Hermione, I Miss You

DarthMittens

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 26/08/2011
Last Updated: 28/09/2011
Status: in_progress

Hermione falls into a coma after being brutally beaten by a mystery assailant, leaving Harry to raise her three-year-old daughter, the father of whom is unknown. And when she wakes up, everything will have changed.

Chapters

1. Three Years

2. Nine Years

1. Three Years

A/N: Sorry about how long this took to get out; I’ve been swamped! But it looks like it’s all been cleared up, so you can expect the frequent updates again!

"Missing someone gets easier every day. Because even though it is one day further from the last time you saw each other, it is one day closer to the next time you will.”

-Anonymous

Hermione, I Miss You

21-year-old Harry Potter sighed and ran a hand through his messy ebony hair as he sat down heavily on his couch. He opened the new Auror manual and stared at it with unmoving eyes, using this time to think…as he always did.

He had had a long day in the office, what with all the crimes happening and whatnot. He had taken the position of Head of Criminal Intelligence about a year ago, meaning he was pretty much involved with every criminal case in the magical world and some of the more severe in the muggle. When originally applying for the recently vacated position, he had informed his superiors that he was tired of fighting Dark Wizards, having done it his whole teenage life.

The truth was actually quite a bit different.

He loved fighting Dark Wizards and fighting crime—it was his life’s calling. He had actually taken the intelligence position for very personal reasons, reasons known to none but himself. Some may have called it selfish and even manipulative had they seen how he had used his fame to attain the position, for nobody under the age of forty had ever received it. Some may have called it selfish…if they could see that much but not the reason for which he had done it.

Because, in truth, that reason was love.

Nothing more, nothing less. Just love for a woman who had up and vanished from the wizarding world without a trace three years ago, just one year out of Hogwarts. Just one year after helping Harry defeat one of the most evil wizards of all time. Just one year after making him fall in love with every aspect of her. Just one year after unknowingly breaking his heart after she happily informed him that she and his best friend had gotten together.

Harry dropped the book on his lap with a sigh, not possessing enough energy to try to fool himself that he was working and was most definitely not thinking about her. Just as he did every night. He indeed thought about her every night, every day, every hour, every minute. He couldn’t help himself. Three years it had been and she still ran every aspect of his life.

Especially his job.

For it was for her that he had taken the Head of Criminal Intelligence position. For most of the day he worked for the law, but the last hour of his workday was always devoted to finding her. He didn’t have enough power as a regular Auror to spearhead the search, so he had taken the intelligence job to attain that necessary power. But it wasn’t enough.

Harry would never give up hope, though, no matter how impossible it seemed. They had exhausted every strategy they could think of and Harry knew many of his subordinates were beginning to think he was a bit of a nutter…even Ron Weasley, his best friend and her first (and only, to the extent of Harry’s knowledge) boyfriend. “It’s been three years,” they all said, “when are you going to realize she’s gone and just give up?”

“Never,” Harry said croakily, startling both himself and his phoenix, Fawkes. Though close, Fawkes was no Hedwig (and he knew to Fawkes that he was no Dumbledore), yet still gave him a very morose note and hopped onto the back of the couch to nuzzle Harry’s head sympathetically. Harry absentmindedly reached up a hand to stroke Fawkes as he thought about the devastating news Ron had given him today.

“Hey Harry,” he had said, knocking on his friend’s open office door. “You remember that lead on Hermione, that one that said he had seen her on one of his business trips the other day?” Harry had nodded eagerly, hoping for good news. Ron’s lips had pressed into a downtrodden line and Harry had felt his heart clench as Ron said, “He was found dead today in his home.”

That was just another in a string of leads that had led to nothing, absolutely nothing. They had all forgotten, or disappeared, or in this case, died.

Harry sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose before rubbing tiredly at his eyes, ready for the day to be over.

He stood up and Fawkes suddenly squawked before disappearing in a burst of flame. That’s odd, Harry thought to himself as he started to make his way upstairs. Fawkes had never done that before. Harry, eyebrows furrowed in thought, sat down on his bed and began tugging at his left shoe, the first step in getting ready for bed.

