A/N: Stayed up until 5 AM yesterday because I sat down to write this and just couldn't stop. There goes my sleep schedule! At least we're all in quarantine, so I can fully embrace my nocturnal side :)
A/N 2: Remind me not to post when sleep-deprived! After rereading this chapter I realized I had left a rather important chunk on the cutting board for the last scene. I've fixed it up now, so give it a reread if you like :)
Saturday, 1/23/1999
Harry stood outside the cottage in a vast field of flowers. The mid-afternoon sun illuminated a brilliant kaleidoscope of colors: bright blue, pale pink, gay yellow, and a myriad others. He shut his eyes and inhaled deeply, smelling the scents of gemae molles, vitae pulcherrimae, sacrae amores, musicae risae...all of the flowers he had ever gotten for Hermione. The heady fragrances mixed and metamorphosed into a curious blend of vanilla, parchment, and black tea.
Hermione walked up to him from the cottage, her white dress swishing gently in the breeze. The sun glinted off of her ring, shooting blue and white flecks of light everywhere. Her hair glinted golden-brown in the light, and Harry had no words to describe her but otherworldly. She was from another world, an angel come down from heaven…
"Harry! The guys need you to take a look at something!"
A loud bellow from the back porch interrupted his daydream. He looked up to see a man in a hard-hat and safety goggles beckoning him inside. Harry jogged over to him, careful not to step on the flower saplings in the backyard.
"Marcus, right?"
"Right, boss. Follow me."
Harry stepped through the sliding glass door into the half-finished kitchen. The floor was caked with drywall dust, and half of the area was cordoned off by a tarp. He turned right, following Marcus into the beginnings of a living room.
"So, the bookshelves came in today. We can fix them into the walls no problem, but they're about 6 inches shorter than the ceiling."
Well, that won't do. Hermione said her house had floor-to-ceiling ones.
"Is there any way you could make them taller? Stretch them out, or something?"
"I'm 'fraid it would interfere with the spellwork, boss."
"Hmm…" Harry tapped his chin thoughtfully, examining one of the bookshelves pushed up against the wall. After a moment, he shook his head.
"We'll have to find new ones. Maybe get them custom-made, or something. That's my fault for not reminding you guys about the measurements. Sorry mate."
Marcus shrugged. "S'not a problem, just glad I checked. What's the budget for the new bookshelves, then?"
"Whatever it takes, mate. Just make sure it fits perfectly."
…
Wednesday, 1/27/1999
The Gryffindor Quidditch team touched down after a grueling practice, cold and exhausted. After "barely beating" Hufflepuff 240-10, Ron had been working them to the bone, inventing drill schedules so absurd they would have made even Oliver Wood blush. After earning his boyhood dream of Quidditch Captain, he was determined not to let McGonagall down - much to the detriment of his teammates' sanity.
As the team trudged back up to the castle, Harry jogged up to tap Ginny on the shoulder.
"What?" Even frazzled and tired, the youngest Weasley looked terrifying when annoyed.
Harry furtively glanced in several directions, looking over her shoulder to check that the rest of the team was going on without them.
"Er...do you have a minute?"
"Why do I have the feeling this will take more than a minute?"
Harry glanced around again, before fixing Ginny with a desperate look. She crossed her arms and raised a single eyebrow in question.
He reached into his robes and shoved a thick brochure into her hands. Ginny squinted in the dim light coming from the castle, before gasping and looking up at him with wide eyes.
"Hermione?"
Harry shot another furtive look over her shoulder before nodding. She squealed and tackled him into a hug, knocking the wind out of him. After a moment, she let go, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
"You want help picking one out?"
"No, no. It's just-"
"You already got one?"
"No! No! I just have the design. Andromeda helped. It's going to have sapphires, for her birthstone. It's just...I didn't know rings had sizes!"
Ginny raised an eyebrow again. "Obviously, Harry. Girls come in different sizes too, you know."
Harry sighed and slapped his hand to his forehead.
"Look, I need your help."
Ginny turned up her nose imperiously, glancing at her nails.
Harry sighed and slapped his forehead again. He took a deep breath and deadpanned the magic words.
"Ginny, you were right about me and Hermione getting together, even before we knew, because you are always right about everything. We would all do better to just listen to you."
