A/N: Here's another long chapter, sorry for the long wait.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. :)

Chapter 11: Weddings and First Times

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His memory was just as fresh as day.

James Potter hung idly around the halls of his home, looking at the photographs lined up in front of him. There were pictures of Harry, Lilly, and only a few of Penelope. She didn't mind. She understood, sometimes, at least. His eyes fell on his favorite picture of his son, he had his head in a pail, laughing as he held a melted chocolate bar, chocolate dripped from his small fist to his clothes, and landing into the burning sand. His green eyes were shining into the camera. His cheeks were flushed, and his 5 year old son was in the swimming trunks that James had given to him on his birthday. He remembered the morning with joy, Harry was curious to see what was inside the pail and as he held it high in the air to have a look, the sand fell all over him.

"Daddy! I feel like the Sandman now! Rooar!" Little Harry cried, raising his arms up in the air. "Dad! Dad! Look at me! I'M THE SANDMAN! Dad! Get off the phone! Look! I'm the sandman!"

James chuckled to himself. That line still got him. He loved the times where his baby boy was so innocent, loving, persistent and well... A kid. Although it was unfortunate that he had got so caught up in his work that it took him longer than everyone else to notice that Harry was no longer into action figures, or walky talkies or helicopters at the age of eleven. He was having his first crush on their neighbor, Harry always watched her play with her dog through his bedroom window. Like father like son. James told himself, Just like me and Lily.

It was one of his first times in a private school, too. James had finally gained enough money to send him there. Harry came home in his maroon uniform, his backpack slung over his shoulder, drenched in mud and bits of leaves stuck in his hair, his lunch always gone. James had guessed that his son was just a plain, energetic boy who liked to play near the woods. He had no clue whatsoever that he was being bullied daily. Hence the lost lunch, his appearance, and his malnutrition. His son had a few friends, and usually hung out with his old pal Neville Longbottom and on very rare occasions, he went out to play with Ron Weasley, who was a prince.

And then shortly after that, Sirius died. And it tore apart Harry's poor soul, traumatized him as well, he didn't sleep or eat or talk for days. Sirius was Harry's role model, he was an excellent comedian, he did interesting and odd jobs he loved. He was always moving and traveling. Paris one week, Germany the next. He always came home bringing whatever Harry wanted, and spoiled him like he was his own son. They were close. Sometimes James left Harry in Sirius' care. More often than necessary, he had to admit.

James grieved for his best friend, and he was never quite been the same. He spent his nights at bars, expecting, and waiting for his messy haired friend to come in and announce some plan or adventure that would set sail that night. But his friend was never there, and at one incident, James had forgotten that Lily would come home from work late, and there would be no one to watch over Harry 5pm onwards. But he went to the bar, somehow expecting, more like waiting for his comrade to intervene his sob fest and cheer him up.

Lily was obviously angered at her husband for leaving their twelve year old son at home. But Harry was a responsible, decent child. And he would've known better. James had his full trust in him. At times that he would screw up, he somehow expected Harry to take charge in behalf of his old man.

"Drinking is not the solution, James." Lily scolded him, and he felt his eyes burn with fresh tears. He didn't know what came over him, he couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or just himself. He hugged his wife tightly, and started to sob. Lily smiled at him reassuringly, and her slender fingers ran up and down his back, soothing him. Soon, she was crying, too, for Sirius. And not long after that, James felt a pair of arms engulf them too.

"I didn't want him to go." Harry cried, sniffing.

"I know, dear. But he's at a better place now." Lily soothed.

"I know." He replied.

And at that moment, he was at awe. He idolized his son. He was stronger than he ever hoped to be.

The family lived happily, and healed from the loss of their friend, and only six years after that, his Lily was taken away from him. James eyes fell on the picture of him and his wife, they were at Remus' house for Christmas. Lily's hair was messy, and blowing in the wind, her green eyes shining. She was absolutely beautiful. She was wearing the old beige coat she was always wearing the same day they met. It was a lucky charm, she told him.

