Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: See 'All He Ever Wanted'.

Author's Note: Yet another smut-less vignette in this series-sorry! Just the result of finals being on my mind and from thinking that so far, this series has been rather Emily-centric, and I'd hate for Andy and Sabrina to feel left out!

Also, apologies for the error in uploading this last time!

Portrait of a Marriage

A Lesson Remembered, a Lesson Learned

Harry heard the front door open and Hermione's voice. "I'm home."

He mentally tracked her movements, with half his mind, knowing her routine as well as he did after so many years, the way she shook out her summer cloak before hanging it up on its usual hook, the place on the floor in her study where she put down her bag, her quick stop to glance through the stack of owls and other mail they'd received that day.

And as always, he knew the moment she appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, sensed it as he turned to give her a quick smile. "You're home early today." Hermione had worked late every day this week, not arriving home until he and Sabrina had already started eating dinner, at the earliest, and once, not coming home until long after dinner was over and Sabrina had finished washing the dishes.

"We had a long staff meeting this afternoon and afterwards, I was just too tired so I decided to come home and finish up any work I needed to do from here," Hermione explained.

He set their dinner to be finished with a few quick flicks of his wand, although he usually cooked without the use of magic, just out of habit after his early years and he tended to find it soothing, somehow. But Hermione's admission of being tired had him snapping his head around to study her face as she poured herself a glass of water. And in a minute, he had washed and dried his hands and come over to slip his arms around her.

Hermione relaxed against him with a soft sigh as he pressed a kiss to her hair. He didn't say anything for the moment; he could tell by Hermione's expression when she just wanted to be held for a little while and he knew-- partly because she'd told him and, more than that, because he felt the exact same way-- that just being together like this was all she needed to recharge her energy. Still. By now, it had even ceased to surprise him that she felt the same way as he did, that he could give her the same strength she had always given him. By now, he'd stopped wondering if that would ever change, knew it wouldn't. But for all that, it was still amazing to him, still made him want to take a mental step back and double-check-- that this was really his life, that Hermione really did love him and need him just as much as he did her.

And in the back of his mind, the part of his mind that always sounded like her, he could almost hear her say in the tone she used when she was trying to sound scolding and not succeeding, "Really, Harry, after more than 20 years of marriage, you shouldn't be so easily amazed."

He gave an inward smile and kissed her hair again.

She finally stirred, stepping back just enough to look at him. "I needed that. It's been a long week."

"For you, it has been. You should take the weekend off," he suggested mildly.

She shook her head slightly as she moved to sit down at the table. "No, there's too much I have to do. I think I will just work a half-day on Saturday, though, and I'll just work from here on Sunday."

"Actually, I was thinking we should do something on Sunday, all of us go out somewhere. Em and Andy should be free."

"Any special reason or do you just feel like it?" Her tone was indulgent.

"Nothing in particular, except Sabrina's O.W.L. results just arrived this afternoon, so I thought we should do something to celebrate."

She straightened. "Oh, they came? Somehow, I didn't think they'd arrive 'til next week. How did she do?"

"She--" Harry paused. "You know, I don't know. They only came a little while ago and she disappeared up into her room with them and I haven't seen her since."

"Hm." A slight frown creased Hermione's forehead for a moment. "That doesn't sound like her."

"No," he agreed. "Now that you mention it, it is unlike her."

"She told us she'd thought she'd done well, when she came home," Hermione remembered.

"I know. So I just assumed when they arrived..." Harry paused, realizing now that it really was unlike Sabrina not to have announced her O.W.L. results immediately. Sabrina, of all his children, was the most high-spirited and the least given to melancholy or bad temper. When she received good news, Sabrina could always be relied upon to shout it from the roof-tops, figuratively speaking.

He'd once wondered aloud to Hermione where Sabrina had gotten that seemingly-boundless inner cheer, and Hermione had surprised him by saying, "From you." He had stared and she'd added, her tone gentle, "I meant, she got it from your father. We know James had a streak of mischief and humor a mile wide; it's why he and Sirius were such good friends. And we know one of the reasons it took your mum so long to come around was because she thought he took nothing seriously."

As usual, the mention of his parents had made him thoughtful. "But I'm not like that at all," he'd finally said.

