Work Text:
“It’s difficult for you, isn’t it?”
Harry froze.
“I’m not judging you,” Ginny said, her voice low. “It’s just… You find it difficult.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not asking you to be sorry.”
Harry drew in a breath. “…I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Harry,” Ginny said, pulling him into her arms, “I’m not criticising you. I promise, I’m not.” She hugged him tightly, and then pulled back to stare at him intently. She gently adjusted his glasses, and kissed his nose. “It’s not you at fault. It’s what they did to you.”
“I don’t think about them.”
“You do,” she corrected, firmly. “I wish-”
“-don’t wish,” Harry interrupted. “Petunia and,” he almost spat the name, “Vernon are not worth the thought you have in your head.”
“…I wish you’d had a childhood like mine,” Ginny said. “Like our children have.”
“It’s enough that our children have it.”
Ginny looked at him sadly. “You deserved the best, Harry. You deserved the presents, and the festivities, and the happiness.”
Draco raised a lazy eyebrow. “Why should I object? Scorpius?”
“…I don’t know.”
Ginny sighed. “You understand why I am asking, don’t you?”
The teenager’s eyes flitted between his father and Mrs Potter. “…not really. It wasn’t real. None of that was real.”
“Please,” she begged, “could you just show me?”
With Christmas Day rapidly turning into the early hours of Boxing Day, the Potter teenagers filed upstairs, and Ginny darted over to her husband, and sat in his lap. She dropped a kiss on the top of his head, amongst his messy curls, but she pulled away when he pressed her for more.
“What?” he laughed, as she moved away into the hall. “What about my present, hey? I think Santa forgot me this year!”
“How about this?” she said, returning, and pushing the pensieve into the middle of the room.
Harry sat up straight. “Gin-”
“Just one,” she said, uncorking a vial and passing it to him. “Trust me.”
“Is this..?” Harry frowned. “Is this…your memory?”
She shook her head. “A friend’s.”
Harry dove into the liquid, and found himself in the Forbidden Forest, surrounded by dementors. He shivered as memories of Sirius and Remus and dementors and werewolves fought in his brain for prominence. He turned to scream, and he came face-to-face with the toad-like features of Dolores Umbridge.
It was some sort of nightmare, he figured. Possibly even one of his own.
His heart beat loudly in his chest and he turned again, this time causing him to almost collide with Scorpius Malfoy – a much younger Scorpius than the almost-man who had visited Albus earlier on Christmas day – and by his side was a much, much older Severus Snape.
Harry’s jaw was slack as he watched Snape smile at Umbridge - an actual smile, with his dark eyes flashing with genuine mirth, the likes of which Harry had never seen before. Harry watched Snape confess that he was a traitor to her face – and Harry bit back a laugh as he saw her blasted away by the older man’s speedy wand work.
Then, not for the first time, Harry saw his mother’s patronus. He was so entranced by the bright light, he almost couldn’t hear Scorpius’ commentary - but then his focus returned when he heard Snape’s silky tones. He’d almost forgotten what the man sounded like - and from his voice, it was obvious that this Snape hadn’t had his throat shredded by Voldemort’s snake.
“Tell Albus – tell Albus Severus – I’m proud he carries my name.”
As quickly as it started, the memory went black, and Harry found himself thrust out of the pensieve.
He grasped the edges of the stone bowl to steady himself, and he was breathing heavily as he lifted his head. Harry gazed at Ginny and swallowed hard. “I never thought-” He gasped for air, and gave a short laugh. “Oh wow.”
“I can’t make up for the Dursleys,” Ginny said, quietly, “but does that help make up for the time he vanished your potion and gave you a zero?”
Harry gave a lopsided grin and gathered Ginny into his arms. “Yeah. Yeah, I almost think it does.”