He stopped halfway though, feeling as though he would need to leave it on for the reason Fawkes had suddenly decided it was prudent to leave like that. He sat in silence, growing more agitated by the second. Annoyed, he finally decided that Fawkes was just incredibly hungry and the urge to eat had overcome him. He went back down to restart taking off his shoe when Fawkes suddenly reappeared, scaring the hell out of him.

Fawkes dropped a piece of paper in Harry’s lap and landed on the bed next to him. “Thanks,” said Harry to the bird before hastily grabbing the paper and reading Ron’s near illegible handwriting.

Hermione’s at St. Mungo’s. Get here quick.

Harry dropped the scrap of paper in shock as Fawkes held his tail feathers out for Harry to grab. Harry quickly did just that and Fawkes quickly used the phoenix’s form of apparation, which was actually much more comfortable than the wizard’s form of apparation.

They arrived in a hallway crowded with bustling Healers and a small amount of people hugging the walls and speaking in hushed whispers with one another. Harry stopped in his tracks as he saw an open door at the end of the hall. Inside the room was a woman who was screaming one of the most horrible screams he had ever heard as she trashed around on her blood-stained bed while Healers tried to operate on her. And he felt as though he was about to die when he realized that it was none other than the love of his life on that bed.

“Hermione,” he said quietly, his feet automatically taking him in the direction of her room. “Hermione!” he said louder as his feet quickened the pace to a quick jog.

A pair of strong arms grabbed him and stopped him from going in the room, the owner of the arms saying, “Hold it, Harry. You can’t go in.”

“I can and I will,” Harry snarled as he tried to grab his wand out of his pocket.

When that didn’t work he began thrashing, trying to escape the arms and rush to Hermione to save her, to protect her. The arms picked him up and slammed him against the wall none too gently, knocking his head against the plaster. As white spots danced in his vision, the owner of the arms said, “God dammit, Harry. Get a hold of yourself or they’ll kick you out.”

Harry stopped struggling, Ron’s logic cleanly cutting through his haze of desperation. “Good,” Ron said with a relieved sigh while slowly, carefully releasing Harry.

Harry focused on his friend’s face, which was fraught with worry. “What happened?” Harry asked as more Healers rushed past them and into Hermione’s room. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Dunno,” said Ron with a shrug and worried glance at her doorway. “I was just visiting Lavender when they rolled her in, screaming a bunch of medical jargon at each other.”

Harry, wanting more time to process the fact that Hermione was in the same building as him, swallowed and asked, “How’s Lavender?”

“Good,” said Ron with a smile. “Giving birth to your godson took a lot out of her is all. She’ll be good to come home in a few days.”

“Good, good,” said Harry. “Where is Hugo?”

“With mum,” said Ron.

“Ah,” said Harry as Hermione’s screaming grew louder.

Harry swallowed hard, feeling helpless as more sweat beaded on his forehead.

The screaming went on for more than a half-hour, and he could hear more activity from the healers along with a small girl who was crying, sitting next to a professional looking man in fancy dress robes. “Why don’t they just stun her?” Ron asked, the first one to speak in over 20 minutes.

“She’ll die,” replied Harry. “If she goes under now she may never wake up.”

Ron nodded and they sat there in silence, waiting for any change to occur. Finally the screaming stopped to be replaced by dead silence. Harry preferred the screaming.

Then came a moan. “Harry. Please…Harry.”

Harry jumped up to his feet as a Healer rushed out of the room. “What was wrong with her?” he asked, wanting to know how bad it was before he went in.

“Sill is…” said the Healer, not wanting to sugarcoat anything and give Harry false hope. “Hit with multiple dark curses, crucios, and slicing hexes.”

“So was it a dark curse that had her screaming like that?” Harry asked.

The Healer nodded solemnly and Harry’s face became determined to the point of being scary, his power radiating throughout the hall. “I will catch whoever did this.”

The Healer nodded, fear sending a shiver down her spine. Whoever had assaulted that woman better kill themselves before Harry Potter got a hold of them—they would be in a much better situation that way. “You can go in now,” the woman said meekly. “We actually stopped most of it, but…”

Harry nodded grimly before nervously stepping into the room, a tentative smile on his face. He was finally seeing her after three years.

