Disclaimer: See 'All He Ever Wanted.'
Author's Note: Another fic of H/Hr's future-the third part of this little installment. No smut in this part but that's coming next. A little more substance this time, still fluffy but with a dash of angst. Enjoy!
Portrait of a Marriage
Worth Any Price
Part 1
Hermione tucked Sabrina into her bed, dropping a kiss on Sabrina's forehead. "Good night, Sabrina."
"G'night." She closed her eyes only to open them again immediately. "Mummy, when will Daddy be back?"
Hermione brushed a stray lock of hair out of Sabrina's face with a gentle touch. "Soon, love. He'll be home soon, I promise."
"Okay." Sabrina shut her eyes again, satisfied.
Hermione closed Sabrina's door behind her softly before going in to Andy's bedroom, to see her son sprawled on his covers flipping through the pages of the latest issue of the Quidditch Weekly magazine.
"Time's up, Andy-boy," she announced. "Bed-time for you."
He closed the magazine with clear reluctance, letting out a heavy sigh that had Hermione hiding a smile at how exaggerated it was.
He slid under his covers and smiled up at her. "Good night, Mum."
She ruffled his hair. "Good night."
She closed his door behind her, thinking with a small pang of how he had stopped calling her Mummy from the day he turned 10. He was growing up, no longer the truly little boy he'd been.
All her children were growing up. Emily off at Hogwarts now, starting her 2nd year-and Hermione still couldn't believe it sometimes. How had Emily's first year at Hogwarts gone by so quickly? It seemed like just yesterday that she and Harry had smiled over Emily's first letter from Hogwarts, giddily announcing that she'd been sorted into Gryffindor and exclaiming over how much fun the castle was, with its moving staircases and ghosts and everything.
And last month, when Emily had set off for her second year, she had left with as much calm as if she were now an old hand at leaving her home and her parents for the better part of a year. (And Harry had been the wreck, predictably, fretting over Emily's leaving as if she'd had a terrible first year at Hogwarts with no friends, rather than the exact opposite.)
Hermione stifled a sigh as she went downstairs to finish going through some files she'd brought home from work, wishing in a rather uncharacteristic moment of weakness that Harry could be there just to hold her and comfort her in this unexpected melancholy at the thought of how quickly their children were growing up.
It was some time later when she was about to go upstairs to her lonely bed when she heard it.
There was a knock on the front door and she felt a sudden, instinctive frisson of fear go through her. No… oh no… Please, no…
She opened the door to see the grim face of one of the Aurors, Nicholas Alpert, who was vaguely familiar to her-and her physical strength suddenly failed her. If she hadn't clutched the door knob convulsively, she would have fallen. No… oh no… And then in a silent scream of agony, Harry…
In that one blinding, endless moment, she lived and died and suffered enough for a lifetime. In that one moment, she paid the price, in full, for her happiness, for their happiness, seeing her entire future flash before her eyes in a nightmarish image of herself, the rest of her life as his widow (she flinched away from the word), raising their children alone… No, no, oh no…
"Mrs. Potter," Mr. Alpert began-and somehow, in some crazy way, just the sound of that name, her name, gave her some strength which she clung to desperately. She was Mrs. Potter, Harry's wife and the best friend who had already gone into hell and back with him; she would not, could not, give way now.
"Mrs. Potter, I am very sorry but Mr. Potter is gravely injured. He is in the emergency ward of the Auror Infirmary now. We must ask you to come immediately."
He was still alive… She clutched that thought to her heart desperately even as she felt her mind reeling from the suddenness of it, her every worst fear and nightmare coming true all at once.
"Yes, of course," she said with forced calm. "I will be there at once, as soon as I get someone to come watch my children."
His impassive mask flickered with something like pity at the mention of the children. "Certainly. Someone will be waiting for you at the entrance." He paused. "Mr. Potter's condition is not hopeless," he added, the words seeming impelled from him.
"Thank you."
She closed the front door numbly, feeling the waves of black fear and panic beginning to surge up inside her and fighting them back. No, she could not give way; she could not.
Ron-she had to Floo-call Ron.
She went through the motions of what she had to do-floo-called Ron and broke the news.
He went pale but all he said was, "I'll meet you at the Infirmary."
"No," she cut him off.
"Hermione--" he began in protest but she continued on hurriedly.
"No. Please, Ron, I want you to come stay with Andy and Sabrina for at least these first few hours. If they wake up, they'll be more reassured with their uncle Ron there than with anyone else and I don't want to frighten them now before we know anything for sure. I'll-I'll let you know when I get to the Infirmary and… and then, I'll decide when and how to tell them."
He nodded. "I'll let my parents know," he said somberly.
"Thanks, Ron."
"Hermione," he stopped her before she could end the call.
