The Letter

Title: The Letter

Author: dreamfish

Rating: PG

Ships: H/Hr

Summary: Harry is sitting in his room in Hogwarts, (being a teacher has it's advantages) but he knows he's missed somthing important. The letter is telling him about it.

The Letter

Harry looked from one end of the room to the other. The distance, he thought, was not so far. He could still see the wallpaper and paint covering the end of the wall and the Gryffindor tapestry which inhabited it's own space on the wall. If you took the poster down, you would guarantee that there would be a darker shade of the paint and paper hiding behind.

From the chair, the distance wasn't far. Mere feet away from his own feet, clad in the gold and red socks but it was far enough because on the other side of the room was the reason for his ongoing thoughts.

He thought he was mad at first. The thoughts were torrid and never ended, hounding his every movement and his every thought. He was…plagued for lack of a better word. Though it wasn't in the bad sense. He wanted this feeling, this feeling was good and it kept him sane and almost alive. The feeling of feeling was more than enough.

On the other side of the room sat the desk, the letter sitting upon it in neat and eligible handwriting that could only belong to one person. He knew what the letter contained, he knew what the news would be and yet he couldn't find reason to open up the envelope and read what the words were describing. The sentences wouldn't make sense.

Instead, he sat in the chair and stared at it as though it would move if he stared hard enough.

The owls had come in the morning, flooding through the open roof in the Hall; Hedwig's parcels landing in Harry's lap ready for opening. As soon as the letter had landed he's pushed it away, leaving it for a later date. He knew what was inside and it wasn't to be opened yet.

And the letter still sat there.

A small smile adorned his face as he watched the white envelope entice him towards it, although he hadn't moved. The purple ink on the front, the slight but ever so present perfume that lingered on the seal and the tiny illustration of Hedwig on the corner, parchment in her beak.

From his seat, Harry could see the dark skies outside the window. The dark skies and the clouded moon. The sky had seemingly lost its colour, in a sense of the word. The grey depicted bad news and so did the blacked out moon. It hadn't rained in nearly a week, but it wasn't like it would rain in the middle of June. April showers were long gone and from here it would seem, there were clear skies ahead.

But it didn't seem like that to Harry.

As he thought, thunder cackled up above his head and the lightening strip rippled through the clouds. Rain began to pour from the clouds, covering the Quidditch field below, drowning out any hope of refereeing for tomorrow's game.

Harry took a deep breath. Heaving himself out of the chair and across the room, the distance, and reaching his hand out for the letter he picked it up and studied the front. Sitting back down in his chair, he examined every last detail of the handwriting on the cover, following every curve and every jump with his eyes.

He smiled. He had never paid this much attention to a letter before. A letter was a letter, a means of communication but a person's handwriting could give more away then their words. He sniffed the letter and smelt the perfume engraved onto the paper.

He slipped his fingers beneath the seal and pulled it open. He dipped his hand inside and pulled out a slip of paper no bigger than a bank cheque.

He read the words in his mind then again out loud, making sure he understood them properly. He placed the paper back in the envelope and sealed it again, placing it on the table next to his chair. He took in the full impact of the few short words, the sentence which he knew was coming but didn't expect to read.

A small smile rose on his cheeks and his mouth spread wide into a grin, closing his eyes and thinking as if he were thinking out loud to the void inhabitants of the room. He bit the bottom of his lip and smiled again, unable to wipe the grin off his face and not wanting to either. He looked again at the front of the envelope and smiled.

“She Has Your Eyes.”

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Title: The Letter

Author: dreamfish

Rating: PG

Ships: H/Hr

Summary: Harry is besotted with an image of where he should be, but he’s not there. Hogwarts is starting a new year with a host of brand new students all Harry can do is watch and pray that everything is all right back home.

Author Notes: This fic has seemed to drag me along for the ride…hmmm…well, since things are (slightly) difficult for Harry in this chapter it’s only a prelude to the next one, which does have a lot more shippy stuff in. Until then, this is a back-lay.