And she looked more beautiful than he remembered, the Healers having taken care of all the external injuries. Her bed had been scourgified too, so all the blood was gone. It didn’t look nearly as bad as when he had first got there.

“Harry,” she whispered agonizingly, her whole body trembling. Looks like it was still pretty bad.

“Hermione,” he whispered back, grabbing her limp hand and squeezing it.

She gave him a small, pained smile and applied the tiniest bit of pressure back. “Holly…” she said so quietly that Harry held his breath to hear her better. “Take…care of…Holly.”

Harry didn’t know who Holly was, yet he nodded and stayed quiet for her sake. “Promise me...” she said, gasping with pain every couple words, “…you’ll take care…of Holly.”

“I promise, Hermione,” Harry said quietly.

“Don’t…Ron…” Hermione moaned, becoming less lucid, “No…Ron…”

“Ron’s fine,” said Harry, confused. “He’s fine. You want me to go grab him?”

He turned to go fetch Ron but Hermione seemed to get a burst of strength as her other hand came over to grab his wrist. Harry stopped and turned back around. “No…Ron…Holly…Don’t…”

“Okay, yeah,” said Harry with a nod, not wanting to worry Hermione in her current state.

“Thank you,” Hermione whispered before her hand went completely limp and her eyes slid closed.

“Oh Merlin,” Harry breathed in horror before coming to his senses and yelling, “Help! Help her!”

A few Healers rushed in as another escorted Harry out into the hallway. The healers sounded frantic, and Harry numbly slid down the wall and stared at the floor between his legs as he rested his head in his hands.

Ron came over, worry etched on his face. “Was she awake? Did she say anything?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, so focused on still trying to figure out what she had been telling him that he wasn’t paying any real attention to Ron. “She told me…take care of Holly…and something to do with you.”

Ron gulped. “Something to do with…me?” he asked incredulously, sweat beading on his forehead. “What did she say?”

“I don’t know,” said Harry thoughtfully. “Just you and the words ‘no’ and ‘don’t’.”

“Who’s Holly?” Ron asked, changing the subject.

Harry shook his head and truly focused on his friend for the first time since leaving Hermione’s room. “I don’t know…” he said thoughtfully. “Obviously female, must be a kid if she needs to be taken care of.”

The man in the fancy dress robes stood up and walked up to them, trying his best to look important. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” the man said. “I’ll be pleased to identify one Miss Holly Granger.”

“Holly…Granger?” Harry asked. “Does Hermione have a sister or something?”

“You don’t know?” the man asked while arching an eyebrow, pleased that he knew something the great Harry Potter didn’t. “Holly Granger is that little girl right there.” The man pointed at the girl who had been sitting next to him, the girl who had been crying. “Holly’s father remains unknown and the rest of Miss Granger’s family was killed during the war.” Harry nodded solemnly, remembering the grisly scene in the Grangers’ home during their seventh year. “And you obviously don’t know that you are the only godparent of Holly, who is indeed the child of Hermione Granger.”

“I’m her…Godfather?” Harry asked, shocked, already slowly walking toward her. She was about three years old and already seemed to have Hermione’s hair—actually, now that he thought about it, she looked just as he imagined Hermione would’ve looked at three years old. There was no hint as to who the father could be.

Harry, numb with shock, kneeled in front of the young girl, whose eyes were red from crying. “Hello Holly,” he said kindly.

“Hi Harry,” she responded, though her ‘R’s were pronounced more like ‘W’s.

Harry, needless to say, was surprised. “How did you know I was Harry?”

“Mummy told me lots about you,” she said. “She tells stories about you all the time. Maybe she’ll tell me one tonight.”

“Yeah,” said Harry with a small smile on his face despite the lone tear that ran down his left cheek. “Maybe.”

A Healer came out of Hermione’s room at that second and Harry said, “Wait right here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Holly nodded as she swung her legs and sniffled. Harry walked over to the Healer, who said, “It seems that whatever spells hit this poor woman nearly destroyed both her magical core and her body. She…well, she’s gone into a coma.”

