A/N:

This fic was inspired by the lyrics 'And I'm gonna keep on lovin' you, 'cause it's the only thing I want to do. I don't want to sleep, I just want to keep on lovin' you' from the song, Keep On Loving You by REO Speedwagon. I claim no ownership of it, I only used it as inspiration.

Written for the Harmony & Co Facebook Group's Lyric Llama Challenge.

P.S. The cover pic is what I imagined her wedding portrait would like.

ALWAYS CONSTANT

By: tweety-src-clt-9

A frail old man with messy raven hair, that is now mostly dominated by silver gray strands, slowly walks toward the nursery room of his family's ancestral home. Generations of the Potter family walked the same halls. A month ago, a new addition to the Ancient and Noble House of Potter was born…

Baby Hermione Jasmine Potter, his current favorite family member.

Fitzwilliam Harry Potter, his great-grandson, decided to name his firstborn child after the old patriarch's late wife. Baby Hermione inherited her namesake's curly brunette locks and doe-eyed chocolate brown eyes. The family agreed to name the baby after the most famous members of the House of Potter in recent history. Hermione – after the Brightest Witch of the Age. Jasmine – a feminine twist on James, Grandy Harry's middle name.

Baby Hermione is a reminder of the matriarch that passed on to her next great adventure five years ago.

Because of this, every Potter immediately understood that Grandy Harry would be head over heels for the baby. Harry Potter always favored members of his family who inherited his favorite physical traits of Hermione Jean Potter nee Granger. It was a universally acknowledged truth in their entire household. It was a fact that is always constant.

As the old man finally reached the nursery's door, he quietly entered the room. The beautiful room his Hermione decorated for their first born, Viola Lily Potter, one hundred thirty-five years ago…

He slowly made his way towards the baby's crib. There she was sleeping peacefully as she snuggled with her favorite stuffed unicorn.

"I miss you Hermione", his emerald green eyes closed. He was imagining the same sight he is seeing right now. A sleeping Hermione. As the baby sleeps, his thoughts were drifting to the very moment he realized the depth of his feelings for his Hermione…

It was a cold stormy night in the Forest of Dean. Ron had already left them. The pressure of the Horcrux hunt and the lack of progress proved to be too much for him.

Hermione had been crying for days. But finally, she stopped. She seems better now. Steadfastly back at work, busy with research. Busy with helping him like she always does.

It was his turn to keep watch. To make sure they were as safe as could be in this time of war. But he was cold and hungry. So, he made his way back inside the tent to look for something that can satiate either the cold or his hunger - even just a little bit. To his surprise, Hermione was sleeping not on the bed but slouched on the table. Her cheek plonked on top of an open book. She must have slept when she was reading something.

Instead of looking for something to eat, he quietly moved to sit across from her. Something about the way the candlelight flickers as its flame is casting shadows on her face seemed so mesmerizing. He could see highlights of gold in her curly chestnut brown locks. Her dark eyelashes look so long from the angle he was sitting at. Her cheeks had this ethereal glow from the candlelight.

She is the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

And then it clicked.

She had always been beautiful to him because of the strength of her heart and the brilliance of her mind.

But under the candlelight… wow. It's like seeing her for the very first time.

As his heart pounded in his chest, he knew.

He would win this war for her.

So that she would never sleep like this again.

She deserves a proper sleep every single night in a bed of satin sheets – all safe and warm.

He would keep her safe in his arms as they would snuggle together.

"I love you Hermione", he whispered into the cold night air. He stared at her for a few good minutes before deciding that it's best to wake her up so she could properly rest on the bed.

He reached out to her shoulder, gently shaking her. She immediately stirred.

"Wha – Harry?", she muttered as her chocolate brown eyes opened.

"Hermione you need to sleep. Over there. On the bed", his voice was determined. He wouldn't want her to argue about this.

