[This is a repost of Chapter Thirty-Six.]
A/N: After beating past massive writer's block and a bit of the stomach flu, I've finally managed to write another chapter! It's a bit of an experiment-a bit saccharine, too, but hopefully not unbearably so. I hope you enjoy!
Chapter Thirty-Six
"Only three weeks left of freedom, mate," Ron said cheerfully, tossing Harry the battered Quaffle. "Worried?"
"Should I be?" Harry said, laughing and scuffing his foot against the grass. "This thing must be ancient!"
He turned the Quaffle over in his hands, running his thumb along the worn, cracked leather. "How long have you had it?"
"Long as I can remember," Ron said, "It was Bill's."
Harry threw it back to Ron.
"Don't you want a new one?"
"Nah," Ron said, grinning and striking the Quaffle with his hand. "I like it. It's got character."
Harry grinned.
"I didn't know you were so sentimental."
"You're one to talk, Potter," Ron said, "you're the married man, not me."
"I'm not married," Harry said, reaching up above his hand and snagging the Quaffle out of the warm spring air.
"As good as," Ron said, "for a long time."
Harry snorted.
"Right," he said, "because we were destined for each other the moment we saw each other on the train, is that it?"
"Shut up," Ron said, "You know that's not what I meant."
"I've heard a lot of that recently, mate," Harry said lightly, "come on, Ron. Please don't tell me you've started reading Witch Weekly."
"As if I needed to read Witch Weekly to know my two best friends," Ron said, catching the Quaffle with a satisfying thump. "If anyone knows, yourselves excepted, of course, it's going to be me, right?"
Harry lowered the Quaffle, pausing the game.
"Where are you going with this, Ron?"
Ron flushed.
"I'm not sure," he confessed, "it's just… weird, isn't it?"
"What?"
"That you're going to be married," Ron said, "you and Hermione. I mean, really married. For good."
Harry half-laughed.
"You don't need to look so excited about it."
"Doesn't it even bother you?" For some reason, Ron looked irritated. Harry stared at him, confused by the frustration evident in his friend's face.
"Bother me?" he repeated slowly, frowning, "Why would it bother me? Why would it bother you?" he added, warily.
"It doesn't," Ron said hastily, "not really."
"That's good. I didn't think so. " Harry said, still slowly. "But…I don't think I'm… following you."
Ron chewed the inside of his cheek.
"All I'm saying is-most kids our age," he said, then stopped, rubbing his long nose with a finger. "Most kids our age would be finishing school, you realize that, don't you?"
"Yeah," Harry said, "I know."
"And you're all right with that?"
"I don't get why I shouldn't be."
"I'm just saying that- things are going to change when you get married."
"I know," Harry said, "that's fine with me."
"You're still a kid, Harry," Ron said at last, letting out a breath, "You're eighteen."
"So…?" Harry was beginning to get slightly impatient. "What are you trying to say, Ron?"
Ron's ears went bright red.
"I just don't get it," Ron said finally, "why you'd want to start all of that so soon. Why you'd want to give up-being kids-so fast."
Harry sighed, sticking his hands in his pockets. He dropped the Quaffle and sidled up to stand next to Ron.
"I don't know, Ron," he said after a moment, "I never saw it that way."
"I guess that's good, then," Ron mumbled, now looking thoroughly embarrassed. "Forget it. It was stupid of me."
"No, it wasn't," Harry said quickly, "it's just… well, you and I aren't identical, are we? I reckon you like a bit of uncertainty, a bit of-of-spontaneity, right?"
When Ron didn't say anything, Harry went on doggedly, "I mean, that's what this time in our lives was supposed to be, right? Going off on our own, seeing the world, hanging out with friends and-and- being immature and growing up-making mistakes and-getting hangovers-dating and breaking up and-things that we always talked about at school."
Harry smiled slightly, reimagining the careless, slightly foolish scenarios that he and his dorm mates had made up on rainy Saturday nights in the boys' dorms.
"I used to think about what it would be like if-if we hadn't had to drop out, if Voldemort had somehow disappeared. You and I would have gone and rented a flat somewhere, travelled around and lived off of the money we'd saved up-stuff like that. Of course we'd write Hermione-she'd be at some sort of training, of course, or working at the Ministry and being responsible-and we'd meet up. We'd have dinner and she would lecture us for being stupid and reckless and immature, and we'd apologize, and sometimes follow her advice-and eventually-eventually you'd meet someone, and get married, and move out, and then… well. Then it would all end, and… maybe-maybe-I'd find someone. Someone who cared for me."
