Here Without You

A/N: The following story you are about to read I wrote in three different versions because I felt that the song could apply to H/Hr in many different ways, three that particularly stood out in my mind. Each version will be a separate chapter and is based on the song “Here Without You” by the band Three Doors Down….

Disclaimer: The quote at the beginning of each version is not by me, the song “Here Without You” also does not belong to me, and Harry Potter and related characters belong to J.K. Rowling and the people at Warner Bros. So basically I don’t anything except the plot.


“The only thing worth fighting for, living for, and dying for is true love.”

A hundred days have made me older
Since the last time that I saw your pretty face.

One hundred days… It had only been a hundred days… Lord Voldemort had been defeated exactly that long ago and had taken a part of Harry Potter with him. But this kind of scar couldn’t be seen on his outward appearance; it was not the lightning bolt in the center of his pale face. In fact, you couldn’t even tell that Harry was different in any way until you looked into his emerald eyes.

A thousand lies have made me colder,
And I don’t think I can look at this the same.

Yet his eyes were hardened and cold. The rare smile that would grace his lips never reached past his mouth… because everything reminded him of her.

A couple kissing in the park would make him think of all the kisses they would never share. Or parents with little children made him lonely for their sons and daughters that they would never raise. And passing a church would create such an emptiness inside, knowing there would never be a wedding uniting the two of them.

Such it was on this night. Eighteen-year-old Harry Potter stumbled in the dark as he walked through the threshold of his silent empty home. With a casual flick of his wand the fireplace was alight with dancing golden flames. He collapsed onto the couch exhausted and stared off into space.

But all the miles that separate,
Disappear now when I’m dreaming of your face.

Harry wasn’t aware he’d dozed off until he slipped into the recurring nightmare that had haunted his dreams for over three months.

Voldemort crumpled to the ground in defeat. It was really over. He was gone. Though there was no time now for triumph or relief, as Harry rushed over to a small form lying on the ground. He cradled her head in his lap, gently wiping the dark blood mingled with dirt off her pretty face.

“Hermione,” he whispered, “please forgive me.”

Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing dark vacant eyes.

“Oh, Harry, there’s nothing to forgive.”

“But I couldn’t save you,” he protested earnestly.

“You already did.”

“How?” he asked, almost inaudibly.

“By loving me.” She raised her hand and gently wiped away his tears.

“I love you,” Harry said softly and held her tighter.

“I’ll always love you, Harry.” She gasped out. Then her hand went limp and the light left her eyes.

I’m here without you baby,
But you’re still on my lonely mind.
I think about you baby,
And I dream about you all the time.

Harry awoke with a start. He always felt slightly torn, reliving Hermione’s last moments. On the one hand, he loved seeing her and holding her in his arms once more, but each time the dream occurred it felt like he was losing her all over again. Yet his longing to be with her overpowered the pain in his heart.

I’m here without you baby,
But you’re still with me in my dreams.
And tonight it’s only you and me.

The skylight in Harry’s bedroom filtered in soft pale moonlight causing the room to glow softly. He snatched his glasses off the bedside table before getting up and fumbled in the semidarkness for the top bookshelf on the far wall and a thick leather bound book that resided there. He pulled it off the shelf and plopped on his bed to see by the light of the moon. It was in fact a photo album, given to him by Hagrid at the end of his first year. He slowly flipped through the pages, almost smiling at the sight of some and slightly frowning at others. Harry had taken the liberty of adding pictures over the years; it was nearly filled. He reached the last photo, which was of him, Ron, and Hermione last summer at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. If he’d have known that in a year’s time one of them would be dead, the last person he would have guessed was the one who did indeed die.

Harry felt tears prick his eyes and quickly brushed them away. He slammed the album shut and rolled over onto his back. Through the skylight the stars twinkled merrily down at him and for some inexplicable reason his mind took him back to a day which he longed to forget.

The miles just keep rolling,
As the people leave their way to say hello.

To everyone else it was just another funeral in a long line of many who had perished in the war. But to Harry, this was one more defining moment in his life, which never failed to remind him that he would always be alone.

I’ve heard this life is overrated,
But I hope that it gets better as we go.

