The Man With the Broken Face

Notes: This story (which I also posted as a challenge at Portkey) wasn't really inspired by anything, that I know of. It just popped up in my mind. This is from Harry's PoV (point of view), takes place after Seventh Year (after HBP, but there aren't details about that).

Pairings: Harry/Hermione, Ron/Luna.

-

We were all getting ready for the big trip to Romania, to visit Charlie Weasley and see how he was doing. After finally defeating Voldemort and having passed our N.E.W.T.s, the Weasleys decided that we needed long vacations. It was a great excuse to get away from the media and all the crazy fan girls (and some fan boys, to my astonishment.)

Since Mrs Weasley wouldn't accept my money, I had the twins to pay for everything as if it was their own. She accepted her own children's money, after all.

Hermione was also invited, thankfully. She started talking about facts and history of Romania as Ginny helped her pack up her stuff. Ron constantly said she was 'mental.' But I thought it was kind of adorable, even if it was starting to irritate me. After Ginny silenced her with a spell, she got fed up and didn't speak to the rest of us for the whole trip (Ginny had lifted the spell right away, but the damage was done.)

We arrived to the inn and Charlie was already waiting for us. We spent the following week walking around the town, learning about the local culture (Hermione insisted that we did) and eating things that we didn't even know existed (Ron's suggestion, of course.) Fred and George got very good ideas for pranks and other things. Percy learnt about the country's politics. Ginny was eager to meet the dragons and kept sending owls to her boyfriend, Neville Longbottom. Bill and Fleur spent most of the time away from the group, since they were 'old enough and responsible', as Mrs Weasley had said.

On the next Tuesday since we arrived, Charlie walked into the inn for our usual 'group breakfast' and gained everyone's attention. "I've spoken to my boss, and he's agreed to let me guide you on a private tour around the castle's caves, to see some live dragons," he said. Most of the Weasleys cheered at that. But I wasn't too keen on meeting another dragon. My experiences with them weren't that good.

Soon after that, I found myself being practically dragged along. Hermione chatting excitedly with Ron and Ginny. Percy puffing his chest and looking brave, since the twins were betting whether their brother would faint or wet his pants. Bill and Fleur were inseparable, literally. It seemed as if they were born joined at the hips. Mr and Mrs Weasley were talking about how Charlie needed a girlfriend or something like that. I felt somewhat left out, but I knew it was my own fault. I wasn't joining their conversations or anything.

I was thinking of my best friend. Hermione. I had bottled up all my feelings for so long, especially after the Sixth Year fiasco with the Love Potions and the death of my dear mentor and headmaster, Dumbledore. The hunt for the Horcruxes only worsened it. But during the battle with Voldemort I had to open that bottle and let it all out, and it was that what ultimately let me win. And now I couldn't go back and close it.

I loved all my friends, with all my heart. Years of not being able to have any friends or people who to trust had made me take more seriously people's friendships. But there was one friend whom I loved with not just my heart, but my very existence. Hermione. I was in love with her. It was the first time I was honestly in love with someone.

I was afraid of that. I didn't want to scare her away. I didn't want to ruin our friendship. But my heart ached every time a guy was around her. It wasn't jealousy, I knew. It was pain. It was fear that she'd forget about me, that she didn't feel the same way. I wasn't jealous because I wanted to see her happy, even if I wasn't.

I didn't realize we were already inside the castle, way underground. The caves where the dragons resided were damp and smelled strongly of, what I supposed was, dragon waste. Ron was walking beside me, and the rest of the group was a few feet ahead. He had nudged me to gain my attention. "Hey, mate," he whispered. Fortunately, the cave was charmed so that people's voices wouldn't echo, so the dragons wouldn't get worked up.

"Yeah, Ron?" I asked, in a tone that I realized wasn't too cheerful. More like absent.

"Are you okay?" he asked concernedly.

I shrugged. "Yeah, sure."