~**~

The Letter

Chapter 1 :- Sorting

Harry sat at his desk carelessly writing on the pieces of parchment in front of him. The quill was poised between his fingertips but he didn’t wish for the words to come to him. This was a letter he didn’t really want to write to anyone except maybe to himself. The words didn’t fit to be read by somebody else. They flowed in Harry’s jagged writing but that was his skill, to read his own writing was his own skill and the only other person able to do so was Hermione, and maybe Dumbledore at some times.

However, he was nearly smiling to himself as he moved the quill over the piece of parchment. Sat at his desk, in the middle of his office, Harry was almost afraid in a way.

"Am I disturbing you, Harry?"

Harry looked up quickly, moving his hand to the back of his neck as he looked up at the entrance. Professor Dumbledore clad in his robes of moons and stars was standing there, clutching an envelope in his hands. His hair was still as long as his back, flowing whitely down to his waist, although he had taken to tying it back in a ponytail once in a while, to keep up with the latest fashion.

"No, not at all, Professor," Harry replied, moving his things around on his desk quickly, to make it appear tidy to the untrained eye. "I was just…well – err…"

Dumbledore smiled. "I think congratulations are in order, Harry."

He moved closer to the desk and stood, with his hands clasped before him, in front of Harry, still standing tall and superior although with an air of caring and wise knowledge. Harry lamented that although he was tall, Dumbledore was still about three inches taller, and most assuredly would always be that much taller.

"You’ve heard then?" Harry grinned, standing up quite quickly, forcing his chair to move backward.

Dumbledore smiled again and held up the envelope. "Moments ago from Miss Weasley."

"I hope she hasn’t got my hair," Harry laughed, trying to flatten it with his hand. "That’s the least we’ll have to worry about."

"Oh, I don’t think so," Dumbledore replied, sitting at the edge of Harry’s desk. "Miss Weasley informs me that she has been born with the brightest green eyes and the most thick wave of brown hair she has ever seen."

Harry smiled to himself, "I wish I could’ve been there. To see the birth and everything."

"I’m sorry you couldn’t be," Dumbledore said seriously. "Labour can come so suddenly, especially in such an active woman as Miss Granger."

Harry nodded. There had been no warning of Hermione’s labour. Not even signs to show that she might be due any time soon. The doctors at the Muggle Hospital had given them a due date but it was another three weeks away. Harry had known that by going back to the school for his third year of teaching, he had no way of getting off the school grounds without apparating, and that meant taking one of the carriages into Hogsmeade.

"But I’m sure a little time off would be acceptable," Dumbledore said, his eyes sparkling as he stood up off the desk.

He held out his hand for Harry to shake which Harry did gladly, a smile embossed onto his lips.

"Just stay for the ceremony tomorrow, will you?" Dumbledore asked as he turned to leave. "What would be a better start to a new year?"

*

Inwardly, Harry groaned. He rolled over, tossing and turning, shoving his hands underneath the pillow and rolling it over his face until he finally admitted that it was morning. The light streaming through his open window was enough to blind him and he was indeed surprised that his alarm clock hadn’t buzzed him awake. Slowly, he opened his eyes, just enough to see what he was lying next to praying and wishing for his wife’s face.

Instead, it was the cold and hard pine wood of his bedside table staring back at him, the glass of water half empty on top and the dreadful feeling inside his stomach that told him that indeed today, it was the first day of school again.

He yawned a couple of times, rolling back underneath the pillow, trying to banish the light away from his eyes, only to realise that if it was morning and his alarm clock hadn’t woke him up, what bloody time was it? As in all likewise emergencies, Harry shot up and grabbed his watch from the side of the bed, trying frantically to squint at the hands positions. Finally, he grasped for his glasses off the side and only managed a small curse word before leaping out of bed and into the en-suite bathroom of his gorgeous Hogwarts bedroom.

*

Hermione on the other hand, wasn’t all that impressed. The nurses in the hospital hadn’t exactly made the experience of being there the best she’d ever had and, even though it was good for her, the thing attached to her arm was not doing her any good. The amount of times that she had almost screamed for a St. Mungo’s Nurse was almost uncountable. She’d bit her lip and done it the Muggle way, like she’d promised her mother she would. Why, oh why, had she promised such a thing in the first place?