Harry's smile faded. He shifted his feet and ran a hand through his hair.
"That's how I used to think things would happen," he said, "because I knew Ginny and I weren't suited, not really. But I used to think- that there wouldn't be anyone left for me. I mean, Ginny seemed like the perfect match, didn't she? She was funny and brave and good-looking-and your sister, too. You and I could be brothers. Everything was just right. It would be like my mum and dad all over again."
Harry took a deep breath and averted his eyes, his thoughts suddenly far away.
"If Ginny and I couldn't work out-if she wasn't right-how could there be anyone else? Maybe I was just being too idealistic-maybe I was being stupid-maybe I was asking too much. Maybe there was no one out there, really."
Harry hooked his thumbs in his pockets and turned slightly, so that he was staring just past the Weasleys' garden, into the woody area behind.
"I couldn't have lived like that," he said at last, "I would have liked it at first. It would have felt… normal. I'd always wanted normal. But- there was one problem with that."
He smiled again.
"I need Hermione, mate," he said, very simply, "I need her badly. I couldn't have lived like that. Apart from her."
He laughed quietly.
"I know I sound sappy," he said, "but honest to Merlin, Ron, I couldn't live without her. I still can't. Loving her is… it's a part of me. It's like-it's like breathing. It's instinctive, it's natural, it's essential-it's… I can't describe it. The fact that she loves me the same way- it's beyond me."
He shrugged, now looking awkward and embarrassed.
"You know I used to think poets were a bunch of saps," he said, "you know. If love was so essential, how was I able to live my whole life without it?"
His voice trembled, and he cleared his throat, rubbing his eyes quickly with a hand.
"I reckon I understand now."
~*~
Ron sat on the couch, his long legs crossed at the ankle. His brows rested heavily over his eyes, and he stared intensely at the family clock, watching the fading sunrays play across the glass surface.
"Are you actually thinking?"
"Funny."
"I try." Bill said, settling on the couch next to his brother. "What's up with you? Thinking about the next game?"
Ron shook his head.
"I saw Harry leaving," Bill said, "from the kitchen. How's he doing? Getting cold feet yet?"
Ron snorted.
"'Course he isn't. If anything he's halfway to eloping."
Bill raised an eyebrow.
"And that bothers you?"
"No," Ron snapped, "I'm happy for him."
"You've never looked happier."
"Shut up," Ron said crossly. After a moment, he sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'm happy for him, but I don't get him."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean-I mean he could do anything he wanted, and all he's doing is getting married!"
Bill chuckled.
"What?"
"Getting married is a pretty big deal," he said, "it turns your whole life around."
Ron shrugged.
"Besides," Bill said, more seriously, "Harry's never really had a family, has he? Maybe that's all he really wanted. A pretty admirable goal, if you ask me."
"But boring."
Bill grinned.
"Why don't you ask him about that after his honeymoon?"
Ron paled.
"Don't," he moaned, "I don't want to think about it."
Bill smirked.
"It's a fact of life, my friend," he said, "and when more little Potters come along-"
"The babies I can handle," Ron said with dignity. "The mental picture, however-"
"It's a beautiful thing," Bill said, enjoying the look on his brother's face, "and, as I'm sure Harry and Hermione will find, hardly boring-"
"Shut up, Bill!" Ron said, punching his brother in the shoulder. Bill jabbed him back with an elbow.
"Look, mate," he said, leaning forward, "all joking aside-I'm serious-Harry and Hermione aren't dropping out of life. They're not just suddenly going to become this stodgy married couple who rarely goes out and never does anything-they've got seven kids already, that's not likely… marriage isn't resignation. It's not like they're giving their friends up. I thought you knew that."
This last bit was added with unusual gentleness, and Ron swallowed, nodding silently.
"All right," Bill said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. "Got that sorted?"
"Yeah."
"Excellent." Bill stretched. "Right, well, I've got one thing left to ask you-"
He grinned.
"What are we planning for Harry's last night as a single man?"
~*~
"Tell me again why you're here?" Hermione peered into the oven, checking the bread and sighing.