He remembered the moment, the exact moment when Lily died, the family died as well. He and Harry stopped talking, mostly due to the fact that James had divulged himself too much in work to ever care anymore. That was mistake number one. Mistake number two was forcing his son to get married at the tender age of 17, or at least be a candidate for marriage—he was always a stubborn boy, who took after his father, no doubt. Mistake number three was disowning him, mistake number four was never caring about what Harry said of Penelope, and marrying only a few years after Lily's death.

He was a man of mistakes, and it didn't take him long to realize that.

James glanced at the green telephone sitting on the table. A call wouldn't hurt.

There were a few number of rings, and then he heaved a sigh of relief as he heard his son answer.

"Oh. Hey dad, what do you want?"

He seemed appalled, he vividly remembered insulting his son, and disowning him. A rush of guilt swept through him, making his eyes water. He didn't want to be that man he didn't know. He wanted to be James. Just James.

"Hey, son."

---

"Unbelievable." Draco sighed, his jaw dropped, and eyes wide. "He actually said that? When?"

"Yes, Draco, three days ago. It was... different." Harry confessed. "I'm sorry I told you only now, things were just hectic." He sat down on his couch, lifting his legs and letting them rest on the coffee table. He flipped on the television, and became interested in the James Bond movie.

"Bloody hell it was! He's been mistreating you since... you know, and I don't get what he's doing right now. Maybe he's trying to get you to do something. And by the way, it's alright."

"Maybe. He told me that he'd not be home for a week. It's weird, really. I never knew that he'd gone to Paris for three months last summer. Remus told me. I didn't even know that he was shagging Penelope until I received the invitation to their wedding." Harry sighed, and brushed a piece of foam from his shirt.

"You're becoming a tad bit harsh, but I guess that would be my reaction too, if my father was doing the same thing. I guess we should see where this is going." Draco suggested.

"How is Remus?" He asked, hoping that the treatment improved.

"He's okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I am."

"Good." He replied, they said good-bye and then he hung up the phone. He was in his trailer, at eleven o'clock at night time. Although he loved acting, and every second of it, a part of him wished to be home, laying around and watching Hermione read her books from a distance, or get so into Notting Hill that she wouldn't notice anyone enter her room. He had asked her what was the deal with Notting Hill, and she smiled up at him, "It reminds me of someone, someone I know." That was all she said.

He didn't even take the time to watch that movie, because he knew that that 'someone' was out there. That 'someone' would always be out there. And it pained him to even consider the thought. It pained him to even think of all the possibilities. He closed his eyes for a second, and then he heard knocking.

Harry stood feebly, his legs were aching from the exercise he had for an hour thrice a day. He took a peek through the curtain window, and it was Fleur. He smiled at her, and then opened his door.

"There's a man looking for you outside." She told him. "He seemed... lost, and it's a miracle that he was allowed to be brought into the set."

"And then?"

"But when I saw him, and I suddenly knew why he was brought in... it's like, an unmistakable resemblance."

"Who is it? What are you talking about?" He was completely confused. Who in the hell was Fleur talking about?

"What I'm saying is," she took in a deep breath, making Harry's heart beat wildly in anticipation. "Your father's here."

His initial reaction was to smile at her, thank her, and hug her. But after letting the thought of is father visiting him on set, his father, visiting him, his jaw dropped and his brows furrowed in worry... or was it irritation? Harry walked past Fleur praying silently to himself that she forgive him for being so rude. He sucked in another gasp of air and turned left, into the lounge where the receptionist was. A man in his 50s stood next to a sign that said 'Filming on-going, please take the necessary precautions', wearing a maroon sweater and khaki pants, his unruly mop of grayish hair sticking out. His glasses were gold rimmed, and he stole glances at his watch, looking for his son. "Hi." His father called, smiling.

"I don't mean to be rude, father," Harry took a deep breath, his emerald eyes flickering to his father's. "But, what are you doing here?"

"I decided to visit you. If that's alright, I've always wondered what it was like... working here. If what you're doing is classified under that category." James told him, and started walking towards the set, where Viktor was doing a scene in a train.

"Of course it's work dad, it's not like this is classified under the oh I don't know, maybe I just spend months and months getting no sleep, memorizing scripts, being constantly watched and criticized by the media and having no privacy at all just for fun." His father stared at him.

"Don't you love your job?" He asked.