The service itself passed in a blur. The sentiments were nice and duly noted, but didn’t and simply couldn’t begin to describe the girl he knew to be Hermione. He wondered how the weather could be so perfect; all warm and sunny with a clear blue sky, the throng gathered beneath it around Hermione’s open casket. After today, would they all simply forget her as if she had never even lived? Harry refused to forget- how could he? All the times she’d offered a helping hand, saved his life, listened to his problems and worries, and given never ending love were so apart of him now that to forget would be like losing half of himself.

So the only part of the funeral that stood out in Harry’s memory was when just before the service, he got to be alone with her.

Even in death she looked beautiful. Clad in white with a crown of daisies adorning her head, she’d never looked more serene. This, Harry decided, was the only way in which she appeared deceased because in life Hermione had been anything but that. She’d always been striving for something.

His fingertips barely grazed her cold lifeless face. He whispered “I love you” one last time before gently pressing something into her palm and closing her fingers around it.

I’m here without you baby,
But you’re still on my lonely mind.
I think about you baby,
And I dream about you all the time.

Time and space were indiscernible. Harry felt strangely disclosed from everything and everyone around him. People assumed it was just the aftermath of the war, but it was much more than that. It was like living in someone else’s dream.

I’m here without you baby,
But you’re still with me in my dreams.
And tonight, girl, it’s only you and me.

Harry tossed and turned, but try as he might sleep would not claim him. After throwing the covers aside, he ambled out onto the balcony. His house was reclusive and overlooked the sea. The sound of the tide rushing over the shore was faint but calming all the same. However it did nothing to ease the sharp pain in his heart.

“I thought this was supposed to get better. To get easier,” Harry whispered to the wind, “I can’t live without you, Hermione.”

The night remained cold and silent, and he retired back to his room. The welcomed darkness lurked just beyond consciousness, but no sooner had he fallen asleep than the gentle yet persistent rustle of curtains jerked him awake. Apparently he’d forgotten to shut the balcony doors, so he rolled lethargically out of bed. Padding softly to the threshold, Harry had just reached for the doorknob when graceful, precise movement drew his attention to the moonlit balcony. He gasped as the figure turned and slowly met his gaze.

Everything I know and anywhere I go,
It gets hard but it won’t take away my love.

He blinked in disbelief. It couldn’t be. It just wasn’t possible, but Harry found himself drawn to the familiar person standing before him. Someone he thought he’d never see again.

“Hermione.”

He didn’t recall moving closer to her yet suddenly his mouth was a breath away from hers. He leaned forward slightly and kissed her.

Her voice echoed strangely, as if she were only partially there. “Harry, you need to let me go.”

“I can’t stop loving you. I won’t.”

“I’m not asking you to. But you’re not letting yourself live.” Hermione reasoned logically- just like she used to.

“Don’t you understand? I died with you, Hermione. I may as well have.”

“But you didn’t. I did…It wasn’t your fault, so stop blaming yourself! Please, Harry…”

“I can’t.”

“I’ll always be with you, yet you can’t live in the past forever.”

And when the last one falls,
When it’s all said and done,
It gets hard but it won’t take away my love.

“I’m giving this back, to remind you for always that I’ll never truly leave you.”

Hermione slipped off the ring that Harry had placed in her hand at her funeral.

His eyes opened abruptly before squinting in the bright morning light. It was just a dream, Harry realized with a sinking feeling. Then he noticed his left hand was clasped tightly around something. Somehow he knew exactly what it would be.

I’m here without you baby,
But you’re still on my lonely mind.
I think about you baby,
And I dream about you all the time.

It had been ten years to the day since Hermione’s death, though to Harry it seemed far longer. The dreams had gradually become more infrequent, yet still brought the same effect.

He slowly approached her grave on a warm summer evening, just as he did every year at this time. He kneeled by her tombstone and traced the engraving of her name with his hand.

I’m here without you baby,
But you’re still with me in my dreams.
And tonight, girl, it’s only you and me.

A tear rolled unchecked as he unclasped a golden chain around his neck where a ring dangled, glinting in the fading sunlight. His love for her would never cease. That he was certain of. Though he’d cherish the memories as long as he lived, Harry Potter no longer needed a reminder of their love.

After setting her wedding ring on the grave- the very one she’d given back to him so long ago- he knew she’d live on inside his heart. Forever... And that would have to be enough.