And then, Hermione had come to sit beside him, putting her hand on his knee. "No," she'd agreed, her voice quiet. "But remember, Harry, that you grew up differently from your father. I think," she hesitated and then finished, gently, "I think Sabrina takes after James and is, in her way, what you would have been like, if you'd been raised in a happy family."

He hadn't been able to say anything in response to that insight, had only been able to hug her wordlessly. But he'd never forgotten her words and, he'd realized soon after, that she'd given him an unexpected gift, because it had added a new dimension to his joy in watching and listening to Sabrina. In observing his youngest daughter, he'd felt oddly as if he was getting to know James better too-- and, for the boy who'd spent almost his entire life wishing he could know what his parents were like, that insight into his father's personality had been incredibly precious.

"Of course, she may have just gotten distracted by something else," Hermione reasoned. Which was also entirely possible. Sabrina did not have Emily's ability to focus all her attention on any one thing for hours on end.

"Well, I'll just go up and find out how she did," Harry suggested. "But what do you say to our going out on Sunday? Can you spare the day?"

"Yes, let's. It'll do me good to take a break anyway," Hermione agreed, with a readiness she would never have shown towards taking an unscheduled day off from work years ago. But as she was well aware, if there was one thing Harry-and Ron-and her children too had taught her over the years, it was the truth in the old saying that all work and no play made for a very dull life.

Harry gave her a smile, giving her shoulder a fleeting pressure as he left the dining area to go upstairs.

Sabrina's door was closed, which was the first sign that something was not quite right. Sabrina usually kept her door open during the day.

"Sabrina?" He knocked briefly on the door. "Rina, love, can I come in?"

There was no answer but after a moment, the door was opened, although Sabrina herself retreated from it almost immediately, going to sit on her bed.

"Mum's home," Harry began. "We were thinking that we could all go somewhere on Sunday, with Em and Andy too, to celebrate your O.W.L. results."

If he'd expected Sabrina to smile and agree immediately-and he had-he was disappointed. An indefinable but undoubtedly sober expression quivered across her otherwise uncharacteristically-still features. "There's nothing to celebrate," she finally said, sounding more dispirited than he could ever remember before.

Oh dear. "Rina, can I see your O.W.L. results?" he asked gently, mentally preparing to see a row of T's.

She hesitated and then almost flung a piece of parchment at him, that had been a little bit crumpled, and which he unfolded, smoothing it out.

He glanced over the results quickly.

His mind suddenly flashed back to the time five years ago when one of the less-reputable newspapers had had the gall to print Emily's O.W.L. results. Which would have been quite bad enough, as he and Hermione had always made it very clear that news coverage about the children was strictly forbidden. (He had given up on trying to enforce such a rule for himself and Hermione.) Except the newspaper had, since Emily's results had been nothing scandalous as Emily had (predictably) received all O's, except for one E in Ancient Runes, decided to take the angle of accusing the O.W.L. graders of being biased, not-quite-subtly insinuating that Emily had not deserved the scores she received but had only received them out of favoritism. For once, he had actually been the calmer one between him and Hermione, as Hermione had been outraged, the implication that Emily might not have earned her grades fairly offending Hermione on a personal, visceral level. McGonagall had been only too willing to defend both Emily and the fairness of her grades, while he had-for almost the first time-taken full advantage of his status and his power in the wizarding world to ensure that the people responsible for the article were made to feel very sorry indeed for having violated the blanket prohibition on covering Harry Potter's children.

Sabrina's results were not bad. Naturally. He highly doubted any child of Hermione's could do very poorly on the O.W.L.'s, but when compared to Emily's and Andy's results, they did not measure up particularly well. There was only one O, in Astronomy, and the rest was a smattering of E's, with A's in Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, and History of Magic. It was, Harry realized suddenly, the first A any of his children had received. (Andy's O.W.L. results had been about evenly divided between O's and E's.)

He looked back up at Sabrina but before he could say anything, she burst out, "I'm sorry, Dad. Are you very disappointed in me?"

"Disappointed? No, sweetie," he answered immediately, moving to sit on the edge of her bed.