She paused, looking at him, as his throat worked for a moment before he simply said, "Good luck."
She swallowed back the lump of fear. "Yeah."
She had no clear memory of Apparating over to the Auror Infirmary after that, other than to be fleetingly grateful that she didn't splinch herself on the way, didn't remember being met at the door by some Auror Infirmary worker whom she didn't know and would hardly recognize again.
All she was conscious of, through the litany of dread and fear, was one thought, one thought that seemed to burn her mind as if it were a flame. It was too soon. They hadn't had enough time…
Not enough time together… A lifetime wouldn't be enough of him, of loving him and being loved by him, of raising their children together-but this was definitely not enough. They'd been married for 17 years-only 17 years-and it was too soon…
She couldn't lose him now… Please, dear God, she couldn't lose him now… He wasn't only her best friend, her husband and the father of her children-he was her life-what would she do without him?
She didn't emerge from her waking nightmare of searing fear until she faced the Chief Healer of the Aurors, Healer Evangeline Del Prete.
"I have good news, Mrs. Potter. He is out of immediate danger now; we've managed to stabilize him…"
She said a little more, details about Harry's condition, but Hermione heard very little of it, her entire being consumed with just one thought, the words repeating in her head in a mantra of relief and gratitude: he is out of danger now.
He was out of danger; he wasn't going to die… He wasn't going to leave her.
And something gave way inside her, a wall crashing down, and she brought her hand up to her mouth in an attempt to stifle the wild sobs of relief rising up inside her.
He was out of danger; he wasn't going to leave her… And somehow, only then did she realize just how terrified she had been of the bleakness of her future if she lost him now; only then did she realize just how much she had dreaded having to somehow tell their children-and they were all still so young, so very young, too young to understand-that their beloved father was gone…
Her breath was coming in gasps as she fought for some control, returning to the present to realize that Healer Del Prete had stopped speaking and was now regarding her with some sympathy mixed in with her professional manner.
"I am afraid Mr. Potter is still unconscious but you may sit with him now."
"Thank you." She rallied, finding some reservoir of strength and coherence from somewhere inside her. "What more can you tell me? How serious are his injuries?"
"To be entirely honest, there were a few moments immediately after he arrived that we almost despaired of him. He had been hit with any number of curses that had a combined effect that could easily have killed anyone weaker but your Mr. Potter has a strong will, to say nothing of his magical power, and he rallied. His condition has stabilized so that he is no longer in immediate danger, but I would be lying if I were to tell you that he is entirely out of the woods. I will say, though, that given his youth and his strength, I like his chances."
Hermione nodded rather mechanically, clinging to hope. Harry could not die now… it was too soon… He could not…
She made her way into his room and then, in a burst of energy, closed the distance between her and his bed in a few long strides, sinking into the chair pulled up beside it.
She blinked back the tears and swallowed back her automatic cry at sight of his ghastly pallor.
Oh, Harry…
She moved his hair away from his face with a light caress, bending over to brush her lips against his forehead and then his lips.
"Harry, it's me," she whispered against his ear. "I'm here now. I'm here so it's time for you to wake up. You're home now," she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly.
He didn't move, didn't react. She dropped another feather-light kiss on his unresponsive lips and settled back in her chair to wait.
Some hours later; she had lost all concept of time passing except for the punctuation of the visits from Healer Del Prete and her Floo-calls home to check on Andy and Sabrina, who were, Ron assured her, still sleeping.
She hated to think of them waking up to find her not there and be faced with the news that their father was hurt but she also could not leave Harry. She could not leave him while there was even the smallest danger and somehow, in some small corner of her heart, she was irrationally sure that he sensed her presence, that he would be comforted by it.
She retained her grip on his hand, sitting by his bed, reflecting, with a pang, how very familiar this was. How many times had she waited in an infirmary, at Hogwarts and after, worrying about Harry? So many-and yet she knew, even as she thought it, that she wouldn't have had it any other way. Life might have been easier, less stressful, less dangerous certainly, without Harry in her life-but it would also have been so much poorer, only a pale imitation of what her life was now. It wasn't something she could ever put into words but she knew as she looked down at his pale face, so utterly still in his unconsciousness, that it was all worth it, more than worth it. No matter the worries, no matter the fear, no matter the danger, it was all worth it. She was repaid every time he smiled at her, that small, tender smile he saved for her alone; repaid every time he kissed her; repaid every time he touched her; repaid every time she fell asleep in his arms, knowing that she was exactly where she belonged, with him.
She pushed his hair off his forehead with the lightest of caresses, brushing a kiss on his forehead, across his scar, that mark of his fame and his destiny. "Come on, love, it's time to wake up," she murmured softly. "Please, love, you can't leave me and the children…"
Hours passed and she found herself almost nodding off, drifting, until she realized the small talisman hovering above his bed, the monitoring talisman, she knew, had turned a bright white from the gray it had been.