Still, all she needed to do was turn onto her side and stare into the beautiful face of her newborn baby girl. In the incubator, the little girl had been born two weeks premature and to make sure nothing was wrong or unsafe for the baby, the doctors had put her in the glass incubator next to Hermione’s bed. She was breast feeding her whenever she cried, but just in case, a nurse was supervising her when she did it.

The worst part of it was having to send an owl to Harry in the early hours of the morning. Just after the baby had been born, she wanted to get the message over to him as fast as humanly possible but being in a Muggle hospital surrounded by Muggle’s had it’s drawbacks. Hermione would’ve sworn allowed if her mother and father hadn’t turned up at the last minute of the birth and, along with taking pictures for Harry to view, they’d let Hermione write down on a piece of parchment what she wanted to send after labour was over and done with.

Hermione grinned as her little girl moved about, lying on her front and opening her eyes in the small slit of a way, looking out into the world through the glass case. Part of her wanted to take her out of there, and hold her, cuddle and kiss her and sing to her like she’d done through pregnancy but it wasn’t allowed until the doctors were positive that nothing was wrong.

"You don’t know how lucky you are, you know," Hermione smiled at her baby, who was staring directly into her eyes.

In a way, Hermione thought that the baby had heard her, because as soon as Hermione had said it, the little girl shut her eyes in a slow blink and tapped one of her tiny fingers on her cotton bed sheet. Even if it was just a normal baby reaction, Hermione wanted to believe that her child could hear her talking. Much like she believed that the unborn child, while still in her tummy, could hear her reading aloud and listening to music. Harry had been the worst, sitting and talking directly to her stomach about everyone and everything.

Just as Hermione was settling down next to her baby, her eyes closing slightly to the sound of her own heartbeat, the nurse shook her awake.

" It’s time for breast-feeding, Mrs Potter," the oriental nurse said, smiling, sitting down at the edge of her bed.

Hermione sat up and chuckled, "I’ll have to be eating grass soon to keep up with this child’s appetite."

*

At the beginning of every school year, the students come flooding through in droves into the Great Hall, sitting down at their respective tables while the first years wait patiently outside with Professor McGonagall, prepping themselves for all the horror stories older siblings have told them about the Sorting Ceremony. And this year was no different.

The first years were lined up outside the Great Hall at the bottom of the stairs, Professor McGonagall taking her position at the top of the stairs, her pointed hat on as always and her wand in her hands. She had the same tight lip smile on that she’d had when Harry had first started but the glint of a happy person behind the cool exterior would always be visible to those who dared to take a peek.

Still, as Harry raced down the long corridor trying to pull his teaching robes over his shoulders. He barely had chance to shove his wand into his robe pocket then try and flatten his mess of hair before he reached the entrance to the Great Hall. He stopped suddenly at the back end of the mighty crew of first year students.

Trying as hard as possible not to be seen, he tried to manoeuvre himself around them as quietly as he could but it was hardly worth it.

"Ah, Professor Potter," Professor McGonagall said.

In one swift movement, all eyes shot to the back of the queue to the shabby mess of a teacher stood at the end, trying desperately to look respectable and presentable at the same time. There were sniggers heard but the one most of all was a tiny hand shooting out of the flock right in the very centre. That one hand belonged to the one person that Harry thought would have to be there.

"That’s Harry Potter!" cried the owner of the hand. "My dad knows him! He was at our New Years Eve Party!"

Again, there were more sniggers but they were followed by a hefty lot of whispers before Professor McGonagall tried to shout above the loud din.

"Thank you very much, Mr Wood for pointing out that obvious fact about our resident Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

After that statement, Harry thought there’d be at least some whispering but there wasn’t even a mummer from the crowd of wide-eyed students. He was quite glad to just stand there and look like a statue or one of the many ghosts on parade again. It wasn’t until Professor McGonagall shouted his name to the front that he felt really embarrassed.

"I think you’d better get inside, Potter," she stated to him in a hushed voice. "And congratulations, Harry. I don’t mind telling you that yesterday a new name did appear on the school scrolls."

