Disclaimer: All things HP belong to JKR, etc. etc.
Author's Note: This is the first vignette in this Portrait of a Marriage series that doesn't include smut, but no worries, I have every intention of continuing this series with more smut, once my smut muses come out of hiding. This vignette has to be dedicated, with thanks, to 'Castle' for the inspiration.
Portrait of a Marriage
His Deepest Fear
Harry slowed and then stopped at the tables, overflowing with books, that were outside of Flourish & Blott's. Hermione's birthday was coming up in a few weeks and he hadn't yet bought her gift.
He looked down at Andy. "What do you think, Andy? Should we get Mummy a book for her birthday?"
Andy blinked up at the books that were stacked higher than his head. "Mummy likes books a lot," he agreed.
Harry chuckled, making a mental note to tease Hermione later about how Andy, young as he was, spoke of her love of books as if it were an immutable fact of life. "Yes, she does."
He shifted closer to the table so he could shift the books around and browse a little.
He'd had some business to take care of in Gringotts and had brought Andy with him to give Hermione something of a break. Emily had had a mild summer cold and, while she was mostly recovered now, Emily was still feeling under the weather enough to make her rather irritable and fussy, quite unlike her usual cheerful self. And this mood seemed to have translated itself to Sabrina as well, who had also not been her usual, bubbly baby self. All things considered, their home had not been the pleasantest of places lately, and Harry had been guiltily glad to have a reason to leave it today. Andy had agreed eagerly to accompany Harry to Diagon Alley, since it was one of the coolest places in the world in Andy's young eyes (much as Harry had thought it on his first visit so many years ago), and as an added inducement, Harry had promised that they would end with a visit to Florean Fortescue's for ice cream sundaes.
Harry's business at Gringotts had been easily taken care of since the Gringotts goblins, no less than the rest of wizarding London really, were always eager to help him. But Harry was, for once, in no real rush to return home. It was a lovely afternoon, a perfect summer's day really. So in spite of the fact that generally Harry didn't like to linger much in Diagon Alley because it was one place where he was guaranteed to be stared at and pointed to and whispered about, today he decided to make an exception to that. And anyway, aside from all else, giving Hermione an afternoon of one less kid to worry about was the least he could do.
Harry moved a pile of books to the side to peek at the title of the large volume underneath it and then smiled. It was an old edition of a classic treatise and would make a nice gift for Hermione. Carefully, he pulled the book out and then turned to show it to Andy.
"Here, Andy, what do you think of--" He broke off. "Andy?" Andy was no longer by his side.
Harry felt a mild shock, as from a burst of electricity, run through him, his senses abruptly alert. "Andy?" He dropped the now-forgotten book on the table as he looked around. "Andy, where are you?"
There was no sign of him.
Harry stepped away from the table, bending to glance underneath it, to make sure Andy hadn't crawled under it. Nothing.
His breath was coming quicker as he stepped quickly into Flourish & Blott's, thinking Andy might have headed inside. He moved hurriedly towards the back where the section for young children was; he and Hermione had bought some books for Emily there not too long ago so Andy would know of it.
No Andy.
Oh my God.
Harry felt his pulse speed up, his breath beginning to come fast, as he quickly glanced down all the aisles of Flourish & Blott's, silently cursing the fact that the store had so many angles and corners. Andy was nowhere to be seen.
Harry almost ran out of it, feeling panic beginning to pick at the corners of his brain, his thoughts beginning to whirl. My God, my God, my God… Andy…
He and Hermione had always told Andy not to wander off, but Harry had been a parent long enough to know that such instructions tended to slip out of children's minds.
Andy was so young, such a little boy still. Where could he have gone-they had told him not to wander off alone before-he'd only turned away for a couple minutes-oh God.
He glanced frantically up and down Diagon Alley, hoping to see one familiar black head somewhere in the crowd. It would have been hard enough to find an adult in the shifting mass of people moving through Diagon Alley; finding one little boy in the crowd was even harder.
He was peripherally aware that he was drawing attention to himself, more than usual, because of his behavior, but didn't care.
