Mother's Day

Summary: Just a short one shot in honour of Mother's Day, which was actually yesterday here in the UK. Harry pays his mother a visit on Mother's Day.

Warnings: A little sad. Canon(ish.)

He sniffed as he made his way along the street. It was just his luck to get a case of the sniffles just as the weather was beginning to warm up as the days of March trundled on towards a spring, which was a little late in coming this year.

While the snowdrops had been out in full force just a month ago, the display of daffodils that usually followed on all over the country had yet to happen. Oh, the young stalks and leaves could be seen, with around half of them being topped with a large, round, green flower bud, but hardly any of them were displaying their yellow flowers.

He didn't like that much. Daffodils were supposed to be out by now. Wasn't that what they always said? Daffodils for Mother's Day. That's what they said.

A chill wind blew through the street, eliciting a shiver from him and prompting him to draw his cloak more tightly around himself.

As he approached the old war memorial in the centre of the village it changed shape, becoming a statue of three people; a handsome, bespectacled man, a beautiful young woman and their infant son.

He was one of only a few thousand people in the country who could see that statue, but unlike just about every other, it always pained him to look at it, for it was a reminder of what he had lost, a tease of what he had missed out on.

The gate of wrought iron bars squeaked as he opened it. Evidently the people who had gone through recently to touch up the black paint job and cover the rust hadn't brought any oil with them to fix the gate.

About halfway across the graveyard he found what he was looking for. A headstone of white marble, engraved with two names, their respective dates of birth and their dates of death.

James Potter, born 27 March 1960, died 31 October 1981

Lily Potter, born 30 January 1960, died 31 October 1981

Beneath the names and dates there was engraved a quote, which read;

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

A frown appeared on his face. He did not like that quote and never had. But then, he hadn't been the one to choose it. Despite the fact that he was their son, he had been only an infant at the time of their deaths, barely fifteen months old. No, that quote was Albus Dumbledore's doing, and he didn't like it.

"I really should change that…" he muttered.

Harry Potter knelt down beside the grave of his parents and drew his wand. From the small flower pot which stood at the base of the headstone there grew fifteen daffodils, each one producing a large bud which opened up in a spectacular display of yellow.

"There you go, mum," he said. "Daffodils for Mother's Day. One for every month that I knew you."

A chilly breeze blew again, rustling through the bare branches of the old oak tree which towered over the graveyard.

Sitting now by the grave, Harry began a one sided conversation.

"James starts at Hogwarts in September. Once he and his cousin Fred enter get there the castle won't know what's hit it. There hasn't been a pair of pranksters like them within those walls since the Weasley twins made their dramatic exit during my fifth year. I think it'll be for the best if I make sure that the Marauders' Map and the Invisibility Cloak are well hidden for the next few months. McGonagall says that next year will be her last a Hogwarts and I don't want James and Fred giving her too much trouble."

A little Pied Wagtail fluttered down from the branches of the old oak and began flitting its beak through the grass in the search for small insects. As Harry watched, it succeeded in snatching up a small black beetle.

"Al had a fight with Rose over a book. It's not like them to argue; usually they're the best of friends. I've tried talking to him but he can be as stubborn as his mother when he wants to be. I hope they make up soon. Every time our two families get together I keep seeing her looking over at him like she hopes he'll talk to her. Her mother used to give me that same look when we fell out over that broomstick Sirius sent me back in my third year. It's horrible.

"Al and Rose really are like Hermione and me. I still need Hermione in my life and Al needs Rose in his. He's just being stubborn.

The gate at the end of the graveyard squeaked as it was opened and clanged as it was shut. Harry didn't look over to see who it was.

"Lily's growing up fast. Too fast. One minute she was all about teddy bears and dolls, now she's fixated on love, romance and trying to work out ways to get people together. She's only seven! Maybe I should try and push her a little more towards Hugo than Dominique and Roxanne. I mean, they got wind that Charlie had a one night stand with widow Malfoy and suddenly those three are planning what they'll wear to the wedding! It's ridiculous. Or maybe I'm the one being ridiculous. Fleur and Angelina seem to think so. They say it's all just a bit of fun, and Ginny agrees. Doesn't matter really, Charlie will never be one to settle down. Not when there's Dragons out there to tame. Could be kinda funny if he did shack up with Narcissa though; I'd be Draco's uncle. Ha!"

He fell silent and leaned against the headstone. On top of the wall on the opposite side of the graveyard a cat was walking along before stopping to scratch itself behind the ear. Idly, Harry wondered if it was in any way related to the cat that his parents had owned when they were alive. He knew that they had owned one, but no one ever mentioned what had happened to it the night his parents were murdered.

