2017
"Lily! James! Albus! Come on, it's time to go!"
Nellie strode through the stacks of books, flicking her wand so that any stragglers flew back to their places, the teetering piles of leather-bound tomes straightening in preparation for another busy day tomorrow. She found all three children in their favorite spot in the back of the store, sitting close together on a plush antique sofa. Albus had his nose buried deep in a book, and James was trying to make a quill levitate while Lily watched avidly.
"Alright, everybody, come along," Nellie urged over the collective groans of resignation. "Your father will have my head if you're not back in time for dinner."
"Can we come again tomorrow?" said Albus eagerly, still staring down at his open book as he buttoned up his cloak the wrong way.
"If your parents say it's alright. Here, dear," Nellie sighed. "Let me help you with that."
She knelt down, ignoring the now-persistent creak in her knees, and started redoing Albus' buttons while James and Lily chattered to each other. Her fingers weren't as deft as they once were, and her left ring and pinky finger were missing entirely. Another relic of the long war.
When James, ever curious, asked how she lost her fingers, and she told him, he had gasped in disbelief.
You saved dad's life? And Grandpa Sirius? He frowned up at her, the old woman he knew only as Grandma: made thin with grief and age, nearsighted from years spent working with books. How?
Ginny had shushed him but Nellie only laughed. A fair question, she said as she tousled James' hair with her remaining fingers. Many, many years of practice. And a lot of good luck. That was what she told the children, anyway. But some days it was hard to remember just how good their luck had been.
She shepherded the sleepy children out of the store, putting out the candles with her wand as she did so. A rush of cool night air greeted them as she pushed the door open with a tinkle. She could smell autumn, for the first time this year, accompanied by the now-familiar pang of memories. Before she locked the door she turned back, as she always did. She was slow now, always taking time to look at things, and the children were patient with her. Her eyes took in the metal till gleaming in the dim light, the stacks of books that rambled on into dark corners and narrow passageways, a breathing mystery, full of magic and power.
She locked the door with a click and took Albus and Lily's hands in hers, sparing one last look at her beloved storefront. Above the window display crammed with old books and rare editions, white neon lights gleamed in the shape of a large shaggy dog, a star winking in the center of his chest. Beside him, large, glowing cursive spelled out the words, "Canis Major Books, est. 1999".
"Alright," Nellie sighed after a moment. "Time to get you home."
She held Lily and Albus' hands tight but let James roam, occasionally warning him to stay close. He seemed intent on peering avidly down every alleyway and around every dustbin as though an adventure was waiting just around the corner. Nellie smiled. He reminded her so much of two other boys she had known.
"Grandma Nellie?" Lily piped up, shaking her from her memories.
"Yes, m'dear?"
"Where's Grandpa today?" Lily spoke carefully, her brow furrowed slightly as though deep in thought. "Sometimes we see him every day and sometimes not. He can be quite funny, but then other times I think he's very sad."
James came closer, apparently finding their conversation interesting enough to distract him from his activities.
"It's because of the war," he said rather importantly, glancing at Nellie as though curious how she would react. "Dad says Grandpa fought in two wars, and he suffered a great deal."
"But we won the war," Lily insisted. She looked up at Nellie with concern. "Didn't we?"
Nellie sighed. Dry leaves skittered around their feet as they walked, the first of many to come. The stores were already changing out their back-to-school displays for plastic pumpkins, tombstones, and cobwebs. Fake ghosts for the real thing, she thought with mingled bitterness and admiration for the ways the world could move on.
"Yes," she said slowly. "We won the war." She held tight to Albus and Lily's fingers like lifelines, feeling their warmth despite the cold air that seemed to blow right through her these days. "But it's not all that simple. We had to lose so much to make it happen, to make the world we have now."
"Like Teddy's parents?" Albus' quiet, thoughtful voice chimed in beside her. "And dad's?"
"Yes, like them. And there were many others, too." She looked down at Albus with a smile. "I'll tell you all about them sometime."
"And me!" James said loudly.
"And m-"
"Yes, all of you."
"But, Grandma," Lily said again as they neared the front steps of the Potters'.
"Yes, dear?"
"Is it still a happy ending?"
The wind picked up as they walked up the steps and Nellie shivered. "Hm. Well- James, leave the gnome alone!"
James dropped it with a guilty scowl so reminiscent of his namesakes Nellie had to laugh, and she felt something finally easing in her chest.
"I believe most stories have a happy ending," she said to Lily, "in the greater scheme of things. But it's not always the kind of happiness we expect."
And we're not always around to see it, she added in her head as Harry swung open the door. She gave each of the children hugs and promised to see them soon.
"Care to stay for dinner?" Harry asked. "Ginny and I would love to have you."
She shook her head. "Thanks, dear, but I'd best be getting home. See what trouble your godfather's got up to this time."
Ginny's voice reached her through the closed door, and the shouts and laughter of children, but it blurred quickly into silence as she turned on the spot and Disapparated in her own front yard, some miles away.
Happiness wasn't quite it, she thought as she crunched up the gravel walk to her door. After all they'd been through, after all they'd lost, happiness was something they could only catch in rare glimpses, too brief and wonderful to hold onto. Nothing you could build a life out of. What had come to her at last, as she neared the end of her story, was more like conviction.
She stepped into the foyer with a sigh, unwrapping her scarf and travelling cloak and hanging them on the ornate brass hooks. Candles flickered to life as she shuffled past into the kitchen. Sirius was nowhere in sight, but on the counter was a plate of food and a note, which she picked up, smiling, and held close to her face to read.
Went for a ride. Will be back soon. Dinner's on the counter for you.
All my love- S.
She took her plate to the table, still holding the note tight in her slightly shaky fingers, and eased herself into her chair with a groan. The curse wound on her stomach was beginning to ache, as it often did when the fall chill came. She tucked into her steak and potatoes, staring at the words bearing all his love in his ornate, messy handwriting.
He had worked hard to become a better cook in the years they had been together, but he still had a tendency to oversalt things. She'd assumed it was just inexperience until he told her something that made her think otherwise.
Food doesn't taste as good, he had said. Not since Azkaban, not since- He broke off, staring numbly at the ceiling above their bed. I know there were things that used to be delicious, but for the life of me I can't remember what they tasted like.
And she held him in the dark and didn't bother hiding her tears.
She had finished her food now, the taste of salt still lingering on her tongue. She kept her ears pricked for the familiar rumble of his motorcycle.
One of these days you'll get too old to fly that thing, she had told him once and he laughed.
That's what you're for.
She giggled. And when I get too old?
He grinned at her, sweeping his long salt-and-pepper hair back behind one ear. No such thing, my darling. Not for you.
Nellie smiled fondly, carrying her dishes back to the kitchen and washing them by hand. It was pitch dark outside by the time she was done, but she returned to her place at the table, watching the candle burn down as she waited for him.
She knew now, after all these years, that he would always come back.