"I love my job, but sometimes the money's more important than that!" He exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air in exhaustion. He was suddenly grateful that they were in a deserted area of the set, since everyone rushed to the snack bar. "It's not like you're working your arse off to pay for Remus' medical bills."

"Of course you're working your arse off," James retorted, he was suddenly calm, looking at his son as if he was being immature. Well, at times, he actually was a tad bit childish. "Considering that you quit your last movie because of such pathetic reasons."

"Oh—so this is where we're going! You came here to criticize me, didn't you? Didn't you?" Harry asked, his voice rising. He could feel his throat burn—he'd done enough shouting, his voice was becoming hoarse.

James looked down at his polished shoes, guilt twisting his insides, his hazel eyes flickering for his son's angered expression to the brown paper bag he was holding. It took him a while to realize that it was still in his hand. He smiled sheepishly at his son.

"You think this is so funny?" Harry asked, irritated. "You think this is so funny? Well—let's all just laugh at Harry Potter. Since he's such a pathetic son, shall we?"

No response, his father was just smiling. After a few minutes, James spoke, "Want some dinner?" He asked and held up the paper bag. "I got Chinese food." After saying this, he watched his son eye him closely.

"I don't give a damn about—wait, you don't have a can of soda there, do you? I've been dying for something unhealthy to drink. The secretary's going all mad about it." Harry smiled at his father subtly. Finally seeing him for the first time in many, many, many years.

---

Her cone of chocolate ice cream is melting.

Drops of sticky chocolate ran down her fingers, landing on her baby blue pajamas. A lady, who was sitting in an empty wing in her friend's mansion, had her hair all tied up, a mud mask on her face, and eating her ice cream cone that started melting, groaned in annoyance. "Bullocks." She muttered, grabbing a piece of tissue and dabbing in on her fourth ice cream stain today.

Hermione was too preoccupied with nothing, and it was completely upsetting to know that she would spend her days walking endlessly in the house in her pajamas and fluffy pink slippers holding only a book and a pillow. Ginny and Draco asked her what she was doing and she gave them a stern look, "I'm busy with something," She told them, and continued on her day just laying about and watching reruns of "I Love Lucy."

"Grief just got into her, she'll be up and about in no time." Ginny told Draco, while they were sprawled across the couch in the living room.

"I'd rather keep her from being up and about, if you ask me. She'll already up and about—and a bit too much, I might add! Especially when she 'accidentally' visits our room at night!" Draco ranted, sitting up. Ginny kneeled behind him, and wrapped her slender arms around his neck, her lips pressing against his pale blond hair.

"Allow me to rephrase the sentence—she'll be tired and unconscious in no time." She said with sarcasm. He almost choked on the glass of water he was drinking and stared at her.

"That's absurd! That's... that's... completely what I wasn't expecting, dearest." He confessed.

"Then what did you expect me to say?" She started at his grayish blue eyes, and for a minute she was lost in them. She recovered easily, and her eyes flickered from the silver ring on her finger to his stare. She raised her eyebrow at him. "So you expected me to say...'Oh Draco honey, I'll just lock the door next time so Hermione won't enter by accident'?" She mimicked, and playfully slapped his shoulder.

"Well..." Draco began, smiling mischievously at her, and he grabbed her by the waist from behind and planted a passionate kiss on her lips. Ginny let out a small moan, and he helped her position her on his lap. And continued planting kisses all over her face, Ginny smiled, and soon found herself being kissed on the teeth by accident.

"Draco, Draco, Draco." She giggled, and broke it off. "Not now." She told him, and laughed as she saw the look on his face.

"Ew, get a room, guys." Hermione commented, walking past them.

---

"I've only known so little about you, son, and sometimes it comes back to haunt me." James told him, taking another sip of tea. Harry only nodded, and he put his mug of coffee to his lips to have a drink. It took him a while to refrain from shouting at him.

"So I decided that we have some father-son bonding. So," He began, prompting himself excitedly on the couch. "Who was your first?" Harry spit out his coffee, while he was drinking and it disgustingly went back into his cup. He coughed for a moment, in shock and stared at his father.

"Excuse me?" He asked, setting the mug down on the table.

