Epilogue: Could We Start Again Please?
She clutched his hand tight, her head resting gently on his shoulder as the opposite arm knocked lightly on the large wooden door in front of them.
"I'm so nervous," she whispers, with nary a trace of her French accent.
"You're nervous? I left these people a note ten years ago and virtually disappeared. I think I might win."
"Perhaps. I still love you, I guess." She brushes a kiss against his cheek and he reluctantly smiles. It's impossible to be mad at her, and lord knows he's tried a thousand times.
The smile goes away when Hermione Granger-Weasley opens the door and faints. The tiny redheaded girl behind her begins to shriek "Daddy!" uncontrollably, and soon he sees Ron thundering down the stairs, stopping dead when he sees his wife on the ground and his former best friend standing at the door.
"'Lo, Ron. It's been a bit longer than I expected since the last time I saw you. Perhaps we should revive Hermione." The old friend nods at his words, and motions for them to enter.
Once Hermione is awake and the young girl (her name, he discovers, is Lucy) quiets down, he introduces his guest.
"My wife," he says, and she gives them a shy grin. "Madeleine Potter."
"It used to be Parole," she offers, and he gives her hand a light squeeze.
"French, right? You must have gone to Beauxbatons," Hermione has fixed her glare upon the new woman, as if she doesn't approve. Harry can't help but shake his head at Ron, who shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes at his wife.
"Oui."
"Why don't we all take a seat in the kitchen, have some tea?" Ron seems to be growing wary of Hermione's intentions.
"That'd be lovely," he answers quickly. Hermione finally smiles at the new woman, and gestures for them to come into the kitchen. Lucy clings to her leg viciously.
"She's not normally this possessive. I think she's a bit shocked about my fainting spell."
"It's understandable, I suppose."
"Harry, where have you been for ten years? I mean, it's lovely to see you again, and Ron and I were so worried, but you're here and you're fine and you're married and I just don't know..."
"Stop, dear," Ron said gently. "Harry didn't come here to jerk us around. He came to talk, and he'll do that if he gets a chance."
"I guess I should start at the beginning. I..." his voice stalls. Madeleine rubs a spot between his shoulders, and he instantly calms. "I didn't know what to do with myself after defeating Voldemort. I mean, I didn't even have my scar anymore. Everything that defined me was gone. I went to Mrs. Figg's after I got released. Just to get away, you know. But even being in England...I was so sure I was going to go crazy. I went to Fudge, discreetly. I asked for a job in another country, filing papers or whatever. I didn't care. He actually helped me out, got me a job in a small, covert French division. It was anti-muggle security of some sort, bewitching certain objects to do things...not difficult. I worked on my own, no one bothered me."
"Until me," Madeleine offers.
"Yeah. Until her, five years after I began working there. She needed some paperwork I forgot to file. Asked me nicely and all that. I told her to bugger off."
"And then I told him off. That I didn't appreciate his rotten attitude, and that if he wanted to keep his job he should respect his co-workers."
"So I asked her to dinner."
"He said it'd been forever since someone treated him like a normal person, and that he'd like to get to know me better. I said okay, if he gave me the paperwork."
"Madeleine didn't realize I was the infamous Harry Potter. She'd only looked at my last name, and the scar was gone, so she had no way of identifying me. At the restaurant we had a great conversation about Hogwarts and Beauxbatons. I didn't say anything that could give me away, per se. So we agreed to another date. It went on for a month like that. Finally she just asked me why the scar went away. And I ended up telling her everything."
"Feminine wiles. Gets him every time."
"She didn't judge me. She didn't care. She said that she thought she could love me, if I gave her the chance. We've been together ever since."
"And you're here, now, because? After all this time, Harry! And without a word as to what happened to you...I thought I'd go mad sometimes. You just decide to return on a whim, I suppose. What do you want from us?"
"Madeleine's pregnant," he whispers, then continues before he can see if they reacted. "And I realized that the people I wanted to share this news with most were here. I know it's unfair to ask but...could we be friends again? I know things won't be exactly like they were, but I..."
"You stupid git. Of course we will!" Ron hollers, nearly knocking over his tea in his haste to stand up. "You've had a rough life, but we'll never desert you. We promised you that once, and we meant it in every sense of the word."
"Really?"
"Of course. Don't be daft."
"Okay. So you met a nice girl and had a proper courtship. I assume you had a nice, normal wedding."
"A nice normal elopement."
"Better than our fiasco. Hermione, you do tell it better."
They sit there for hours catching up, and made a dinner date later in the week. The friendship Harry felt he ruined was alive and well, as the bond created in their youth proved to be unbreakable. Promises kept no matter what. A happy ending to the tale of the boy who lived.