At the same moment, Healer Del Prete entered and just the expression on her face as she bent over Harry and then passed her wand over his body as she murmured the words to the diagnostic charm, which Hermione was all too familiar with from her own work, made a tidal wave of relief surge up inside Hermione.
And she hardly needed to hear the words, "He is out of danger and should, with time, make a full recovery." She had already sagged back into her chair, the adrenaline and the worry that had been lending her some extra strength leaving her in the flood of searing relief, so powerful she could only compare it to a resurrection.
He was going to be fine. And that was all she needed to know.
~
Hermione heard the running footsteps of Andy and Sabrina before she saw them as they both hurled themselves bodily at her with a cry, "Mummy!"
She caught them in her arms, meeting Ron's eyes over their heads with a slight smile of thanks which he returned with a small nod.
She dropped a kiss on Sabrina's hair and smoothed a caressing hand over Andy's hair as she drew back just enough to look into their faces but keeping her arms around them. "Daddy's going to be just fine. Some bad men hurt him but he's going to be fine," she reassured them, her voice gentle.
Sabrina's lip trembled slightly. "Promise?"
"I promise."
"Can we see Daddy?" Andy sounded very young all of a sudden, his voice trembling slightly in spite of all his clear efforts to control it.
"Yes, we can see Daddy."
She kept her hand on each of their shoulders as she led them into Harry's room-and they stopped short the moment they had stepped far enough inside it to actually see Harry, lying so still and so pale on the bed.
She sensed Ron hovering uncertainly behind them, not quite in the room but not quite out of it, but only peripherally, all her consciousness focused on her children, on Sabrina's pale face with the tears glistening in her eyes, on Andy, who was staring at Harry, his eyes wide. She flinched in spite of herself at the shock and the vulnerability in his eyes at this sight of the father whom he worshipped, who had always seemed so strong, so powerful, suddenly brought low like this. And for a moment, she felt a flare of generalized bitterness at the disillusionment, inevitable as it was, of Andy realizing that his father was human and not some invincible being after all.
She felt Andy reach up and grip her hand that was still resting on his shoulder. "Mummy," he began, with a slight quaver in his voice-and her heart broke at the sound of the familiar word which he hadn't called her in several months now. And for all that she had missed being called Mummy, she knew she would have given anything she owned to call it back. He sounded so young, so scared, so immensely vulnerable… "Mummy, is Daddy… sleeping?"
And the tears which she'd managed to keep inside all this time finally broke through the walls of restraint, welling up in her eyes as she hastily blinked them back. She could not cry; she would not cry; she needed to be strong for her children. She didn't want them to see her cry. "Yes," she managed to say, keeping the tremor out of her voice with an immense act of will, "he's only sleeping. Daddy will be fine; don't worry."
And then in one of those perfect moments that occasionally happen, even in real life, it was at that moment that the first flicker of returning consciousness passed over Harry's face. It was too faint for Andy and Sabrina to have noticed it but Hermione saw it, her eyes made sharper with love and worry and her own training as a Healer. She caught her breath sharply, her hands tightening their grip unconsciously on Andy's hand and Sabrina's shoulder.
It was barely more than a breath of sound when it came, one mumbled word-but she recognized it with a pang of so much happiness it physically made her chest ache. It was her name, slurred, sounding more like "'mi'ne" than anything else but she recognized it.
She released her grip on Andy and Sabrina and leaped over to his bedside, her heart in her throat, hardly daring to breathe. "Harry?" she whispered, very softly. "Darling?" The endearment slipped out naturally in that moment, even though she hardly ever used it, tending to reserve it for moments of teasing or moments of particular tenderness.
Sabrina and Andy followed her more slowly, as if afraid to get too close.
"Daddy?" Sabrina whispered and the word was hardly audible, so softly was it spoken.
It seemed like an eternity before another flicker of consciousness came and went, and then, very slowly, so slowly, with all the speed of a glacier melting, his eyelids fluttered, lifted-and he opened his eyes.
His gaze was bleary, unfocused, blank, at first, but in another few minutes, some awareness returned to his gaze and he looked first at her and then his gaze dropped to Sabrina and Andy-not as if he'd known they were there but as if it required too much energy to keep his eyes focused on any one thing for too long.
"Daddy?" It was Andy's turn to whisper now.
She could see the effort it cost him to try to speak as he looked back up at her and she managed to force her lips into a reassuring smile.
"'m home," was all he managed to murmur before his eyelids drooped, closed, and he drifted back into oblivion.
But he had awoken, had been alert enough to recognize them-and for now, that was enough for her.