"Is that any way to talk to your mother?" said Mrs. Granger severely, "To spend time with my daughter; is that a crime?"
"Now, Mum," Hermione began, but Mrs. Granger cut across her.
"Don't brush me off, Hermione."
"I'm not brushing you off-"
"Aren't you?"
Hermione turned, spreading her hands and looking at Mrs. Granger with a slightly defensive expression.
"What do you want me to say?"
"Hermione, all I'm trying to say is-well, we're not exactly close, are we? No, of course not. I saw little to nothing of you for seven years, and you're my daughter. Now you're about to get married, and you want nothing to do with me!"
"That's not true, Mum-"
"Then what is your excuse, Hermione Jane Granger? For, may I remind you, that is still your name, and will be for another-another three weeks-" and here she began to sniff, and within moments she began to sob quietly into her hands.
"Oh, Mum-" Thoroughly chastened, Hermione hurried forward and put an arm around her. "It's just a wedding-"
She gave a watery laugh.
"Just a wedding," she repeated tearfully, dabbing at her cheeks, "just a wedding-as if you weren't my only daughter-"
"And still will be… I'll always be your daughter, Mum-I'm only getting married-"
"You know, sometimes I wonder if you realize exactly what you're doing." Mrs. Granger blew her nose and looked at her daughter, still weeping. "Once you've got a family of your own-oh, but what am I saying? You have got a family of your own-already a mother and not even twenty-a mother of seven--"
Hermione led her mother to sit at the kitchen table. "Calm down, Mum-let me get you something else to drink…"
"No, thank you," Mrs. Granger hiccupped, biting her lip and reaching for another tissue. "Sit here-right there. Sit down!"
Taken aback, Hermione obeyed.
Mrs. Granger took a deep breath, obviously attempting to compose herself, and then visibly gave up as she bent and buried her face in her hands.
"Mum…?" Hermione managed to say through a very tight throat. "Mum, please-tell me what's wrong-"
"What's wrong? What's wrong?" Mrs. Granger looked up, and Hermione was shocked by the pain and fury that her mother's eyes contained. "Do you realize we hardly know each other? One moment you're a child-one moment you tell me everything -one moment you run to me every time you're hurt or sick or afraid-and only seven years later you write a letter-a letter-telling me you're engaged. And you've grown, oh-how you've grown…" The fire in her mother's eyes abated slightly, and they studied Hermione intently. "You are a lovely young woman-intelligent, polite-compassionate-stubborn-opinionated-someone I'd be proud to know, yes-but I scarcely recognize you… I can only envision the little bossy child who never felt she fit in-who was afraid of thunderstorms and hid behind books…"
Hermione reached out.
"Oh, Mum," she whispered, her eyes moist, "I'm… I'm afraid I've been very cruel to you, all these years-"
"Cruel?" Mrs. Granger smiled faintly. "No, dear, not cruel. Cruelty is intentional. You never intended to hurt. Oh, no-don't cry-it's silly-I shouldn't have said it like that…"
"But you should have," Hermione whispered, scrubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. "I didn't know-I didn't mean to-oh, Mum-"
Suddenly the roles were reversed, and Mrs. Granger was embracing her daughter and stroking her hair gently.
"Shh… shh… there, it's all out now-I was unkind-I shouldn't have spoken to you like that…"
"But I deserved-I didn't-I was-I'm so sorry-"
"I know, and so am I." Mrs. Granger kissed Hermione's forehead, brushing a few tears away from her cheek. "There, that's better-and now that's out in the open… I should have been gentler-honesty is a good quality of mine, but I'm afraid it's rarely found in company with mercy-which should be, of course… for a moment I forgot how young you are."
Hermione choked out a laugh and rested her chin on her mother's shoulder.
"I'm so sorry, Mum-"
"Well, there's one thing we have in common," she said lightly, "goodness, but I feel foolish. I can be very childish when I want to be. Now what about that drink?"
"There's lemonade," Hermione said, taking a tissue and wiping her eyes, "the girls made it yesterday-"
"I suppose you taught them yourself?"
"Oh, no, that was Harry," Hermione said, as Mrs. Granger poured two tall glasses of lemonade. "He watched them yesterday for me-I was at St. Mungo's…"
"Sweet of him," Mrs. Granger commented. "Does he watch them often?"