She clutched his hand tight, her head resting gently on his shoulder as the opposite arm knocked lightly on the large wooden door in front of them.
"I'm so nervous," she whispers, with nary a trace of her French accent.
"You're nervous? I left these people a note ten years ago and virtually disappeared. I think I might win."
"Perhaps. I still love you, I guess." She brushes a kiss against his cheek and he reluctantly smiles. It's impossible to be mad at her, and lord knows he's tried a thousand times.
The smile goes away when Hermione Granger-Weasley opens the door and faints. The tiny redheaded girl behind her begins to shriek "Daddy!" uncontrollably, and soon he sees Ron thundering down the stairs, stopping dead when he sees his wife on the ground and his former best friend standing at the door.
"'Lo, Ron. It's been a bit longer than I expected since the last time I saw you. Perhaps we should revive Hermione." The old friend nods at his words, and motions for them to enter.
Once Hermione is awake and the young girl (her name, he discovers, is Lucy) quiets down, he introduces his guest.
"My wife," he says, and she gives them a shy grin. "Madeleine Potter."
"It used to be Parole," she offers, and he gives her hand a light squeeze.
"French, right? You must have gone to Beauxbatons," Hermione has fixed her glare upon the new woman, as if she doesn't approve. Harry can't help but shake his head at Ron, who shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes at his wife.
"Oui."
"Why don't we all take a seat in the kitchen, have some tea?" Ron seems to be growing wary of Hermione's intentions.
"That'd be lovely," he answers quickly. Hermione finally smiles at the new woman, and gestures for them to come into the kitchen. Lucy clings to her leg viciously.
"She's not normally this possessive. I think she's a bit shocked about my fainting spell."
"It's understandable, I suppose."
"Harry, where have you been for ten years? I mean, it's lovely to see you again, and Ron and I were so worried, but you're here and you're fine and you're married and I just don't know..."
"Stop, dear," Ron said gently. "Harry didn't come here to jerk us around. He came to talk, and he'll do that if he gets a chance."
"I guess I should start at the beginning. I..." his voice stalls. Madeleine rubs a spot between his shoulders, and he instantly calms. "I didn't know what to do with myself after defeating Voldemort. I mean, I didn't even have my scar anymore. Everything that defined me was gone. I went to Mrs. Figg's after I got released. Just to get away, you know. But even being in England...I was so sure I was going to go crazy. I went to Fudge, discreetly. I asked for a job in another country, filing papers or whatever. I didn't care. He actually helped me out, got me a job in a small, covert French division. It was anti-muggle security of some sort, bewitching certain objects to do things...not difficult. I worked on my own, no one bothered me."
"Until me," Madeleine offers.
"Yeah. Until her, five years after I began working there. She needed some paperwork I forgot to file. Asked me nicely and all that. I told her to bugger off."
"And then I told him off. That I didn't appreciate his rotten attitude, and that if he wanted to keep his job he should respect his co-workers."
"So I asked her to dinner."
"He said it'd been forever since someone treated him like a normal person, and that he'd like to get to know me better. I said okay, if he gave me the paperwork."
"Madeleine didn't realize I was the infamous Harry Potter. She'd only looked at my last name, and the scar was gone, so she had no way of identifying me. At the restaurant we had a great conversation about Hogwarts and Beauxbatons. I didn't say anything that could give me away, per se. So we agreed to another date. It went on for a month like that. Finally she just asked me why the scar went away. And I ended up telling her everything."
"Feminine wiles. Gets him every time."
"She didn't judge me. She didn't care. She said that she thought she could love me, if I gave her the chance. We've been together ever since."
"And you're here, now, because? After all this time, Harry! And without a word as to what happened to you...I thought I'd go mad sometimes. You just decide to return on a whim, I suppose. What do you want from us?"
"Madeleine's pregnant," he whispers, then continues before he can see if they reacted. "And I realized that the people I wanted to share this news with most were here. I know it's unfair to ask but...could we be friends again? I know things won't be exactly like they were, but I..."
"You stupid git. Of course we will!" Ron hollers, nearly knocking over his tea in his haste to stand up. "You've had a rough life, but we'll never desert you. We promised you that once, and we meant it in every sense of the word."
"Really?"
"Of course. Don't be daft."
"Okay. So you met a nice girl and had a proper courtship. I assume you had a nice, normal wedding."
"A nice normal elopement."
"Better than our fiasco. Hermione, you do tell it better."
They sit there for hours catching up, and made a dinner date later in the week. The friendship Harry felt he ruined was alive and well, as the bond created in their youth proved to be unbreakable. Promises kept no matter what. A happy ending to the tale of the boy who lived.