Ginny quirked up her head, tapping her chin thoughtfully.
"Yes, I suppose you idiots do need my help. You'd never muddle through it otherwise, would you? And then I can't plan your wedding. Very well, if you really need my help…"
"Yes, Ginny, I am totally hopeless without you. Please, guide me, I am only but a fool." Harry deadpanned again in a monotone voice.
Seemingly satisfied, Ginny nodded vigorously and shot Harry a cheshire grin. "Oh, don't you worry Harry. Don't you worry one tic. I'll get her measurements, you'll get the ring, and she'll be none the wiser. You two are getting married if it's the last thing I do!"
Ginny crushed the jeweler's brochure in her fist and skipped off to the castle. Harry shivered - whether from the cold or the manic expression on her face, he wasn't sure. After a moment, she stopped and turned to glare at Harry.
"Oh, and I had better be maid of honor!"
…
Tuesday, 2/2/1998
Mr. and Mrs. Granger,
It was lovely seeing you for dinner last week. I would like to stop by again, on my own, if that's all right. There's an important matter I need to discuss with you, regarding Hermione.
Harry J. Potter
Daniel Granger scowled at the letter his wife had just handed him. After a rather awkward "meet the parents" dinner last weekend with Harry and Hermione, he grudgingly admitted that his daughter was completely smitten with this Potter boy. The boy, for his part, seemed completely devoted to her as well. But that didn't mean Dan had to like that his little girl was growing up, and talking to boys, and he certainly didn't like that she was bringing them home.
"What do you think all this is about?" He grumbled over his morning coffee.
"You know exactly what this is, Daniel."
His wife shot him a knowing smile over her mug of Assam tea. Her eyes betrayed her sympathy for him. Emma knew that her husband would always feel protective of their only daughter. There was a part of him that would look at Hermione and only see the little girl who used to perch on his lap to solve crossword puzzles. In truth, that little girl had long since become a strong, independent young woman. She was so proud of her daughter - they both were - but it was bittersweet to witness that change, and to accept that her baby was all grown up.
Soon, Hermione would be married as well. It was yet another marker of how fast the years had flown by. This would have been hard for Emma to come to grips with, except that Hermione was just so happy. She had never seen her daughter so blissfully happy, and she had nobody but Harry Potter to thank for it. After witnessing that, how could she not approve of him?
Dan's eyes narrowed as he reread the letter. "It can't be! They're only 18!"
"Actually, dear, Hermione is 19."
"But still! That's far too young!"
"We were 18 when we met."
"Well, it's not like I met you and just said, 'right, that's it, I'm going to marry this woman', now is it?"
Emma pinched the bridge of her nose and shot a long-suffering look at the ceiling.
"My mother was right, I should have dated Stephen Edwardson. He would never say something so stupid."
Dan sputtered and started to protest, but she held up a hand to cut him off. Walking up behind her husband's chair, Emma leaned down to give him a hug and propped her head on his shoulder.
"I know you worry for her, Daniel. But she's grown up now. It may feel sudden, but the fact of the matter is that they've known each other since they were 11, and he's been nothing but a good friend to her for all that time.
Hermione is quite sensible, dear; she wouldn't bring home some ruffian from off of the street. She clearly picked a kind and caring young man. After all, he wrote us to come ask for our blessing, didn't he? The least we can do is hear him out."
Sighing heavily, her husband nodded and handed the letter back. "I know...and I don't hate him. She's just so young, you know? Not even out of school, and already thinking of marriage. She's just so young. "
Emma hummed in agreement, kissing the crown of Dan's forehead as she took the letter back. She jotted down a quick affirmative on the back and handed it to the tawny owl on the kitchen windowsill.
"He'll come on Saturday afternoon. This time, try not to murder him with your eyes."
…
Saturday, 2/6/1998
Saturday dawned bright and sunny on the town of Oxford. At 2 PM sharp, Emma opened the door to a rather spiffy-looking Harry Potter. He was wearing the exact same outfit he had worn to dinner the other week: pleated khakis, brown penny loafers, a white button-up shirt, and a navy blazer. No doubt it was Hermione-approved.
"Ma'am, thank you for having me."
"Please, Harry, I already told you to call me Emma. Come in, come in."