"Oh, yes," Hermione said, taking the glass from her and sipping the tart drink gingerly. "Quite often, in fact… even if I'm here."
Mrs. Granger smiled at her softly for a moment. Hermione frowned, bewildered.
"What?"
"It's nothing," Mrs. Granger said, "I just can't help but notice how you light up when you talk about him."
"Yes," Hermione said, her cheeks turning pink, "I've been told I talk about him a bit too much, actually-I think Ron finds it amusing and annoying at once."
"I haven't seen Ron recently."
"That's because he travels-he's a Quidditch player, you know-you remember Quidditch."
"Something about broomsticks and a-ah-a Quiffle?"
"Quaffle," Hermione corrected, "that's a bit like… well, a bit like football-you try to score goals with it anyway-and then there's the Snitch. The little gold ball with wings that flies about the pitch-terribly hard to spot and to catch-and then the Bludgers that try to knock players off of their brooms… I don't like the sport much myself, but Harry loves it, and he says that-" Hermione laughed and blushed again at her mother's raised eyebrow. "I'm talking about him again, aren't I?"
"Tell me about the children," Mrs. Granger said, nodding out the window.
"Well," Hermione said, "I hope you'll get to know about them yourself, Mum-you are their grandmother, after all-but the eldest at home is Katy. She's very kind and good at building things, and rather insecure-she's the peacemaker, you know, she hates fighting. As such she's rather shy and tends to avoid making her opinions heard, but she's really very astute. And then there's Jack-you see him in the tree fort?"
"The one making faces?"
Hermione laughed.
"Yes, that's him. Quite mischievous and rather pessimistic-but fiercely protective and a good brother. Besides that he's very honest, and rather blunt. In some ways he reminds me of Ron."
"Do any of them have surnames?" Mrs. Granger asked suddenly.
"Yes," Hermione said, smiling, "they do now. Only Ben and Adrian had surnames before they joined the family, but they're certainly happy to give it up."
"And middle names?"
Hermione paused. "Harry and I are in the process of choosing middle names for each of them, but of course we'll ask before the actual adoption. We wouldn't like them to be stuck with a name they hated."
"And…?"
"I can't tell you," she said, "because we want the children to be the first to hear them."
Mrs. Granger couldn't help but smile at that.
"What about the others? Tell me about them."
"Well, Yasmine is next," said Hermione, "and she's the dreamy one. She wants to be a writer when she grows up. Of course she's very stubborn and outspoken-she and Jack bicker a lot-but she's very loving, really, and very tenderhearted."
"A lot like you."
Hermione sipped her lemonade and looked at her mother, nodding.
"Yes, rather like me, I suppose. Perhaps a bit better than I was-kinder, more open-minded, certainly."
"And next?"
"Next there's Dusty-actually, his name is Dustin, but he used to draw with chalk on the hospital floors, and-well, he'd get covered in dust. He's an artist-very quiet-rather mysterious, honestly. And wise… very wise for his age." Hermione paused. "Honestly I don't know him very well, Mum. He's rather… shy. Oh, I love him dearly, but I don't know him half as well as I ought to."
"Well, you have time," Mrs. Granger said reassuringly. Hermione smiled.
"I suppose I do. I keep forgetting."
There was a long silence after that.
"It was-very dangerous, wasn't it? Your seventh year?" Mrs. Granger said hesitantly. Hermione looked down at her lemonade.
"Yes," she said after a moment, " of course it was. It was a war."
"And did you realize it… then?"
Hermione looked up, puzzled.
"That you loved Harry?"
"Oh, I knew I loved him, but-not this way." Hermione played with her ring. "I knew I needed him, I knew I cared for him-but it was afterwards that I realized that he was… he was everything. He was-you know what I mean, Mum. When you love someone so much that the only thing you can do is love- you love until your heart breaks, and love until it's mended, love until you have nothing left, love because it's everything- you love because you were made for it- you love because you don't know how to stop-"
Hermione stopped.
"And now I'm just spouting sentimental mush, Mum-I must be boring you."
"That's all right," Mrs. Granger said, truthfully fighting back tears. "I think that's one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard."
Hermione smiled.
"You aren't going to cry again, Mum?" She reached out and took her hand. "I haven't finished telling you about my family."