Harry beamed a grin at her, "Thank you, Professor."

She said no more on the subject but nodded for him to go through the door as she turned back to the new rabble and began to bark orders at them. Harry was sure that in the last fleeting seconds of the Great Hall doors closing, he saw some of them stand to attention.

The teachers were all sat at the top table already, chatting amongst themselves about lesson plans and their holiday time and so fourth. As the Great Hall doors closed behind him, all eyes fell upon him for a brief second but then all the students and the teachers began their conversation again as if nothing had happened. Harry smiled slightly to himself and began to hurry up to the large teacher’s table before the first years arrived in for Sorting.

He rushed past the students and heard momentary mumbles of "Hello, Professor" from some of them. When he finally reached the top table, he took his place next to Professor Flitwick and took a large gulp of juice from his goblet.

"Got up late again, Harry?" Flitwick smiled joyfully to himself. The small man always packed quite a funny and caring personality.

"My alarm clock never wakes me up on time," Harry replied, setting the goblet down on the table and scanning the students on the tables for a familiar face. "No wonder I was never up in time for classes."

Flitwick chuckled a little and as he did, his whole body shook on the rather larger chair. "You were always on time in my class, but I suspect that it was the work of Mr Weasley and Miss Granger."

"Sometimes," Harry grinned. "But not all the time."

He remembered all the late nights that he and Hermione stayed up by the fire, especially in their last year, trying to roast chestnuts and bread on the open hearth in the common room. Their efforts were in vain but it was worth the laughs. All the late night patrolling that Hermione refused to do with Draco Malfoy gave them some well needed time alone and time to talk, which was when the ‘love’ issue was brought up.

Everyone thinks it was in some heated debate or maybe a lost moment during the full moon, but it was while they were walking around, knee deep in Peeves’ latest addition to the fourth floor corridors.

The doors opened and marching ahead of the first year students was Professor McGonagall. The hall became suddenly quiet and all that could be heard was the sound of someone gulping down their last bits of Pumpkin Juice and the footsteps of the new students walking up to the front. Professor Dumbledore stood up and walked to his podium, standing in front of it, smiling all the while at the new additions, some of them still whispering about the appearance of Dumbledore and Harry Potter.

"Good evening, to you all," Dumbledore started, raising his hands up as the banners above the House tables twirled to the rhythm of his hands. "I trust that you have all enjoyed your summer holiday and are looking forward to arriving back at school."

There were some murmurs from the crowd but Dumbledore laughed to himself, "Like all of the years passed, the attitude towards school remains the same. The Sorting Ceremony shall begin now, as all of the younger students look a little frightened to be standing there."

The Hall laughed, even some of the students as Dumbledore sat down and the Sorting Hat, placed upon its stool, began to sing its song.

I am what you see before you

As I sit upon this stool

Wondering how many students

We can cram into this school.

All bright eyed and thoughtful

Imaginations short and long

And with me as The Sorting Hat

I will sing you the Sorting Song.

Bravery and cunning

Are skills you may posses

So I will proceed to tell you

With who you will be best.

Your thirst for worldly knowledge

Sometimes quiet as a mouse

Shall put you with the thinkers

In the Ravenclaw House.

The ability to succeed

At every fearless turn

Shall put you with the Gryffindors

And in there you shall learn.

Friends are in plenty

And thousands you will make

In the Slytherin dungeon house

Where cunning is a trait.

The Hufflepuffs might need your words

They will never stray

Because Hufflepuffs are the loyal lot

With love and care to stay.

You’re wondering how I will know

Where to put your mind

So slip me on and sit on down

For I am one of a kind!

As every one applauded the magnificence of the Sorting Hat’s rhyming ability, the hat bowed to each table in turn then to the teacher’s table. With a smile on its face, the hat sat still again and waited patiently for the first student to be sorted. Professor McGonagall produced the scroll of names from her robes and began to read from the top of the list.

"I don’t know how that hat does it," Flitwick said, sitting back in his chair. "But a new song always lightens the load off my mind, I tell you."

Harry smiled. "I remember when they first changed the song, my fifth year, Ron was so surprised he didn’t stop going on about the hat having nothing to do for weeks."

