Note: I own nothing but the story idea. { } = Dream sequences.
Prologue
The aged wizard stood over his lost love's grave remembering. They had first met on the Hogwart's Express when they were both eleven years old and had formed a bond right from the start. At first it had been just the ordinary bond of friendship that any two boys attending school away from home for the first time might share. Later, however, it hat deepened, and ripened into a deep abiding love.
They had had a few fights of course as young boys are wont to do, but they had always made up again afterwards. Neither one had ever been able to stay mad at the other for long.
The old wizard sighed, and wiped a tear from one faded green eye. They had been together for more than eight decades before death had paid them a call, and he missed his mate terribly.
After gently laying a bouquet of roses at the base of the headstone the old wizard slowly ambled off to catch the Knight bus home. Darkness slowly crept over the world, but in the fading light of sunset the words stood out boldly.
Here lies Ronald Weasley-Potter,
beloved husband and father.
May he rest in peace for eternity.
Chapter One: What Happened to...?
He found his dinner set out for him by the fire when he returned home. Muggles may have invented many labor saving devices over the years, but nothing could ever match the abilities of the humble house elf. He smiled. The creatures were loyal to a fault and never complained of the long hours, even when the kids had been young and underfoot. Many of them had been with his family since he and Ron had first wed and were starting to get on in years themselves now. Both he and Ron had seen to it that their wills included provisions for the tiny creatures. No matter what happened to him they would be provided for. He dozed in his chair.
{He was in potions class. What was it they were supposed to be brewing again? He looked round the room. Everyone was busy with their own potions. Great. How was he supposed to brew the potion if he had no idea what he was supposed to be making?
"Stir it counter-clock wise five times Mr. Potter."
That voice! He'd know it anywhere, but the potion master was no where in sight. What was going on?
"I said, stir it counter-clock wise five times Mr. Potter."
The voice seemed to be coming from right in front of him, but how could that be? He looked down into his cauldron. There, floating in the thick grey goo lay the head of Severus Snape. Its eyes glaring at him.
"Did you not hear me Mr. Potter," it said."}
Harry screamed, and opened his eyes to find that he was sitting by his fire. Whew. Just a bad dream then. He poured a brandy, and forced himself to sip it slowly rather than gulp it down. Of course it had just been a dream. How could it be otherwise? Professor Snape had finished out his life in St. Mungo's many years ago. Bellatrix LeStrange had seen to that. Voldemort had given her the task of dealing with the potion master when his role as spy for the order had been discovered, and she had dealt with him in the same manner that she'd dealt with Neville's parents.
Harry shuddered. The last time he'd seen the man he'd been dressed in an adult diaper and hospital gown. There had been no spark of recognition in his eyes. Just the broken shell of a man sitting in a corner drooling on himself.
So many years had passed since he'd fulfilled his destiny and defeated Voldemort once and for all, and many of his friends were now gone. He'd kept in touch with a few of them over the years of course, but even wizards are mortal. He summoned his photo album.
Colin Creevey: he'd gone on to become a photographer for the Daily Prophet. Harry smiled, remembering all the pictures Colin had taken of him when they were at school together. The younger man's choice of career hadn't surprised Harry in the least.
Hermione Granger: she'd gone on to start a column in the Daily Prophet that had been titled "Dear Auntie" of all things. Wizards and witches from all over the world had written her asking for advice of all sorts. She'd passed on just five years ago of old age. She had never married claiming that tying herself down to a man would cramp her style. It made sense, but it was a load of garbage. The reason that she'd never married was that the man she wanted was already taken. The man of her dreams had married Harry instead. Poor Hermione.
Rubeus Hagrid: still hale and hearty, if a bit gray, after more than a century of being the caretaker of Hogwarts. Shortly after the war ended he'd married 'Olympie' and proceeded over the next decade to have a family with her. By the time his eldest received his letter Hagrid had become the father of an even dozen children. Young Rubeus, or junior as his friends called him, had inherited his father's love of animals and his mother's common sense. When he was old enough Ron's brother Charlie had taken him on as an apprentice. Harry was proud of the boy. He remembered when jr. was born. Hagrid and Olympie had asked him and Ron to be the child's godparents, and they had accepted the offer, knowing how great an honor it was.
He sat in his chair thinking til sleep crept up on him. And with sleep came the dreams.