Wait. Maybe Andy had gone ahead to Florean Fortescue's-if he had, Harry was going to strangle the boy, after he'd hugged him tight enough to squeeze the breath from his lungs-but Harry ran towards Florean's, almost skidding to a halt just inside it. "Andy?"
Andy was nowhere in sight.
If Andy had gotten bored-Harry belatedly remembered Quality Quidditch Supplies with a flare of incipient relief. Andy had already shown signs of developing an interest in Quidditch and it was almost right next to Flourish & Blott's. It would not be surprising if Andy had wandered over to look at the Quidditch merchandise.
Andy wasn't outside of the store, looking into the windows, so Harry ran inside it, glancing frantically around. "Andy? Andy, where are you?"
Nothing.
By the time Harry left the store, he had left worry far behind him and was rapidly entering panic, worse than anything Harry had ever felt in his life. His breath was coming fast and, as he jerked to a stop outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, he was briefly dizzy as he looked around.
Oh my God. His son, his baby boy, was gone!
He'd been trying and trying not to think about it but now, the thought couldn't be avoided any longer, almost stopping his heart with a species of black dread and terror beyond anything he'd ever felt-and if there was one thing Harry knew of, it was about fear. Had it happened? His worst nightmare. A public place. The entrance to Knockturn Alley wasn't far. Everyone knew he had a son. Harry Potter's only son-it would be any Dark wizard's dream to have such leverage over Harry Potter. They could literally ask for the world as ransom and Harry would give it to them-he knew that in one stark moment. For Andy-for any of his children-he would do anything, would go against everything else he held dear, break every law, trample on every principle he'd spent his entire life defending.
"Andy!" The name was a gasp, a strangled cry.
For one instant, Harry thought he might actually pass out-but he could not fall apart. For Andy-and, oh God, Hermione. How was he going to tell Hermione?
He realized his legs were beginning to tremble slightly from the force of his emotion as he stood there, looking frantically around. He caught people staring and then realized in a flash of desperate hope what that meant. People were always watching him, even staring at him. Surely, someone would have seen, noticed, if Andy had wandered off somewhere or been taken. For the first time ever, he could find it in him to be thankful for his celebrity.
"Has anyone seen my son?" he asked, raising his voice slightly. But he didn't shout-at least, not yet. Just in case, he didn't want anyone who might be in Knockturn Alley to know his son was lost.
More people started looking around, beginning to take the initiative, and then he heard someone speak up. "I- I think I saw him go over there." Harry turned to stare at the woman, and then pivoted to look where she was pointing, across Diagon Alley towards… Eeylops Owl Emporium.
Harry didn't bother to thank the woman, only sprinted across to Eeylops and burst inside it. "Andy?"
And then his legs almost gave way as his son looked up from where he was standing, peering into the cages. "Oh, hi, Daddy. Did you find a book for Mummy?"
He couldn't speak. Hell, he couldn't move. Relief-love-anger-burgeoning guilt-- so much emotion buffeted him, it was a wonder he stayed on his feet and, for a moment, he couldn't even decide which emotion was the most prominent.
Andy was safe. Safe and blithely unconscious of the worry he'd caused.
"Daddy?"
Andy was looking up at him questioningly and Harry finally managed to move, a little shakily, over to his son, before almost falling to his knees in front of him so he could haul Andy into his arms, clutching his son's precious body to him. He buried his face in Andy's neck, one hand cupping his son's head, savoring the familiar warmth and the sturdiness of the little boy's frame. "Andy," was all he could say. "Andy…" The one word was the most heartfelt prayer of his life.
Predictably, Andy squirmed to get away after only a few seconds. "Lemme go, Daddy. I want to look at more owls."
Harry let Andy go but only so he could grasp Andy's shoulders firmly. "Andy, look at me."
Andy did, innocent curiosity written plainly on his face. "Yes, Daddy?"
"What have Mummy and I told you about going places alone?"
"Oh." Andy's face sobered briefly, until he looked sheepish. "I forgot. Sorry, Daddy."
"Don't ever go off by yourself again."
Andy scuffed one trainer on the ground. "I only wanted to look at the owls."
Harry's tenuous hold on his temper snapped-after all the gut-wrenching fear and concern he'd felt!-- and he stood, before he bent again to pick Andy up. "Come on, Andy, we're going home."