Ron caught Harry’s eye and heaved a relieved sigh. The Healer left them and Ron, catching Harry’s sadness, said, “Cheer up, mate. This is Hermione we’re talking about. She’ll be out of there by the end of the week.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, turning away from Ron. “I…I’ll see you in the office in a few days.”

“Right,” said Ron, waiting for Harry to get back to Holly before turning to look at Hermione’s door. His eyes flashed with something unknown before he turned on the spot, apparating to his parents’ house to grab Hugo.

Harry walked over to Holly, who was looking at him hopefully. “Is mummy going to tell me a story tonight?”

And Harry felt his heart shatter. Despite what Ron said, he couldn’t find it in himself to be optimistic at that moment. The only reason he didn’t break down and scream and bawl his eyes out was because of the promise he had made to Hermione. “Not tonight,” said Harry, giving Holly a smile. “Your mum’s already asleep. But I can tell you one about her tonight.”

“So am I going to your house?” Holly asked excitedly.

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, are you okay with that?” he asked her.

Holly pretended to think hard about it, seeming oddly mature for three years old. “As long as you tell me a story about mummy,” she said, leaping off her seat and grabbing Harry’s hand, looking up at him with admiration shining in her eyes.

“Deal,” said Harry with a grin, turning on the spot and apparating the both of them to his house in Godric’s Hollow.

It wasn’t until after he had made a room for Holly, tucked her in, and told her a story that he finally allowed himself to cry in the comfort of his bed.

2. Nine Years

A/N: Geez, over a month without updating this story. I’m mortified. Sick + Job + School + Writer’s Block = Not Fun.

Well, here is the long overdue chapter anyway! Please Enjoy and Review when finished!

Any man can be a father. It takes someone special to be a dad.
-Unknown

Chapter 2 – 9 Years

Hermione,

I miss you. Three years you were out of my life and I receive the news that you’re back, only you’re in St. Mungo’s! To top it all off, you then had to go and fall into a coma! How unfair the world is, that I was to finally see you again only for you to slip right back out my reach.

I’m always reaching for you, Hermione. For some reason I can never seem to catch you and just hold on.

I’m glad you chose me to be Holly’s godfather, she’s really cute. Very smart, just like you of course. She knows something’s going on. She wants to know why you won’t wake up. I don’t know what to do, Hermione. Do I tell her? Do I tell her you’ll be alright? Do I tell her you’ll be asleep for a long time? Do I…do I let her know that you may never wake up?

This is difficult, Hermione. More difficult than all of our school-day escapades combined. Almost as difficult as losing you. I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know where I’m going. I thought I had purpose in my life, but then I look at Holly and realize that I was going nowhere…doing nothing. I thought I had confidence…I had kidded myself into believing that I was doing great without you. Holly managed to open my eyes in only ten minutes.

I’m nothing without you, Hermione. So you better wake up soon. Then, and only then, maybe I’ll be able to wake up, too.

Love,
Harry

30-year-old Harry Potter sighed as he looked up at the empty train tracks through his messy raven locks. He read the same line of the book he had been reading for the fifteenth time, unable to concentrate. It was June 31st, which meant that Holly would be coming home from her first year of school at any minute now.

“Hey, mate,” came a voice from right in front of him.

Harry gave Ron a grim smile and said, “What’s up?” He couldn’t get himself to be cheerful—he was too full of apprehension.

“So Holly and Hugo had a good first year, eh?” Ron asked, feeling the awkwardness despite his severely lacking emotional range.

Harry clutched the letter tightly in his fist, wondering if that was really the case. Then he quickly let his hand relax; he didn’t to crumple the letter.

Ron caught on to Harry’s mood and fell silent, giving his mate a nervous smile. They stood there, Ron with his hands in his pockets and Harry with one hand holding the book and the other clutching the letter, looking down at the ground between them. The silence was long and pained.

Finally, Harry glanced at the letter one more time and felt his stomach clench, then quietly said, “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Ron. I feel sorry for whoever her birth father is, because she’s amazing.”