We kept walking in silence, though I could still hear Charlie up ahead talking, and our bushy-haired girl asking questions and pointing here and there. I grinned at that. "Is it about Hermione?" he asked. I glanced up at him (while I was tall, I wasn't that tall) and noticed he had an amused expression on his face. "You fancy her, don't you?"

I felt my face warm up. "Listen, I won't get in the way, Ron."

He snorted at that. "You think she and I...?" When I nodded he snickered. "Mate, we tried, it didn't work. We shared a kiss -" I made a face at that. "- just that, and it felt as if I was kissing Ginny. Not that I know how that feels, but... You get the idea, I love her, yes. But it's like what I feel for my sister and my brothers."

I felt my heart leap with joy at his confession. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yup. And, you should tell her how you feel. You never know, she might fancy you back."

"I guess I'll tell her... When we get back to the inn," I looked up at him and smiled. "Thanks, mate. I owe you one."

He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to say something, when a loud crash made us look forward at our group. Charlie had his wand out and was pointing upwards. Mrs Weasley, Ginny and Fleur were screaming in fear over whatever the dragon tamer was yelling (which was, probably, don't shout.) Hermione was, I realized, paralyzed with fear, looking at where Charlie was aiming.

We looked up and saw a dragon, large but slim. It was flapping its wing, hovering above the group. It threw its head back and I realized it was going to spit fire. The others must've realized as well, because they all moved away. Except for Hermione. She was looking up at the beast with wide eyes. Like a deer caught in headlights, waiting for the trunk to smash it.

I wasn't going to let it happen. I don't even know exactly what happened, but I ran so fast that Ron barely registered I wasn't next to him anymore. He was safe, after all. Mrs Weasley, Ginny, Bill and Fleur were next to him. Charlie, Mr Weasley, Fred and George were on the other side. The ball of fire was going directly to where Hermione was standing, it was all I had in mind.

"Harry!" I heard someone shout. Probably Mrs Weasley or Ginny, or both.

"Hermione!" I yelled, but she didn't move and I didn't give her time. I simply shoved her with all my strength towards the twins. I was about to follow, but in the split-second I looked up at the group, something incredibly hot hit my left side. And I remember no more.

-

I woke up feeling a great pain all over my body. My left arm and leg, my left side, most of my face. I opened my eyes, only to notice that I couldn't feel my left eye at all. I saw everything blurry with my right eye. I tried opening my mouth, but my left cheek felt like it was stretching and would crack if I put too much effort.

I let out a groan, as to announce pathetically that I was awake. I heard some shuffling around me. "Harry?" It was Hermione's voice, concerned but tired and... defeated. "Harry? Can you hear me?"

Now that she mentioned, I realized I couldn't hear her very well. Nothing from my left side. But my right ear seemed to catch all the sounds. It was uncomfortable. "What happen?" I asked, trying not to move my lips. It hurt to move my left arm and leg. So I just moved my right extremities.

There was a strangled sound that sounded like a sob. "I'm so sorry, Harry. It was all my fault," she said, her voice wavering. "The dragon burnt you badly, Harry."

"Can you put my glass?" I asked.

More shuffling sounds. "I need to modify them a bit, I don't think it'd be comfortable on some parts," she explained. I heard a crack, and then something cold touching the part behind my right ear. I could see the room much better, and Hermione's tired face.

"Oh, Merlin. What happen to you?" I asked surprised and worriedly.

She chuckled. "Only he can be concerned for someone else when he's hurt," she whispered to herself. But I still heard it. I tried to smile, but it hurt, so I simple let out a monotone 'ha ha.' Hermione's eyes were red and puffy. She looked pale and her hair was never as wild as that moment.

"Okay, then. Can I get a mirror or something?" I asked with a sigh. She looked uncertain at that. "Do I look that bad?"

She smiled down at me, very gently. "I'm going to be honest with you, Harry," she said softly. I nodded, so she would continued. "The fire from that type of dragon is much like the wounds from werewolves, but a bit worse. They'll never heal completely. No matter how much muggle technology or magic we use," she sighed, and took my right hand. "For now, your burnt skin is too sensitive. You might already know it, you can't move your lips or cheeks, your arm and leg.

