A/N: Sorry it has been forever and a half. This is being posted without a beta's approval, and all mistakes are-as ever-my own. I'm very much hoping posting this will inspire me to get into a writing groove again, now that we are settled from the move and my oldest will be starting Kindergarten on Thursday. Any tips and tricks you have for getting your muse to cooperate would be greatly appreciated!
4 Cerridwen Court, Godric's Hollow
31 October 1999
Sunday was a visiting day. If Harry, Hermione, and Delphi weren't at the Granger home, they were at the Burrow with the Weasley's, all of whom had been ecstatic to hear that the young couple were engaged. Molly had been desperate to hear the romantic tale, and so when she had asked where the blessed event had taken place, and Hermione had promptly said "at home" while Harry simultaneously stammered "her parent's house," the woman had been understandably confused.
"We agreed to become engaged at home," Hermione had clarified, before Harry could say anything more. "But he actually proposed in front of my parents."
Molly had looked sceptical but let the conversation go. Unfortunately for them Arthur had not.
"Well, that's romantic. I proposed in bed," he had said, waggling his brows.
"Arthur!" Molly had cried, her cheeks going red to match her hair.
This particular Sunday, however, the residents of 4 Cerridwen Court had elected to skip the traditional Samhain celebration planned at the Burrow, and instead enjoy a quiet day at home, followed by some light trick or treating. Given the history of the day, both the Weasley clan and the Granger's had understood, and left the young couple and their child to their own devices.
Which was how Harry found himself standing in the center of his family room, wearing nothing but a cozy pyjama bottom and a white sheet which had been draped around his torso.
"Stand still," Hermione chided from her spot on the rug in front of him. Normally, Harry would have enjoyed the view of his girlfriend on her knees, but as she was currently holding a bunch of really very pointy objects very close to his bare skin, he was more anxious than aroused.
"I haven't moved," said Harry, "Not since the last time you—ouch! Will you stop doing that?!"
"Hush," Hermione chided, jabbing once more with the straight pin until she'd managed to affix it to the pleat she'd been working on. "There, all done." Her brow furrowed. "Did you have to bleed on your costume? It's really hard to get bloodstains out of white fabric."
"You stuck me," Harry reminded her in disbelief.
"It was an accident," she dismissed, and then rose to her feet, drawing her wand from its spot in her nest of curls and pointing it at his waist.
"Tergeo," she said, and then leaned down to inspect the stain. She had to cast the charm twice more before she was satisfied, and when she was done, she conjured a full length mirror against the nearest wall before stowing it away again.
Harry stepped forward to inspect her handiwork. The sheet was draped artfully over one of his shoulders, wide pleats giving it the appearance of an actual garment rather than something his over eager fiancee had stripped off of the bed just an hour before.
"This is supposed to be greek?" he asked, skeptical.
"Obviously it's not an exact replica—" Hermione sounded testy now, "But it's as close as we're going to get before it's time to go out."
"You can see half my chest," Harry complained.
"And what a fine chest it is."
"Hermione—"
"Honestly, Harry, you can wear a shirt underneath if that would make you more comfortable." Hermione was rolling her eyes now and pulling her wand back out. "Now stand still so I can stitch it all together and take out those pins."
"Wait till I get it—"
"Suturaexigis!"
He flinched, but Harry could barely feel the thread that shot out of Hermione's wand as it brushed over his skin and wove its way into the fabric of the bedsheet toga.
"There," said Hermione, sounding triumphant. "A proper ancient greek. You could be Odysseus!" She giggled. "Or Orestes."
"What about you?" Harry asked, looking back at Hermione. "Where's your costume?"
"That's for me to know, and you to pant over later," she answered with a wink.
"Daddy!"
Delphi's voice echoed through the house, notifying all occupants that the princess had awakened from her slumber.
"I'll get her," said Hermione at once, leaping to her feet and stowing her wand back in the messy bun she wore. "Will you run downstairs and grab the bag I left on the dining room table? It's got her costume inside."