"Hmm!" Flitwick said. "I don’t suppose it does have anything to do, and whatnot. Sitting on Albus’ shelf day after day with nothing to listen to but the sound of his own voice."

"Arnold, James!"

"So, have you prepared a lesson plan already? Or just taking it on a whim, Harry?"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Really taking it on a whim, I’ve got a basic plan for each lesson…"

"Care of Mrs Potter I trust?"

"Barnstable, Stephanie!"

"She did help somewhat," Harry chuckled. "I’ve got the basic plan so I’ll just develop it from that."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"That’s exactly my plan, my boy, exactly! Better not to plan everything, because in my experience with new students, things seem to go cockeyed from the beginning."

"Brahms, Simon!"

"I’ll be doing Career advising this year as well. Never done that before, doesn’t look too easy."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"It’s easy to do, Harry. It’s good to go on one of the courses before had, over the holidays, or read up on it first, but the students really know already what they want to do before they come to us."

"I had no idea when I went for mine."

"Really?"

"Burns, Karl!"

"Really. Well, I had some idea. I wanted to be an Auror."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"An Auror you say? Sounds like a good profession. I’m surprised though, I thought the Advanced Potions lessons would put you off straight away."

"Oh, they did, believe me they did."

Flitwick politely excused himself for a moment; "I’ll have to take a quick nip to the wizards, Harry. See you in a moment."

Harry chuckled as Flitwick hopped down from his chair and walked quite swiftly out of the Great Hall. It was true though, Harry had thought about being an Auror, as would most young boys his age with dealings within the Ministry of Magic. The Ministry looked like a good place to work, being surrounded by Aurors every day made the position look appetising and full of rewards, and consequences.

Harry watched the students clamber up onto the stool and Professor McGonagall place the hat on their heads. Many of them were being sorted equally between the houses, the odd few more going into Ravenclaw. One girl who couldn’t help but remind him of Hermione ran up to the stool, well, she walked very quickly and sat down. The hat had barely touched her head when it screamed, "RAVENCLAW!"

The girl seemed ecstatic because she walked briskly up to the Ravenclaw table as they all applauded her and sat down with her friends, who immediately hugged her. Maybe she had more friends at that point then Hermione did, but the method was there all the same.

Another boy was standing at the front of the students when his name (Rothes, Alexander!") was called. He walked almost terrified but with false confidence up to the stool. The hat seemed to take its time with this boy, and Harry could see that the boy had all the misgivings and insecurities he’d had as a first year.

But a smile appeared on the boy’s face when the hat shouted "GYRFFINDOR!"

By the time Flitwick returned, the hat had started on the ‘T’s’. He hopped back up onto his chair.

"That wasn’t entirely fun," he said, wriggling a little on the chair. "I couldn’t find my Hogwarts badge anywhere in my room."

"Tyner, Lucy!"

"I keep mine pinned to the tapestry," Harry said, showing Flitwick the badge pinned carefully on his lapel. "Best place to keep it, I don’t loose it that way because the tapestries always there."

"That is a very good idea," Flitwick replied thoughtfully. "I might have to borrow that from you when I find mine."

The Sorting Ceremony finally completed for another year; Professor McGonagall took the list of names and set it on the large teacher’s table. There was one last round of applause before Dumbledore stood up again and chuckled to himself before taking out his wand and tapping it twice on the podium for the hall to be quiet.

"I shall start my speech again," he said chuckling all the while. "Welcome! All of you, welcome to another year at Hogwarts!

"So many new faces to welcome back with the old ones. This will be a fruitful year for us all. As I say this, you are all wondering no doubt how soon the lessons will start. Not tomorrow and not the day after. Your weekends are kept sacred. Use them wisely.

"Now, I’m as hungry as you so lets dig in!"

With a final round of applause from the students, the plates appeared in front of them, filled with every sort of food under the rainbow. Harry had to wonder whether Dumbledore had ate this type of food since he was younger, or if indeed like him, he preferred a nice fish and chip supper every now and then.