Ron let out the tiniest of growls and stormed away, shoulders hunched, leaving Harry behind to wonder if he had said something inappropriate. If he had been paying careful attention to Ron, Harry would’ve seen his shoulder straighten as he came to a sudden stop. To the casual observer it would look like Ron had just had a moment of inspiration.

Harry had already turned back to his book, though, his nerves threatening to buckle his knees. He was worried…very worried. Harry froze up as the platform exploded to life, the train having come around the corner and into view. Parents waved and the few children who weren’t too embarrassed about doing it in front of their friends waved back. Space was cleared as the train came to a stop, the yellow lines on the ground clearly marking the ‘stay clear’ zone forcing the parents to step away from the train or be scolded.

Harry closed his book and tucked it into his magically enlarged pocket, running his hand through his hair as his agitation threatened to overwhelm him. Students began pouring out of the train with their trunks only to be inhaled into the group by hugging arms and embarrassing kisses, parents not caring if they ruined their child’s reputation. The platform was a happy place, a place of love, and while the situation was no different for Harry, he also found it to be a place of worries and anxieties at that moment.

Students kept coming out as the minutes ticked by, and eventually the crowd thinned along with the frequency of the children leaving the train, the majority of them having already disembarked. A few minutes went by without any student getting off the train and Harry hadn’t seen his daughter yet, the anxiety now gnawing at his bones. He felt like he was going to puke!

Then a small head of smooth, curly brown hair stepped off the train and onto the platform. Harry knew she knew where he was, yet she stood still, staring at the ground. She finally met his eye to let him know that she knew where he was then determinedly marched her way up to him, returning his tight, fatherly embrace with an awkward hug of her own.

Harry sighed as he stood back up, though he had gotten more than he thought he would. They stood there for a moment, Harry trying to formulate what he was going to say, when she suddenly grabbed his hand, letting him know she was ready to go back home, and looked away.

Harry, trying to force at least one word out of her, quietly asked, “Are you ready?” though he already knew what the answer was.

She didn’t look at him or nod her head or give any sign that she had heard him, and he sighed sadly one more time before apparating them back to their home in Godric’s Hollow—Lily and James’s renovated home. They arrived in the lounge downstairs and Holly immediately stormed up the stairs.

“Holly!” Harry called, too afraid to go after her in case she looked at him with those eyes full of disappointment and distrust. “Holly!” He walked to the bottom of the stairs and called, “Holly Lily Granger, you get down here this instant!”

Then she said it…well, more like yelled it. “Why should I? You can’t tell me what to do…you’re not my real dad!”

Harry grimaced as a pain as bad as the crucio gripped his heart and throat, causing shame and sadness to shoot through him simultaneously. He had a feeling that it was all about this and knew he should’ve told her about it a long time ago. He had been trying to avoid a situation like this, but in the end he only seemed to have made it worse.

For the same reason you tried to save Sirius. For the same reason your friends saved you. After all these years, after all you've suffered, I didn't want to cause you any more pain. I cared too much about you.

Harry’s mentor’s words rang through his head as he ascended the stairs, the truth of it now plain for him to see. How naïve he had been as a teenager, how innocent. How easily swayed, how much emotion ran his life. That’s why he was scared about the conversation he was about to have with Holly. If she were to end up hating him, he didn’t know what he would do.

Parenting was much harder than Molly had made it seem.

His breathing and heartbeat quickened as he approached her door, the sign on it saying, “Unicorn Crossing” with a hand-drawn unicorn from when she was five years old bringing hot tears to his eyes. He knocked right above the drawing, wishing she was that small again. Everything had been so much simpler, so much easier. It only got harder as the years went by and she was exposed to more and more cruelties of the world. He hoped he wouldn’t end up becoming one of those cruelties. He wished it with all his heart.

“Can I come in, Holly?” he asked nervously, his heart beating a tattoo on his ribcage.

“Go away!” she yelled, making his chest tighten. She was crying.

He jiggled the doorknob, cursing himself for allowing her to put a lock on it. “Please, Holly. Please let me in.”

The tears were more prominent in her voice as she said, “I don’t want to talk right now.”