"Yes, do finish." Mrs. Granger took the tissue Hermione passed her. "What about the other boys?"
"Ben," Hermione said, "Ben's at Hogwarts right now. He's very clever, and extraordinarily brave. He's had a hard life, and he has every right to hold grudges, and yet-he's forgiving. Very forgiving. Still a bit quiet, but thoughtful."
She put down her lemonade and rested her fingers against her lips, obviously lost in thought.
"And then there's Adrian," she said after a long pause. "You know Adrian. He's a drummer-constantly beating on things and making noises-and playing pranks… he was the one I knew first. Perhaps the one I know best. He loves laughter-probably because he's had so little of it in his life before. He loves to make people smile and make them feel accepted. One of his best qualities."
"And then Jackie."
"Yes, Jackie," Hermione said, "what is there to say? She's a beautiful, happy little girl with an open heart and stubborn core. She adores animals-Gulliver was her discovery-and enjoys baking. She's quite the hostess."
She stood and walked over to the window. Mrs. Granger joined her, watching the children pass a football around in the yard.
"Are they all…magic?" she asked, breaking the silence hesitantly. Without taking her gaze off the yard, Hermione nodded.
"Yes. Healer Pruitt tested them all very early on."
"And have they had any incidences like yours? When you turned the snow into butterflies?"
Hermione's gaze snapped over to her mother, her eyes wide with surprise. After a long silence, she spoke, her voice rather tight.
"I didn't know that… you believed me."
"I didn't. Not until that owl came to us."
Hermione looked down, biting her lip.
Mrs. Granger put an arm around her cautiously, her left hand resting on Hermione's shoulder.
"There are a lot of things between us that we haven't resolved. But I want you to know that I-want us to try."
Hermione reached up and covered her mother's hand with her own, unable to speak.
Moments later, their fingers were entwined, an engagement ring and a wedding ring glittering together in the soft afternoon sunlight.
~*~
"Getting some studying in?"
Ben jumped, nearly falling off the bench and into the grass.
Ginny settled next to him, ignoring the startled looks his friends were giving her.
"Er-yeah," he said, swallowing and shutting the book. "I have a History of Magic exam."
"You and your… mother-are probably the only people I know who really study for that class." Ginny said, not unkindly. "That's a compliment," she added quickly. "Really, it is."
"Oh. Thanks," said Ben slowly. "Is… is there something you wanted?"
"Despite what Hermione tells you, I'm really not as scary as I look," she said lightly.
Ben smiled sheepishly.
"Er… look," she said, "well, I can't help but notice that… you look a bit-er… peaky."
Ben flushed.
"I'm all right," he said quickly. "Really, I am."
"What did I tell you, Ben?" put in his friend Kendall from the other side of him, "He hardly eats anything," she told Ginny.
"I eat enough," Ben mumbled. "Honestly, I'm okay, Ginny."
Ginny cleared her throat.
"I'm not trying to nag," she said, "I'm the last person to nag anyone. I had six brothers. But-well-Hermione did ask me to look out for you. If you're anything like her, you'll study yourself into a coma. So... yeah. Don't kill yourself."
She raised her eyebrows at Jacob and Nathan, who were both sniggering from their places behind the bench.
"Have something smart to say?"
This immediately silenced the two boys. Even the first years knew-Ginny Weasley was not to be taken lightly.
"I thought so," she said, smiling pleasantly. "Right, well-take care, Ben. Nice meeting you… Kendall? Is that your name?"
"Yes. Kendall Ellis."
"I'm not your teacher," Ginny said, laughing, "I'm Ginny. Weasley," she added, after a moment. "But you probably already know that."
With that, Ginny stood and strode away, joining a group of seventh years on their way to Hogsmeade.
Ben flushed under Kendall's pointed look.
"What?" he snapped at last, "Stop looking at me like that!"
"Not until you admit I was right," she shot back.
"Fine!" Ben said irritably, keenly aware of the way Jacob and Nathan were laughing. "You're right. I'm dying of starvation. Happy?"
"Not quite," she said, coldly, "here."
She yanked the book away from him and pushed two sandwiches into his hands.
"This is called `food'," she said, "human beings tend to die without it. Eat."
Mutinously, Ben unwrapped the sandwiches and began to eat. Satisfied, Kendall got up.