Prologue
The aged wizard stood over his lost love's grave remembering. They had first met on the Hogwart's Express when they were both eleven years old and had formed a bond right from the start. At first it had been just the ordinary bond of friendship that any two boys attending school away from home for the first time might share. Later, however, it hat deepened, and ripened into a deep abiding love.
They had had a few fights of course as young boys are wont to do, but they had always made up again afterwards. Neither one had ever been able to stay mad at the other for long.
The old wizard sighed, and wiped a tear from one faded green eye. They had been together for more than eight decades before death had paid them a call, and he missed his mate terribly.
After gently laying a bouquet of roses at the base of the headstone the old wizard slowly ambled off to catch the Knight bus home. Darkness slowly crept over the world, but in the fading light of sunset the words stood out boldly.
Here lies Ronald Weasley-Potter,
beloved husband and father.
May he rest in peace for eternity.
Chapter One: What Happened to...?
He found his dinner set out for him by the fire when he returned home. Muggles may have invented many labor saving devices over the years, but nothing could ever match the abilities of the humble house elf. He smiled. The creatures were loyal to a fault and never complained of the long hours, even when the kids had been young and underfoot. Many of them had been with his family since he and Ron had first wed and were starting to get on in years themselves now. Both he and Ron had seen to it that their wills included provisions for the tiny creatures. No matter what happened to him they would be provided for. He dozed in his chair.
{He was in potions class. What was it they were supposed to be brewing again? He looked round the room. Everyone was busy with their own potions. Great. How was he supposed to brew the potion if he had no idea what he was supposed to be making?
"Stir it counter-clock wise five times Mr. Potter."
That voice! He'd know it anywhere, but the potion master was no where in sight. What was going on?
"I said, stir it counter-clock wise five times Mr. Potter."
The voice seemed to be coming from right in front of him, but how could that be? He looked down into his cauldron. There, floating in the thick grey goo lay the head of Severus Snape. Its eyes glaring at him.
"Did you not hear me Mr. Potter," it said."}
Harry screamed, and opened his eyes to find that he was sitting by his fire. Whew. Just a bad dream then. He poured a brandy, and forced himself to sip it slowly rather than gulp it down. Of course it had just been a dream. How could it be otherwise? Professor Snape had finished out his life in St. Mungo's many years ago. Bellatrix LeStrange had seen to that. Voldemort had given her the task of dealing with the potion master when his role as spy for the order had been discovered, and she had dealt with him in the same manner that she'd dealt with Neville's parents.
Harry shuddered. The last time he'd seen the man he'd been dressed in an adult diaper and hospital gown. There had been no spark of recognition in his eyes. Just the broken shell of a man sitting in a corner drooling on himself.
So many years had passed since he'd fulfilled his destiny and defeated Voldemort once and for all, and many of his friends were now gone. He'd kept in touch with a few of them over the years of course, but even wizards are mortal. He summoned his photo album.
Colin Creevey: he'd gone on to become a photographer for the Daily Prophet. Harry smiled, remembering all the pictures Colin had taken of him when they were at school together. The younger man's choice of career hadn't surprised Harry in the least.
Hermione Granger: she'd gone on to start a column in the Daily Prophet that had been titled "Dear Auntie" of all things. Wizards and witches from all over the world had written her asking for advice of all sorts. She'd passed on just five years ago of old age. She had never married claiming that tying herself down to a man would cramp her style. It made sense, but it was a load of garbage. The reason that she'd never married was that the man she wanted was already taken. The man of her dreams had married Harry instead. Poor Hermione.
Rubeus Hagrid: still hale and hearty, if a bit gray, after more than a century of being the caretaker of Hogwarts. Shortly after the war ended he'd married 'Olympie' and proceeded over the next decade to have a family with her. By the time his eldest received his letter Hagrid had become the father of an even dozen children. Young Rubeus, or junior as his friends called him, had inherited his father's love of animals and his mother's common sense. When he was old enough Ron's brother Charlie had taken him on as an apprentice. Harry was proud of the boy. He remembered when jr. was born. Hagrid and Olympie had asked him and Ron to be the child's godparents, and they had accepted the offer, knowing how great an honor it was.
He sat in his chair thinking til sleep crept up on him. And with sleep came the dreams.