A brief preface: This was written as a sequel to my fic "Never Forgotten". It assumes the same things as that fic: that Hestia Jones was the same age as Lily and James Potter, and was one of their friends, hence knowing fairly well the Marauders. It also assumes she survives the war- nowhere is it said that she doesn't, so by golly, I'm taking that to mean she does. There was enough death in DH for about 8 books. So, without further ado, links to the past.
Disclaimer: I'm not JK Rowling. Seriously. SERIOUSLY. I'm just an 18 year old who likes to thinks she can write. Harry and the gang don't belong to me, and sadly, never shall.
Hestia Jones sat in the small parlor of her small Nottingham town-home, sipping a cup of tea as she glanced through the Daily Prophet. Every inch, it seemed, had to do with the war- report of celebrations, and two pages worth of obituaries that she had been avoiding for the past hour. Hestia knew that to look at that page now would only bring back memories that she wasn't entirely ready to face again, so she put it off. There was time enough for it later. There was nothing but time now.
The flat was cozy, yes, but welcoming, reflecting its occupant, although Hestia had only just recently returned home. For the past year she had been living in the rather unpleasant company of the Dursley family, Harry Potter's only surviving relatives. Well, blood relatives, at least. She had done it out of duty: duty to her friend, Lily Evans, whose sister and nephew these louts were, and duty to Harry, Lily's only child. While it hadn't been the nicest way to spend a year, she didn't regret it. No- she would not regret helping her friend one last time.
A knock on the door suddenly startled her out of her reverie. It was a sound she had become unused to, given her time spent in hiding. For a moment her heart lifted- could it be one of her old friends come to pay a long overdue visit? But no- no, they were all gone now. She was so very much alone in this world, without her friends, without her love. There was slight comfort in the thought that they had all died for what was right, but only slight. It didn't make it any easier for her to come to terms with. Begrudgingly she stood, putting aside the paper and walking to the door. No doubt it was a reporter come to interview her about her part in the battle, and she fingered her wand, preparing herself for another confrontation that would inevitably lead to her threatening them with a well placed curse should they darken her doorstep again. Warily she opened the door and felt her heart miss a beat. For, standing before her, was James Potter, black hair unruly as ever, playing with the hem of his robes nervously, looking to the side.
Then she remembered- James was dead, as he had been for 16 years. Standing before her was his son, Harry, and she had been taken in like so many others by his startling resemblance to James. The moment he turned his face back towards her, she saw those eyes, the eyes of Lily Evans, once more. Hestia was shocked, to say the least, not only by the boy's appearance (she had seen him before, yes, but not in her melancholy mood) but also by the fact that he was here, standing on her doorstep. "Harry?" she questioned quietly, the surprise apparent within her voice.
"Ms. Jones!" Harry said quickly, nervously running a hand through his already untidy hair in a motion so eerily reminiscent of his father it took Hestia another round of reminding herself that this was Harry, not James, who stood before her. "I, er… I just wanted to thank you… um, you know, for protecting my aunt and uncle," he mumbled, his cheeks starting to turn red in embarrassment. No doubt he had been driven by honor to go thank her, because she wasn't quite certain she had done him any favors by keeping his surviving family safe, the way they had treated him.
"Please- It's Hestia," the older witch said with a small smile. "And it was my honor to do it, Harry. Truly," she added, seeing the look of sheer disbelief on the young man's face. He was probably quite unaccustomed to hearing anybody call staying with the Dursleys in a confined area for any length of time 'an honor'. While it had not been the most pleasant experience of her life to date, she felt she owed it to Lily to protect her remaining family. Just like she owed Harry a long overdue chat. "Would you like to come in, Harry?" she offered kindly. "I'll put on a pot of tea."
Hestia watched as Harry hesitated. No doubt he was wondering what on earth Hestia of all people could want with him- another interview of the final moments when he had defeated the Dark Lord? Another long, drawn out congratulations? She held her breath as the boy paused, then watched him nod and smiled encouragingly. "Come in, dearest," she said, putting her hand on his shoulder and guiding him gently inside. The last time she had touched this boy was when he was only one, Lily and James' pride and joy. She felt a tear come to her eye as she looked at the boy, all grown up now. "Do sit," Hestia implored, gesturing to the squashy armchair she had just vacated. "I do apologize that my home looks a little disheveled- I only just moved back," she said in explanation.