"I asked," James took a deep breath, "Who was your first?"

"My first... what, exactly?" Harry could feel his palms sweating, he never imagined this conversation in his life. Especially with his father, who had the attention span of a teaspoon at one point.

"You know... your first."

"I—uhm, do you really, really erm, want to know? Because for a brief moment, I thought that you were asking for the name of the woman I lost my virginity to. Please tell me I'm wrong." Please, tell me I'm fucking wrong.

"Hmm," James rubbed his chin to think, Harry knew that there was something going on in his mind. "So there was a woman."

Harry laid back into the sofa landing with a soft 'thud', rolling his eyes. He prompted himself for what was about to happen. They were stuck in a staring game, and sadly his father was winning. He lifted his hands into the air, a gesture of his defeat and sighed, "Well, yes. There was a woman, Laura McKenzie, I was fifteen."

James let out a low whistle, and for a moment Harry couldn't believe he would be sharing this to anyone. "That explains a lot." His father commented. After a pregnant pause, he turned to look at Harry. "So? How was it like?"

He snorted, and folded his arms over his chest. "What makes you think that I would tell you that?" Harry for one, knew that the night he lost his virginity was all too embarrassing, he was only but a teenager who had a few cups of beer, and the next thing he knew he was on top of one of the most popular and experienced girls he had known in school, fumbling like a uncoordinated elephant. It ended up that Harry became too nervous to actually move, and terrible at whatever he did, and Laura well, too drunk to even make a comment, or she was enjoying it, the question would remain sadly unanswered, to Harry's dismay.

Well, no one had to know about that.

"A man can try..." James sighed.

"Keep trying then."

"How about Cho?" His father suggested, rather liking his son's discomfort.

Harry's cheeks flushed bright pink, and shifted rather uncomfortably in his seat. Cho was certainly more of a... physical person, there was no denying it, and he was rather grateful that because of her, he improved a bit, he gained more confidence. They were the kind of couple everyone would shout 'Get a room' at not because they were joking or for the sake of fun, they really wanted the couple to get a room, which, by the end of the night, they did. Their nights compromised of the same pattern, more or less, and the media could not stop loving their unintentional Public Display of Affection—if there were such a thing—because sometimes, they would get too caught up in the moment to ever notice. They looked liked the kind of couples that had such an appetite for each other, imagine the shock when the fans found out of their frequent fighting.

The silence between them grew thick, and Harry found himself staring at his hands, and suddenly missing Cho's bouncy and energetic behavior that would light up the room. And suddenly his thoughts shifted to Hermione, and he imagined the way she'd be giving witty remarks or laughing at his stupidity and embarrassment.

"Keep trying, dad."

"Harry, can I visit Remus? I have a few days off anyway. It's only right for a father to check on his friend."

---

"Do you need help with luggage, Mr. Potter?" Draco offered. James shook his head, saying that he could handle it. Harry's house started to look like a boarding house, with the number of people inside. Draco shot a not-so-friendly glance at his friend, wondering what on earth they were doing at the wee hours of the morning. He could have at least called, but after all, this was Harry's house.

Everyone settled down, and went to bed, deciding that they should all talk in the morning—except for Harry, that is, after making a few phone calls, he managed to take a few days off.

Hermione slept soundly through the night, and morning arrived faster than expected. Sun peered through her blinds and outlined her body, its rays wrapping its mixture of yellow and orange around her. Her brown hair messily sprawled across the pillow. To her disappointment, she woke up to her stomach's loud grumbling, since she pigged out on ice cream last night. She groaned heavily when she sat up from her bed, just another day for Hermione Granger, probably the second most boring person on earth—the first being Percy Weasley, who bored her to death with his stories on being such a great leader. She sat up, thinking of taking a shower after sneaking a few pieces of toast, bacon, eggs and orange juice into her room—besides, Draco and Ginny aren't usually awake at this time.

She ran her hands over her pink silk pajamas, smoothing out the creases and headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth. After brushing, she tiptoed all her way to the kitchen, and got a few pieces of ready-made eggs, bacon and toast from the kitchen. While passing through the dining room, her eyes half-closed, she heard something.

