Disclaimer: Nothing's changed, Harry and Pansy are still the property of J. K. Rowling. Anthony, Sydney, Audra, Stephanie, Brittany, Holly, James, any other bar or hotel staff are my own creations. All other people, places, or things, are Ms. Rowling's moneymakers.
A/N: I did not really want to post this today after this morning's news of Alan Rickman's passing. But the more I proof-read this chapter, the more I realized that he would have wanted a story of love, family, and of course, Lily's love. Rest in peace, you dear, dear man. You have touched many lives over your years of artistry and you are, and will be, missed tremendously.
Harry and Pansy didn't notice when Kirsten got up and walked into another room, speaking quietly with the house elf. This was one of those moments they had started to suspect were caused by their bond, but was now confirmed by Lily's message for them. Pansy could feel Harry's mixed emotions at seeing his mother's face and hearing her voice. She stroked his back gently as he sobbed on her shoulder. Her own tears were more gentle falling. Something inside her that still was concerned about people accepting her as Harry Potter's wife snapped at his mother's unabashed, unblemished love, without regard for who she was or who she might have once been.
"Your mother was an amazing woman, wasn't she?" she asked quietly. Harry nodded against her shoulder.
"Her love was the reason Riddle couldn't kill me. She cast a spell with it that not only kept him from killing me, but protected me from him for 15 more years. And I can still feel the lingering effects of it sometimes," he said, just as quietly.
Pansy rubbed her cheek against his and leaned back. She reached up and brushed his wet cheeks with her hand. Her father reached over and handed her a handkerchief, and she used it on Harry's face and then her own. She turned to thank her father and saw him also weeping freely.
Prentice cleared his throat. "Your parents, young man, were two of the most extraordinary people I ever had the honor of knowing. I knew your mother was a brilliant witch, but I didn't know she had kept the Dark Lord.."
Pansy coughed. "Riddle, daddy, please. Or Tom Riddle. Saying things like that gives his memory power, as Harry has taught me."
The older man smiled. "Riddle, then. Although it seems a shame to associate a term for a funny question with such a person, but as you will. I did not know that she had managed such a protection spell and that is why he couldn't kill you." He shook his head in wonder.
"Well, it was mostly that, but Riddle himself started it." Harry looked over at Pansy. "Remember I told you that I had no choice?" She nodded. "Well, I didn't, and I think this is the right time to explain that. Wait. Where's Mrs. Parkinson?"
"Mother, please, Harry dear, or Mum if you're so inclined," Kirsten said as she re-appeared in the room. "I know you said you ate already, but perhaps we could have a light tea. Nala's prepared a light repast for us." The house elf followed her into the room and set up a table with the makings for tea.
"Thank you Mrs...Mum," Harry said, smiling up at the woman. He stood and held his hands to Pansy, who took them, and moved over to sit at the table with the other two.
"Now, Harry, you were talking about why you had to fight Riddle?" Kirsten said, not stumbling over the name at all.
Harry nodded, as she poured him a cup of tea. He held the cup in his hands, warming them. "There was a prophecy, before I was born. Riddle heard the first half only."
He coughed to clear his throat, and recited. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies …"
"Had he known the full truth of things, he'd have realized that there were two people that could have defeated him. He immediately thought of my parents, and therefore their one year old child...me. But there was another wizard born at the end of July, to parents who had defied him three times...he just didn't know of the last time. Alice and Frank Longbottom." He looked over at Pansy. "Neville could have been the Chosen One as easily as I. That's why I tell you it didn't have to be me, but I had to do it."
He sighed, and took a sip of tea. "The reason I had to oppose him, was in the second part of the prophecy. 'and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives .'" He rubbed the place where his scar had been. "Riddle chose me as his enemy, and marked me as his equal. You know about the Horcruxes?" he asked, and looked around the table.
They all nodded. "Well, he made me a seventh one, completely unintentional. When he killed me in the Forbidden Forest that night, or at least thought he did, he was actually destroying the Horcrux that was inside me. And then, I think that the prophecy was right for both myself and Neville. When Neville killed Nagini, he destroyed the final Horcrux, allowing me to defeat Riddle."
"So you see, Riddle himself named me as the person who could defeat him, and I had no choice," Harry finished.
Pansy gripped his hand so tight she was a little concerned she was hurting him, but she was processing what he said. "Wait. What about the part where 'either must die at the hand of the other'? Does that mean that he was the only one who could kill you?"
