Chapter Text
artwork by blvnk
Part One
It was always the secret meadow where his wife would lead him.
Holding her hand, Harry found himself smiling at her as she turned her head, mischief glowing in her eyes. The skies ahead had been changing rapidly from dark gray clouds to cotton candy to orange sherbet. He never paid attention as his main focus was on her, the way her dark brown hair bounced with every step, the white summer dress that flowed effortlessly against her, the curve of her lips as she smiled, and her eyes.
God, how he missed her eyes.
When they finally reached their favorite spot, she swung him close to her, grabbing his face.
“I love you,” she whispered before kissing him.
He felt the cool metal of her wedding ring against his cheek and kissed her back, as if he had never done this before. His heart nearly climbed out of his chest as they hurried to get out of their clothes and lie on the grass. Harry placed his hands flat on the ground on both sides of her chest as he lowered himself onto her soft body. It had felt like an eternity since he felt her against him, missing the way she would run her fingers through his hair, down his neck, and back. It was unbelievable how much he wanted her, how badly he throbbed as he gazed down at her firm breasts and the waves of her hips.
“Harry, please,” she cried; her face tormented from waiting.
Realizing he hadn’t much time left, Harry relented and positioned himself between her legs. He pushed himself in, steadying himself on his knees, unable to bear it any longer.
Knock knock knock.
Harry’s eyes flew open to see Ron at his door, appearing grim.
For a few moments, Harry wondered where he was until he recognized the dark and unorganized office space that belonged to him. Stacks of cases and brown boxes were scattered on the floor, sitting for months, much to his superior’s irritation.
Harry gnashed his teeth together from being woken up by the only thing he looked forward to this dismal day.
This dream, in particular, had been a favorite, one of the many recurring dreams that played whenever his insomnia succumbed, and he felt life returning to the peace it once was. Right now, his childhood best friend stood there, watching him with increasing concern. Had it been anyone else who knocked on that door, they would have been hexed precisely under a tombstone. Anyone who hadn’t been Ron Weasley or Hermione Granger knew better than to walk in and wake him.
“What?” Harry growled, rubbing his eyes.
Ron skipped the part where he would ask Harry if he was alright. There hadn’t been any point in asking that question for the past seventeen years. Close family and friends had learned quickly.
“You were saying her name again,” Ron pointed out. He walked into the room and gently slid a file out of the way with his foot before pulling out a chair. “For fuck’s sake, Harry,” he objected when he saw another stack of files on the chair.
“Must be nice to have a secretary and a partner to help with the paperwork,” Harry muttered as Ron moved the files to another stack and took a seat.
“It’s bloody fantastic. You should try it out sometimes. It only costs being nice, but hey, what do I know?” Ron shrugged.
Harry smirked, leaning back on his chair. “Petals, all of them.”
“Which of course, includes me.” Ron nodded uncomfortably.
Harry didn’t answer his former partner. He always harbored resentment against his best mate for requesting another Auror to partner with. The truth was, Ron had been terrified. Both of them had small children then, but only Ron seemed to care about their welfare if the four of them ended up fatherless. Harry couldn’t blame him and only wished he had the decency to care for his own children the way Ron had.
A soft knock interrupted them to reveal Hermione peeking in, holding two cups of coffee in her hands.
She smiled brightly in her light beige blouse with black polka dots and a pencil skirt. Her unruly hair had tamed considerably as she managed it through braids and, what Harry could assume, considerable heavy-duty hair products. Even after all these years and with two fully grown children, Hermione maintained a youthful glow.
“I figured you would like a fresh cup from a café rather than the motor oil we brew in the break room,” she said, handing Harry a cup.
“Thanks, Mione,” Harry accepted.
She looked at the chair next to her husband and frowned at the massive stack of manila files sitting haphazardly.
“I’ll move these before you have a stroke,” Ron said before offering his seat.
They watched Ron move the stack of folders, trying to figure out where else to put them.
“Really, Harry, you’ve got to organize this. It’s dangerous to leave sensitive information out this way, and not to mention, there is no moving space in here,” Hermione said, looking around slowly.
Harry only grunted, taking a sip of the hot liquid and reminding himself to tolerate her because of the ruddy caffeine fix.
“I told him the same thing. He was sleeping when I got here,” Ron explained, missing Harry’s glare.
“When was the last time you went home, Harry?” Hermione asked, her tone softer.
“Tell me again why you two are here together? I’m guessing it’s bad news because of the peace offering.” Harry lifted the cup.
Hermione’s shrewd eyes narrowed at him. “Your daughter just became a mother, and you are now a grandfather. I would say that’s reason enough, or do you always interrogate those who show you the tiniest bit of compassion?”
“I said thanks, haven’t I? I’m not in the mood for lessons in etiquette. I’ve got things to do, you know, bad wizards to catch?” Harry waved her off.
Hermione bristled and shared an annoyed look with her husband. “Are you planning to stop by and see your grandson?” she asked, keeping her voice light.