She led him to the sitting room, where Dan was trying very hard to appear engrossed in the morning paper. Without looking up, he motioned at the chair across from his seat at the couch.
"Sir, it's good to see you again." Harry stuck out his right hand, which Dan clasped and jerked once.
Emma ushered him to the proffered seat before shooting a glare at her husband. She sat next to Dan on the couch, firmly yanking the paper from his hands and giving him a dangerously sweet smile.
"Honey, why don't you help me with the tea?"
Dan wordlessly poured three mugs of Assam tea and his wife distributed them. Emma decided to ignore his sullen look and turned to Harry.
"So, dear, what did you want to talk to us about?"
Harry shifted nervously under the combined scrutiny of his girlfriends' parents.
"Well, er...I...I really love Hermione, you see..." he trailed off and swigged some tea, only to cough furiously as it went down the wrong airpipe.
Dan raised an eyebrow in question. Emma shot him another dirty look before wordlessly handing Harry a napkin, staring at him intently. He mumbled his thanks before setting the tea down, seemingly deciding not to risk it.
Harry took a deep breath and drew himself up, shaking his head as if internally debating. After a beat, he reached into his coat pocket to hand Emma a small velvet box.
She gasped as she snapped it open. The box contained an elegant gold band with a sparkling princess-cut diamond. Both sides of the large gemstone were flanked by deep blue sapphires.
Dan and Emma looked up from the ring to see Harry sitting on the edge of his seat, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them.
"It's - you see, because - because we would become family, and so - it's - "
Harry paused and shook his head. He sat up straighter and took a deep breath.
"I'm asking for your blessing."
For several long moments, nobody spoke. Harry stared at the couch, too nervous to meet their eyes. Emma was still holding the ring box, unconsciously thumbing the gemstones. Dan had dropped his surly expression, fixing Harry with a curious, piercing stare.
For the first time, Dan spoke up.
"You intend to marry her?"
"Yes."
"Have you two talked about it?"
"We've talked about the future, sir. What we want...it's the same, for both of us."
"A marriage is a lifelong partnership, son. You've talked about the important things? Values, money, kids, careers? You two need to be on the same page, about all of it. Marriage is forever."
"I know, sir. And we have."
Dan turned to the ring in his wife's hands, looking pensive. After a moment, he looked up to give her a soft smile.
"Dear, do you mind if I borrow Harry for a minute? I fancy a walk."
Emma simply nodded and thumbed the ring again. Dan rose and motioned Harry towards the front gate, no doubt taking him to his favorite footpath through the nearby woods.
…
The men returned hours later, near sunset. Dan was grinning ear to ear as he opened the door for Harry, who was sporting a shy smile of his own.
"Emma, did you know Harry's built a whole house out in the countryside, near London? Went from bare earth to a full structure in less than a month. I tell you, it's amazing the things magic can do…"
Harry's cheeks tinged pink as he followed them into the living room. Dan guided Harry to a spot on the couch, before plopping down next to him.
After their lengthy conversation, Dan had warmed up considerably to the young man. He had known Harry had led a difficult life. Hermione had told him and Emma about how he had lost his parents very young, and was the subject of unwanted attention for it. But the true extent of the boy's hardships were staggering. After some prodding, Harry had opened up to the older man about his battles with Voldemort, loss of his godfather, and even hinted at his rough childhood with the Dursleys. Dan was amazed at how such terrible circumstances could have produced such a polite and well-adjusted young man. It was a testament to Harry's character.
Dan felt a newfound kinship and respect for the young man courting his daughter. After their heart-to-heart, he was close to giving his blessing. But he had one last test.
"We won't keep you much longer, Harry. But there is one more thing I wanted to ask about."
Harry tensed a bit. "Yes, sir?"
"How's your godson doing?"
Harry's face split into the first genuine smile they had seen all day. He wordlessly tapped the face his watch, which expanded and opened to reveal a thick pile of loose photos.
"He's doing great! Almost 1 year old, can you believe it? He's starting to walk, still stumbles a bit but usually only needs to hold me for the first few steps. Hold on, I think I have it…" He paused to hand Dan and Emma a chunk of the pictures. The top one depicted a grinning Teddy clutching Harry's finger as he stumbled forward on shaky legs.