"The Medi-Witches are applying some healing potions for burns every day. They say that in a matter of weeks, your skin will have scarred and it won't split open again, on its own. It'll also decolor a little. Now it's a bit too red, from all the blood flowing underneath."

She bit her bottom lip and frowned worriedly at me. She let that information sink in, before continuing. "There are three things that you should know," she said. I nodded again. "You lost your left eye," she said almost in a whisper. I sighed and nodded. "There's a possibility that you might lose your hearing on your left side. But they're really trying to fix that, so you might have a chance with that."

I nodded again and squeezed her hand. She seemed to be ready to break down at any moment. "It's okay," I said softly. "What else happen?"

"Right before you were hit with the fireball, more dragon tamers came to help Charlie. The dragon was stunned in mid air, just as you were hit. It fell right on top of you," she explained, her eyes filling up with new tears. I just snorted. It was simply too ironic. I get hit with a fireball, and on top of that, a dragon falls on me. Just great! "The impact broke your hip, so it's very possible that you'll need a cane to walk. And you might suffer from chronic pains on the bone."

"What else? There was a cave-in and a big boulder fell on me?" I snorted again. She chuckled and sobbed at the same time. "Hey, don't cry," I said.

"It was my fault," she whispered. "It was all my fault."

"Stop sayin' that," I said a bit louder, but I was sure it wasn't louder than I had been already speaking. "It wasn't your fault, okay? It wasn't anyone's fault," I squeezed her hand again.

I spent almost three months in there. The rest of the Weasleys visited, but it was as if they were expecting me to drop dead at any second. I was immensely glad when Fred and George started making jokes (they were the only ones who didn't look affected by the 'mourning season', as we called it.)

Hermione and I were the only ones who laughed at the jokes. Well, she had a bit of trouble to laugh at first, because they usually called me 'Moody Jr' or something like that. But I convinced her that I trusted them, and they knew it. I would have been much different if Ron, Ginny or Hermione herself would have made those jokes. But I knew it was their way of dealing with it, and it certainly helped me.

Moody actually visited me and asked me if I wanted to know where to get an eye like his. Thankfully he understood when I declined the offer. I already looked bad enough, I didn't want to freak everyone else.

The side of my face, except most of my nose was scarred skin. As Hermione had told me, the skin had turned a very light-brown color. It didn't stand out as much as I had thought with the rest of the good skin. Where my left eye was supposed to be was a thin line, where the Medi-Witches had taken out the ocular globe and had stitched the eyelid closed. I decided to wear a patch, since the scar wasn't too pretty. I had also lost my left eyebrow, since hair couldn't grow over scarred skin.

Some of the skin under my eye to over my ear had healed very well. It was still scarred and wrinkly, but it was much better than what I initially expected. My hearing wasn't lost, after all. It was a bit affected, not as good as my other side, but it was better than nothing. My ear, though, had sticked against the skin behind it, so it didn't look too good.

Most of my scalp was saved, so my hair didn't grow in weird patterns nor had missing chunks. I even got to keep a bit of sideburns on my left side, despite what my ear looked like. I decided not to grow my hair long, because it wouldn't help at all. Instead, I had it cut short but messy, like always.

I was happy when I could move my mouth more freely and could smile (albeit I still thought it looked awkward). The scarred skin all over my left side had naturally shrunk a bit, so I had to walk with a slight bent on my knees. It didn't help that my hip hurt if I walked with my back straight.

I had basically become an old man trapped in the body of a young man of nineteen years old. I had to wear a special glove on my left hand, so it wouldn't hurt when I held onto my walking stick. Luckily the skin soon lost the few sensibility it had, and I didn't feel the fabric of my jeans or my socks or my shirt.

As for my glasses, well, thanks to Hermione I got to wear just the glass for my right side. It magically held itself, never falling off even if it was just holding on to my ear. At first I thought it'd be ridiculous, but I changed my mind when I tried contact lenses. There was no way I'd stick my finger on my eye ever again.