"Oh, it's fine. Homey," Harry said as he tentatively sat in the armchair Hestia had indicated. "Er… my aunt and uncle weren't too… too contrary, were they?" he asked. "Because I'm so sorry if they were-"
"Harry, please. I told you, I was honored to be able to help you by watching over your family," Hestia said as she poured water into a tea kettle and swung it over the open flame of the fireplace. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Harry stood, approaching the sideboard crammed under the window, his eyes wide. He had found the pictures. She watched for a moment as he stared at them, then with trembling hands picked one up. Hestia abandoned the tea for the moment and instead quietly approached Harry.
"You knew my mum and dad?" he said, more of a statement than a question as he continued to stare at the picture in his hands. Eight smiling faces looked back at him, all waving like mad in excitement and utter happiness.
"I did," she replied quietly. "Your mother was actually one of my first friends when I came to Hogwarts. We were a lot alike, Lily and I," Hestia explained quietly. "Why, I even babysat you from time to time when you were first born, Harry," she added with the faintest trace of a smile. Looking at the picture, she felt a surge of loneliness inside her, but managed to push it back somehow. Harry was staring intently at the picture, hesitantly brushing Lily and James' images with his forefinger.
"Sirius…" Harry whispered, his eyes moving from his parents faces to that of his godfather. "And Professor Lupin…" he said, his voice thick with emotion. That loss was still raw, Hestia knew, and maybe one of the cruelest of this war. "And you… who's this?" Harry asked, as he drew his eyes from Remus towards the other end of the picture where she stood, years younger, next to Emmeline.
Hestia smiled slightly. "That's Emmeline Vance. You remember her- she came with me as part of your advance guard in the summer before your fifth year," she explained. "Emmeline was also one of your mum's friends," she added softly as memories of the many evenings spent gossiping and talking with Lily and Emmeline came to the front of her mind.
Harry nodded, putting the picture down carefully before turning back to Hestia. "You knew them all?" he asked.
Hestia nodded, unable to make her voice cooperate. Memories flooded her mind, and tears threatened to fall from her eyes. They were her friends, her closest companions, her family. Finally, swallowing, she managed to speak. "Yes. They were all my friends, Harry. And they all gave their lives so that we could have this better world," she added, her voice choked with emotion.
Harry nodded slowly, looking at her closely with those keen green eyes. It was almost like Lily was staring at Hestia once more, the sympathy overwhelming. "Ms. Jones… Hestia…" Harry started, then stopped, apparently thinking better of what he was about to say.
"What, Harry?" Hestia asked, turning away slightly so she could dab back the tears with her handkerchief. She had been looking at those pictures a lot lately, and there was an almost ceaseless stream of memories associated with these images from bygone days. Her hand brushed a picture of Lily, Emmeline, and herself and she gave those girls a sad smile. Sometimes life wasn't fair, taking away these vibrant personalities. Yet fate had a way of ensuring things worked out. Hestia had just yet to see how that would happen.
Harry shuffled his feet and played with his robes again, obviously trying to disguise his nerves. "Well… I mean, please, you wouldn't have to. I was just only curious if you would mind… well, I mean…" he stammered, then stopped, collecting his thoughts. "Could you tell me about them?" he asked so quietly Hestia thought for a moment that she had imagined it. Had he really asked her to do what she had for so long wanted to do? To share these memories with someone who'd treasure them maybe as dearly as she had? Apparently Harry took her silence as the precursor to rejection, and began to hastily mumble apologies. Hestia smiled slightly and put her hand on his. "Harry, I'd like nothing better," she said gently as she looked over at the boy. "If you don't mind listening to an old woman tell stories, I will tell them."
"Really?" Harry asked, smiling at the older woman. "I mean… I'd really like that, Hestia."