"I'm going to the library," she said, "I'll be back." This she added with another significant glare in Ben's direction.
As soon as she was gone, Ben put the sandwich down and scowled.
"Why is she so… so…" Ben struggled.
"Oh, lighten up," said Samantha from behind him. Absently smacking Nathan and Jacob over the head as she passed, she came and dropped on the bench beside him. "She's just worried about you."
"I'm fine," Ben insisted. "I eat enough."
"If you were about ten years younger and three feet shorter, I could agree with you," she said, "but Ginny's right, Ben, you look sick."
"Maybe I'm just skinny naturally."
"There was twice as much of you when we got here," Samantha said bluntly, "I think Kendall's gone a bit overboard too; don't get me wrong. But it is a bit scary-look-those robes hardly fit you anymore."
"They still fit me."
"You're missing the point," Samantha said, with a touch of exasperation, "the fact is you're not healthy. What would your mum say?"
Ben cringed. Seeing she had hit a nerve, Samantha pressed on.
"She wouldn't want you to kill yourself for the grades, would she? Of course she wouldn't; she's your mum."
"She was the smartest witch of her age when she was here," Ben said flatly, "everyone expects-"
"Oh, shut up," Samantha said, nudging him lightly with her elbow. "You're not your mum or your dad. You're a completely different person! And what does it matter what people expect? There's more to you than that."
She batted his head lightly with the palm of her hand.
"Though if you keep on like this, there might be nothing but the brain left," she quipped. Ben smiled reluctantly.
"Thanks, Sam," he said after a pause.
"What are friends for?" she said, grinning, "Better eat fast-I can see Kendall coming back."
Ben quickly split the last sandwich and handed half to her.
"Help me out," he said. Samantha gasped with mock-horror.
"I'd be depriving you of food!"
"Come on, Sam-"
"Fine," Samantha said, with a dramatic sigh, "if I must."
When Kendall returned, Ben presented her with two empty sandwich wrappers.
"Thanks, Kendall," he said. She crumpled the papers in her fist, shrugging and reclaiming her spot next to him.
"You know I just want to keep you healthy, right?" she said, her stiff demeanor softening. He nodded.
"Yeah, I know."
Kendall paused, then blurted, "I just-I didn't want you to… die."
"Yeah," Samantha piped up, laughing, "dying is usually considered unhealthy. Of course, I'm no Healer-"
"Look at her blush!" crowed Jacob. Nathan shoved him lightly.
"Stop teasing Kendall, you prat," he said, "at least she was concerned about him."
Ben suddenly felt very hot around the face, and he opened his book, pretending to study. Kendall, for her part, shifted to the other end of the bench.
"Apparently Ben can read upside down…?" said Jacob casually.
"I can, actually," Ben lied hastily, flipping the book upright. "I've been practicing."
"Shut up while you can," Samantha advised, "and you two, cut it out. You're being obnoxious."
"Thank you, Sam," Jacob said, "that's exactly what I was going for."
"As if you have to try!" Kendall scoffed.
"Tell me how we're friends again?" Jacob said.
"It's beyond me," said Kendall, "But that's a very good point."
Ben laughed, shutting the book.
"I think I'm done studying," he announced.
"Thank you. I was about to cry from boredom," said Jacob, sprinting out toward the lake. "You guys are barely even human, studying like that!'
Kendall rolled her eyes as the others laughed.
"Come on," Ben said, following Jacob with his book under his arm. "Let's have some fun."
"Fun?" Samantha called after him, "What is this `fun' you speak of? Does a world exist outside of the library? Even if such a world does exist, why would you leave?"
"Give it a rest, Sam," Nathan said, grinning. "Come on, Kendall-you can take those books with you."
~*~
Dear Mama,
I'm sorry it's been so long since I wrote you last. The truth is… well, I haven't been doing as well in my classes recently, and I didn't want to disappoint you. But the courses are getting much harder overall. No matter how hard I try it seems like I still can't understand. But all of the professors keep telling me how brilliant you and Dad were, and I think I ought to try to live up to that, right? I mean, everyone expects it.
Sam (that's Samantha) says that I shouldn't worry about that, that I'm better off just doing my best, but I don't want to ruin your reputation because I can't keep up.