Harry agreed and as Hermione disappeared down a hallway and toward Delphi's bedroom, he made his way down the flight of stairs and onto the main floor. The house had come together nicely since they had moved in. Hermione's help picking out furniture had been invaluable. As it happened, she had an eye for luxury that Harry would never have been able to imitate, and the overstuffed recliners he would have chosen on his own had been replaced by sleek yet comfortable sofas that complimented interesting (but not too interesting) rugs. And the longer they were in residence, the more things seemed to appear when Harry wasn't looking. He had teased Hermione that she seemed intent on spending what would have gone toward her rent in her own apartment, on expensive looking vases and artwork by people he'd never heard of. She had only shrugged and smiled, burying her nose in one of the books she always seemed to keep nearby.
In the dining room, Harry found the costume right where Hermione had told him it would be. He opened the bag, making a face at the excessive amount of tissue paper the garment was wrapped in before closing it again and taking it back up stairs.
"There you are," Hermione said as she emerged from the loo behind an unkempt looking Delphi. The little girl, still grumpy from having been forced to nap while her adults were having fun, frowned in Harry's direction before making her way toward the corner of the room and a large reading chair upon which she flung herself dramatically.
"Hello, Delphi," Harry said, handing the costume to Hermione, who shrugged and set to unwrapping it.
"No Hello," Delphi said into the upholstery.
Harry tried hard to keep from smiling and ultimately failed. Still, he kept quiet as he approached the girl, dropping to his knees beside her chair once he reached it.
"Did you have any dreams while you were sleeping?" he asked gently.
"No," she responded. She turned her head slightly and pressed her cheek to the seat of the chair so that she could face him. Harry studied her features for a moment, taking in the long lashes and solemn grey eyes above the curve of her smooth cheek.
"Would you like daddy to show you the bubbles again?"
Her eyes brightened instantaneously and she nodded, still not budging from her spot.
Harry drew his wand and pointed it upward. Soon, a stream of bubble in different shapes and sizes was streaming from his wand tip. Ethereal hearts and stars and moons flew up and then fell down to land on the seat around the little girl. She smiled as she watched them, turning onto her back and reaching up with both hands to catch them as they fell.
"Moo-corn!" she demanded, and Harry flicked his wand once, causing a tiny bubble unicorn to spring out of his wand and gallop in a circle before falling for Delphi to pop.
He loved seeing her like this. It soothed Harry's soul to know that she was happy and well cared for, and when she smiled he could see himself in her—could she Hermione in her. Riddle and Lestrange had never smiled like that, he was sure. She'd gotten that from him. And thank God. Seeing the mind healer as Hermione had suggested had opened his eyes to the many paths his life might have taken, not just the what ifs of the war, but of his own childhood and personality. Harry had not realized how easily he might have turned into the delinquent the Dursley's had painted him as… and if it hadn't been for Ron, Hermione, and the Weasley's…he wasn't sure he wouldn't have given up in the Department of Mysteries, when Voldemort had tried to possess him.
Seeing Healer De Villiers was painful. He was having to face truths he'd been willfully ignoring for most of his life… but it was freeing too. He was free to see his daughter not as an extension of himself, someone to be saved… but as a child with her own path—his to protect for now, but her own to make into the person she wanted to be. He was realizing that what had happened with the Dursleys was abnormal. Not every orphan was stuffed in a cupboard and starved. Not every child was raised being told their were loathsome and wrong. Not every boy was pitted against his cousin, a child who should have become his best friend, and left to be beaten bloody any time said cousin pleased. It wasn't normal. It was wrong. What had happened to him was wrong. What had happened to Delphi was wrong… but he didn't have to be controlled by it.
"More moo-corn, daddy!" Delphi's giggle distracted him from his thoughts and Harry smiled.
"Come here, darling," Hermione called from the makeshift seamstresses shop in the center of her office, "I've got your costume ready."
Harry watched as Delphi wriggled quickly off of the seat, a perfectly ecstatic expression on her face as she went running toward her godmother. He let his gaze linger on Hermione for a moment, noting the way she beamed when she was interacting with the girl. She was beautiful like that. Not that she wasn't beautiful every second of every day, but there, with Delphi, she positively glowed.
