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Monica Jane Wilkins sat at her kitchen table and waited for the young man to emerge from the guest bedroom and join her for lunch. She wasn’t sure if it was the discipline and structure that his profession required, or Hermione’s habits had rubbed off on him during their years at Hogwarts, but over the last two weeks she’d spent in Harry Potter’s orbit he had been exceedingly punctual. She heard the telltale sound of apparition and checked the time: 11:59. Right on time.
She grinned despite herself, slightly annoyed at how Hermione’s prediction about whether she would like Harry had been so accurate. Although Hermione had been obviously anxious and nervous at getting to see her friend after three years of separation, her daughter had absolutely zero concern about whether Jane would adore him from the off.
“You’re awfully confident that I’m going to get along with the reason my last name is now Wilkins and I’m sitting in Australia,” she joked. It had been a rough and long path for Hermione to win back her trust after what she had done to them, but she was glad that they had finally arrived in a place where she could make such a casual joke and Hermione would understand the spirit in which it was delivered.
“You are a good person. Good people are drawn to Harry like moths to a flame,” Hermione had replied. For her it was just that simple.
Then her daughter had smiled…that smile that always seemed to appear whenever she talked about her friend. Jane would have attributed it to absence making the heart grow fonder, but in truth she had seen a version of that unique smile and its intenseness for well over a decade at this point. From the moment Hermione arrived home for the Yule holiday during her first year at Hogwarts, that expression was ever present as she talked about her best friend.
At the time Jane had chalked it up to an eleven-year old’s typical unjaded and naïve reaction to thinking that they had discovered the greatest thing ever to exist. That magical initial reaction of experiencing something exciting and new before being old enough to know that most things aren’t nearly as extraordinary as they seem at first blush…before time began to pass…that the seams inevitably started to show and weariness and cynicism began to take the forefront as the reality of this ‘extraordinary’ discovery turned out to be much dimmer…more flawed…more selfish…more unkind. That was how life worked. Most of the time at least.
But thirteen years into her daughter’s discovery regarding Harry, the opposite had happened: Her opinion never waned…that light never dimmed…if anything Jane had seen Hermione’s fondness grow year after year after year.
So many people had let Hermione down over the years, but Harry was the exception that proved the rule…her North Star. Her daughter had never shared that thought but it was ever present to anyone with eyes and a functioning brain. After spending the last two weeks observing Harry it was clear that her daughter was Harry’s North Star as well.
She had no doubt that Hermione would be able to quickly tick off each and every one of Harry’s flaws if asked: He was too humble, had trouble expressing his true feelings and emotions, was too willing to risk his own safety to help someone in need, was slow to directly show affection or appreciation to others…too careless with his own physical and mental well-being.
But even the boy’s flaws were endearing…borne out of his treatment by others over the years that were thoroughly out of his control. Things that were still present but he had risen above to remain polite…caring…good. He had refused to allow them to become an anchor that dragged him down and defined him.
After finally getting to spend time with Harry, Jane was thoroughly annoyed at how right her daughter had been. The fact that he was this strong and also this kind…it was extraordinary.
Harry emerged from the hallway and she greeted him with a hug. Week one of being in Harry’s presence had been limited to handshakes and smiles as greetings, but by week two she couldn’t help herself and started initiating hugs. Hermione had told her for years that that’s how it worked…that Harry would never initiate such a greeting…if you wanted to show affection then you had to take the initiative because Harry would assume he wasn’t worthy of it.
As she plated the sandwiches and poured Harry a glass of water she thought about the last two weeks. She’d had no plans to try and matchmake Hermione with her best friend…Jane had leveraged every bit of guilt Hermione still held over her memory spell to convince her to move to Australia three years ago after David’s cancer diagnosis and had felt no remorse. The bonding, reconnection and support from her daughter had provided during David’s illness had been necessary and invaluable…and Hermione had been happy…she’d built a nice life and a good career working at the Australian Ministry.
In time Jane was positive that Hermione would have met someone new in Australia who could give her a nice life…a happy and fulfilling life. But actually witnessing this bond with Harry…this connection…Hermione’s unerring commitment and fondness to this extraordinary person over the last fourteen days…she decided that her daughter had paid enough penance for what she’d done to her and David. It was time for her to go home.
Her daughter deserved better than nice. She deserved a chance at extraordinary.
So that was why she had asked to have this lunch with Harry…just Harry…on his final full day in Australia before returning home. She’d practically begged Hermione to share her true feelings over the last week with Harry but her daughter was adamant that Harry didn’t feel the same way despite all evidence Jane had seen to the contrary. All her begging and pleading had fallen on deaf ears as Hermione’s biggest flaw diligently stood its ground: Hermione was convinced she was right…and when she was convinced she was right changing her mind became a Sisyphean exercise. Jane suspected that Hermione’s abject fear that Harry didn’t feel the same played a very large part in her refusal as well.