Once I was allowed out of St Mungo's I tried living in Muggle London, but after six months of being stared at, I got fed up and bought an empty lot near the Burrow, where I built a new house. It wasn't too big, considering I lived alone. But it was comfortable enough to allow many guests (and knowing the Weasleys, they'd visit me often.)

It had two stories and a small cellar. Upstairs there were four rooms and a bathroom. My own room had a small bathroom with a bathtub. Downstairs there was a bathroom, much like my own, but without a bathtub. There was a small kitchen, a fairly big room with a billiard table, a small table with Muggle chess pieces and two seats, and a bar with bottles of both Muggle and Wizard liquor. It was strictly for parties and social events. I rarely stepped in there. I was scared of becoming addicted to the alcohol, because more than once it crossed my mind that I should 'drown my sorrows.'

The living room had many couches of all sizes and shapes. I had a modern TV and cable subscription, a VCR and a music system. A cozy fireplace was on the other side of the room, which only allowed in people who I trusted. Just like the anti-Apparition and anti-Muggle wards I had set up. And, when I bought a small car, I had to add an equally small garage.

Dobby worked for me, and convinced Winky to accept part of his payment (which included Galleons and clothes.) It was a good loophole that she couldn't protest about, and Hermione didn't complain about having them around. Although I tried my best to do things for myself.

Hermione came every single day to check on me. She'd apply the healing potion on my back and foot, where I couldn't reach properly. She'd make lunch and stick around. We watched movies and talked about her day at work (she became a very respected Auror.) I didn't have a job, so whenever she couldn't come, I went to the Leaky Cauldron and visited Tom, the landlord.

I never told her how I felt. Not after what happened. Not with the way I looked. She deserved much better than a horrible-looking pathetic loser like me. Ron had nearly strangled me, but he never brought up that topic again, thankfully.

A year after what had happened to me, I got the craziest wedding invitation I've ever seen. Ron was getting married to Luna Lovegood. Something I never saw coming. The card had some Nargles drawn on it, that moved across the paper and ate the letters. Hermione and I had shared a good laugh at Luna's originality.

We visited the Burrow to see if Mrs Weasley was letting the girl breathe on several occasions. And we were surprised to see that the young Ravenclaw was handling the situation fairly well, often leaving Molly speechless. Ginny didn't have the same problem that she had had with Fleur, since she and Luna had been friends for a long, long time. She often joined the blonde in the decisions when Mrs Weasley opposed.

Ron usually never butted in. He often watched from afar, with us, and we laughed together at the whole situation. It was incredible to see him so happy with a girl he had considered odd. She was very calm and strange, and he was rash and normal. They complimented each other, as Hermione had said to me once.

The wedding was a success. I bought them a small cheap car, while the Weasleys got him a house not too far from ours. After their honeymoon, they returned and started working. Ron worked with Hermione, as her Auror partner. Luna worked for her father as a columnist for the Quibbler. Reading her articles always made me laugh.

Some years passed, along with weddings and births. First was Bill's son, David. Months later, came Ron's, Ralph. The two were redheads, but Ralph's hair was slightly lighter than his cousin's, and his eyes were light blue.

I was surprised when I was made Ralph's godfather. I took it as a personal job to spoil the boy rotten. Hermione was his godmother, so she was his voice of reason and often convinced him to not accept some of my 'dangerous' gifts (I had to put away the new Firebolt for when he was of age.) He quite enjoyed our visits, and when he was nine, he walked to my house with his pet cat, Ruffles (which Hermione had given to him from one of Crookshanks' escapades.)

It surprised me that Hermione never spoke of any love interest. Not that I cared... Okay, so I did care. She spoke openly about her life, but never mentioned having a boyfriend or anything like that. I know I shouldn't complain, since I never had a girlfriend after the dragon incident.