Disclaimer: The song “Here Without You” belongs to the phenomenal band Three Doors Down. The only character I own in this story is Amber Lily Potter.

A/N: Well here it is. Version two. I’m sorry for the extreme delay in posting this, but you have to believe me when I say that it’s been an incredibly hectic past few months. I’m not going to list all of my lame (though true) excuses and keep you from the story. I hope you enjoy it. My immense gratitude to everyone who was so encouraging with their lovely reviews. I truly appreciate it.

~Aidayla

“Tis better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.”

A hundred days have made me older
Since the last time that I saw your pretty face.

A soft cry wafted through the open door of his bedroom causing Harry Potter to wake with a start. His eyes quickly took in the surroundings of his room, unsure for a moment what the cause for his abrupt waking had been. Another cry resounded mere seconds later, and he instantly remembered what had summoned him from sleep- or, rather, who. Quickly rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Harry apparated to the source of the cry, his demeanor softening as he took in the tiny infant of his only daughter.

He gently cradled her in his arms and softly whispered her name in an attempt to abate her cries. Amber began to quiet, her gem-like eyes seeming to search her father’s face. Their eyes, though both emerald in color, were still very different. Hers were blissfully ignorant in the innocence of youth. Harry’s held secrets and horrors that wished to be forgotten.

The grandfather clock downstairs chimed midnight just as the precious baby girl’s eyes began to droop. Harry continued rocking her in his arms as the clock’s incessant chimes reminded him that today little Amber Lily Potter was exactly one hundred days old. A hundred days… Had it really been that long? On the one hand, Harry could hardly believe he’d been a father for over three months. It had seemed just a second ago that she’d been born. Yet with each passing day- each passing moment his daughter grew older…and her mother’s death longer ago.

Amber was the only living reminder of his beloved wife Hermione and the last blessing of their love. Their daughter was the most precious gift she had ever given him. Hermione’s dying words resounded in his memory. “I love you both so much. No matter what happens, Harry, never forget how to love.”

A thousand lies have made me colder,

And I don’t think I can look at this the same.

At first, Harry had been unsure if he could ever love another human being again. His heart did not open easily anymore, not after the few people he’d drawn close to had perished. However, the moment he laid eyes on his only child it was impossible- even for him- to not fall in love with the dark brown tuft of hair on her tiny head and the bright green eyes that were the mirror of his own. She was the perfect combination of himself and Hermione.

It did take a long time for Harry to come to terms with the fact that his wife was not coming back. That at any moment she was not going to stride through the nursery asking if he could hold Amber for a bit while she took a quick shower. Though Harry was beyond grateful to have his little girl, he would wonder until his dying day why he couldn’t have just had them both.

But all the miles that separate,

They disappear now when I’m dreaming of your face.

Each night, without fail, Hermione would visit him in a dream. Sometimes they’d relive old adventures of their days at Hogwarts, and other instances would be scenarios of what could have been had she never died. Those nights were the only times he’d allow himself to wallow in the past. His daughter needed him in the present and reliving the past wouldn’t do them any good. It wouldn’t bring her back.

I’m here without you baby,

But you’re still on my lonely mind.

I think about you baby,

And I dream about you all the time.

“Then what, Daddy? What happened next?” Five year old Amber wondered from her favorite spot in the whole world: her father’s lap.

“Then your mother and I flew up on Buckbeak to the tower that held Sirius as he waited, imprisoned, for the Dementor’s Kiss,” Harry lowered his voice conspiratorially.

“But you and Mummy saved him, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. Did we?” Harry asked with a remarkably straight face.

“Of course you did, Daddy! Don’t be silly,” Amber smiled matter-of-factly.

“And what makes you think that?” Harry wondered, fighting a grin.

“Because Daddy saves everybody,” she replied, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry couldn’t help but smile at her logic. Though slightly flawed, it was nevertheless adorable. Inwardly he knew that if what she said was really true, his beloved daughter would still have a mother. And he would still have his wife.

“You know what time it is?”

“Time for another story?” Amber suggested hopefully.

“Noooo…Bedtime!”

“Please, Daddy, just one more,” she pleaded.

“Well, alright. But just the one. And then off to bed!”

The young girl nodded solemnly. Harry sighed. How could he possibly say no to his darling little girl?

“Is there a specific one you’d like to hear?”