Kendall's always worrying about me; she says I don't sleep or eat nearly enough, and Ginny says that if I'm anything like you I could study myself into a coma. Well I wasn't studying that much, honestly I wasn't, but Ginny says it's best if I write and tell you myself.
Anyway, I hope all of the wedding preparations are coming along well. I can't wait to see everyone.
Tell everyone I miss them!
Your son,
Ben
~*~
Dear Ben,
I wish I could send you a hug through the mail! Things have been very busy at home recently, as you can imagine, but it's a very happy chaos.
Now, about your schoolwork. Of course things are going to be difficult near the end of the year-it's all right to struggle with it! As long as you do your best, you'll make me proud… no matter what the grade is. I promise. You don't have to live up to anyone's reputation or expectations. That's no excuse for not trying, but I know that's not a problem with you. You're a hard worker and bright-you are in Ravenclaw, after all! You have good friends, Ben-listen to them; they have your best interests at heart. I'd like to meet them someday. Perhaps we could have them over during the summer? Maybe we could take them to a Quidditch game, if that's what they enjoy.
By the way, your dad would like to know who's in the final match for the House Cup… he's silly that way.
And one last thing, Ben-
Harry and I have been trying to choose middle names for each of you for when we adopt you properly. And we've both agreed that-if you agree, too, of course-we'd like to name you after your grandfather James. At first I suggested that you take your dad's name as your middle name, but Harry doesn't want to name his children after himself-he says his father is a much better role model. (He's far too humble, don't you think?)
We're not trying to force the name on you, but I do think the name rather suits you-Benjamin James Potter. James was a good, brave man… and I think he'd be proud to share his name with a boy like you. And, if it helps-I have the feeling that Harry's always wanted to name his first son after his father. Again, Ben, if you absolutely hate it, we won't mind-but please know that we're trying to honor you. We're both immensely proud of you.
Please take care of yourself-make sure you rest and eat well (it is Hogwarts, after all-it's some of the best cooking in the country). I can't wait to see you!
All my love,
Mama
"She sounds lovely," said Kendall, handing the letter back to Ben.
"She is," Ben said, "She's amazing."
"What are you going to say?" Kendall said, pushing a curl of her dark hair out of her eyes.
"That Gryffindor and Slytherin are in the final match as usual?"
"No, I mean about the name."
Ben blinked.
"I don't know," he admitted after a long pause. "I mean, I'm honored. I really am. But… I just-sometimes I… what do you think about it?"
Kendall drummed her fingers softly on the table.
"She's right. It does suit you. It's a good, strong name."
Ben looked at her skeptically.
"Strong?"
"There are different kinds of strong," she said, "and because I know you're thinking it, yes, Nathan could probably snap you like a twig-"
"Thanks a lot."
"… but that doesn't mean you aren't strong, too, in your own way. In a good way."
"Thanks," he said after a moment, pretending not to notice when she turned a bit pink. Trying to avoid another silence, he said, "What's your middle name?"
"Mine? Audrey. It's an odd name, I know, but it's a family name."
"No, I like it," said Ben honestly, "A family name. I suppose `James' is a family name, too."
"Yes, I suppose."
Another awkward pause. Ben looked at the stars painted on the ceiling. Having girls as friends was certainly more complicated than Ron or Harry had let on.
"So-erm… doesn't anyone ever call you Audrey?"
"No," she said, "not much."
"Which do you like better, Kendall or Audrey?"
She looked startled at the question.
"Audrey," she said, "what about you?"
Ben paused.
"Audrey," he agreed hesitantly, "I mean, Kendall is nice too-" he added quickly, not wishing to offend her.
"No, I agree." She looked at him thoughtfully. Then she said, "You could call me Audrey. As… a new start. We haven't-well-we haven't gotten along very well this year, have we?"
"No." he admitted, "Not very well."
Suddenly she smiled.
"Well, then, let's start over." She held out her hand. "I'm Audrey Ellis."
"Pleased to meet you, Audrey," he said, smiling and privately thinking she looked much better without her customary frown of disapproval. "I'm Benjamin-- Benjamin James Potter."
A/N: (2) Mrs. Granger, Sam, Audrey, Nathan, and Jacob were particularly difficult to write, but somehow I couldn't cut them out. Please feel free to ask any questions! I have a feeling it might be a bit confusing. Thank you for reading!
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