Ten years after defeating Voldemort, there was a big celebration with fireworks and all. People would call him 'Tom Riddle' or 'Voldemort' without cringing. They didn't stare at me for being the Savior or the Ugly Man, I was just a man standing there, enjoying the show. Somehow the new Minister had turned it into a mockery of the Death Eaters, with a few people dressed as such and dancing around.

I had a good laugh at that. All the members of the Order of the Phoenix were right beside me, among the crowd, laughing along. It was just too funny. Especially when some tall guys dressed as Dementors ran around, circling the fake Death Eaters. Then a guy who was supposed to be me, lifted his wand and fired a shot of light. Both Death Eaters and Dementors fell on the ground.

Children cheered and adults laughed. The actor playing my part bowed and flashed them all a bright grin, which reminded me of Gilderoy Lockhart. Apparently, Ron, next to me, thought the same, because he roared with laugher.

Two other actors, representing him and Hermione ran up to the Savior. They were looking worriedly at something behind him, so the actor turned around and a mist of smoke had covered a part of the crowd. From there emerged a very realistic Voldemort (I had been asked to describe him for the show, and I thought it'd be amusing.) Children gasped and adults booed him.

Most of the people I knew laughed with me, and clapped. The disguise was quite good. My fake shot some light at the fake Voldemort and he fell easily, dead. The fake Ron jumped up and down, shouting happily while Harry and Hermione kissed. I blinked my only eye as people around us cheered. I glanced sideways at Hermione and saw that she was smiling and cheering, and blushing brightly.

She caught me staring, so I looked away before she could see me blushing. The real Ron was jumping up and down on my other side, yelling and cheering, while Luna (very pregnant again), was laughing at her husband's antics. Ralph was looking at his father as if he had gone crazy (which might have been the case.)

Remus and Tonks grinned knowingly at me when I turned around. I narrowed my eye at them and shook my head in disbelief. "Uncle Harry?" Ralph's voice distracted me from my thoughts of strangling my father's friend. "Is that true?"

I looked down at my godson and smiled confusedly. "Is what true, Ralph?" I asked, feeling that I already knew what he was talking about. I supposed I wanted to stall the embarrassing question.

"That you kissed Aunt Hermy when you killed Voldemort?" I could swear I felt Hermione cringe when he called her that. After all, she didn't like that nickname.

I must have looked like an idiot, smiling down at the kid with my eyebrow raised and not uttering a word. Finally, my beautiful friend joined in. "No, Ralph, dear. He didn't kiss me. And, remember my name is Hermione, not Hermy, dear."

Ron snorted, but it seemed that our godson's curiosity was not satisfied yet. "Why didn't you kiss her, Uncle Harry?" he asked, turning to me.

"Um, because... We're friends," I answered, knowing it was a bit lame. "And friends don't kiss like that." I added for good measure.

Ralph's father burst out laughing, and others followed suit. I simply sighed and shook my head. The little boy looked overwhelmed by the reactions of all adults. I was probably looking awkward, Hermione looked embarrassed and the others were almost rolling on the floor.

After that, it seemed that Ralph had taken it upon himself to play matchmaker. I had always thought it was a girls' thing, but Hermione told me some boys who are more in touch with emotions can try to get involved in people's romantic affairs.

It was quite amusing at first. Hermione came one day with a bouquet of roses and blushing brightly, she thanked me for them. I just blinked in confusion. Then we discovered that it had been our dear godson who had ordered them by owl and had them delivered to my friend as if it was from me.

We always went on weekends to eat with the Weasleys. It had become a tradition. All family members, their espouses and children would gather at the Burrow for lunch on Sundays. Ralph would strategically make Hermione and I sit next to each other.

He even went as far as to ask his uncles Fred and George to stick us to a couch for a whole afternoon. Which amused the rest of the family. It went like that for six months, until Hermione exploded. Not literally. She didn't yell at the boy or anything like that, but she was stern and serious, and he accepted that he shouldn't try and force people together.