"Okay", she slowly moved to stretch before standing up. He gave her a small smile which she returned. She walked towards her bed and was immediately knocked out.

He left her sleeping inside the tent as he continued to keep watch. Something happened here at this very moment. With a determination he's never felt before, his heart filled with hope for peaceful days in the future. He will win this war for her, so she could get a goodnight's sleep every single day. Hopefully, in his arms.

The old man smiled. His eyes were drawn to the sleeping baby who shared his wife's name.

"Sleep well Baby Hermione. Grandy will keep you safe. Grandmy is watching over you in heaven. You are loved", he whispered. He closed the nursery and slowly made his way to the library. His Hermione had a large portrait there.

As his aching muscles cracked with every step, he strengthened his resolve. It was a nightly ritual of his to say good night to her portrait. Their children, grand-children, and great grand-children wanted him to just move the portrait to the master bedroom, but he disagreed.

"She would hex me when I meet her in the afterlife if I remove her portrait from the library", that was his constant answer. They would never understand how his Hermione loves the library.

Finally, after what felt like an hour, but was actually just ten minutes, he reached his wife's favorite room. He remembers all the times he spent with her there. Generation after generation of Potters have been enthralled by her voice as she reads her favorite stories for the family.

"Grandy? What are you doing here?", Ophelia Rose Potter, his great granddaughter asked. After Baby Hermione, Ophelia is his second favorite Potter. She too inherited his wife's hair and eyes.

"I planned to say goodnight to your Grandmy's portrait. As always", he grinned. His great granddaughter only rolled her eyes.

"You know Grandy, every female Potter has very high standards in men because of you", Ophelia had a fond smile as she walked over to help him take a seat across his Hermione's portrait.

"Why is that dear?", he asked.

"Well, all of us grew up with stories of how great yours and Grandmy's love story is. It's stuff of legends", she sighed dreamily.

"Oh?", he prodded.

"Grandy you love Grandmy so much. Every night without fail, you say goodnight to her portrait. Always constant", she replied.

"I just miss her so much", his voice cracked with sadness and old age.

"She really was very beautiful", Ophelia remarked as they both looked up at Hermione's wedding portrait. He had a copy of their first picture as a married couple taken mere seconds after the wedding on his nightstand. But her portrait on the library was his absolute favorite. Because she was standing all alone in the picture as if she was walking towards him.

"She is. Just like you. You have her – "

"Her hair and her eyes. I know", she smiled.

"That makes you my favorite Potter. Until Baby Hermione was born", he chuckled.

"Yes. Everyone here knows that", she snorted.

"Ophelia, you should go sleep dear", he patted his great granddaughter's arm.

"Goodnight Grandy", she kissed him on the forehead.

"Sweet dreams. You are safe", he replied.

"Goodnight Grandmy!", Ophelia waved to Hermione's portrait.

"I love you Hermione", Harry Potter said to his wife's portrait before closing his eyes. Maybe he could sleep here tonight. He was too tired to go upstairs.

A sweet feminine voice he hasn't heard for the last five years called out to him. He refused to open his eyes in fear that it was only a dream.

"Harry Potter! Open your eyes right now!", the voice snapped in the same bossy voice that he loved so much. Afraid of getting into trouble, it was second nature to him to immediately comply to whatever she wants when she uses that tone on him.

He gasped. Standing in front of him was his Hermione. All solid. In a beautiful white gown. Just like her portrait.

"Hermione?", he had tears in his eyes.

"Come along, love. You waited too long. It's time", she extended a hand for him to take. Finally...

"Hermione?", he asked. His grip on her hand was tight. He was afraid of losing her again.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Why are you in your wedding dress?"

"Well it's your favorite version of me don't you think? Besides, the afterlife would hardly seem promising if I pick you up looking old and wrinkly, won't I?", she huffed.

Harry Potter smiled. All was well. His Hermione was still her same adorably bossy know-it-all self. She is always constant. Just like his love for her.

THE END