Harry shook his head. "I don't think so, although there's been a lot of discussion about it. Personally, I think it means that I couldn't kill him until he killed the part of me that was his Horcrux, and that I could not ever have a life of my own until he was dead." Smiling at her, he rubbed her hand with his thumb. "And I finally have a life worth living."
She blushed, and ducked her head.
"Fascinating," Prentice said. "Riddle literally created his own end by attacking you. If that information ever got out, the logicians would have a field day analyzing that." Kirsten poked her husband in the arm. "Sorry, but it's true. Still. I understand you are sharing a great secret with us, and we will keep it quiet."
Kirsten nodded. "We will indeed. And thank you both for sharing this with us. It means a lot to both of us."
Pansy smiled at her mother, and looked over to see Harry smiling brightly. "Mum, Dad, thank you," she said.
"Whatever for, angel?" her father asked.
"For accepting … us. This," she said as she looked at the beautiful heirloom on her left hand. "Harry told me a little of how he ended up here for lunch with you and getting your blessing."
"And encouragement," Prentice reminded her.
She chuckled. "Speaking of that, what exactly did that mean?"
The elder Parkinson said, "Your mother and I never wanted to marry you off to the Malfoy boy. And when he ran off with the Greengrass girl and got her pregnant, we were not sad he was off the market. But then we despaired of you finding a suitable husband, and I don't just mean one that would fit the family contract...but one that you could love. Young Harry here is a fine, fine young man. He's got a good head on his shoulders and a mighty fine heart in his chest. He has the legacy of, apparently, three fine upstanding Wizard lines in his heritage, either by blood or by right." He glanced over at his wife and nodded at her.
"But the most important thing, darling," her mother said, "is that this young man loves you with every fiber of his being, soul bond or not."
Harry's face was flushed at the praise, but Pansy smiled at her parents and at him. "He does, at that. And I return it equally."
Harry touched her cheek. "Who would have thought a Gryffindor and a Slytherin could find such love?"
Prentice coughed. "Well, if someone as smart as a Ravenclaw can love a Slytherin, someone as loyal as a Gryffindor could do the same, don't you think?"
Blinking, Harry looked over at the man. "You were a Ravenclaw?"
Kirsten laughed. "Of course he was, how else do you think he's so good at what he does? He's brilliant, my wonderful husband."
Pansy mocked a gagging sound, and everyone laughed. "But yes," she said, "Dad was one of the top of his class in Ravenclaw. He's right brilliant, although I don't tell him that often so he won't get a big head." She grinned at her father.
Prentice reached over and patted her hand. "And I pretend I don't know that you think that all the time anyway, angel."
Harry was touched at this display of family. He had wished so much for this closeness growing up, but he had been denied it. "But you've found it now, my love," Pansy whispered to him, once again picking up on his emotion.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I think we may need to talk to Ant about how to handle this aspect of the bond, love."
Pansy nodded. "It's fun right now, but it could become a problem."
Kirsten frowned at them. "Who is this 'Ant'? Can he be trusted?"
Laughing, Pansy nodded. "Of course, mum. Anthony is Harry's bar manager. He's an empath. He's the one who helped us get together. No, he didn't change anything. He just kinda, well, nudged us together. And it worked. And I'm glad he did." She leaned over and kissed Harry on the cheek.
The four of them chatted amiably about the young couple's engagement, and discussed a few wedding ideas, as they sipped their tea. Brandy followed the tea, as they all sat around the library talking. It was quite late when Harry and Pansy left after many hugs and kisses on the cheek. They Apparated back to Harry's flat, and upon arrival Pansy put her hands on either side of Harry's face and kissed him deeply.
"Not many men would have gone to my parents for permission, Harry. That means a lot to me. There are traditions I do not like, and some that I do. Speaking of traditions…" she looked at him seriously.
"A few months ago, Harry, you told me you could not handle that kind of responsibility. Being the head of two Houses. But...to marry me, you took that on. Why? You have to know that's not important to me. I would have said yes no matter what. I love you. Why would you make yourself unhappy?"
Harry reached up and stroked her cheek with the back of her hand, and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Because it wasn't important to you, love," he said. "And being with you, these months, has felt like years. Good years," he said hurriedly, "but years nonetheless. I've realized a lot of things over those month-years. Not the least of which, is that if I want to marry you, I have to accept a lot of things. My heritage is one of them. I've mitigated the impact on us as much I possibly could, but it had to be done. I had to do it for you, even though it's not what you wanted….more because it's not what you wanted. If that makes any sense."
She looked up at him, deep into those malachite eyes, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.
"It makes sense, Harry. And now, I think I want dessert."