A tinkling laugh drew his attention once more, and Harry looked back to see Delphi twirling around in a shimmering gold dress, flouncier than anything he'd ever seen, and sporting a long horn on her forehead, just below a golden coronet.
"Moo-corn Princess!" She shouted gleefully.
"Would you look at that," Harry said, acting surprised. "Someone let a unicorn foal into the house. Hermione, was that you?"
Delphi giggled.
"Certainly not," Hermione said, smiling broadly. "It must have wandered in. Perhaps it's lost."
"You're a long way from the forest, little unicorn," Harry said, scooping Delphi up and twirling her around. "Where's your mummy unicorn? Have you wandered away from her?"
"No," Delphi giggled, leaning backwards and pointing toward Hermione. "Mummy right there!"
Hermione's eyes widened for a moment in shock, and Harry paused to watch her. Soon, a blush suffused the brunette's cheeks, and then a radiant, satisfied smile that she tried to hide.
"I see," Harry said to Delphi, "You're right. I'm not sure how I could have missed her. Mummy?" he addressed his next words to Hermione. "Would you like your baby unicorn back?"
Hermione blinked rapidly for a moment, brushing the tips of her fingers beneath each eye before clearing her throat and nodding.
"Certainly," she said, making her tone dramatic for Delphi's benefit. "For whatever would a mummy unicorn be without her little foal?"
"Not foal," Delphi corrected. "Princess."
"Forgive me." Hermione's voice was solemn as she met the girl's reproachful gaze. "Her princess unicorn."
"Okay," said Delphi, wriggling back down to the floor. "We get candy now. Daddy, Mummy, get candy for moo-corn princess."
Harry laughed. "How the hell does she know she's getting candy tonight?"
Hermione shrugged. "I may have extolled the virtues of Trick or Treating to convince her she needed a nap to preserve her energy."
"What would your parents think?" Harry teased.
"My parents sugar Delphi up every chance they get. They've no room to disapprove."
"Right," said Harry. "Are we ready then?"
Hermione looked pointedly at his legs, still covered by denim jeans. "Not very authentic, are they?" She asked dryly.
Harry sighed. "Go change, and I'll take these off."
"I look forward to the view."
"Go get candy now," interrupted Delphi. "Moo-corn princess eat candy. I hungry."
Hermione laughed and Harry watched her go, cursing the fact that he'd agreed to let her dress him for the holiday and wondering just how breezy it was going to be beneath his bedsheet toga.
Godric's Hollow
31 October 1999
As it happened, a bed sheet—even a repurposed one—was no protection against the elements, especially not an a cold night like the one his little family had been lingering in.
"Jesus Christ," Harry swore, watching as Delphi pranced up another set of steps beside Hermione. He leaned down, rubbing the palms of his hands over his bare legs and trying desperately to warm them with friction. It was a wonder his bollocks hadn't frozen off yet, dropping like shrivelled figs to the hard earth below. If only he'd thought to set a Warming Charm back at the house, because here, surrounded by Muggles, he'd be mad to draw his wand.
"Alright there, Harry?" Hermione sounded amused as she descended the front steps of the cottage they'd visited, Delphi's hand in her own.
"It's bloody cold out," he answered.
Hermione, who had remembered a Warming Charm, only smiled smugly. Of course, Harry was not so bitter as to begrudge her the comfort of a well placed spell, especially when it allowed her to walk about in a thin, ankle length toga of her own. When she had first appeared at the top of the steps as they had left their home, Harry had—for a moment—been sure that Aphrodite herself had appeared to bless him. The flowing white of the robe she wore had practically glowed against the smooth expanse of tanned skin that it left bare, and the artfully conjured jewels in Hermione's upswept hair had sparkled.
"Who are you?" he had asked, breathless.
"Hermione," she had answered, her mouth turned upward at the corners.
"No I meant—"
"I know what you meant," she had said. "I'm Hermione, daughter of Helen of Troy and Menelaus." And then she had smirked. Merlin, she'd looked perfect. A vision in white that he had instantly imagined caressing, disrobing, and ultimately whispering a litany of very filthy words to as he turned her around and—
Harry was distracted from the memory as a gaggle of children darted past them, their costumes brushing against him as they swarmed up the steps of the cottage, pillow cases and plastic jackolantern's at the ready.