Andy balked. "But, Daddy, you said we'd get ice cream!"
"Not today," he bit out, and walked out of the store, holding Andy firmly enough in his arms that Andy couldn't wiggle out.
He was angry, yes, but he was not going to make more of a spectacle of himself than he already had and, angry or not, he was not about to scold Andy in such a public place. And, entirely aside from that, after the scare he'd had, he wasn't going to breathe easily until Andy was safe and sound in their home.
How, he wasn't sure, but he retained enough presence of mind to remember the woman who had directed him to Eeylops.
She gave him a tentative smile. "Oh, you found your son. I am glad."
He nodded, just once, and then managed to say, "Thank you." He paused and then opened his mouth. "I--" his throat closed, his mind blanking on anything he could say to this stranger, and finally just said, again, "Thank you."
"You're welcome, Mr. Potter."
He nodded again and then turned, knowing he was being abrupt but unable to help it. He still felt a little shaky, as if he was being held together by bits of string, the fear he'd felt too strong to recover from quickly and not helped by his anger.
He tightened his arms around Andy, almost savoring the strain on his arms from his son's weight. Andy had grown heavy enough that he wasn't carried around often but after what had just happened, he never wanted to let his son go again.
"I want ice cream, Daddy."
"No."
Andy squirmed and twisted a little. "Daddyyy," his voice edging perilously close to a whine.
Harry only tightened his arms around Andy. "That's enough, Andy." He spoke sharply, enough that Andy said not a word more and promptly stopped his squirming.
Harry didn't put Andy down until they had left Diagon Alley and were out of the Leaky Cauldron and some ways down Charing Cross Road and even then, he kept a firm grip on Andy's hand.
His heart pinched slightly at the expression on Andy's face but he ignored it and silence reigned between them, brittle and tense on his part and rather sullen on Andy's, all the way home.
Hermione was just coming out of her office when they walked in the front door and she looked up with some surprise. "Oh, you're home earlier than I-- what is it? What happened? Harry?"
He couldn't explain it but just the sight of Hermione, the slight frown of concern shadowing her face, hit him in the chest until he felt rather like an anvil had been dropped on it. It was the first thing that had broken through his anger and, for a moment, all he wanted was to go up to her, to feel her arms around him.
But the feel of Andy's hand in his snapped him back to the present.
"Later," he told Hermione briefly, before turning his attention to Andy. "Upstairs, to your room," he ordered, finally releasing Andy's hand although doing so took some effort.
Andy went.
"Harry."
There was just a hint of a question in Hermione's tone but he couldn't trust himself to answer it now without breaking down or- or something-and he needed to deal with Andy first. He only touched her shoulder fleetingly with his hand before he went upstairs, knowing that Hermione was watching him go.
Andy hadn't closed his door and when Harry walked into the room, it was to find Andy sitting on his bed, looking distinctly mutinous.
Harry closed the door behind him softly.
"Andy."
As if the sound of his name had been a cue, Andy abruptly flared, "I wanted to get ice cream! I only went to look at the owls! I was going to come back!"
The memory of what he'd gone through in those minutes when he'd been searching for Andy-the sheer agony of it, the soul-crushing dread-- flashed through his mind and any chance he'd had of not scolding his son vanished.
"Andy, that's enough! You know you're not supposed to go places alone and especially not somewhere like Diagon Alley! You don't go anywhere alone, do you hear me? Never ever do that again!" Harry's voice rose progressively until he ended on a shout.
Andy visibly shrank, his shoulders hunching slightly, and Harry forcibly lowered his voice. "You scared me, Andy. You know that? I was very scared when I thought I'd lost you."
Andy's lip trembled and then quivered and then tears welled up, effectively dousing Harry's anger.
His anger had only been an outgrowth of his fear and, as always, he couldn't stay angry in the face of tears. Harry softened, crossing the room swiftly to perch on the edge of Andy's little bed. Andy almost threw himself at Harry, his small hands clutching Harry's shirt, as he buried his face in Harry's chest.
"I'm sorry, Daddy! I just forgot and I-I didn't mean to be bad, Daddy."
