Author's Notes: Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday happy birthday, happy birthday to meeeeee!!
Oh, and sorry about the length. I didn't know what else to write. I know it's very… choppy, I guess, but I didn't want to put too much in here. Sorry. :-P
Enjoy!
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August 25th, 2001 …
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Hermione opened the car door, taking a deep breath. Taking Andrew's buckles off, she held onto her son, waiting patiently for him to let her arms wrap around him and his blanket, and got out of the car. She put him into the passenger seat, giving her the opportunity to grab her brown leather purse and the baby bag, and then smiled in appreciation as Harry opened the stroller for her. Putting him into his cushiony seat and securing him in, she absently caressed her swelling stomach and closed the door.
"Ready?" her husband asked while locking car. He hunkered down, making sure Andrew wouldn't throw his blanket onto the concrete floor.
She nodded, putting the baby bag into the back of the stroller, and adjusted the position of her purse on her shoulder. "Let's just go, Harry," she said, and the three made their way towards the entrance of the hospital.
There was no need to ask where Hermione's mother's room was, so they simply went straight to the lifts. Soothingly Harry rubbed his wife's lower back, reassuring her that everything was all right. Not long after, the doors opened and they stepped outside, going towards Misses Granger's room.
Once they got there, Hermione found herself heaving in another large, deep breath. You can do this, Hermione, she told herself. Don't start bawling the second you see your Mother. Just because Dad died doesn't mean-
"It'll be okay," her husband whispered to her. Harry smiled, his hand resting on her leather purse strap. "Don't be too tense," he advised softly, opening the door.
She nodded. Yes, just listen to Harry. Standing straighter, she strode into the room, Harry following behind her. Celine looked to be sleeping, her breaths even and deep, her face away from them. She looked weaker, somehow, probably because of her husband's death. Suppressing a sob, Hermione made her way next to her bed and sat on the nearby chair.
She said nothing, didn't even look towards her husband and child, but looked at her Mother's peaceful breathing. Her features seemed relaxed, free of the tensions and worries she was going through. Mum, why did this have to happen? This wasn't suppose to happen… You and Dad were supposed to live to a ripe, old age. You weren't supposed to die before you even turned sixty! Andrew isn't even one yet, and our second child isn't even born yet… A tear escaped her eye, and she lowered her head, placing her hand on her stomach.
"Hermione…?" a soft voice called, and Hermione's head snapped up.
"Mum?" She instantly looked around for her hand, finding it and holding on to it.
She smiled, looking at her only child. "How are you, dear?"
Hermione chuckled softly, wiping the tear from her cheek. "Aren't I supposed to be asking you that?" She shook her head softly, and answered her Mother's question. "But I'm… coping," she answered.
She nodded and turned to the two male Potters. "Harry, son, would you mind if you gave my daughter and I a few minutes alone?" she asked, hoping not to offend him.
He shook his head. "No problem. I'll… Andrew and I will just be outside, somewhere."
She nodded, "Thank you."
He nodded, and gave Hermione a kiss, whispering in her ear, "When you're finished, just give me a ring. I've got my cell with me." She nodded and he stood up, taking hold on the bar of Andrew's stroller. Turning around, the two left with the sound of the door shutting softly.
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"Harry where are you?" Hermione asked, walking down the steps. "I've just passed the second floor," she went on.
"Andrew and I are in the cafeteria," he answered, and she heard the faint sound of giggles in the background. "We'll meet you at the front desk in a minute, okay?"
"Okay," she said, hanging the phone a few moments later and dropping it into her purse. Descending the rest of the stairs, leaving her slightly breathless after having travelled four flights of stairs, she headed towards the front desk. Not long after, her husband and son came, Harry throwing away a drink in the rubbish bin next to the desk, and Andrew staring amazedly at his hands.
"How was it?" Harry asked, lacing their fingers together and leaving the hospital.
"Not bad," she answered, her voice soft. "We were just… finishing some arrangements and finalizing some things," she continued.
"Oh," he commented. "You were there for a while," he continued.
She nodded. "It was… Mum and I were just talking about when Dad's funeral would be, and where he was going to be buried." Her eyes lowered, but her grip on his hand tightened considerably. She answered his unasked questions: "It's going to be held three days from now, since Mum has already, somehow, made the arrangements. And he's going to be buried in a cemetery from his old hometown."
