I don't like the next generation. But Irnan's Mischief Managed! verse was so great it inspired this snippet. Hope you enjoy!
"You once asked me if it bothered me, all this Harry Potter's daughter stuff. I lied and told you no."
This is a conversation better suited for a deathbed vigil, she thinks. Or the day of a wedding, moments before her Dad walks her down the aisle, breathless and pinked-cheeked clutching her bouquet. She doesn't know why she's bringing it up now, as the both of them sit at the breakfast table, the walls lit with those early-morning golden shades and the particular quiet that comes with a family house at dawn.
She's lounging in her seat, all of nineteen and still in her pajamas, at ease in her body as it stretches over the back of the chair, one arm dangling next to the stove. He's slouched in his own seat, hair as wild as it gets, crinkles around his eyes, his hands, his scarred hands on the tabletop.
She doesn't know why she's bringing it up, except that it feels like the right time.
Dad slowly lowers his newspaper and looks at her.
"I used to tell you that it didn't matter, that I got a kick out of it, that it was cooler than being a rock star's daughter. But I lied. The thing is, uh, I didn't hate it. And I never hated you!" She adds hastily, because she doesn't want him thinking that. Not ever. Not after his childhood. Never.
"But there were times when I resented it. Like, when we couldn't go through Diagon Alley without people stopping you every ten paces. Or when people asked, 'Potter, like Harry Potter?' And that, you know, kind of sucked."
"Lily- " Dad's face is pinched, and she hates it, never wanted to hurt him.
"But then – when I was in second year, you came to give that speech at Hogwarts, remember?" She waits for him to nod. "And the guy asked you to tell us about 'your greatest accomplishment'."
She pauses for breath.
"And you said – I'll never forget that – you said, 'I suppose you mean taking down Voldemort and ending the war. But that's not what I consider my greatest accomplishment. The thing I am most proud of and grateful for is the family I have built and the kids I have raised."
"And it should have been totally uncool – you don't say that kind of thing in front of the whole school! And I should have been totally embarrassed – but all of sudden all I could think of was that I didn't care anymore about that crap. Because I loved you so, so much. And you loved us more. Always. More than the whole world."
It hangs between them, in the morning silence, and Lily's Dad looks at her with those eyes, soft and familiar as breathing, and says:
"Building a family is the hardest thing I've ever done, Lily. But at the same time, the easiest – because I love all of you, and how could I not?"