Her expression didn't brighten; she only sniffed a little and he was horrified to hear the slight quaver in her voice, so unusual for her, "I tried, Dad, I really did but I guess I'm just the stupid one of the family."

"You are not stupid! Don't ever call yourself that again, Sabrina," he scolded forcefully, his voice loud and a little harsh in his dismay.

"It's true. I'm not clever like Em and Andy; I'm not a Prefect like they were, and I'm not even good enough at Quidditch to be on the team." She sniffed, her voice wavering again. "I'm not good at anything."

His heart hurt with an almost physical pain at this uncharacteristic display of vulnerability in Sabrina-that Sabrina, who was always so at-ease with herself that she had the gift of making others feel more comfortable too, should feel lacking in any way just made his chest ache.

"That isn't true. You can draw and Em can't. You've seen some of the things Em drew when she was little; the only thing that made anything recognizable were the colors."

He realized he'd made a mistake in going for levity when Rina didn't smile, or even respond, in any way.

He promptly sobered, scooting closer to her so he could lift her chin to meet his eyes. "Sabrina, love, listen to me. You. Are. Extraordinary," he said, pausing deliberately after each word. "And there are lots of things you're better at than either Emily or Andy," he added, ticking each one off on a finger. "First, you can draw."

"You already said that," she muttered, but he was somewhat comforted that she was responding and that the so-uncharacteristic quaver was out of her voice.

He continued on, emphasizing each one. "You are neater than Andy is, better at keeping your temper, and more patient too. More importantly, Sabrina, you're a happy person."

"Being happy's not a talent."

"Yes, it is, love. It might be the best talent there is. You make people feel happier just by being around them because you are so cheerful. People like to be around you for that reason, Sabrina; you make them feel better about themselves, about their lives." He paused, and then added softly, "Do you know what a gift that is? You've always amazed me because of it."

"Really, Dad? I amaze you?"

He gave her a small, tender smile, as he reached up to touch her cheek lightly. "You've amazed me every day of your life."

"Even though I'm not a Prefect and I didn't do well on my O.W.L.s?"

"Yes," he answered simply.

And was rewarded with a smile, somewhat less bright than her usual ones, but a smile nevertheless, before she threw her arms around him in a hug. "Thanks, Dad."

He wrapped his arms around her, returning the hug, beyond thankful that he had, somehow, managed to say the right things, that he'd comforted her.

"And as far as your O.W.L. results, you want to know something?"

"Yes, what?"

Harry deliberately lowered his voice as if about to confess to something absolutely horrifying. "You did better than I did on my O.W.L.'s."

A little spurt of half-incredulous laughter escaped her. "Really, Dad?"

"Yes, really."

"I didn't know that."

"Yes, well, don't tell Em and Andy, okay? I'd like for them to still look up to me," he winked at her, giving her a conspiratorial smile.

She smiled. "I won't. I promise."

"Good girl."

She returned his smile but after a moment, her smile faded as she sobered, her expression clouding over a little. "I just wish I could be clever, like Em and Andy are."

He sighed-and, suddenly, knew what he had to say, a half-forgotten memory winging back to him. "I know, Rina. I've felt that same way sometimes. It can be hard being around clever people, knowing they're more clever than you."

Sabrina stared at him, her eyes wide, and he could see that she had, for the moment, entirely forgotten her own troubles. "But, Dad, you…"

"I'm not clever like Mum is," Harry said simply. "I said that to Mum once, years ago, that I wasn't as clever as her."

"Really? What did Mum say to that?"

Harry gave his daughter a small smile, his gaze drifting inward, as he remembered that occasion, so many years ago, a lifetime ago, really. "Mum said that she was only books and cleverness, but that there are more important things, like friendship and bravery…"

He blinked, returning to the present, to focus on Sabrina again. "And you know what? She was right. There are more important things than just being clever, Sabrina, and your Mum would be the first person to admit that, even though Mum is the cleverest person I've ever met."

"Mum really said that?"

"She really did." He tried for a smile. "Do you feel better now?"

She nodded, slowly, but then blurted out, "I just wanted to make you and Mum proud of me like you are of Em and Andy."

He touched her chin so she met his eyes. "Sweetie, the only thing you ever have to do to make me proud is to be yourself. And all you ever have to do to make me and Mum happy is to come home at the end of the day."