Harry sighed, tightening his arms around Andy and pulling him into his lap. "I know, Andy. It's okay. It's okay," he murmured, knowing one of those moments of feeling like he was floundering, lost in new, uncharted territory without a map. He hated knowing he'd made Andy cry, hated Andy's tears, but at the same time, Andy needed to be punished in some way for wandering off alone, didn't he? Andy needed to be made to understand that wandering off alone could have consequences beyond just scaring him-but he didn't want to scare Andy either. And he certainly did not want to talk about Dark magic or Dark wizards with Andy at this age. He and Hermione had always known they would need to tell their children about it sometime, but they'd wanted to wait until they were older. And so far, with Emily, the simple instruction had worked. But then Emily was a different type of child than Andy. It was the most predictable thing in the world that Andy would have gotten fidgety and then wandered off; Andy was, Harry was aware, rather easily distracted. Just telling Andy not to wander off wouldn't work. Not with Andy.
Harry sighed again, moving a soothing hand down Andy's back. "I was just scared, Andy. I'm sorry I shouted."
It was a few minutes before Andy shifted away, scooting out of Harry's lap, sniffling a little as he did so. "Why were you scared, Daddy?"
Harry met Andy's eyes, resting his hands lightly on Andy's shoulders. He was, suddenly, terrifyingly, aware of just how very frail Andy's shoulders were. He was such a little boy still. A healthy little boy, yes, but his little frame was, well, little. It was not hard to imagine that any grown adult of reasonable strength could hurt Andy, even as his mind, his very soul, shuddered away from the thought.
"I was scared because I thought I'd lost you." He paused. Now was the time to explain about the potential danger, but he didn't have the slightest idea what to say, how to tell his son about the evil in the world, how to somehow explain something he himself had never really understood. He looked at his son, met the clear, brown eyes-saw the innocence in them, and he knew he couldn't possibly explain about Dark magic now. He couldn't bear to have Andy lose that precious innocence-not yet. Andy was still so young, too young to have to know about the evil in the world.
"It's just… bad things can happen to little kids when they're alone," he finally temporized.
"Bad things?" Andy's eyes were wide.
"Yes," he nodded. "Kids get hurt when they're alone. I thought you might have been hurt and that scared me. Can you understand that, Andy?"
Andy nodded solemnly.
"Promise me you won't go anywhere alone again?"
Andy nodded again. "I promise, Daddy. I won't forget."
"Good." He couldn't quite manage a smile, only kissed Andy's forehead.
"Daddy?"
"What?"
"Can we have ice cream next time we go to Di'gon?"
He let out a small laugh that felt decidedly foreign in his current state. "Yes, we can have ice cream next time," he promised.
"Okay, good."
And Harry realized, with a spurt of relief, that things were fine now. Andy was fine and-he hoped-would not wander off again so lightly.
As for himself, well, he was not himself, had yet to recover from the ordeal of the afternoon. He still felt brittle, his insides still trembling. Knew it would be some time before he could recover. It had been too much, had brought him face to face with his worst, deepest fear.
He hugged Andy again before he stood up, pushing himself to his feet. "Let's go see Mummy and the baby, okay, Andy?"
Andy nodded, scrambling off his bed, before he gave Harry a somewhat tentative smile. "You're not mad at me anymore, are you, Daddy?"
Harry's heart squeezed and he bent to pick Andy up again. "No, I'm not mad, Andy."
"Okay." Andy settled himself comfortably against Harry's shoulder, one thin arm going around Harry's neck.
And that was how they left the room.
They found Hermione bending over Sabrina's cradle and she straightened up as they walked in, her eyes scanning both their faces swiftly.
He lowered Andy to the ground, letting Andy run up to peer into the cradle.
"Is everything okay?" Hermione asked quietly.
Harry nodded, keeping his eyes on Andy and Sabrina. "Everything's fine." He wrapped one arm around Hermione in a brief half-hug. "I'll tell you what happened later," he promised.
He was aware that Hermione was studying him, a slight frown in her eyes, knew she would sense his tension. But he also knew that she would accept his assurance now and wait until tonight, when he hoped he would be able to talk about the afternoon's ordeal without breaking down. He loved that about her, that she knew him well enough to know when to press him and when to just wait.