"And he's so smart, already knows a bunch of words, I think because Hermione reads to him so much. Loves building things too, he's been getting really creative with his toy sets, and the doctor says..."
Harry was rapidly babbling now, shoving small piles of pictures into Emma and Dan's hands as he went along. Emma was trying to follow him, but Dan tuned it out, distracted by the stack of photos in his hand. He thumbed through a few of them out of curiosity.
Harry and Hermione, eating dinner at a small wooden table with Teddy perched on her lap. Harry made a silly face to distract the baby as Hermione snuck a bit of food into his mouth.
Hermione in a wicker rocking chair, reading a picture book to Teddy. Harry sat at her feet, smiling as he listened with his eyes closed.
Harry and Teddy lying prone on a carpet, pushing plastic cars past one another. Hermione dropped into the frame to kiss the baby's forehead, then Harry's.
Harry and Hermione, sitting side by side on a recliner with a sleeping Teddy in their laps. Hermione reached down to straighten the boy's bangs while Harry observed her, completely enchanted. He dropped a kiss onto her brow. She smiled softly and leaned into his side as they both closed their eyes.
Dan paused. He looked up to see Harry animatedly showing his wife another photo of Hermione and Teddy. He was still beaming widely, eyes sparkling with joy.
He walked past Harry to the mantle. Dan glanced through several family photos before he found what he was looking for. It was a small photo in a simple black frame, taken when Hermione had been about a year old.
Dan and Emma, sitting side by side on a loveseat with baby Hermione sleeping in their laps. Emma stroked the girl's hair while Dan faced her, dropping a kiss onto her brow. She was smiling softly and tucked into his side. Both of them had their eyes closed.
Dan cradled the old picture of his family, lost in memory.
The fluorescent ceiling lights hummed over the small hospital room. Emma looked absolutely exhausted after 14 hours of labor. Her bushy brown hair fanned out on the bed linens and she slumped bonelessly against the pillows. She had never been more beautiful.
His wife smiled beatifically at the sleeping baby in her lap, before handing his daughter to him for the first time.
Hermione was impossibly small. Even swaddled in her thick pink blanket, she did not span the length of his forearm. Dan cradled her head in the crook of his elbow and reached out with his pinky to brush her palm. Suddenly, she clutched his finger in her tiny hand.
Dan felt a dizzying vertigo hit him all at once. A fiery warmth rushed through him, throbbing in lockstep with his pulse. He felt his world blur and spin before suddenly snapping back into place, irreversibly changed. It felt like his heart had climbed out of his chest, implanted permanently into the baby girl in his arms.
Dan glanced down again at the old picture. God, he and Emma looked so young. How could they possibly have been so young, barely more than kids themselves and yet already parents? They had been but a few years older than Harry and Hermione were now.
He turned to the other photo of his daughter, taken 18 years later. She was the spitting image of her mother now. Even Dan had to strain to see the differences between his daughter from the present and his wife from the past.
He moved to compare himself and Harry. There were no superficial similarities between them. Yet in their expressions he saw an undeniable resemblance. He saw it in the way Harry cradled Hermione and Teddy, as though he wanted to pull them away from the world and fold them into himself. The way he could not tear his eyes from her as she gently adjusted the baby's hair. The way he instinctively kissed her brow, pouring a million unspoken words into the simple gesture. It was as if he was not holding his girlfriend and godson in his arms, but rather his wife and son.
Because he was.
The realization hit Dan like a wave, flooding his chest with a heady warmth as the truth settled deep into his bones.
In his heart, Harry was already a husband and father to them. That was why his picture bore such a strong resemblance to Dan's. Harry was just another young husband and father, blissfully happy as he held his entire world in his arms.
Dan walked over to Emma, handing her the twin photos. She glanced down for a moment, before looking up at him with unshed tears in her eyes. After 22 years of marriage, he didn't need words to understand her question.
You're sure?
He smiled and reached out his hand for the ring box, still in her possession.
I am.
He turned to face Harry, who was fishing for another picture. The young man trailed off as Dan took hold of his hand, firmly planting the ring box in his palm. His eyes went wide with nervousness and hope.
Dan pulled Emma to his side, dropping a kiss onto her brow. With his pinky, he traced the image of baby Hermione from all those years ago. He could still feel her tiny hand clutching his finger.
"You have our blessing."