Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Author's Note: Well this is it; my first published Harry Potter Fanfiction. I confess I have been around the block or two reading my share of Harry Potter fanfiction, and I decided to take the premise of one of the more popular ones around her and spin my own tale instead. I'm not going to lie, prepare for a few cliches here, and seemingly similar plots to other works. However, stick with me, and I will try my best to give you my interpretation of the characters in this story. Enjoy!
The Consequences of Revisiting
A Hundred Years Gone, But Only a Night Has Passed
Harry Potter calmly sipped his tea, the hot liquid bringing much relief as it poured down his throat. His muscles relaxed significantly as well as bringing clarity to his dreary mind. He stared at the beautiful woman right in front of him who was at least twenty or so years younger than he was, but to a casual observer, she didn't look much older than Harry. After all, what was one hundred something versus ninety something? However, despite how gorgeous she was on both the outside and inside, there was no way he would ever fall in love with her; Harry Potter was in love with her mother, and forever shall be in love with her only.
Rose Malfoy née Weasley had always enjoyed Harry's company. He was like a father to him, and during her early years, he was a constant factor in her life that it was almost inconceivable for her to separate from him even when she had reached adulthood. Her mother always did say that he would always be there for all those that he cared for, and that was all true…until the day her mother, Hermione Weasley née Granger passed away. When she died, a part of Harry died with her. She was only in Third Year then, but like her brilliant mother, Rose knew the reason why Harry decided to become a hermit.
Harry Potter was in love with Hermione Granger, and it broke his heart to see her gone.
Yes, her surrogate father was in love with her mother. Although he began to grow estranged from almost everyone that knew him, Harry always welcomed her (and Ted, his adopted son) with open arms. He was always there for her. When her mother died, her father, Ron, wasn't much of a father anymore. Although she loved the man for raising her, his neglect over her in her teens caused by the death of her mother created a rift in their relationship that never recovered. Harry replaced him as the man she looked up to in a time of need. Whenever she felt self conscious about her looks, Harry would tell her that she was just as beautiful as her mother when she was her age. Somehow, his words always made her feel better.
"What are you thinking about my dear?" Harry's voice broke through her thoughts, causing her to look up and see his smirking face.
Chuckling softly, the old woman placed her empty cup down and responded, "I never did thank you for taking care of me after mum died."
Harry waved his hand dismissively, "A child needs no reason to thank the person that cared for them as living out life the way that makes you truly happy is thanks enough."
"Well, yes that's true." Rose smiled as she thought of the embarrassing time she admitted having a crush on her husband, then rival, Scorpius Malfoy, back in her Fifth Year. "Though, I remembered you handled me being attracted to Scorpius better than my father ever did."
"Ah yes. Ron never did take a liking to that nice boy did he? He was so very shy in his first year. Not like his father at all!" Harry remembered the memory fondly and then frowned, "I still wished that it was Ron that gave you away instead of I at your wedding. He could be such a git."
"I never forgave him Harry." Rose whispered softly.
"He was your father…" Harry started.
However, Rose interrupted with a shake of her head, "You were more my father than he ever could be. Yes. I knew he loved me Harry. But being a parent for years now, I know that it takes more than love to raise a child."
Harry only nodded his solemnly. He knew the reason why Ron never took after Rose as naturally as he did with Hugo. Although Ron may never have known, Harry could guess that he always had suspected. Staring at the bright, mature woman in front of him, he could see all the familiar traits that he saw in Hermione. However, there were so many traits from her father that was there, most of them subtle and really hard to find if you didn't know what you were looking for. But, the most attractive aspect of her countenance was what gave way as to who her real father was; her piercing green eyes.
"Rose. When your mother died, did she ever leave you a letter?" He asked quietly. Perhaps he was many years too late, but he had to know. Harry had to confirm his doubts.