We were actually surprised at how dull things were after that. We expected things to happen, owls to arrive with silly love letters from each other (written by a ten-year-old), chocolate frogs to emerge from Hermione's books, and being forced to sit next to each other on Weasley Weekends (as we had started calling them.)

It was during one of Hermione's visits to my house that she asked me something I often asked myself. She was standing near the couch where I was sitting, coming back from the kitchen with two mugs with tea. "Why didn't you kiss me?"

I looked up at her and sighed. I supposed that I shouldn't beat around the bush. "I thought you were with Ron, at the time," I told her.

She blinked at me, apparently taken aback. "You would... You would have kissed me if you knew he and I didn't like each other that way?" After a few seconds of looking at her, trying to guess what she was thinking, I nodded. "Then why haven't you...?"

I blushed and looked down at my hands. One was normal, the other was odd. Some of the fingers didn't have nails. I looked back at her, defeated. "Look at me, Hermione. I'm a freak. There are so many guys out there that -"

I was cut off by her rather angry exclamation of, "Don't give me that, Harry! You and I know that I'm not shallow. That I value my friendships. And you should know that you're still handsome in my eyes." I blushed more at that, though I stared at her incredulously. "Besides, I'm not that good-looking. Nothing like Chang or Ginny, or even Luna," she added.

I frowned at her. "I think you're beautiful, Hermione. The most beautiful woman in this world," I said with a grin.

She blushed and shook her head. "That's cliche, Harry," she whispered embarrassedly.

I chuckled and shrugged. "It's what I feel."

"Then why can't I feel that you're the most handsome man in this world?" she asked me, still flushed from before. She walked up to me, put the cups on the little table in front of the couch and kneeled before me. "If you don't love me, if you don't feel anything about me, then that's fine. But I'll have you know that I'm very much in love with you, Harry. I've felt this way for the last eighteen years of my life." I looked at her surprised. She nodded, smiling. "Yes, Harry. That long. And it never faded. Not even when you were in that hospital, bleeding and hurt because of me."

"It wasn't your fault," I said sternly. "I... I would have never let anything happen to you. I was going to tell you. I was talking about that with Ron... He had just told me that there was nothing between you two, I said I'd tell you at the inn..." My throat was making it difficult for me to talk. I was overwhelmed by her confession. I did a mental calculation and I supposed she had felt that way since our Fourth or Fifth Year at Hogwarts.

She cupped my face in her hands, without hesitation or disgust. I barely felt her hand on my scarred skin, but her hand on my right cheek was sending tingling sensations all over my body. "I love you, Harry. I'll always love you, no matter what."

I opened my mouth to say something (probably something dumb, anyway), but she leaned over, tilting her head slightly, and covered my lips with hers. I closed my eye and kissed her back. Years of trying to repress my feelings for her were making my heart beat fast. She ran her fingers through my hair, while I cupped her face in my hands, much like she had done with me.

When we pulled apart we were both flushed and in need of some oxygen. She smiled gently at me and kissed my cheek, my left cheek. "I love you, Hermione. I've always had. Always will," I said with a smile.

Ever since then, she lived with me. After a while we had a very private wedding ceremony. Only the Weasleys and her parents attended.

I decided to face one of my fears and dreams, and become a teacher at Hogwarts. Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, of course. And I supposed that since Tom Riddle was dead, the post wouldn't be cursed anymore. To my surprise, Headmistress McGonagall also made me Head of Gryffindor.

It took some time, but with the help of my godson (who coincidentally started his First Year when I started working there) the First and Second Years started respecting me. It wasn't as easy as it was for Moody, because I wasn't 'barking mad' (as Ron had told me.) I didn't scare them or yell at them, so it was easier for the less educated ones to make fun of me.

They stopped doing that when I put them to duel with Ralph (under his insistence) and he kicked their collective bums. They could learn that if they payed attention to my classes instead of pulling my leg. And they got the hint, fortunately.

I was surprised to see a Malfoy among my First Years. But he was rather quiet and not an arse like his father. Draco Malfoy had fled the country months before I killed Voldemort, and returned with some French wizards to aid us in the final battle. We were civil towards each other, but never became friends or anything like that.