He nodded solemnly, knowing that the topic was still hard for her, though she seemed to be taking it fairly well. Well… Sort of, he thought, unlocking the car. He took Andrew out of his stroller and gave him to Hermione, who instantly strapped him into his seat. Taking the baby out of the back, he put it on the other side of the car seat, folded up the stroller after, and then placed it into the back of the car.
"Where to now?" Harry asked, getting into the car and putting it into ignition.
Buckling herself in, Hermione answered, "Let's get back to the apartment. Andrew needs his nap, and we need to make arrangements for my father."
"But I thought-?"
"Oh, she did," Hermione interrupted, knowing what her husband was about to say. "But I might tweak something here or there-add a few people to the funeral, or maybe take away a few. Mum said she'll ask her doctor if she'll be able to attend the funeral-which, I doubt will happen." I just hope she doesn't die, too. I don't know how much more of this I can take.
He nodded and they headed home.
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As Hermione and her Mother had decided, the funeral was going to be held on the twenty-eighth. It gave Hermione enough time to switch, add, or subtract things for the funeral. It wasn't going to be large, but a rather private gathering. A few immediate family members-his brother and sister and their respective children, and his aunt-and herself, Harry, and Andrew were attending.
Currently, Hermione was looking through her clothes, searching for a black shirt and pant, or a black dress she could wear. "You know," Harry said, sitting on the bed, patting Andrew to sleep, "you don't have to wear black. It's not a rule. A dark blue colour would do just fine, too."
She nodded, though it seemed as though she paid him no heed. Sighing, she shut her first two luggage bags, noting that there wasn't anything that would do for the funeral. She noticed she didn't have many black dresses, and all of her black pants were slightly tighter now, since she was going on four months pregnant. I wonder where my maternity clothes are, she internally questioned, her face scrunching up in thought. I'm sure I had some black pants… I had to wear those wretched clothes for months, anyways.
"Andrew's sleeping," Harry informed her, bringing her out of her internal musings. "I'm going to take him to his room." She nodded and gave him a soft kiss before letting him carry Andrew to his own room.
She sighed, having just gone through her third and final set of clothes, finding that nothing was suitable. She sat on the bed and started preparing for bed, and failed to notice Harry come in, take a pair of loose fitting black slacks, and a cream coloured shirt. He closed her bag, setting her clothes on top, knowing that it was just her hormones acting up again, so she wasn't able to pick anything. Silently he stripped himself of his jeans and shirt, and climbed into the bed, pulling the covers higher up his and his wife's bodies.
"Two days," Hermione counted down. Two days… It'll be here before we even realize it, and Dad'll be buried right in front of my eyes.
He nodded softly, resting his head on the slope of her breast, his hand resting softly on her abdomen. He smiled, remembering what Hermione always used to say. "You always do that when I'm pregnant. You did that for months when I was pregnant with Andrew, and now that I'm having this little one, you're starting up again, aren't you?" She was two months pregnant with their second child when she'd said that, when she realized the pattern in his sleeping positions.
"Two days," he murmured.
She stared at the ceiling, her hand resting on Harry's cheek. "Goodnight," she whispered, finally letting her eyes shut. She heard a faint murmur, and assumed Harry was just saying `night.' The day's events catching up to her, she went off into a slumber.
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Hermione finished putting on Andrew's diaper, and started pulling up his black jeans. "C'mon love," she cooed, smiling at her nearly one-year-old son. "Papa is just getting out of the shower, and we'll be able to leave soon." She smiled, pulling them the rest of the way up, blowing on his stomach and making him giggle.
One day… Tomorrow…
"Mumma!" he exclaimed, sitting up on the changing table. "Mumma, Papa!"
She smiled, picking him up for a minute before gently letting him on the floor. Immediately, he went towards his toys, sitting and playing happily with them. Kissing the top of his head, she left the room. Inside their room, Harry was just throwing his long sleeved shirt on and then his socks.
"Just give me five more minutes," said Harry, pulling his jeans down until the tips of his boxers showed. "Almost ready," he muttered, pulling his shirt down so it covered his boxers, and then gave Hermione a short, sweet kiss.
She nodded, leaving the room once more, making sure that everything was still in the baby bag. "D'you want breakfast?" Hermione asked Harry, shouting.
"We can just get take out," he answered, walking into the living room, Andrew by his side holding his hand. "Though we might want to feed this little one, unless you're really hungry, too," he said, going into the kitchen.
"I'm not too hungry, so I'll be able to wait," she told him.