"Chocolate?"
He looked back up at her as Delphi reached him and wrapped an arm around his leg. Hermione held out a small piece of candy in a colorful wrapper, offering it to him.
He shook his head. "No thanks. Are we nearly done? I think my toes are beyond saving now, if frostbite was what you were waiting on."
"Not done," piped Delphi, who was scowling up at him now, her expression thunderous. Harry sighed.
"I think you've been overruled." Hermione's voice was mild but definitely mirthful.
"Is this how its always going to be?" asked Harry. "You girls ganging up on me?"
Hermione leaned in and upward, dropping a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. "Only if you're very lucky."
They went on their way after that, and had stopped at several more houses before Harry realized where they were. Across the street, he could see Bathilda Bagshot's old home, well kept now that there was a new family in residence, which meant that just there… his gaze landed on the ruin of his family's cottage and for a moment he couldn't breathe.
He felt a hand, warm and firm, entwine itself in his, giving a reassuring squeeze as the warmth seemed to extend out and up his arm before enveloping his whole body.
"Better?" Hermione asked.
Harry nodded, looking down at her and giving her a smile.
"Much. I didn't know you could do that wandlessly."
She shrugged.
"Are you okay? I know historically tonight has never been—"
"I'm fine," Harry interrupted, watching as Delphi made her way up yet another set of steps, determined to reach the doorbell and claim her prize.
"Alright," said Hermione, her voice quiet.
Harry sighed heavily and looked back at her.
"Sorry," he said. "It's hard for me to— you know—talk about this sort of thing. I appreciate you asking."
Merlin, acknowledging his pain (something his mind healer had touted as 'essential to healing and connection') was awkward as hell. But Hermione deserved to not be shut out. She was his best friend. She was going to be his bloody wife. The least he could do was be honest with her.
"You don't have to talk about it," she said, "if you don't want to."
"I don't want to," responded Harry vehemently. "But I should. It… helps. Sometimes."
"This time?" Hermione asked, her tone still miraculously neutral.
This time it was Harry's turn to shrug.
"I don't know. Maybe?"
"Daddy! Lolly!" Delphi ran back to them, holding out the brightly colored sweet and waving it about as if it were a wand.
"Brilliant," he praised, and they made their way to the next house. One house closer to the cottage where he had been orphaned.
"Are you ready to go home?" Hermione asked.
Harry could feel the urge to take her up on her offer growing. He wanted to dart away, to run and not stop until he could hide himself in his office and drink a solid cupful of firewhisky to forget the feeling of awful anxiety that was threatening to overtake him.
Instead, he shook his head.
"Delphi's having far too much fun to cut short," he said. "Besides, it's just an old house. Can't be worse than the last time we saw it." He forced a smile.
"Considering the last time we were on the run and about to be devoured by a giant snake, that's hardly reassuring," Hermione quipped.
Harry laughed, some of the tension melting away as he held his hand out for Delphi to take again as they moved to the next cottage.
"I did enjoy the grafiti though," Harry said, as Delphi once again toddled up the short steps and arched up on the tips of her toes to ring the bell. "It was encouraging. I wonder what it will have to say this time. Now that the war is won."
"Oh Harry," Hermione said, her voice pitched unnaturally high in imitation of some unknown and completely hypothetical witch. "You're such a stud. Leave Granger and come find me! I'll make you see stars!"
Harry laughed and glanced back to check that Delphi was still safe. Seeing that she was happily rifling through a bowl full of sweets, a determined expression on her face, Harry turned back to Hermione.
"They'd have a hell of a time convincing me to leave you," he said, keeping his voice low so that only she could hear him. "Now that I've seen exactly what the prim and proper Miss Hermione Granger is capable of, I'm not sure the stars would be much of an incentive at all."
She blushed and Harry smirked.
"Daddy! Lolly!" Harry took a short step away from Hermione and gave Delphi a thumbs up.
"You're wicked," Hermione said, voice deliciously strained.