“The Chamber of Secrets!” Amber exclaimed, emerald eyes flashing with excitement.

“Again? Didn’t I tell that one just last night?”

“It’s my favorite,” she insisted.

“Really?” Harry asked, genuinely intrigued, “How come?”

“Mummy figured everything out way before everyone else. She was so smart,” Amber declared in a voice that clearly thought she was once again stating the obvious.

Harry found his throat suddenly constricted in emotion as the memory of Hermione lying petrified in the hospital wing came flooding back.

“I’m going to be as smart as her,” she stated with quiet intensity.

Harry kissed her cheek and whispered, “I don’t doubt it.”

I’m here without you baby,

But you’re still with me in my dreams.

And tonight it’s only you and me.

“Daddy? What are you still doing up?” Now eleven year old Amber asked from the doorway to Harry’s study.

“I couldn’t sleep. Though I could ask you the same question.” Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“Same reason as you.” She shrugged.

“Big day tomorrow…” Harry said.

Amber nodded.

“You can’t imagine how nervous I was before my first trip to Hogwarts.”

“You? Nervous?” Amber looked skeptical. “Hard to believe that the man who defeated Voldemort got nervous over something like school.”

“Just because I had the weight of the world resting on my shoulders didn’t make me any less human than the next wizard. I still went through things that everyone has to cope with; if anything, mine was on a larger scale because of the burdens I had to carry and the fact that I was the so-called ‘Chosen One.’”

“I suppose I never thought of it that way…” Amber said thoughtfully.

“It’s a common misconception.”

“It’s just that…” Her voice trailed off before she sighed and sank onto a chair.

“There’s a lot of pressure,” Harry guessed accurately.

“Well…yeah. I mean, I know it’s not as bad as it was for you, but do you know what it’s like to have to live up to my name? Everyone expects me to be as smart as Mum and as powerful as you, but I’m just not sure I’m good enough. I never want to disappoint you… or Mum.”

Harry’s eyes softened. He all too well remembered how difficult it was to withstand everyone’s expectations and all the attention that went along with being The-Boy-Who-Lived. The last thing he wanted was for his daughter to have to endure the same things he did.

The miles just keep rolling,

As the people leave their way to say hello.

“Are you sure you have all your things?” Harry asked the following morning, as he and Amber walked towards the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten.

“Amber, are you listening?”

“Sorry, what did you say, Dad?”

“You have everything, right?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Amber replied dismissively, “Honestly, Dad, I’m not some little girl anymore. I’m going to Hogwarts.”

Harry chuckled in spite of himself. Sometimes she sounded just like Hermione.

“What’s so funny?” Amber placed her hands on her hips indignantly.

Harry shrugged with a small smile before they casually strolled through the barrier.

His smile turned into a full fledged grin at the sight of his daughter’s look of anticipation and wonder as she took in, for the first time, the scarlet Hogwarts Express.

It was astounding at how many people Harry found himself recognizing. They all gushed at how pretty Amber Lily Potter was and how much she looked like her mother- except for the eyes, of course. That certainly sounded familiar. Now where had he heard that before?

I’ve heard this life is overrated,

But I hope that it gets better as we go.

“Now I think this is the part where I’m supposed to tell you to be good, but… if you just happen to upset Filch every now and then I’ll just happen to overlook it. We have to keep the tradition in the family now, don’t we?” Harry said with a wink.

“Of course,” Amber quipped with a smile. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too,” Harry whispered as he pulled his daughter close. “Have a wonderful term, and I’ll see you at Christmas.”

With a last kiss on the cheek, Harry released his daughter from his arms. Amber scampered to the train and leaned out a window, waving frantically as the train whistled before slowly picking up speed. Harry waved back as the scarlet steam engine sped away before disappearing around the bend.

I’m here without you baby,

But you’re still on my lonely mind.

I think about you baby,

And I dream about you all the time.

Harry wiped away a lone tear that escaped down his cheek. “Hermione,” he whispered, absently fingering the gold wedding band that he’d been wearing for the past twelve years, “I wish you could see her.”

He apparated home, thinking how empty it seemed without Amber. His thoughts drifted to his own first journey to Hogwarts. He’d met Hermione on that train. It made him wonder if his own precious daughter would also meet the love of her life on that train ride. Harry quickly put those thoughts aside. After all, she was only eleven.