Harry scratched behind his ear, mostly out of the irritating conversation he never planned to have.
“Yeah, sure.”
“When?”
“Let me check with my secretary-”
“Are you being funny? You don’t have one.”
Harry grinned at her. “You really are the brightest witch of the century.”
Ron face-palmed himself, groaning from the already disastrous meeting.
Hermione lightly slapped the arms of her chair and stood up. “Right well, I’ll be there after work if you’re interested in meeting your grandson. And so will Jade if that piques your interest.” Hermione looked away, blinking innocently.
Harry slowly turned his head towards her, fully annoyed now.
“What are you trying to say? She’s more important than my own grandson?” Harry asked, but Hermione did not falter.
“You act as if you're concerned…how odd,” she pondered.
“I most definitely do not care, especially her poncy husband and her poncy kids,” Harry muttered, swiveling his chair away from them.
“Bash Draco all you like, but I told you that the children are off limits. I won’t tell you again,” Hermione nearly shouted the last part, her eyes flashing dangerously.
Harry sunk in his seat, draining the rest of his cup.
“Anyways,” Ron started, hopeful to change the course of their conversation. “The department hired a load of recruits last month, as you know. Which means each Auror gets a trainee.”
Harry made a sound between a scoff and a laugh. “Good for them. Maybe some new blood will bring some competency back to this place after all. My back is tired from carrying this sodding department,” he said, ignoring the discomfort on Ron’s face.
“You seem rather excited to welcome your trainee,” Hermione said.
Harry frowned and shook his head. “I’m not getting one.”
“Oh, and why’s that?” Hermione asked, delicately folding her hands and leaning forward.
“I told Shacklebolt I don’t want one. I don’t have the time, do you?” Harry asked them.
Another knock on the door revealed Kingsley Shacklebolt, his face set deep with solemnity.
“Good, you three are here. New recruits are arriving tomorrow morning. Your trainees have been assigned, and I want full cooperation with this,” Kingsley said, looking straight at Harry, who raised his eyebrows.
“I told you I didn’t want a trainee,” Harry said.
Kingsley nodded, regarding this information for a moment.
“Oh yes, you did, didn’t you?” He sucked the bottom of his lip as he suddenly broke from his thought. “Too bad, you’re getting one, and you’ll be training them to be an Auror of your caliber. No favoritism here, Potter,” Kingsley said quickly, going to leave, but Harry jumped to his feet, furious at the old man.
“Hang on for a fucking moment!”
Kingsley stopped, hardly surprised at this outburst.
“What makes you think I’d agree to this? I told you I don’t want anything in my way while I’m doing my job!” Harry exclaimed.
The older Auror gave him a patient look. “If you still want your job, you’ll accept and train your assigned recruit. No exceptions on this one, son. We need all the help we can get.”
With that, Kingsley left. Harry glared at the spot where Kingsley stood, aware that Hermione and Ron were doing a terrible job at suppressing their smiles.
Vamika Roy waited patiently in her training room, her leg shaking in anticipation. Even though she and her classmates knew they were to be assigned on the last day of their training, it hadn’t dawned on them until after passing their practicals. Vamika’s practicals partner, Aurelia, stopped her foot from shaking.
“Sorry,” Vamika said, running her hands through her raven black hair.
“I’m nervous too. This is such an important moment. I hope I get Harry Potter, but wishful thinking, right?” Aurelia asked, shaking her tight brown curls. She pushed up her frameless glasses and smiled at her nervous friend, whom she took an immediate liking to on the first day.
Vamika hissed in excitement and shook her head. “Can you imagine? A wizarding hero like him? Training one of us? I swear, if one of us gets him, we have to find a Pensieve and collect our memories. I just hope that Connor doesn’t get him.” Vamika cut a look at Connor, who had been regaling his classmates with his time at Hogwarts.
“If Connor gets Potter, we won’t hear the end of it,” Aurelia muttered.
The door to their classroom opened, and a young woman walked in, a piece of paper in her hand.
Without saying anything to them or introducing herself, she pasted the paper on the board and quickly walked out the door again. There was a silent pause in the room before loud scrapes of their chairs, the shoving of desks, and a stampede of trainees made their way to the paper to see who they were paired with. Vamika was one of the last to arrive, trying to catch a glimpse of her name over her classmates' heads. A few students left the group, some pleased with their pairing, and others unfamiliar with their Auror.
“Fuck yes! Auror Granger!” Connor hollered.
Vamika pushed through the rest of the students, some of whom turned to look at her, bewildered.
“Auror Ron Weasley! Vamika!” Aurelia shouted, turning around, her eyes shining.
“What? Roy got Mad Harry?” Connor’s voice was heard.
They all stopped for a second, looking at Vamika; envy washed over their faces.
Vamika shouldered through the rest of the students and reached the paper, sliding her finger down to her name, and indeed, there it was, Auror Harry James Potter.