Harry’s heartbeat died down, the adrenaline gone now that the situation was over. He let his head rest against her door as he left his hand on the doorknob, wishing he could just hug her and give her booboo a kiss just like he did every time she had cried.

He thought for a second about using alohamora on the lock, but immediately discounted the thought. It would’ve been easy to have done that and forced a conversation onto his daughter that she just didn’t seem to be ready to have, to explain himself and make her love him again. But nobody ever said parenting was easy. She was growing up now, she was becoming a young woman. In just five short years she would be a legal adult in the wizarding world and out of his house, off to face the world and take it head on. Off to go out in the world without her in need of his protection, his guidance. He was the number one man in her life now, but in far too soon for his liking someone else would be taking that mantle, leaving him to sit back and hope he knows what her new man is doing. If he sheltered her too much she would have trouble adapting and growing up, which would make him a bad parent even if he was trying to do good at the time. Sometimes being a good parent was about making the tough decision…the decision he really didn’t want to make. So, a lump in his throat, Harry said, “Well…I-I’ll be here to talk about it whenever you’re ready, okay?”

He slowly counted to ten and when he got no response his chest tightened even more, his tears threatening to spill over. He hated it when Holly got mad or disappointed in him, which was really rare but still incredibly painful nonetheless. He knew that every parent and child went through it—that it was a part of the child growing up—yet he wished that he could’ve avoided it. He turned around and headed back to the stairs, and when he was on the top step he froze. He had just heard her door click. Harry quickly wiped the tears out of his eyes and turned around to face her, meeting her slightly softened gaze as she stood in her doorway already clad in her Quidditch pajamas. She was only twelve but she had the eyes of a woman, much like Hermione did when she was that age. It was eerie how similar the two were. Holly clutched the hem of her top, the vulnerability and confusion thick in her voice as she said, “D-Dad?” And in that moment Harry was forced to remember that no matter how old her eyes looked she was still a kid, confused and in need of guidance and love. He remembered that she was vulnerable.

“Yes?” he asked, his throat constricting at the tone of her voice, which sounded defeated and pained.

She looked at the floor, unable to meet his gaze as she quietly said, “I missed you.”

He smiled at her as tears pricked his eyes again, though this time they were tears of relief and pride. “I missed you too, sweetheart.”

Holly looked up at him one more time before disappearing back into her room, leaving Harry alone again. He collapsed on the top step and took shaky breaths, glad that she didn’t seem to hate him for what he had done to her. The only time he had ever felt this relieved was when he had realized that Hermione was alive and breathing in the battle at the ministry in fifth year. It was a type of relief that went down to the core of his bones and made him exhausted, the sickening apprehension from before having already drained him enough. He smiled as he got his breathing back to normal, then stood up and cheerily made his way back downstairs to make dinner.

As he stood with the ingredients for Holly’s favorite, Harry’s handmade-from-scratch pizza, the reality hit him. That was just the easy part. He had raised her and she loved him—it was a no-brainer that she wouldn’t hate him for something like this! What would be really difficult were the following the steps…the steps to gaining her trust back. It helped that she was very intelligent, loving and trusting, but the fact of the matter was that he had really hurt her by keeping it a secret from her and it was a basic human defense mechanism to learn from one’s mistakes. Of course, growing up Holly had kept more than one secret from Harry, but she was a child and Harry an adult—he knew all too well that the children and parents didn’t react that same to similar situations.

Harry sighed as he began getting to work on the pizza, telling himself not to worry too much and that everything would turn out to be just fine.

Nevertheless, forty minutes later he was ripe with worry again, though he had worked out what he was going to say. He had never been a timid parent, but right now was the single-most nerve-wracking moment of Harry’s life and his body was reacting appropriately to it.

He shook his head and pulled out a piece of paper, scribbling, ‘Dinner’s ready. I made pizza. If you don’t want to eat now, you can come down later and I’ll heat it up for you. I promise not to use that as an excuse to talk to you about it, too.’

He charmed the paper into a paper airplane and sent it flying up the stairs and under Holly’s door to fly onto her lap. Harry wouldn’t pressure her into anything, but he did hope she would come downstairs and talk to him about it so he could hopefully ease both their minds.

