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“Oh! Wasn’t to be! Close though!” He cried as he took another wand out of her hand, 12 inches, mirkwood with a dragon heartstring core, he quickly handed her another. Blackwood, Unicorn Tail.
Hermione couldn’t help but feel the beaming smile as it overtook her features as the unfolding scene in front of her.
It was, by its very necessity, an appointment. The Press were still relentless after all these years.
But here, in the privacy of the booked out wand store, out of the prying eyes of the world, the Chief of Aurors was allowed to be his favourite thing. Here, away from the attentions and the weights of the world, which seemed to have disappeared from his weary shoulders, the Chief of Aurors was allowed to be who he truly was. Here, Harry Potter was just that. Harry Potter, the doting father of one Matilda Potter-Granger.
Here he was not the boy who lived. Here he was a boy.
If Terek Ollivander was put out, he was doing a very good job of hiding it. The small hints of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as Harry ran around the room, pulling random wands from the stacks and presenting them to his daughter, as if he was swearing his fealty to her.
If nothing else, his enthusiasm was infectious, and Hermione was happy to be there for it. She was happy to hold the hand of a slightly put out seven year old. A seven year old who was doing his absolute best not to pout. A war within himself that he was not winning.
“It will be your turn soon, James.” It did nothing to mollify him.
“Daddy’s acting funny.” James replied, folding his arms across his chest.
“Daddy’s a little excited is all.” Hermione replied, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Worry not, darling, he will be just as excited when it's your turn.”
“This one!” Harry called, grabbing a box that seemed extra long, even for a wand box. “Try this one next!”
Tilly, caught up in the infection of happiness, grabbed it from its box and gave it a swing.
Harry's glasses flew from his face and shot themselves at James, who narrowly escaped the careening focals.
Harry, for his part, roared with laughter. “There are bludgers and brooms in your future, James!” He called out as he summoned his glasses back, but graciously allowed Hermione her routine of fixing them for him.
It was one of their things, the things they did, that made them, them.
He gave her a warm smile, and a quick peck on the lips before he tore off down the shelves looking for another wand
“Blimey, it's madness out there,” came from a thoroughly dishevelled and accosted Ron Weasley as he made his entrance into the room, the soft chime of the bell doing nothing to deter Harry as he continued his search. “Those vultures are relentless.”
Hermione offered him a smile and shrug, but didn’t take her eyes off her husband as he bolted around the store. She didn’t want to miss a moment of the spectacle as it unfolded.
“It’s madness in here,” she said softly, as Harry laughed when the latest wand caused an army of ducks to come marching out the end, in perfect synchronised steps.
She glanced at Ron and saw that he was gaping at Harry as he tore off in search of another wand.
“He’s like a child…," he whispered, with more than a slight amount of awe in his voice. “Like a bloody child.”
“Finally.” Hermione added. “It’s only been thirty seven years, but here we are. Harry Potter. The boy.”
Ron gave her a quizzical expression, but she just shook her head with that same soft smile.
“Think about it Ron. Think about his childhood,” she paused in time for the latest wand to let off a great bang like a cannon, and for a series of dangerous looking sparks to narrowly miss singeing Harry’s unkempt hair.
It did nothing to deter Harry as he took off after another wand.
“Or lack of it?”" Ron added, a small smile of his own creeping onto his happy features.
“Yes. That. From what he has told me, the day Hagrid turned up on his doorstep, on his eleventh birthday, and set him free, he has always referred to as the first day that he felt truly happy. The day his wishes came true. The day that heralded a brief period of happiness and actual childhood for him.”
Ron just nodded, his smile unchanged.
“He’s been looking forward to this day since I first told him I was pregnant. He’s looked forward to trying to make them feel as happy and free as he did that day.”
“He seems to be doing a good job.” Ron eased himself into the seat next to Hermione, leaning back as he continued to watch the show.
“He’s doing a terrible job,” Hermione’s smile brightened. “He’s a good father. The best. You know that, and so do I. He lives for these two. He lives to be the best dad he could ever be.”
“So, it would seem like he would be doing a good job?” Ron’s puzzlement knitted itself across his brow.
“Ron," Hermione continue patiently. “If our kids have never known the suffering that he did, and if he has packed as much happiness into every single moment of their existence as he could, how could they possibly ever feel like he did on that day.”
Ron opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip.
Hermione’s misty eyes took in the face splitting grin that spread over his features.
“He couldn’t.”
Hermione nodded. “He could never. But he’s doing his best.”
It was then, that Tilly pulled back her arm and gave a swish. Scarlet and gold stars shot from the end of the wand and illuminated the room in their wake.
Harry laughed with joy and clapped his hands together, scooping his daughter up and holding her aloft with a great whoop.
“I knew it!” he bellowed, turning to Hermione and Ron as they stood by the door. “I knew it! Holly, with dragon heartstring! No paternity test necessary!”
Tilly giggled as her father spun her around and put her back on her feet.
“I’m proud of you, Tilly. I’m so so proud of you.”
“Thanks dad!” Tilly beamed at her father, and looking down at the treasured item she clutched between her hands. “Just like you mum.”
“Just like me and mum. You’re definitely ours Till, don’t ever forget.”
Harry beamed at his daughter as her gaze shot between the wand in her hand, to her fathers proud grin, and finally to her mother's beaming smile.
“Thanks Mum and Dad.”
“Every witch needs a wand, Tilly.” Harry said as if it provided all the explanation that was necessary. Which, realistically, it did. “Now, do you want your other present?”
Tilly looked up at her father and gave a series of enthusiastic nods, ones that she had inherited straight from the man who stood in front of her.
Harry ruffled his daughter's hair and turned to Ron with a smile.
“Uncle Ron?” Harry asked, his bright emerald eyes no less dimmed from the adventure of the day, “Do you have something for little Tilly here.”
Ron smiled, his eyes taking in the scene.
“If you come with me, Till-Till. I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet. He’s waiting at Eyelops for you. I hope you’re ready to name him. He can’t possibly keep the one he was given by the shopkeep...”
Tilly’s mouth dropped open in shock and her eyes turned to her mum, who gave her a warm smile, and a nod.
“Mum?” She turned to her father. “Dad?”
Harry placed his hand gently on his daughter's shoulder.
“Happy Birthday, Matilda.” Harry said, leading her towards the door. “Just remember, this is only the beginning.”
Fin