And wait she did, although he noted the way she kept glancing at him for the rest of that day. He was tense and jittery, and he knew he was acting oddly with his utter reluctance to let Andy out of his sight. (Andy, thankfully, was blithely unconscious of any of this, and seemed his usual self, pestering Emily and playing with Sabrina-although, admittedly, "playing with" usually meant hanging around Sabrina and treating her as if she were some sort of exotic and fragile toy.)
He made a point of tucking Andy into bed that night, arranging the blankets snugly around Andy with as much care as if Andy's life depended on the coziness of his bed, and then lingered long after Andy had fallen asleep. He reached out a careful hand to brush a lock of hair away from Andy's face with a touch as light and soft as a feather. He would have bent to kiss Andy's forehead again except he didn't want to wake Andy up and Andy was the lightest sleeper among his children.
His son, his baby boy. Looking very small and very vulnerable indeed as he slept. God, if anything ever happened to any of his children… He shuddered.
It was a sign of just how preoccupied he was that he didn't realize Hermione had entered the room and started a little as she put her hand on his shoulder.
"Come to bed, Harry," she said softly, her voice barely louder than a breath, so as not to disturb Andy.
"Yeah," he agreed equally quietly and then followed her out of the room, pulling Andy's door until it was just ajar but not quite closed.
"What happened today, Harry?" Hermione asked as she slid into bed beside him a little while later, after they had both changed into their pyjamas and washed up for bed.
He let out a shuddering breath that was almost a sigh. "Andy and I were just wandering through Diagon Alley since it was such a nice day out. I stopped to look at some of the books on display outside of Flourish & Blott's; I must have turned away for maybe a couple minutes. When I turned back to Andy, he was gone."
"Oh…" The word was just a sigh of understanding.
Hermione slipped her arm around him and he automatically shifted closer to her as he continued, his voice slightly shaky as he remembered how he'd felt in those endless minutes.
"I- I couldn't find him. I checked inside Flourish & Blott's and then went to Florean's and then to Quality Quidditch Supplies, and he wasn't anywhere. I thought-I thought someone might have… might have… taken him…"
Hermione tightened her arm around him. "Where was he?"
"Some woman said she thought she'd seen him go into Eeylops; that was where he was. He was-he was looking at the owls. And when I found him, he was so… normal… he didn't even think he might have done something wrong in wandering off. I just… God, Hermione, the scare he gave me and he didn't even know, didn't even realize…"
"Did you tell him why he shouldn't wander off?"
"I told him… I told him that bad things can happen to little kids when they're alone. I- I just couldn't try to explain to him about Dark magic…"
"No, you're right. He's too young for that; he wouldn't understand. We'll have to tell the kids about it, but not yet. We'll tell them together, when the time comes."
He nodded against her head, kissing her hair, as he tightened his arm around her, bringing her in closer to him, letting the solid, familiar warmth of her soothe his abraded spirit.
And he didn't understand why-when nothing had really happened and all his kids were safely asleep in their beds-but somehow, to his horror, he found tears welling up in his eyes and then he was crying and couldn't seem to stop. Maybe it was just the delayed reaction from his panic that afternoon, all the emotion he'd been holding inside until now, but now, with Hermione, he couldn't hold it in any longer. Whatever the reason, he just crumpled-knowing, with her, he could fall apart and trust that that she was there to catch him.
"Harry…"
He buried his face against Hermione's shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him, running her fingers lightly through his hair almost as she did to soothe their own kids.
"I- I was so scared," he choked out. "I thought… it was my fault-if anything had happened to him… I should've been more alert…"
Hermione tightened her arms around him and he clutched her as if she was a life-saver and he was drowning. She was, as always, his rock. With her strength, her steadfastness. He didn't know how she did it, but he loved that about her, that in these times when he wasn't strong enough on his own, she felt like the only thing keeping him standing.
The storm passed quickly-he very rarely cried but when he did, it was never for long-and when it was over, he let out a shuddering breath, not moving from his position leaning against Hermione. He was suddenly exhausted from the flood of emotion, but for the first time since he'd looked down to find Andy gone, he also felt calm again.
