them. "She looks like a Lily."

"Lily and Minerva. Two of the bravest women we ever knew" Harry added. "Do you suppose Minerva would like to be godmother?"

A few weeks later they introduced Minerva to their daughter, and the older witch, usually so stoic, looked rather teary-eyed when they revealed their daughter's middle name.

Over tea, Luna asked her to be godmother. Minerva, slightly shocked, agreed, but this time she dabbed at her now suspiciously-bright eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. Their reasoning though, she couldn't fault. One of the bravest women they knew, and a mother figure to many.

That evening, as Minerva was preparing for bed, she considered all that she'd talked about with her former students. She hadn't really thought she'd had that much impact on her students or their lives.