Rose grew silent for a moment. The letter! She had read the contents of that letter soon after her mother died. Although she acknowledged the truth written in the words that her mother left to her, she never placed it at the forefront of her thoughts. Looking at Harry, light green eyes meeting dark ones, Rose breathlessly murmured,
A flash of green erupted from the fireplace, and stepping out from the green flames covered in soot was none other than Ted Lupin. The younger gentleman sneezed slightly as the dirt tickled his sinuses. It didn't take long for him to absentmindedly take out his wand and performed a quick cleaning spell. He looked around the living room of his adopted father's house to see if he was there, but figured if he had been, he would have greeted him. Stepping out the living room and calling out 'Pop' and 'Dad' here and there, Ted could hear the melancholic sound of a guitar playing from the front porch.
Exiting through the main door of Harry's small, country home, Ted looked to his left and smiled as he saw Harry sitting comfortably on the familiar rocking chair with his guitar on his lap strumming a few notes of a song he never heard of. Grinning from ear to ear despite his old age, Ted enthusiastically greeted his father, "Happy birthday Dad!"
Breaking from his reverie as he played the instrument, Harry looked up and smiled at his son. "Ted! You just missed Rose. We had tea. Would you like some? I could always brew another batch." He made the motion to get up, but Ted quickly told him to just sit as he respectfully refused the request for a drink.
Ted took a seat on the bench and turned to Harry, "So Pop, how does it feel to be 118?"
A low chuckle erupted from the former Boy Who Lived as he leaned back on his own chair, "Well. I'm tired most of the time. I can't eat as many treacle tarts as I used to do. And I can't exactly get on my broom and go flying while doing dangerous stunts anymore I suppose."
Laughing with him, Ted felt comfortable in the company of his father. The pair relaxed in companionable silence as the only noise that could be heard was the pleasant summer wind blowing by and the quiet notes of Harry's guitar as he began tuning the instrument.
"I think it's time I head off to the next grand adventure Ted." Harry announced casually.
Ted's eyes widened in shock as he leaned forward to look at Harry, "Why dad? You're one of the most powerful wizards I know. You could probably live up to a thousand if you wanted to!"
This time, the older man sighed and set down his guitar, "That's the thing Ted. I don't want to. I have not been happy for many years, and it's time I allow myself to go peacefully. I completed my promise, and since I have nothing to look forward to, I want to move on."
"What promise?" Ted asked, confused.
Harry smiled wistfully as he rested his hands on his lap, looking out into the vast plains in from of him, content with how peaceful the day was, "It was before the final battle with Voldemort. Hermione made me promise to her that when I survive the battle, I would live for a hundred more years before I even start thinking about death. It's funny. At the time, it was such a ridiculous request made to lighten the mood, but it is one of the few things I have left to remember of her, and I fulfilled it."
Ted sighed; he knew that when his father was adamant about something, nothing could deter him from following through. Although he would miss him, Ted understood why he wanted to go.
Harry never married. His relationship with Ginny ended as soon as Ron had asked him to be the best man to his and Hermione's wedding and realizing he was in love with his best friend all along. Although Harry knew he could build a future with Ginny, it would be unfair to her. He loved her, but he didn't love her as much as he loved Hermione. In his youth, he was selfish. So very selfish. Seeing Ron with Hermione tore at him until he snapped. He had confessed his feelings to Hermione months after the wedding, and everything that was bottled up inside the two of them exploded in a single night of passion. Harry never regretted it, but Hermione was still married, and she will never leave Ron. Even when she felt the same.
When his two friends started a family, Harry was there to help since he had adopted Ted soon after the war. For years, Harry was always there for Hermione. He supported her, and did everything he can to help. Harry was resigned to the fact that he can never have her, but he was still happy. As long as Hermione was happy, Harry would feel the same.
Her death was an accident. Everyone seemed to have been completely busy on his birthday. Ted was off in Auror training, he had sent Ron off to investigate a new lead on his case and there was a delay, the Elder Weasleys were on vacation in France with Fleur and Bill, George was stuck overseeing some new shops of his that opened up, and Ginny was covering the Irish Quidditch team in their home field for the Prophet. It was only Hermione that was free to spend time with him, and he was elated. It was Harry's suggestion that they spend his birthday the Muggle way and meet at a restaurant in London. She never got to the restaurant; she was killed in a car accident while on the way.
Harry never forgave himself for that.