He felt Hermione drop a kiss on his hair and he closed his eyes briefly at the tender touch. And after a minute, he shifted, still keeping his arm around Hermione, as they settled easily into their usual positions, with Hermione's head on his shoulder. He reached up to lace his fingers through hers, resting their joined hands on his chest.
He sighed and then said, quietly, "It's my worst nightmare, something happening to any of the kids because of who I am."
Her fingers tensed slightly, her grip tightening on his hand for a moment. "I know," was all she said.
Which rather surprised him-and yet, he supposed it shouldn't have. Of course she knew.
He had never put it into words before, never said anything to her. He'd had other fears before his kids were born-fears about what kind of father he would be since he'd grown up without a real father; fears that something would happen to him and would leave his kids to grow up not knowing him as he had never known James; fears that he would become a parent like his Aunt and Uncle had been, who indulged their children until they grew up to be veritable monsters… He and Hermione had talked about his fears-and hers-but in all their talks, he had never mentioned his fear that someone would target his children because of who he was. It was the one thing lurking in the deepest corner of his mind, unacknowledged, too terrifying to even be put into words. As if never putting it into words would make it somehow impossible. As if never putting it into words would guarantee that he would never need to face its existence.
Today, he'd faced his worst nightmare and the secret was out. And he had to face it now.
"When I thought Andy was lost, that he might have been taken… it was the worst moment of my life."
He knew she felt the slight shudder that racked him at the memory, heard it in his voice.
"Don't, Harry. You don't have to torture yourself over this. Nothing happened and Andy's fine."
He let out his breath. "I know. I keep telling myself that, but I just… Nothing happened today, but that doesn't mean that nothing ever will happen…"
It was her turn to shudder; he felt the slight tremor go through her. "I know," she murmured. And then, after a moment, so softly he almost couldn't hear it and-if it had been anyone else but Hermione-would have assumed it wasn't meant to be heard, she added, "It's my worst fear too."
He twisted his head to look at her, his heart clenching. "It is?"
She turned her head to meet his eyes, the corners of her lips lifting into an expression that was a ghost of a somber smile. "Did you think it wouldn't be?"
Put like that… But it wasn't that he had thought she wouldn't fear it, but that he'd deliberately avoided wondering if she feared it too, just as he had refused to acknowledge his own fear.
He brushed his lips against her forehead. "I don't know," he said, and wasn't even sure exactly what he meant. With anyone else, he wouldn't have said such a lame thing, but this was Hermione and he never censored himself with her, never needed to censor himself.
Hermione resettled her head snugly against his shoulder. "We've done everything we can do to keep the kids safe. You know that. There's nothing more that we can do except take precautions. We'll explain to them why they need to be more careful when they're older, old enough to understand. And Andy promised he wouldn't wander off alone anymore?"
"Yeah, he did. I just hope he remembers his promise the next time he starts feeling restless."
"We'll keep reminding him, Harry. What else can we do?"
Her matter-of-fact tone was oddly comforting, her calm logic the perfect foil to his irrational emotion. And, after all, he could not argue because she was right. As always.
They had done everything they could, making their house generally Unplottable, not being connected to the Floo network, to say nothing of all the defensive wards and protective spells around the house. They had turned their house into what was probably the most well-protected residence in England, arguably even safer in some ways than Hogwarts.
She was right. And that thought, too, had a comfort of its own. Because he trusted her, more even than he trusted himself in some ways.
And so for the first time since that afternoon, he felt himself relaxing, as he tightened his arms around her. "What would I do without you?"
It was a rhetorical question, really, one that had become almost a catch-phrase between them. And normally, her answer was lightly teasing, wry.
But today-today was different. The question felt different, somehow.
"I don't know," she finally said quietly, "just as I don't know what I would do without you."
It was the sort of thing she didn't often say, since Hermione was not, and never had been, particularly given to sentimentality.
Harry didn't say anything more, partly because he couldn't think of anything to say but also because there was no need to say anything. He only turned his head to brush a kiss against Hermione's temple.
He turned off the lights in their room with one wave of his hand.
And then he closed his eyes, letting himself drift into sleep with his cheek resting against her hair.
~The End~