And, unlike Snape, I didn't think my rival's son had to be punished for his father's mistakes. The previous Potions Master was in Azkaban, serving a forty-year sentence for the murder of Dumbledore. It had taken me my influence as the Savior to cut down the sentence, after discovering that my old mentor had planned his own murder. Snape wouldn't suffer too much. After all, the Dementors had left the island.

Those who had a lifetime at Azkaban would suffer a lot. Their wands were snapped, they were given anti-magic collars and put to work Muggle-like. Since most of them were extremist pure-bloods, it was as close to Hell as it could get.

I was surprised when Hermione quit her job as an Auror and accepted to replace Professor Flitwick's Charms class for a year, so that he could stay as Deputy Headmaster and Head of Ravenclaw. She surprised me with the reason, and I must admit I was scared: she was pregnant.

And so, my life changed radically. I was quite anxious to become a father. My students noticed the change and became as hyper as me. Even the Quidditch team was energetic. I wasn't sure if they were doing it on purpose or I drove them mad.

I remember that year we won the Quidditch House Cup, after twelve years of not doing so. Right after that, my son, Edward, was born. Hermione had to suspend her job for nine months after he was born. We took Winky with us to Hogwarts, so she would take care of Ed while Hermione or I were giving classes.

Much like his mother, Ed never hesitated to look at my face or when I took his hand with my left one. He knew normal people didn't look this way, but he accepted me like he accepted the color of the sky or the grass. I always felt proud of that.

We didn't have more children, since we had surrogate children from Ron's family. And Ed never complained about wanting a brother or sister because Weasley children often overwhelmed him.

Our son wasn't special, in the sense that he didn't inherit his mother's massive brain or my skills at Quidditch. He was a normal kid, very good with magic, though. But he wasn't an avid reader or anything like that. He had, however, a huge heart. And he was often helping out his classmates, even from Slytherin.

Now my son has graduated, and I have become Deputy Headmaster. Hermione was made Head of Ravenclaw after Flitwick's death, despite not having been a Ravenclaw in our student years (but she was damn close, anyway.)

The students think my wife is McGonagall's daughter, can you believe that? But she's not that strict. The Seventh Years say it's because of me. I will never tell her what they say, because she'd fail them all. And let's just say that they're right. I'd wink, but I can't. So I'll just laugh.

-

Notes: I wanted it to be angsty, but apparently I can't. I don't think I'll ever produce something like "Last Stop". I think my angst muse committed suicide when I finish "Carry On". LOL!

Okay, so some explanations:

The whole Love Potions theory did happen in my story. Let's just say Harry forgave Ginny, and she wasn't a crazy jealous person like some say. So, that's that. She moved on and ended up with Neville. I'd put Draco, but it wouldn't have made any sense. So I put him in the end, with some other woman who shall remain nameless.

Harry's weird talking when he woke up 'happen' instead of 'happened' (and some other words I might have written badly) is on purpose. Now, I don't know how one pronounces correctly those words, me being Hispanic and all. But with one's lips barely open, I figured it would have been difficult for him to say 'full' words or be grammatically correct.

It was also not my intention to make Hermione 'weak' by having her paralyzed with fear. She's very brave. But I bet some (including myself) would wet their pants if a dragon was hovering above their heads, ready to kill. I know I wouldn't be able to move.

I initially didn't want to give them children. But I messed up and gave them Edward. Yes, as in Edward Elric. That's where I got the name. I didn't describe the kid because I'm already writing a story about their kids and I didn't want to give him combinations and stuff from that other story. I also didn't go cliche and made him quite an average wizard.

I'm not very happy with this story. But I suppose there's nothing else I can do about it. Feel free to submit your own version for the challenge at Portkey (dot org). The challenge is called "Inner Beauty: Disfigured Harry". I want to see better versions, angsty and romantic. No need to ruin the ending like I did. ;)

Well, that's all!