He moved into a small house in the English countryside away from most people. He closed himself off from so many of his friends, and the only people that wanted and were able to visit were Rose and Ted. From then on, he lived the life of a recluse. Harry learned many things during his time alone. Solitude brought him patience and understanding. He picked up the guitar along with several other instruments, and surprisingly, Harry found writing to be something he enjoyed doing. He began expanding his library and increasing his knowledge (both magical and other) so much that Rose and Ted had once jokingly said that he was channeling Hermione's spirit.
Harry wouldn't be surprised if he had been though.
Now, decades later, Harry was ready to move on to the next great adventure, and Ted couldn't do anything about it. "Well dad, if you feel strongly about it, I'll support you. But so you know…everyone will miss you; and I mean everyone, me, Rose, my family, her family, the Weasleys, and the whole magical community in every corner of the globe."
The tired, old man let out a hearty laugh at that single thought. He had come to accept his fame, and would allow interviews here and there to appease the media. It was a grace that he allowed them if they respectfully don't intrude into his privacy. Looking back at Ted, Harry didn't see the old man, but the cute five year old that was desperately trying to look like his adopted father, "Tell me Ted. Was I a good father?"
Rolling his eyes, the Metamorphmagus crossed his arms and shook his head as he sarcastically said, "No pop, I'm a terrible person. Your upbringing is the reason why I became a prefect and Head Boy in Hogwarts, and the reason why I became Head Auror to catch criminals."
"I didn't think I raised my son to be a sarcastic git…" Harry said his tone playful.
Ted grinned, "Well, for what it's worth, I got my sense of humor from you old man."
With that, Harry smiled; Ted would go along well without him. However, he couldn't help but make one last jibe, "Says the 100 year old who still acts like a teen."
"Oh shut it." Ted muttered, he hated to be reminded of his age.
Harry sat at the edge of his bed, ready to end the day and his life. His affairs had been ready weeks before, and Gringotts would notify everyone in his will upon his death. Most of his fortune would be divided up towards Ted's and Rose's family, while the rest would be sent to other close friends and acquaintances. His grandchildren and great grandchildren would benefit greatly from some of the personal belongings he bequeaths to them. Though he knew everyone close to him would be saddened by his departure, Harry knew for certain that this was what he wanted to do.
He was tired. He had been tired for years, and he finally wanted the rest he richly deserved. Harry hoped that he would see Hermione again, and finally be with Sirius and his parents who had long since been gone.
Harry moved into the covers of his bed and turned to his side. He reached for his glasses before a picture frame on the desk next to his bed caught his gaze. The old wizard reached out towards it and grabbed it. He brought the picture close to his face, his eyesight, despite wearing glasses, was not as good as it used to be. A nostalgic smile appeared as he studied the magical photograph.
It was one of his favorite pictures of himself with Hermione only. It was taken a little bit before the announcement of a Yule Ball during their Fourth Year. It was just the two of them, and it was taken on a whim during a trip to Hogsmeade. Ron hadn't gone despite having made amends with Harry for his earlier mistrust with Harry's motive for participating in the tournament. After having had a great time with Hermione, Harry decided to take a photo commemorate it. Pulling Colin aside for a moment, he asked him to take their picture.
Standing there in front of the camera as happy as they can be was Harry and Hermione. They were grinning from ear to ear, obviously overjoyed at taking a picture and having found some time to relax. Hermione's arms were wrapped around Harry's neck while Harry's had one hand holding Hermione's arm while the other waved at the camera as they stood in front of the entrance of Hogwarts. On occasion, the picture would show Hermione shyly kissing Harry on the cheek as his face blushed from the sudden display of affection.
They were so young back then, and just thinking of the memory tugged at his heart. He had wished he had the Gryffindor courage to acknowledge his feelings for her early on. Of course, he had been stupid then. The saying 'youth is wasted on the young' was right. If he had known some of the things he had known now, Harry was sure things would have worked out differently. If only he could go back to that time. There was a reason why that was his favorite picture aside from Hermione being there. It also showed a time where no war was looming over their heads and that the only thing worrying Harry was surviving through a tournament instead of the threat of Voldemort taking over Britain like in his Fifth Year and beyond.