"Why, hello. I didn't know that you were a 'pink' girl." Someone greeted from behind her. Hermione froze.

Not today, not today. She told herself, her feet suddenly super-glued to the ground. She turned around cautiously, and suddenly there were six people looking up at her, one of whom she didn't recognize, he didn't bother looking up from the newspaper, he looked a lot like Harry, and it gave her the goosebumps. Harry was beaming at her, and she felt her cheeks flush—with embarrassment.

"Holy shit, be right back." She muttered, and without looking back, she ran upstairs to take a shower. After her shower, she decided to eat her breakfast in her room, after donning her red turtleneck and beige shorts. She put on her flip-flops and went downstairs, after practically shoving her food down her throat in hurry. By the time she arrived, everyone was enjoying breakfast, and Tonks was just in a middle of telling a story, probably a joke, since everyone was clutching to their stomachs in stifled laughter, except for the man that looked like Harry. She decided to name him 'Harry two'.

"I didn't know you walk in your sleep." Harry retorted, as she sat on the chair across him. She was amazingly happy to see that arrogant face again, and punch the living daylights out of him, but she wouldn't let him know that.

"Good morning to you, too." She replied, rolling her eyes. Harry pushed his untouched plate towards her. "You should eat more, you've lost weight."

"But she just ate a tub of ice cream last night and—" Ginny whined, but Draco shot her a warning glance, and she stopped.

Hermione smiled at Harry, "No, thanks, I already ate." And unintentionally stole another glance at 'Harry two', the real Harry seemed to notice this.

"Dad, meet Casey Barrett," He introduced, forgetting his manners, "Casey, meet Dad."

James stared at her, she looked exactly like someone he knew, but he couldn't quite pinpoint on who it was, but she did look like someone he knew. It was at the tip of his tongue. "James Potter." He introduced, smiling.

"Pleasure." She smiled back, and shook his hand.

"So, erm, I didn't expect you to be home so early. You should've called." She told Harry. He was smiling giddily, like a child who had an overdose of sugar—but coffee was the equivalent of sugar in his world.

"I just wanted to surprise you." He replied.

She nodded, "Well—you didn't. Ha! Take that."

"I did."

"No you didn't." She lied, sticking her tongue out.

"I did!" He replied, "Well—who was all 'holy shit, be right back.' Then? huh?"

"I—uh—Fine." She huffed, "I confess—" Harry leaned in, expecting her to submit to defeat. "Pink really is my color." She told him, he stuck his tongue out and scrunched his face, disgusted. His expression made her laugh, and she started bursting into giggles, forgetting that there were 5 people around them watching their conversation. Harry started chuckling too.

"God, I've missed you." He remarked, still laughing.

Hermione pretended to not hear that, but she did.

Yes—she did.

Breakfast had passed peacefully after that conversation, except for the unsettling fact that James, Harry's father kept on staring at Hermione, and she found him rather familiar as well—maybe she just bumped into him at a department store or something...

Hermione was swirling her glass of orange juice, and she felt somebody kick her in the shin.

"What the—ouch, Harry, that was my foot!" She cried, wincing.

"Huh—what? What was that, Casey?" He asked, looking up from the script in his hands.

"That was my foot!" She hissed.

"I didn't do anything to your foot—"

"Well who was that—"

Draco kicked her in the shin once more to get her attention, but she continued bickering with Harry. Everyone started rolling their eyes again. "Harry, just stop fooling around! Just come out and say that you kicked me!" Hermione snarled.

"Why are we even discussing this? It's just a simple matter and—"

"But you kicked me, you're being immature again." She whined.

"Casey." Draco called, nudging her once again on the shin. He saw her wince again, and she turned to him, smiling sweetly.

"If you could just wait a moment, Draco," She said through her gritted teeth. "It would be hard to listen to you because Harry here, won't stop kicking me." She snarled, shooting a glance at Harry. After their whole 'I've missed you so much I just want to tear your head off' conversation she and Harry had a few minutes ago, they started to bicker over everything 'Making up for lost time' Ginny had whispered into his ear. But he was sure that before he left, he had to make sure that Hermione knew of their engagement.

"For the last time, I did not kick you!" Harry told her.

