Harry wishes he could go back in time and tell his younger self--always so lost, desperately searching for a family and a place to belong--that the answer was there all along. Right there next to him. Post-Hogwarts HHr.
Illustrations by Hastyhand.
Harry stares in awe at the two little humans sleeping peacefully in the crib. It's been almost half a day since his children came into the world and he's still in a state of wondrous disbelief.
"Harry," comes Hermione's tired voice from the bed.
His head whips around and he rushes to her side. "What is it? Is everything all right? Are you feeling—"
"I'm fine. Exhausted and certainly not going to get pregnant again any time soon, but fine. " Hermione snorts. "It's just that you've been standing near the crib for ages now. They won't disappear."
Harry runs his hand through his hair and grins sheepishly. "I just want to hold them again, but I don't want to wake them when they just fell asleep. So I'm just looking. They're so beautiful, Hermione."
Hermione's features soften with a small, proud smile. "Yes, they are."
Rose Lily Potter has the same bushy brown hair as her mother and already has a stubborn set to her chin when she scrunches up her face to cry. But her green eyes are his. James Sirius Potter has Harry's unruly black hair and is the quiet one of the twins, barely ever crying. He has Hermione's warm brown eyes.
When they wake up a while later, Harry carefully cradles Rose in his arms and gives her to Hermione, before taking James and seating himself next to the bed.
He drops a light kiss on James' forehead, a little overwhelmed at how small and fragile he feels in his arms. At how tiny his fingers are compared to his own.
"Welcome to the family," Hermione whispers to Rose and then looks up to Harry with a knowing smile. His heart fills with happiness at the word.
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Family. It always seemed such an unattainable, foreign concept to him. Something that other people had, something that didn't and would never belong to him.
But he has one now and he's never letting go.
_____
Harry creeps into the house late at night, trying to tread lightly and praying that Hermione has already gone to sleep.
No such luck. The light is on in the nursery and Hermione comes out with James swaddled in blankets against her chest and her eyebrows scrunched up in worry.
"Harry, you're covered in blood!" She rushes towards him but he takes a step back.
"I didn't want the kids to see me like this," He mumbles, knowing it's silly but self consciously fiddling with his red-stained Auror uniform anyway. "Don't worry, I'm fine. The mission went bad but we got out of it in one piece."
Hermione doesn't say anything, waiting.
"I quit the job." Harry admits, the words spilling out of him like a flood. "That's why it took so long for me to come home. Had to tie all the loose ends up."
"What brought this on?" She asks quietly.
He swallows hard. "There was a close call today with a stray spell. I'm so used to near-death experiences now, I usually don't feel anything anymore. But this time was different. All I could think about was if it had hit me, I wouldn't be able to come home. I wouldn't be able to see you and the kids again. I've spent my whole life trying to do the right thing and for a time it meant helping people and living up to my name as a saviour."
James makes a little gurgling sound and Harry looks down at him with a small smile. "But now the right thing means being alive and being there for my family."
"Oh, Harry." Hermione takes his hand, entwining her fingers with his.
"You don't mind?" He feels compelled to ask even though he already knows the answer.
"That you've finally quit that horrible job everyone pushed you to do when it never made you happy? I'm ecstatic. And besides, this couldn't be more perfect timing." Her eyes shine with mirth. "My maternity leave will end soon soon and now we don't have to search for a nanny."
He snorts. "Hold your horses. The Ministry did offer some other options—they're really not eager to let me go. They said I could take a representative position of sorts, or even involve myself in the Wizengamot. My appearances would be infrequent, but it's something to consider."
"Seems like they want to keep a position open for you in case you ever go back," Hermione shifts James in her arms, biting her lower lip in thought. "Well, it makes sense. Even without the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing, your years with the Aurors have been nothing short of exemplary. You're a legend in more ways than one, Harry."
Harry scoffs.
Throughout his life, he has had many titles: the Boy-Who-Lived, the Man-Who-Conquered, the Hero-Who-Vanquished, the Chosen One, the Saviour of the Wizarding World. Most of them are bold and boasting and grandiose, but the ones he prefers are much simpler. He is Harry Potter.