He placed his glasses on the desk next to his bed and performed a bit of wandless magic to turn off the lights. Sighing, Harry hugged the picture close to his chest.
It was time.
Harry relaxed as he made himself comfortable on his bed and closed his eyes; hoping that the next image he sees when he opened his eyes was Hermione.
Harry's eyes bolted open as he frantically searched the room for what was the cause of his disturbance. He groaned; his muscles were stiff from whatever amount of rest he had. The world was blurry and Harry began to reach out to his right for his glasses but stopped when he felt the familiar pair feeling of his eyewear placed on him by some unknown force.
He blinked a few times, his eyesight adjusting to the corrective lenses. Staring straight ahead was a familiar face of a certain bushy-haired witch. Her nose was scrunched up as she frowned. If Harry was honest with himself, he couldn't help but find the action cute.
"Honestly Harry, falling asleep in the common room…" Her familiar lecturing tone was there, and Harry couldn't help but smile. He looked around to see where he was and noticed that he was in the Gryffindor Common Room; a place he hadn't been for decades. The fire in front of him was slowly dwindling down giving off very little light and warmth, but outside; the early morning sun was rising as it peeked shyly from the horizon. He felt his arm being tugged as she pulled him forward, forcing him to stand up. "You're an open target for the twins' pranks! Be grateful they never wake up this early!"
Suddenly becoming aware of what was happening; Harry stared blankly into his best friend's chocolate brown orbs.
"Harry?" She asked as she met his gaze, her tone questioning and unsure.
With a small smile, and his emerald eyes sparkling in pure joy, Harry breathlessly whispered, "Hermione." Then, Harry quickly wrapped his arms around Hermione's small frame and hugged her close.
"Harry!" Hermione shrieked in surprise, but nonetheless accepted the hug. She chuckled as she patted her friend's back affectionately, "Really Harry, it's as if you hadn't seen me in years rather than last night."
She had no idea. Harry missed her for years. He would always feel a deep ache in his heart that grew and grew after her death. It was the reason why the rift in his heart became wider and bottomless, holding little care but the small family he had. Although Harry allowed himself to show love for those close to him, their love would never reach him and he would never muster up the energy to enjoy the happiness that surrounded him without her. She was everything to him. Hermione was part of his life, and when he lost her, there was a void that would never close. He lost his other half, and now it was here again.
Hermione looked even more beautiful than he could remember. Her hair was still bushy and nearly untamable, unlike how her hair would be in later years when it would become as soft as silk and flowed down in wavy curls. Her eyes still gleamed with the excitement of intellectual pursuit and innocence; there was none of the hardened gaze she adopted shortly after the war. This was the Hermione he had fallen for but never realized until it was too late.
Harry had no idea what was going on though. He had fallen asleep, willing his magic to finally give him peace and let him continue on to the next great adventure. He had wished to see Hermione again, but never before his wildest dreams would he be seeing her like this. A thousand and one theories could be made, but there was no doubt in his mind that this was not a dream. Her touch and reaction were too real. There wasn't the surreal feeling he would have when he dreamt, this was real. Had he somehow gone back to the past? It was plausible, but Harry wasn't sure. However, if he had, then what were his options? Was this a mistake and he had to find a way to get back? Or was this a godsend that the fates finally allowed him to have a chance at happiness? Time travelling to change events was frowned upon, but…the temptation was so great. What should he do?
"Harry? Anything wrong? You're lost in thought, and seeing you think…is a little disturbing." Hermione quipped jokingly with a slight smile.
Harry grinned. His decision was an easy one. For once, he will think for himself. He will try and make the most of this second chance. This time, Harry was going to follow his heart. Ethics and morals be damned, "Nothing. Nothing is wrong. Everything is as it should be."
He leaned forward, planting a firm yet tender kiss on Hermione's lips.
Author's Note: Please review! Please no flaming, that really doesn't encourage anyone to become a better writer; it only serves to crush the motivation and spirits of the author. However, constructive criticism is always welcome and a few words of encouragement would make my day. Until next time!