I’m here without you baby,

But you’re still with me in my dreams.

And tonight, girl, it’s only you and me.

The tea kettle whistled, breaking into his thoughts. He poured himself a cup, added milk and sugar, and headed to his favorite armchair by the fireplace. How he loved this house. It was right by the sea- an ideal location it had seemed when he and Hermione were choosing a home all those years ago. Grimmauld Place had had too many memories attached, so it had simply become their London home to use whenever necessary.

“Isn’t this place lovely? I think it’s perfect,” Hermione had gushed happily. It was decidedly uncharacteristic of her to be so excited over something materialistic. This factor was the sole reason Harry decided to buy it.

Not to say that he didn’t like the other perks the house had to offer. It was reclusive- something that was a must, as far as Harry was concerned- and the surrounding landscape was both peaceful and beautiful. At the time, they’d only been engaged. However, in typical Hermione fashion, his bride-to-be had insisted on having absolutely everything in order so that after their honeymoon the house would be done and livable.

Yet after all was said and done her sensibility saved them once again. For shortly after the newlyweds moved in, Hermione announced that she was pregnant. It was one of the happiest moments of Harry’s life when he’d found out that Hermione was carrying their child. The happiness was short-lived, but for a few blissful months Harry had been convinced for the first time that life was really worth living.

Everything I know and anywhere I go,

It gets hard but it won’t take away my love.

The question that constantly plagued him in the far recesses of his mind haunted him to this day. Would he have chosen differently than Fate? Harry wasn’t certain. How could anyone choose between their wife and child? His life seemed to be the product of a lot of seemingly good choices gone awry. He forced himself out of his reverie. Reliving the past certainly didn’t do any good. At least not anymore.

And when the last one falls,

When it’s all said and done,

It gets hard but it won’t take away my love.

Chaos. That word alone described the final conflict with Voldemort. People from both sides were dropping right and left, spells ricocheting off objects were flying through the air, and the agonizing screams piercing the night were enough to drive anyone insane.

It was a miracle in itself that both he and Hermione even survived. The time spent with her after the war was the happiest time of Harry’s life. Not to say that the years he’d spent raising his daughter weren’t a delight and a privilege, but each time Amber came home from school she looked more and more like her mother.

“Were you surprised when I showed up at the Quidditch Final?” Harry asked of his daughter as he levitated her trunk upstairs to her bedroom.

Amber nodded.

“You’ve always been a gifted flier, but you’ve improved tremendously since the last time I saw you fly.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Amber had just completed her third year at Hogwarts, and the thirteen year old was being uncharacteristically quiet. Harry couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong; he thought she’d still be elated over Gryffindor’s triumph over Slytherin in the last Quidditch match of the year.

“How were exams?”

“Fine.”

They’d reached her bedroom. After leaving the trunk at the foot of her bed, Harry sank onto a chair.

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” Harry asked conversationally.

“No.” Amber replied in much the same tone Harry himself had used on countless occasions throughout his own school days.

“Are you alright?”

Amber blinked, startled. “Of- of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re just awful quiet. You have the same look your mother did whenever she was upset about something.”

This last statement was her undoing.

“R-really?” She looked up at her father with wide, tearful eyes.

“You look so much like her…”

“Oh, Daddy, that’s the problem! Almost all of my professors taught you and mum. I just…I can’t live up to it. Not a day goes by when someone says your father did this or your mother did that… And I’ve learned to live with it, but what’s so unfair is that all my teachers… It’s like they know Mum better than I do.”

In one quick movement, Harry was across the room taking his daughter in his arms, assuring her that everything was going to be okay.

I’m here without you baby,

But you’re still on my lonely mind.

I think about you baby,

And I dream about you all the time.

The library windows provided a perfect view of the ocean, and Harry watched his daughter read on the beach in the late afternoon sun. “Can you see our daughter, Hermione?” Harry wondered aloud in the deserted room. “She’s brilliant and beautiful, and sometimes doesn’t even realize just how wonderful she really is. I’m so proud of her, but I can’t help but see you every time I look at her.” He tore his gaze away from the window. This room had been Hermione’s safe haven. For years Harry had sought comfort in here on days and nights when he couldn’t bear going on without her.