Harry waited ten minutes, ears straining to hear her door opening, hoping against all hope she would come downstairs, frequently checking his watch to see how long it had been. Just as he was about to give up hope he heard her door open, heard her small feet on the wood as she descended the stairs. She took her seat across from him without looking at him, a new book in her hand. She read a book every week, something Harry knew Hermione would’ve been proud of, something Harry knew he was proud of. Hermione…Harry wished she was here right now. She would’ve known what to do. She always knew what to do.

Harry ate and looked at his daughter’s face as she read while she ate, a skill she was very proficient at. He figured she might have had quite a bit of practice at school considering she had never done it in his presence before. Her book was propped open and leaning up against her drink, the pages held open at the bottom by her plate. Her eyes weren’t moving, though, leading Harry to believe she was thinking very hard, another one of her hobbies. Her eyes were unfocused and now the pizza sat forgotten in her hand, limp and forlorn. Harry hoped it wasn’t an omen.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” her confused voice finally snapped the silence.

Harry had been expecting this question yet still fumbled over the words, his guilt burning hot in his stomach. “I-I tried…the right time never presented itself,” he said lamely, knowing it was another lie.

Her beautiful brown eyes rose up and met his and Harry felt his heart clench for what must’ve been the twentieth time that day. They were shining with more emotion at once than he believed possible. Hurt, anger, love, confusion, sadness. Her eyes truly were a window into her soul at that moment.

Holly seemed to accept his answer yet didn’t comment on it, leaving Harry to wonder what she thought about it. He let her continue to drive the conversation, somehow knowing in his gut that he was doing the right thing and helping her grow up. “Who’s my real dad?”

The question that shook Harry to his bones. That plagued him every day. If he could somehow find the man who had impregnated Hermione with this wonderful child, everything would become clear. Why he was left to raise her, why Hermione had run off, why she had been in a coma for nine years, why she wasn’t waking up. If he could just find out who her father was…it was the key to everything. Harry calculated that Hermione had already been one month pregnant when she had disappeared twelve years ago, so his first suspect had been Ron. But Ron had informed him that he and Hermione had stopped being intimate three whole months before he and Hermione had broken it off, which was a couple weeks before Hermione disappeared, according to Ron. Harry hadn’t been too privy on their relationship at the time. So Ron had declined to give his blood, claiming a fear of needles that Harry knew far too well about. Harry tried everyone who he though may have been the father, from Seamus Finnegan to Terry Boot, only to come up negative on each and every paternity test he had done. If only he could’ve found out who!

So he quietly said, “I don’t know who your birth father is. I wish I did, because I would punch his face in.” Holly giggled, bringing a smile to Harry’s face. Somehow violence always got through to children, even if they were girls. “He was the luckiest man in the world with two beautiful, amazing women in his life, and he abandoned both of you.” He paused and said, “But if you’re talking about your real dad he’s sitting right in front of you, taking care of you and loving you each and every day of your life. Your dad will never abandon you, you can count on that.”

Holly looked down at her pizza. “Everyone at school was making fun of me for not having proper parents. I told them I had a dad and they told me that their parents had told them I wasn’t your daughter. I let them convince me into thinking you weren’t my real dad because I had never heard you say it and we didn’t have the same last name.” Harry had tears in his eyes and slid his arm over the table to lightly grasp Holly’s hand. She looked up at him with a brilliant smile on her face and said, “Next time they tell me I don’t have a dad, I’ll laugh in their faces and tell them I have the best dad in the whole world! Because I say you’re my dad and I don’t care what anyone else thinks! Our hearts are what matter, not blood!”

Harry was amazed at how much of a learning experience this had been for him too as he smiled and said, “That’s the spirit! Now, do you want to watch a movie with the best dad in the whole world?”

Holly hopped up out of her chair eagerly and said, “Yes! Can I choose?”

“Have I ever not let you choose?” he asked her as he looked at her suspiciously.

Holly giggled and ran into the living room, opening the movie cabinet on the TV stand and rifling through the movies even though she must’ve done it at least a thousand times. Harry smiled and brought the dishes into the kitchen, glad that everything had worked itself out in the end.