Harry chuckled in response and led Delphi on to the next stop, leaving Hermione to watch him strut away. She had been the one to dress him in the shoulder exposing costume—he only hoped that meant she would be as affected by the sight of him as he was of her.
Once Hermione had caught up to them, the blush had bloomed in full force. She really did look like Aphrodite now.
"Well, if you're well enough to flirt, I'll stop pestering you."
"What if I was enjoying your nagging?"
Hermione arched a brow.
"I don't nag. I remind."
"Whatever you do, you do it looking very attractive."
Hermione swatted him playfully on the arm.
"Stop it, you," she said, but her eyes were sparkling and Harry could tell that she was enjoying their banter.
"Maybe later I can put my mouth to better use," he said.
This time the blow stung a little on his bicep, and he took a step out of reach.
"Careful," he laughed, "Delphi will get the wrong idea."
"Which idea would that be?" Hermione asked, her voice saccharine sweet. "That her father doesn't have a sense of self preservation or propriety?"
God he enjoyed this. The back and forth that never failed to arouse his intellect along with his body. It was a small wonder he wasn't already beginning to pitch a bloody tent beneath his toga.
A sharp gust of cold wind rushed over him, and Harry realized at once that the Warming Charm Hermione had extended to him had been cancelled. He looked up to see Hermione grinning.
"Vindictive, you are," said Harry, who no longer had to worry about much of anything happening beneath his toga. Still, Hermione was beautiful and whip smart, and he loved her to an unreasonable degree. He probably wouldn't have cared had she vanished his costume all together and left him bare in the middle of town, not if she smiled at him like that.
"Come along, Delphi Darling," Hermione said, taking his daughter's hand to help her down the last few steps of the stoop she had just raided for candy. "Would you like to see where Daddy used to live when he was small?"
He watched as the two of them approached the looming ruin ahead, a reminder of everything he had lost and of the event that had sent him to the Dursley's as a baby. Everything he had realized he was still struggling to overcome had begun here… in some ways, it was more painful seeing it now as a father than it had been when he was on the run and fighting a war. Still, when all was said, it was still just an old house, covered in ivy and surrounded by rubble.
As Hermione approached the gate, Harry watched Delphi run ahead, nearly crashing into the fence and steadying herself with both hands against the wood.
"Careful," said Harry, as the sign with its gold lettering sprang from the ground and rose up in front of Hermione, who smiled upon seeing it and called back to him.
"It's all still there, the writing from before."
For some reason, this made him feel better, and he strode to stand beside Hermione, staring up at the moonlit house. He closed his eyes for a moment and felt Delphi tug at the hem of his clothes. She said something he couldn't quite understand and then let go. Hermione murmured for the girl not to wander, and nestled her head against Harry's shoulder. They stood like that for several seconds—half a minute perhaps. Harry envisioned a life in that cottage, wondering what it would have been like to grow up loved by someone who was still living, taken care of and fed regularly. He imagined himself in the now decimated room on the right hand side of the top floor. Would he have transformed it through the years, papering the walls with Quidditch posters? Would he have been prepared when Voldemort had returned… or would Voldemort have been defeated the first go round?
When he opened his eyes, Hermione was staring up at him, a sad smile at the corner of her mouth.
"You're going to have it all," she said, and it sounded to him like a promise.
And then he was envisioning another life, built on the ruins in front of him and those behind him. Hermione by his side, Delphi his to love and cherish and give all the things he had been denied. A home that would never go dark or end up in pieces on the ground. More children to fill it, perhaps…
"Daddy!"
Harry and Hermione looked up at the sound of Delphi's voice. It was tinged with an emotion he recognized but rarely had cause to hear from her anymore. Searching in the dark, his gaze fell on her quickly. She stood in her gold dress at the end of the gate, barely seven or eight yards from them. The coronet on her head gleamed in the starlight and the slender horn Hermione had given her seemed to glow in the darkness.
And then, before he had even a moment to think or react, a dark, hooded figure moved directly behind her, leaning down and wrapping itself around the girl.
Fear. That had been fear in her voice.
"Da—"
The figure and the girl disappeared together with a crack before Delphi could finish the word.