(A/N: Sorry, I haven't updated in awhile. My life just got so busy, but I will complete this story.)
Harry and Hermione stuck around in Dumbledore's office, for twenty minutes of further discussion about what exact memories they had seen. Tears glistened in all their eyes, regret dug it's teeth into Dumbledore's chest, ripping away at him, until there was nothing left but strands of meat, but the mood became gradually cheerier, as they got to the present to cover Harry's reuniting with Father McKenzie.
That's when Harry said, "Sir, the church isn't in the greatest shape. I don't know how much it will take to fix it up completely, so I thought you might decide on a sum and you could let me take some money out of my account-"
Dumbledore nodded, a smile tugging at his lips, "Yes, Harry." He added, with a loss of his smile, "I take it that you have already discussed this with Father McKenzie-"
"Yes," Harry confirmed, "and I don't think he doesn't want me to give, but, considering everything, I think I should."
The way Harry talked about Father McKenzie wasn't lost to anybody. It was strong, full of devotion, like he used for his parents, before he had seen James hang Snape upside down and pull of his pants, and so on. It took Dumbledore back to that conversation with Fudge about who Harry should be raised by. Harry's affection was obvious, but all those missing years were obvious too. It wedged itself into Dumbledore's chest and sawed away at him.
Dumbledore had a slight frown and he flicked his eyes away from Harry and nodded. Then, he promised, "I'll send word, right this second, to Gringotts, for the money. It will be sent straight to Father McKenzie, in your name."
Harry paused, in thought, and then shook his head, "No, he might not use it then—er—"
Dumbledore explained, gently, "It will be a great amount, Harry. He'll know it's from you."
"Well, may I add something to the message, then? I just want it to say this is really my parent's money and I think this is something they and my grandparents, probably the ones on my mum's side too," Harry added, in mini revelation, having, for the first time, given them any real, deep thought, other than loving ideas that could save him from the Dursleys, since he had started Hogwarts, "would want me to do with it. So that should be a good enough reason for him to do it."
Hermione couldn't help but smile, in awe of Harry, a deep sentiment filling her, like you get from a campy Christmas movie. McGonagall and Dumbledore just gave him small, proud smiles, as they both thought how much Harry's actions fit the definition of family. It still cut into Dumbledore though, how much time had went by from the night Fudge made sure certain people stayed out of Harry's life for a while to now, but then it felt like the wound was, instantly, set right, with a small, lingering pain.
When Harry and Hermione stood together on the same step and took a spiraling ride down from Dumbledore's office, Hermione gave Harry a hesitating look, but she asked, anyway, "Harry, when you saw…?"
Harry knew what was coming, that was evident, just as much as the fact that he didn't want to answer her, but he confessed, "I know he's a priest, but Father McKenzie's eyes looked so much like mine, and—" Harry looked down, his jaw tense and quivering.
Hermione touched his arm, "Harry, you don't-"
"I don't even know if that's what made me think he could be my grandfather." He locked eyes with her again, "I think it's just the way he looked at me. Sirius, Lupin, Mr. Snape, or Ashley never even looked at me like that." Harry swallowed like that confession was a bad after taste.
It was true, but awful, that someone had surpassed Sirius, Lupin, and some of Harry's new favorite people and made him fall silent. Hermione slipped her hand on his elbow and Harry, without much thought, reached over and held it there. He had been avoiding her eyes, but, now, he looked over and they just stared at each other. Both wondered about where the moment would lead.
Harry continued, "Father McKenzie just looked like he loved me, like I was his grandson, not just what's left of someone or that I'm some hero. I've never had anyone look at me like that, who was my family, and that's the exact look that I always imagined, when I was kid, some long lost relative would have, if they came to take me away from the Dursleys."
They just stared at each other, in silence again, for a moment, in one of those frozen-in-time moments. Hermione nodded.
Harry asked her, reluctantly and softly, "Hermione, would you not tell anyone, even Ron, that I said that?"
Hermione nodded, "I won't. I promise."
Harry gave her a smile, which she returned, both of their hearts aching like a metal gong had been slammed into it, the day before.