"So would I, Harry," Hestia said, feeling the tears that had been gathering in her eyes slip down her cheeks. "Forgive me- I know you must get sick of hearing it, but you just look so much like them both." She gave a shuddering sigh, trying to regain her composure. She could see Harry blush slightly, then nod, kindly averting his eyes as Hestia dried her tears. "Come… sit, Harry," she invited quietly, stowing her handkerchief in her sleeve. "I know you don't remember those days, but when you were only just born, I was almost always hanging around your parents' house. We all were. James and Lily were the first of us to really settle down, you see. And you- Merlin, you were passed around like a jar of candy, that year," she said with a smile. "Your parents loved you so dearly, Harry. So very much. I daresay your presence was what made the year they spent in hiding bearable. Lily and James… well, they are very proud of you now, Harry. You know that, right?" she said, ending quietly.
"I… I know." Harry nodded, almost imperceptibly, and looked away, pretending to brush some dirt from his robe while wiping his eyes of the tears that had appeared as Hestia had shared with him some of that year he longed to remember.
Hestia took his silence for an invitation to proceed and spoke again. "Your parents were amazing people, Harry, though I'm sure you've heard as much from Sirius and Remus both. As I said, I knew your mother from the time we were in our first year. She was a muggleborn, like me, and a bit of a misfit, though she did have Severus Snape as a friend. None of us quite understood that friendship- he was just about everything Lily was not," Hestia explained, her brow furrowing slightly. "But in any case, we formed a fast friendship. Along with Emmeline Vance and Alice Miller- well, Longbottom now, she married Frank almost right out of school- we were a force to be reckoned with. Sirius told me once that he never quite understood how the lot of us got into Gryffindor, because we all spent so much time studying. Gave the Marauders a run for their money, we did. There wasn't a slow one in the bunch of us, save maybe Peter." Hestia noticed Harry tense visibly at the mention of Peter Pettigrew, and made a mental note to tell this story with as minimal mention of the rat-faced boy as possible. "James had been interested in your mother since our fourth year, but Lily would have none of it. James and Severus had some sort of odd rivalry between them- it could've been the fact that the both of them were vying for Lily's affections, but at the time, it really made no sense. The only explanation we came up with was that Snape was a Slytherin, and your father an ardent Gryffindor out to prove house superiority. Lily refused James so many times it became the stuff of Hogwarts legend. Not that he didn't try everything in the book to get your mother to go out with him," she said with a smile. "Wrote her the most lovely letters the summer before seventh year, if I recall. Emmeline and I- oh, your mother never knew, but we sat there one night and read every last one of them. James could've given Shakespeare a run for his money, I think, so eloquent were some of those love notes. It was the start of seventh year before Lily admitted that she did love James. We had known for a long time that those feelings existed- she put up a mask of dislike around him, but she was never as adamant in her rejection as she was to others who she rejected similarly. That year was also the first year in which the war was really starting to affect people. Up until then, we had noticed some strange things, but never knew it was Voldemort that was causing it. Yet that didn't stop Lily and James- they finally started dating, and he proposed to Lily at the end of that year."
Harry nodded, feeling tears sting his eyes again. All these things he never knew- he was finally learning his parents story. He turned away as if to clean his glasses, and as he turned back around, he caught sight of his muggle watch and frowned. Had he really spent an hour here already? It seemed like far less, far too short a time. He didn't really want to leave- he could've spent hours listening to the story of his parents and their friends. So he was loathe to mention leaving, but he had told Ginny he'd meet her for dinner at the Burrow, and it was growing dangerously close to the time that Mrs. Weasley had said the meal was to be served.
Harry's expression did not go unnoticed. "Do you need to leave, dear?" she asked gently.
"I… er, yeah, actually," Harry mumbled, wishing he could stay here and speak with the last of his parents friends. Hestia was like an unexpected birthday present- when Remus had died, Harry had thought that he had lost his only connection with his parents. But now, Hestia Jones had come forward to supply the information that he craved. "But… Uhm, Hestia?" he asked hesitantly. He felt somewhat awkward still calling her by her first name. She was old enough to be his mother- actually, the same age as his mum would've been. "Er, could I… could I come visit you again? I'd still like to hear more about them," he asked quietly.
"Harry," Hestia said softly. "You are always welcome here. Always."
a/n: Please review if you liked it. :) Kate