She sniffled, her eyes now shining with tears. "Oh, Daddy…"

It was the first time she'd called him Daddy in years, since she'd stopped soon after starting her third year at Hogwarts.

She brushed her tears away hastily and then threw herself into his arms. "Thank you, Daddy. I feel better now."

He smiled and closed his arms around his little girl. His baby, who was growing so tall but still had an endearing tendency of reverting to childishness now and then, especially when she was at home. He treasured those moments, since both Emily and Andy had long since left childishness behind. Even Sabrina, too, was growing up with distressing speed, but for all that, she was always going to be his baby girl.

He brushed a kiss against her forehead, his tone becoming brisker as he stood up. "Dinner should be ready in about half an hour."

Sabrina smiled up at him, a return to cheekiness evident. "Good, because I'm getting hungry."

He laughed as he left her room, feeling much better at this clear sign that Rina was once more restored to her usual self.

He found Hermione in the family room, and it was a sign of how tired she was that Hermione was occupying herself by flipping idly through the latest issue of Quidditch Weekly, something she rarely read.

"How did Sabrina do?"

He threw himself down beside her on the couch, tugging at her hand until she was half-leaning against him. "Not as well as she was hoping," he answered briefly. "One O in Astronomy and then E's and A's."

"Oh dear. Was she very upset about it?"

Harry sighed a little, turning his head to brush his lips against her hair. "Yes, rather. She said she thought she wasn't good at anything since she's not as clever as Em or Andy, she's not a Prefect, and she didn't make the Quidditch team."

Hermione stiffened and turned to look at him. "What did you tell her?"

He smiled slightly, touching his finger to her nose in a half-teasing, affectionate gesture. "I told her that there are more important things than books and cleverness."

It took her a fleeting moment to place the reference before he saw the flicker of recognition cross her face. "Harry, you remember that?"

He gave her a look of exaggerated superiority. "I remember everything."

"Hmph. Of course you do, when you want to remember it."

He smiled and dropped a kiss on the corner of her mouth that betrayed her by twitching. "I'll have you know a selective memory is considered a talent." He sobered and added, "And anyway, did you really think I would have forgotten about that?"

Hermione lifted one shoulder into a half-shrug. "It was more than 30 years ago, Harry."

"It was also the first time I could remember of anyone hugging me," he pointed out mildly.

Her expression softened. "You never told me that."

It was his turn to shrug. "Well, it's not really a nice conversation piece," he said with an attempt at lightness. He did not add, since he knew she already knew, that he rarely talked about his years with the Dursleys; even Hermione only knew the bare outlines of those years.

"Oh, Harry…" Hermione sighed softly as she nestled her head against his shoulder. And in that small movement, in her tone, was all her sympathy and all her understanding, although she said nothing more.

He rested his cheek against her hair for a moment before he returned to the original subject. "At any rate, Sabrina's feeling better about herself now."

"Mm. I wondered if she felt badly about not being made a Prefect, but she seemed to take it so calmly, as if she'd never even thought of it. I guess I just assumed she was fine."

"We both did. Rina's always been so sure of herself, it never even really occurred to me that she might feel lacking in some way. But I think I managed to restore her cheerfulness, thankfully."

"By telling her that there are more important things than books and cleverness?"

"I like repeating your words as if they were mine. It makes me sound ever so much wiser, you know," Harry teased.

Hermione laughed. "Thank you, I think."

Harry grinned at her before he stood up, pulling her up after him. "Dinner should be nearly ready by now, so come on. It's your turn to set the table, remember?"

"Yes, Dad," Hermione said mockingly as she accompanied him.

"So, get to it, then." Harry made a mock shooing gesture with one arm.

And so Sabrina came downstairs to the sound of their laughter, making her hide a smile. Her Mum and Dad never changed, somehow, were still best friends, just as much as they were husband and wife and parents. Even a year ago, she might have rolled her eyes at it, but now, she could only think that it was… nice… And she already knew that she would not change her Mum and Dad for anything.

From the back of her mind, she heard her dad's voice saying, all you ever have to do to make me and Mum happy is to come home at the end of the day. She smiled again, and knew she would never forget it.

~The End~