She knelt down so she was on a level with Sabrina and Andy. "Daddy's so happy you're here. He said that he's home now. He's going to be fine; he just fell asleep again because he's tired. Why don't you stay with Uncle Ron and come back and see Daddy this afternoon when he'll feel better?" She glanced questioningly at Ron at her words, seeing his nod and gave him a quick smile of thanks.
"Yes, Mummy," Andy said, sounding subdued but more like his usual self. Sabrina only nodded, her eyes not leaving Harry's face.
She kissed each of their foreheads and hugged them in turn before she gave them a gentle push toward where Ron waited.
"I'll take them to the Burrow first, where Luna took the kids and is waiting with my parents," he told her and she nodded.
"Thanks."
He shrugged away the thanks. "I'm just glad he woke up," he said soberly.
She couldn't quite manage a smile but she tried, managing only a twitch of her lips.
"I'll see you later. Get some rest, will you?"
She nodded, watching as Andy and Sabrina followed Ron down the hallway.
At the last second, though, Sabrina paused and then ran back to her as Hermione knelt to be on her level, half-expecting Sabrina to whisper something in her ear but all she did was drop a kiss on Hermione's cheek. "Give that to Daddy for me, Mummy."
Hermione drew her daughter into her arms and hugged her tightly, her heart and her throat full. "Of course I will, sweetie," she managed to say through the constriction in her throat.
And, satisfied, Sabrina ran back to where Ron and Andy were waiting.
~
It was some hours before Harry woke up again, to see her by his side, as always.
She bent over him. "How are you feeling, love?"
A slight grimace passed over his face. "Like I've been run over by a stampede of elephants." His voice was slightly hoarse, weaker than usual, but she was reassured by his feeble attempt at a smile-and, oddly enough, the fact that he was admitting his pain. If it were truly terrible, he wouldn't, she knew.
She bent and brushed her lips against his. "Don't you dare scare me like that again." The tenderness of her touch and her slight smile belied the harshness of the words.
He gave her a small smile. "I'm sorry, love."
"You should be," she said with mock severity, before she sobered, her expression becoming soft and amazingly tender, a look she reserved solely for him and the children. "How do you expect me to say goodbye to you? I can't lose you; I can't lose us. We haven't had long enough; you can't leave me yet."
"I won't leave you. You'll have me forever," he whispered and the words were a promise. For the rest of his life-and even beyond that…
She brushed her lips against his again. "I love you, Harry," she whispered against his lips.
"I love you too."
"Daddy?"
They heard Emily's voice, sounding very uncertain, before she appeared in the doorway, shock and dismay flattening her expression for a moment before she flew across the room to hug him. "Daddy!"
Hermione saw the wince that crossed Harry's face, his expression contorting in a rictus of pain, and took an involuntary step forward, meaning to gently pull Emily away but she met his eyes and stopped short. She could see the effort it cost him-and the discomfort it caused him-but he moved one arm to hug Emily back, his hand stroking her hair lightly. And she knew that he would rather suffer the pain than not have Emily's embrace at all.
Emily was crying softly into Harry's shoulder and Harry patted her hair gently. "Sshh, darling. I'm fine; everything's going to be fine. There's nothing to cry about."
She pulled back after a few moments, sniffling, and Harry managed a slight smile. "That's my brave girl."
She gave him a wavering smile. "Does it hurt, Daddy?"
"No," he lied. "Not much."
She looked at him a little oddly. "Daddy, are you lying?"
"No, it really doesn't hurt that much. Don't worry," he reassured her, even as his gaze met Hermione's over Emily's head and Hermione stifled a smile at what she could read in his eyes. She's not your daughter for nothing.
"How did you get here?" he asked, trying to distract her.
"Hagrid brought me down and he told me to tell you to get better soon."
Harry smiled slightly. "Did he?"
"Yes. And Headmistress McGonagall was worried too."
"I'll just bet she was."
Her face sobered, her lip quivering a little, and she hugged Harry again. "Nothing can happen to you, Daddy. You're not allowed to get badly hurt again."
"Okay, sweetheart, I won't. I promise," he murmured soothingly.
His eyes met hers over Emily's shoulder and she stepped forward, reaching out and grasping the hand he held out and resting her other hand on Emily's shoulder.
His hand tightened on hers, his fingers entwining with hers, as she met his eyes, seeing an apology for worrying them so much, seeing all the love he felt for them, in his eyes. And somehow, at that moment, the last lingering bit of tension, of worry, that had been in her heart dissolved. He really was going to be fine…
To her horror, she actually felt tears of relief and gratitude pricking at her eyes and blinked them back hastily, but knew he saw in the way his expression softened, as he brought the hand he still held to his lips, brushing the lightest of kisses against it.
He was going to be fine. Her life wasn't over; they would still have the rest of their lives together.
~To be continued…