"Casey—now." Draco ordered, grabbing her by the wrist, he dragged her off to the kitchen. "Ow, ow, ow hey—watch it!" She cried, well, she being the accident prone one, she tripped on a few things...

He stopped, and when Draco turned around, and saw her face, he felt excited. He started bouncing on the balls of his feet, a lopsided grin spread across his pale face and amusement dancing in his grayish blue eyes.

"Hermione, Ginny and I just got married!" He announced happily, and his sudden burst of emotion he had been hiding for so long finally let out, and he watched his best friends' face for 17 years light up, and a goofy smile spread across her face. She felt her legs running, and she saw Ginny who was standing next to Harry, and she flung her arms around her, Hermione's vision slightly distorted by red. "Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my goodness!" She cried, clinging on to her. "I'm so happy for you two! This is the best news I've heard in ages!"

Ginny always knew that Hermione had the tendency to be emotional, and that was what she was thankful for—she hadn't the chance to celebrate with Harry sulking around. Her eyes brimmed with fresh tears. "Thank you." She choked out.

Harry sent apologetic glances towards his father, Remus and Tonks. "Uhm, sorry about that. It's not usually this loud." He reasoned. The girls started talking happily and jumping and he pressed his palms to his ears in irritation. After a few seconds, he brought his hands to his sides.

"It is, actually." Remus said wittily, turning to James. "The house is this noisy with their bickering, Harry and Casey keep on fighting over the silliest things." James chuckled slightly, "Too right you are, friend."

"Would you guys fancy a game of battleship upstairs?" Tonks piped in, smiling childishly. James shot Remus a look, "She's been into it for weeks, now." Remus replied and got up from his chair, James followed suit.

Hermione and Ginny were still chattering excitedly about the wedding, about how they would want it to be extravagant and beautiful, how they wanted it to happen in a large cathedral, and then rent out 3 floors of the best hotel around for their guests. Harry walked slowly towards Draco, his hands inside his pockets.

"No offense," He began, gesturing towards the two girls. "But they're going to spend all your money." Harry remarked, and smiled. It felt good to actually see Hermione smile.

"Casey is different." Draco said, as he saw Harry staring at a certain brown haired woman. Harry looked back, and smiled softly. "Yeah, she is."

"I told her I was getting married, and all of a sudden she runs of to hug Ginny." He frowned, and Harry laughed loudly.

"She's very pretty when she smiles." Draco observed.

"Yeah, she is." Harry agreed.

As Ginny's and Hermione's voices echoed in the air, Harry felt uncomfortable and ashamed for not being as excited he was supposed to be when he had heard the news. He looked up, and it hit him—Ginny and Draco were going to get married. Married! It was about time, he had to admit. He remembered the first time they met—he was there. It was when Ginny was an intern—just like Casey was only a few months ago—and looked dumbfounded and nervous as she saw a tall, blond man, with the most amazing eyes she had ever seen. They got together after a few months, and now, after being so in love for two years, they were going to the next step.

Harry imagined himself in Draco's shoes, he imagined himself in a tuxedo, his hands all clammy as his bride was walking down the aisle. He imagined photographers, taking pictures of every angle, turning the scene into a piece of art to be hung on a gallery. He imagined finally being eternally bonded to his soon-to-be wife.

He imagined that Remus would be there, still well and healthy, Tonks and her pink hair sticking out, his father looking up proudly. He imagined that Draco would make the best 'best man speech' he had ever heard. He imagined Ginny to be waiting for the bride, watching in awe grinning lopsidedly at him. He grinned back. There would be classical music playing in the background, his bride's dainty steps and beautiful smile would capture everyone's heart. He imagined almost crying tears of joy when his bride would say her vows. And he imagined himself, the Harry Potter, stuttering like a boy, nervous and too excited to speak. He imagined that when he would speak the world's most cliché things into her ear while inside the limo towards the reception.

Harry shook his head. Ridding his thoughts, that would be a long time from now, and who knows who his bride would be? Right now mattered.

The brown haired woman smiling and laughing right in front of him mattered.

---

A/N: Those who must be redeemed will be redeemed, cheers. :) Please review, you all know how much that means to me,