He nodded and started cutting a banana into small pieces. A minute later, he finished and dropped them into a small bowl, walking back out again. Andrew sat on the sofa, his head lying against his mother's chest, his eyes closed. Smiling softly, he looked into Hermione's eyes. Setting the bowl softly in her lap, he gave Andrew's forehead a kiss and got his wallet, cell phone, keys, and wand, stuffing them into his pockets.
"Stroller?" asked Hermione to Harry softly, nudging Andrew and patiently waiting for him to start eating. "Is it still in the car?"
He nodded, "Yeah. Forgot to take it out yesterday," he answered. "Now, where are we going again?" he questioned a few minutes later, when Andrew was almost finished eating.
"To the funeral home," she answered, feeding Andrew another piece of banana. "We need to make sure they have my father, and…" she trailed off, her eyes going downcast.
He nodded, "Okay." Taking the empty bowl, he got up and put it into the sink, making a mental note to wash it later. "Ready to leave?" he asked.
"Almost," she answered, pulling her flats on. Always comfortable, thought Hermione, and small enough so I can put them in my purse. "Just let me put Andrew's shoes on," she muttered, putting his little shoes on. A minute later, he was ready to go out into the slightly chilly weather, and the family of three left their apartment.
As Harry was driving towards the address Hermione had given him, he remembered a few people: McGonagall and Andromeda Tonks. He'd already seen and talked to the latter, but the former he hadn't even thought of. I wonder if she's still teaching at Hogwarts. His eyebrows furrowing he wondered if McGonagall had said anything against Ginny and Ron. What if she hadn't? Why wouldn't she? Wouldn't she know that Hermione and I did do everything, and that they didn't? He shook his head, yet trying to keep his eyes on the road. Taking the exit, he wondered where she was right now. Hogwarts? It was a Sunday, so she didn't have to teach classes. Oh whatever, he thought. I'll think about it later…
"I think you just take a right here," Hermione told him, interrupting his thoughts. "And then… Yeah, there… Now just go straight, and in about a mile-well, a kilometre, here-we'll be there."
Nodding, he listened to his wife. A minute later, they found themselves in front of a funeral home.
Take a deep breath, Hermione… Calm down, you can do this… She took a deep breath, rubbing her stomach slightly, which was just barely starting to show. "Let's go," she said, taking Andrew out and placing him on her lap before getting out. Harry already had the stroller out, so she simply put him in and put his buckle on and shut the door.
In no time, they reached the front door and walked in, looking for the man Hermione's Mother had described. He was supposed to be middle aged, with greying hair and brown/black eyes. It took them a few moments, however, to find the man. Once they did, Hermione tapped him lightly on the shoulder.
"Excuse me," she said softly, getting his attention.
He turned around and smiled. "Oh! You must be Hermione Potter!"
She nodded. "Yes. Now, I just wanted to go over some things…"
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It was nearing evening by the time the Potters reached back to their apartment. They'd eaten pizza (and had gotten a fruit salad from a near by grocer, for Andrew) and then headed home, discussing if it was safer for Andrew to eat small ("Very small!" he'd quipped in) pieces of it, or just stick to the fruits until he was able to consume larger food.
When they went inside, Hermione immediately started cleaning the apartment. She'd said that it was because the place was a mess (though, Harry noted, it really wasn't) and she needed to clean it otherwise she'd go mad. But Harry knew the real reason: she was still mourning her father's death, so she resulted to cleaning. But who wouldn't mourn? Hell, I'm still mourning, too!
Shaking his head for reasons unknown to him, he went into the kitchen and put the pizza into the refrigerator, and noted that they needed some milk soon. Looking into the sink, he remembered that he forgot to wash the bowl, and did so, grinning when he saw Andrew help out Hermione.
Is she even allowed to? Harry wondered. But she went to school when she was pregnant, so I don't see the point… He shrugged, drying the bowl and putting it on the counter, knowing Andrew-or someone-would be hungry later on.
"Harry, can you help me?" asked Hermione, trying to reach a small cobweb on the corner of the ceiling.
"Sure!" A moment later he was behind Hermione, holding the duster and getting the offending web out. He wasn't too much taller than Hermione, so he too had to go on his toes to reach it.
"Thank you," she murmured, taking the duster from him.
Smiling, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugged her from behind. "You're welcome." He gave her neck a soft kiss, but then opened his mouth and tasted her sweet skin.