It was hardly a pressing question, rather just one of those thoughts that lifted its head from time to time, usually when he was on the cusp of falling asleep.

"Ginny got promoted again," he continued. "She's now Senior Quidditch Correspondent with The Daily Prophet."

He sighed before carrying on "Sometimes I wish she'd stop working there. Is that selfish? I mean, I'm very proud of her for standing up to her mother and going back to work like she always wanted to, but did it have to be The Daily Prophet? She knows the history I have with the Prophet and they've hardly changed since my days at Hogwarts. I mean, for Merlin's sake, they've still got Rita Skeeter on the payroll! And now that they've got Ginny working for them the editors seem to think it's alright to floo call or send owls to my home and office at least three times a day in an attempt to get a quote on my opinion on the latest news. And it's not always the big news either. Just last week that moron Barnabus Cuffe floo called at one in the morning to ask me what I thought of the Three Broomsticks taking their Lancashire hotpot off the menu.

"Susan's fuming at work. Yesterday she told their Security Editor, that Amorin bloke that if she caught him pestering me at work again she'd arrest him for interfering with official Auror business. I guess I'll have to wait and see if the threat works. If it doesn't, hopefully Susan will follow through with her threat.

"I've tried talking to Ginny but she just shrugs and says it's just one of those downsides that we have to deal with…"

He broke off. The bell in the tower of the nearby church was ringing. It was 10 am.

Harry sighed heavily before turning to look at the gravestone. "Looks like I'm gonna have to go mum. I'm supposed to be meeting Ginny at The Burrow within the next few minutes. Apparently she, Hermione, Fleur, Angelina and Audrey are going to cook a big roast dinner for everyone and give Molly the morning off."

He snorted before adding "As if Molly Weasley would let any of them into her kitchen unsupervised!"

Getting to his feet, he patted the top of the gravestone and said "See you later," before turning and heading off towards the gate.

Hearing a sob he looked over and saw Hannah Longbottom, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief while standing next to the grave of her mother, Sarah Abbott, who had been murdered by Death Eaters during the second war against Voldemort.

Harry began to make his way over and Hannah, sensing his presence, looked up at him and gave him a watery smile.

Harry conjured a single red rose and placed it on top of Sarah Abbott's grave before wrapping Hannah in a hug. The two of them had never been particularly close at school, but had developed a bond a few years ago when they had discovered that Sarah Abbott and Harry's mother had been friends at school and that Sarah had been Harry's godmother.

While Harry sort of knew why he had not been placed with Hannah's family following the deaths of his parents, neither he nor Hannah knew why her mother had never made any effort to contact him once he was at Hogwarts, nor why she had not encouraged Hannah to seek him out.

Sadly, with Sarah dead, her husband out of the picture and everyone else involved in the events that led up to that fateful Halloween night so many years ago either dead or too much in the dark to know enough to answer their questions, it was likely that they would never know.

All Harry knew was that this graveyard now contained two mothers whom he had never known – the one who was taken from him and the one that was denied to him.

"I wish you could have known her, Harry…"

"So do I…"

They were silent for a few minutes before Harry asked "How's Alice doing?"

"She's getting better slowly." replied Hannah, though that information was hardly new. Alice Longbottom, Hannah's mother-in-law, had been "getting better slowly" for the last seventeen years.

"Neville's cooking up something for tonight to celebrate," added Hannah as they turned away from Sarah's grave and made for the gate. "You should swing by. I'm sure Alice would love to see you again."

"I'll be round," replied Harry before adding "Assuming I can escape Molly, of course."

Hannah chuckled and replied "Shall I assume that if you're not there by nine that you aren't coming?"

"Probably a good bet," replied Harry. "Maybe I'll have words with George about putting a drop of vodka into Molly's tea. That'll knock her out for a couple of hours."

Hannah shook her head before bidding Harry goodbye and disapparating to the Leaky Cauldron in London, which she was the Landlady of.

With an evening trip to see the only surviving friend of his mother that he knew of planned, Harry disapparated off to The Burrow with a smile on his face.

Harry's upbringing had been far from ideal, as had Hannah's, and her husband, Neville's. But that was all in the past now. They just had to stand together and live for the here and now, rather than focus on what might have been…

And that's this one done! Thanks for reading.

Oh, and in case you didn't notice already, the previous story in this collection "Disciplinary Action" now contains an Omake written by elisa-didlittle. Be sure to check it out!