Harry scanned the section of books that Hermione had spent the most time in. A large, worn tome was protruding slightly; he reached to push it back into place. Except, it wouldn’t budge. Harry looked at the inscription on the spine. In fading gold letters were the words Hogwarts, A History. He pulled it off the shelf before peering behind it to see what had been blocking it. A medium sized box was wedged in the back.

After pulling it free, he slid to the floor to examine his find. It was covered in a thin layer of dust and made of cherry wood. He pried it open as gently as possible, and though the box itself had been unfamiliar, the contents were not. The sapphire necklace he’d given Hermione for her seventeenth birthday rested on top. He vaguely remembered wondering where it had disappeared to. Then underneath was every letter he’d ever written to her, along with several old photographs of them during school. But the last item was most surprising of all: her diary. Hermione had never seemed the kind of girl to write in a journal of some sort, but then again, he supposed every girl probably went through a phase where she wrote down her thoughts. Yet as surprising a find it was, it was ten times more treasured than anything he could hope for.

It was extremely thick and faded blue in color. The first entry was dated August 3, 1991. With a jolt, Harry realized that was the summer before she came to Hogwarts. The summer before he met her. As he read, he detected a distinct pattern in her writing habits. Whenever she was worried- often about him- she wrote more frequently.

The room grew darker as night became more imminent, though Harry didn’t notice until he could no longer see the page. According to the dates, he was nearing her final entry.

“Dad? Are you in here?” Amber called. Harry scrambled to his feet causing his daughter to jump in surprise.

“Oh there you are,” Amber said, relief flooding her face, “I was beginning to worry when I couldn’t find you. What have you been doing in here all this time?”

“I found some of your mother’s old things,” he answered quietly.

I’m here without you baby,

But you’re still with me in my dreams.

And tonight, girl, it’s only you and me.

Her expression changed instantly.

Harry opened up to the last entry of Hermione’s diary. “Would you like to read it aloud?”

Amber nodded slowly and with trembling fingers accepted the battered journal from her father’s hands. Barely able to conceal the tremor in her voice, she began, “‘This is probably the last time I’ll get to write before the baby is born. My due date is tomorrow, though we’ll see just how prompt this little girl is in arriving. It’s been a very special time these past nine months. Harry has been wonderful, and I’m confident he will make a wonderful father.’ She was right, Dad.” Amber paused momentarily in an attempt to contain her tears, before continuing where she’d left off, “‘I often wonder what our little girl will be like. I hope she inherits Harry’s beautiful eyes. I just love her so much. We’ve settled on her name already. Amber. Amber Lily Potter. As soon as Harry and I found out I was having a girl, that name just kind of came to me. It is such a blessing to be the one to give Harry the gift of a family. He’s longed for a family his whole life, and I feel beyond privileged to be a part of that. I will love them both as long as I live.’” The young Potter fell silent before adding, “That’s all she wrote.”

Harry didn’t bother to wipe the silent tears that streamed down his face. He gently closed the diary that rested in his daughter’s lap. He placed her hand on the cover and said, “I want you to have this.”

Amber was at a loss for words as she flung her arms around her father’s neck. The broken “thank you” that she whispered meant more to Harry than he could say.

“Maybe this will provide a window into the remarkable person you knew Mum to be.”

“Yes…and no.” Harry decided.

“What do you mean?”

“A long time ago, someone wise told me that the ones we love never truly leave us. They live on in the love we still have for them. We see your mother everyday… She lives on… in you.”

Amber’s emerald eyes shone with tears as she pushed a stray brown curl behind her ear.

“I love you, Daddy,” she whispered.

“I love you more.”

“Not possible,” Amber smiled. “It’s my turn to make dinner. I’ll come get you when it’s ready.” With a last kiss on the cheek she left the room, her footsteps fading as she made her way downstairs.

Harry noticed that Amber had left her mother’s diary on the floor. He set it on the table, knowing she’d come back for it later. He was well aware things weren’t going to be easy-today proved as much- but somehow Harry Potter knew that everything would be alright. Not perfect, but alright. Hermione would always be there in their hearts and minds. They would forever miss her. But as long as he and Amber had each other, they could get through anything… together.

A/N: I really wanted to convey the love Harry feels for his daughter, and how the ones we love never fade. That love is the only thing time or death has no power over. I hope in some small way this story did just that.