"Harry," she said softly, "Andrew's watching," she reprimanded, though her actions said otherwise. Letting her head fall to his shoulder, she gave him more access to her neck.
He paid her no heed, rather just kept kissing her neck, now moving the collar of her shirt so he could gain access to that area of skin, too. "You're still allowed to have sex, right?" he asked softly, now trailing kisses up her neck.
"Only for a little while longer," she murmured, moaning softly.
Knowing that there were other ways to let her forget about her father-even if it was for a moment-he opted for this one, since it'd help him forget, too. Though he wasn't extraordinarily close to his in-laws, they were still his family, and he did love them. Hermione was just closer to them, having had them around for nearly twenty-one years.
"Love you," he muttered, finally releasing his lips from her neck. There was time for sex later, since Andrew was sucking on his jean leg. He chuckled, "Andrew, you're a silly little imp." Picking his son up, he gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, though he was grumbling inside. Just a few more seconds… Oh well, Andrew needs my attention, too.
She turned around, wrapping her arms around his waist. "After he goes to sleep," she whispered, knowing he'd heard her.
He nodded, but one thought kept roaming his mind.
Tomorrow…
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Tomorrow had come too soon. Before they even knew it they were ready to take off to the funeral home. Harry, in his black dress pants and silky black shirt with his black tie, was just putting on his watch, waiting for his wife and child to be ready. A few minutes later, Hermione came in, wearing the clothes he'd chosen for her, Andrew walking beside her, holding onto her leg. His pants were a little long for him, and his green shirt was already bunched up in his fist, which he was sucking.
"Little guy, you're going to need another bath if you keep this up," Harry muttered playfully, picking his son up.
Hermione smiled softly, saying, "He's already taken two. That's why we took so long."
Grinning, the family went into the lounge and started getting their things ready. Andrew sat by the shoes, banging them on the floor as if they were imaginary drums, while Harry and Hermione went to get their respective things. Chuckling when he saw Andrew playing with the shoes, Harry picked him up, and taking his small shoes with a cartoon on it (he didn't have any dress shoes), he put them on his son. Once they had their shoes on, they were finally able to leave.
When they reached the funeral home, they were one of the last to arrive. Immediately, Hermione spotted out a few of her cousins, some of which she wasn't too fond to see. Hermione, pushing Andrew's stroller, moved along to sit near the front row, Harry sitting next to her and holding her hand tightly.
"It'll be okay," he reassured her softly, and that was all that needed to be said.
The speech on Mister Granger wasn't long, but kept it short, explaining the highs and lows of his life, and how he was strong throughout everything.
"-He was a strong man," Harry heard someone say-he assumed it was his brother, considering the resemblance in their features. "Always helping everyone out, including people he didn't like. When he married my sister-in-law, he knew it was going to be a challenge. He would get sick, sometimes, but that didn't stop him from anything. Even after two miscarriages, he went on, trying to find the `silver lining,' if you will. Finally, after a few more years of trying to conceive a child, Hermione was born, and he was elated. Of course he would, who wouldn't be ecstatic about having their first child?"
He continued, but Harry wasn't paying too much attention. Hermione was next to him, sniffling, while Andrew was dozing off. There was a young woman next to him, sitting rather close to him, though he thought nothing of it. Looking around, he saw that many others were crying, too, mourning their brother-in-law, uncle, cousin, and brother. Without realizing it, he'd wrapped his arm around Hermione's shoulder, a few tears trailing down his cheeks, too.
"-But now it has come for his end," he continued, "for a loved man. He was loved, and loved just as much-if not more. We will miss him, I'm sure, and we need to do as he did-just try to move on, looking for that silver lining." Quietly, he sat back in his chair, wiping a few tears away.
Wiping away what she hoped was the last tear, she inhaled deeply, rubbing her stomach. The bagpipes were playing softly in the background, a few of the smaller children trying to hum the tune. Standing up, knowing that it was nearly over, she lined up behind the others viewing the casket. Harry followed behind her, Andrew sleeping lightly in his plush stroller.
And for the rest of the time, the two stayed in solemn silence.
Author's Notes: I know, not very good chapter. So choppy. Forgive me: I was in the ER yesterday (long story) for nearly half the day, I have a mild fever, and I'm very nauseous. (And I fell asleep multiple times while writing, not to mention I had to throw up a good one or two times.)
Presents for the Birthday Girl? Like, in the form of reviews, or if there are any artists there, a picture of H/Hr???? *innocent, wide grin* Please? :D
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