Still, Harry didn’t oppose to sticking his fork into the mash potato and fully appreciating the cooking skills of the House Elves. Dinner went quickly and although he could hear the chatter of the teachers to each other, he only really spoke to Hagrid throughout the whole thing. Hagrid, who had taken up seat on his right, had only just joined during the speech and was eager to get stuck in to his dinner.

"So, ‘ow is our ‘Ermione?" Hagrid asked, his mouth full of Yorkshire pudding and his beard showing flecks of mash potato. "I ‘eard, from a very good source, that yer’ve got a…new addition to the Potter family."

"Born on the 29^th of August, Hagrid," Harry replied, filling his own fork with a scoop of sausage and gravy. "A little girl with bright green eyes and brown hair."

Hagrid chuckled. "A bit o’ you an’ ‘Ermione, then?"

"I’m just glad she hasn’t got my hair," Harry laughed.

"But she’s go’ yer eyes, ‘Arry," Hagrid replied. "Jus’ like yer Mum, an’ ‘er mum."

Harry grinned as he shovelled a fork of carrots into his mouth and chewed vigorously. You only got this meal three times a year, and the belly full you got at the start would last until Christmas. Harry knew that it was the first few days of Hogwarts that he put on the most weight he did all year, a couple of pounds that he lost within the next week or so.

"Is Ron down as a Guardian then, ‘Arry?"

Harry nodded. "We’re gonna have Ron as a Guardian-Father, Luna along with him and then Hermione’s sister as the other."

"So long as I’m up there for babysittin’, like," Hagrid chuckled, shaking the table. "Have yer thought of a name yet?"

"Well, we only really planned on a name from a boy," Harry said sheepishly. "Samuel. Hardly seems fitting to call a girl Samuel."

"Well, what about yer Grandmother’s name, then?" Hagrid asked. "You could always call ‘er Lily, but yer Grandmother was called Eve."

"Eve?"

"Shor’ for Evelyn, or so I’m told."

Harry smiled. "Evelyn. I think I could get used to that."

"Yea’, well, see what yer ‘Ermione wants first, ‘ey? Wimen are a bit…particular in these types of things."

The banquet finished and with a swish of his wand, the plates removed from sight. Dumbledore stood up once more and grinned to himself. With a full belly and wisps of pudding still around his beard, he waved his wand and tapped it on the podium twice again.

"Bed time is such a welcome time after all this food," Dumbledore said as he waved his wand. A long golden ribbon flew out of the end and spread itself over his head. Words appeared on the ribbon, the words to the Hogwarts song, if Harry remembered correctly.

"Pick a tune, any tune! And all together now!"

‘Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they’re bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we’ve forgot,

Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot.’

*

Harry shook hands with the majority of the faculty, each wishing him a good week away from work and congratulations on the new arrival. Professor McGonagall had put together a card for everyone to sign and a large Hippogriff shaped stuffed animal. Harry had laughed when he saw it, thinking that it was more likely to be seen in old episodes of ‘My Little Pony™’ than in the Wizarding world gift shops.

While waiting at the doors for the carriage to arrive seemed like forever, Hagrid had bounded along from his cabin on the school grounds with a card and a few small presents for the baby. He also had quite a big bottle of his Ogden’s Fire Whiskey, handing it over to Harry on the quiet.

"That’s ‘fer ‘Ermione," Hagrid whispered, winking at Harry.

In some ways, Harry thought that Hagrid still must see him as that little lost boy he rescued off a rock in the middle of the sea. Even at the Christmas Parties, Hagrid still watched what Harry drank and how much he drank, and made sure he got to bed in the late nights like he used to do when they’d stay up talking into the dead of the night when he was at school.

When the carriage finally arrived, Harry loaded his stuff onto it and petted the Thestral. He only had one bag, one bag because he knew he wouldn’t want to go against his word to Dumbledore that he would teach Dark Arts again for the fourth year running. The best thing was, once their new daughter was old enough, Hermione would be back teaching at Hogwarts.

Even as it started to rain when he closed the carriage door and waved a goodbye to Dumbledore and Hagrid at the front door, he couldn’t wait to get to the hospital and finally see his wife and his daughter.