His knees were weak though and he was still giddy with relief. That was twice today that he had been exhausted so much by it. He couldn’t believe he thought his daughter wouldn’t love him as much as she always had. She looked up to him as her role model and her father and he provided her with the best guidance he could. They were best friends , and Harry knew now that nothing could ever change that. Because the heart of a child is open and forgiving, trusting and loving. Once she sorted out what was bothering her she had realized the truth and forgiven him for his error, something most adults would’ve never done. He loved her with all his heart and she realized it and cherished it, returning it in full.

“Dad?” came Holly’s voice from the living room. “It’s ready!”

Harry smiled and shook his head, glad that everything seemed to be back to normal. He called, “I’m coming!” and finished up the dishes before drying his hands and joining her. “What are we watching?”

Holly held up the case for Die Hard.

Harry’s mouth thinned. “A rated R movie? Hmm,” he studied her wide, innocent eyes and hopeful smile. She knew it was her dad’s favorite movie and had always wanted to see a rated R one, so this was the one she always tempted him with. “I don’t know…” he said, pleased that her smile turned into one of despair. “I think…” she held her breath, ready for the final verdict. Harry knew he was having way too much fun. “…You’ve seen much worse at school in this past year.”

Holly scrunched up her face. “I haven’t seen anyone get shot and die.”

Harry chuckled. “Not quite what I meant, Holls. Besides, do you want to watch the movie or not? Don’t present an argument for me.”

Holly closed her mouth and pressed play on the movie. Harry smiled as he relaxed on his couch, Holly doing the same on hers. They always had handmade meal and movie night once a week and had their own rituals to go with it.

Harry didn’t pay much attention to the movie, having already seen it countless times. What he did do was continuously glance at his daughter, glad that she was back and that everything was well between them.

They had a fun summer to get going on.

Harry watched the Alan Rickman scenes with interest, though. Alan Rickman always did a great job and Harry never grew tired of his performance. He imagined that if he wanted to, Alan Rickman could’ve played a very good Professor Snape if they had done a movie about Hogwarts.

The movie ended on its high note and Harry glanced over at Holly, who was curled up and completely asleep. Harry smiled as his heart was warmed—she looked even more innocent and carefree than normal in such a vulnerable state. He picked her up and she stirred but didn’t awaken, only draped her arms over his shoulders and snuggled her head closer to his chest in an attempt to get more comfortable. He smiled and walked carefully up the stairs, glad that Holly was still small and light enough to do this, even if only for a short while longer. He hated that she grew up so fast, that she would be taking on life on her own soon enough. He didn’t know how nine years had passed by in the blink of an eye. He didn’t know how he had added new and built upon the already existing foundations Hermione had laid to raising such a great daughter. He didn’t know how he had ended up so lucky in the end.

He gently set Holly down on her bed and tucked her in, kissing her forehead lovingly before making a move to leave the room. “Dad,” her half-asleep voice stopped him. “You always told me you loved mum very much. How did you not end up being my birth father?”

Harry smiled sadly at her, though she couldn’t see very well because the hallway was bright while the room was dark. “I did love and still do love your mother with all my heart.” He paused, working up the courage to finish the only story about her mother he had never told her. “I never got to tell her.” He looked at her and smiled at her again. “Good night, Holly.”

“Dad,” her now fully-awake voice stopped him. She looked at him with very serious eyes and said, “I’m sure she loved you back just as much. I don’t know how anyone couldn’t. When she wakes up, will you two get married and be my mum and dad together?”

Harry grinned into the darkness, sincerely hoping that that would be the case. “We’ll see,” he said though, never making any promise he couldn’t keep.

Holly studied him in silence before saying, “Good night, dad. Love you.”

Harry was snapped out of his dreams and into a reality that he still wouldn’t have given up for anything. “Good night, my princess. Love you too,” he replied lovingly before leaving his daughter’s room and closing the door behind him.

He got in bed and laid down at eleven pm, yet had so much going through his mind that he somehow didn’t end up falling asleep until three in the morning, Hermione walking down the aisle in a beautiful wedding gown occupying his head for the first time in quite a while.