If she had more time at her disposal she was positive that her subtle urging and their proximity to each other without the distractions of work and others competing for their time would win out, but unfortunately she didn’t have more time. Harry was set to leave in less than twenty-four hours and their distraction-free time was about to run out. Without a catalyst to ignite the spark the inevitable connection would be delayed for months…or even years. She was bound and determined to be that catalyst.
“This is really good,” Harry complimented as he dug into his corn beef sandwich.
Hermione had casually mentioned that it was his favorite years ago and Jane never forgot. People like Harry deserved to know that people cared about what they liked. After a few minutes of small talk Operation: Catalyst began.
“What was your initial impression of Hermione before you became friends?” she asked.
Harry chewed as he pondered how best to phrase the hurricane that was Hermione Granger in her first year at Hogwarts. “She was very intense…aggressive,” he finally managed. “Not in a mean way, but yeah…it was a lot.”
Jane chuckled. “When Hermione was nine, one of her teacher’s, bless their heart, said something in an effort to help. Hermione was the smartest and most motivated in her class at school…and that isolated her a bit. She wasn’t bullied necessarily…just avoided by the other children. Mrs. Matthews had explained to Hermione that it was due to how extraordinary she was…that the other children her age found how exceptional she was to be intimidating.”
Harry’s knowing expression was thoroughly unsurprising. Based on what she had gleaned Harry had spent the first decade of his life being avoided but for entirely different reasons.
“But unfortunately, Hermione took all the wrong things away from what her teacher had shared,” she continued. “Since she was extraordinary and exceptional she decided that there was nothing she needed to improve on. Her performance at school became a shield and a weapon against everyone else and their opinions.”
“That explains a lot,” Herry replied with a grin.
“David and I did our best to explain…that there were many people in the world that were extraordinary at something: Academics, sport, business. But the truly extraordinary people were the ones that didn’t need to flaunt it…they succeeded on their own merits without the need to advertise it.”
“She wasn’t that bad,” Harry defended, “and she got loads better after those first few months.”
She fought the urge to grin. Harry always did his best to come to the rescue. She stifled her smile and continued with her script.
“I suspect I have you to thank for that,” Jane complimented. “We tried until we were blue in the face but she didn’t understand that there were more important things than books and cleverness until you came along.”
Harry chuckled, looking slightly embarrassed. “I keep forgetting she showed you all those memories in the pensieve.”
Harry’s comment sparked a conversation revolving around some of the truly amazing things that she and David had witnessed in that magical device. She steered the conversation toward the fun and exciting memories she had witnessed…Polyjuice mishaps and adventures through time…purposely avoiding conversations about scarred hands and lifeless best friends being carried out of forests by half giants.
Jane glanced at the clock and felt a tinge of annoyance, realizing she only had a few minutes left before Hermione’s imminent arrival. It was time to cut to the chase.
“My daughter is in love with you,” she blurted without preamble. “She is helplessly and hopelessly in love with you.”
Her statement lingered in the air and the seconds ticked by as Harry attempted to absorb and digest the revelation that Jane had vomited out without pretense.
He finally began to speak before stopping himself. Jane could tell he was on the precipice of being honest and open before talking himself out of it. Just like Hermione. These two were so frustrating.
“Does Hermione know you were planning on telling me this?” he eventually managed.
“Of course not,” Jane said with a kind smile. “She would have never left me alone with you if she thought there was any chance we would be having this conversation. But if she can decide to erase my memories and send me halfway across the world because it’s in my best interest than I get to tell you this behind her back. If she gets mad I’ll just tell her that we’re even now.”
Harry laughed nervously. “So I guess that’s where she gets it from,” he mumbled, the fondness evident in his voice.
She reached for his hand before delivering the speech she’d been rehearsing the last few days.
“I’m not trying to pressure you into feeling the same way about her. If you only see her as a friend and want to maintain your current relationship then what I’ve shared should absolutely remain between us. Hermione cherishes your friendship and I would never want either of you to lose that if the romantic feelings aren’t mutual.”
“But if you do feel the same way but have talked yourself out of acting on those feelings because you are afraid that she doesn’t feel the same way…or that you could potentially ruin your friendship…I’m begging you to take a risk.”
She paused, feeling her eyes moisten…she was now on the precipice of the most difficult part of her planned speech.
“Life is too short, Harry. My time with David was too short. It’s not fair and it makes me so angry... but the time we did have was extraordinary. If you have feelings for Hermione all I am asking is that you tell her. Both of you…more than anyone…deserve extraordinary.”
They sat in silence as Harry absorbed her words. Before he could speak she heard the now familiar sound of Hermione apparating into the spare bedroom. Right on time.
Harry looked at her and nodded.
She had seen that look. It was the same determined and assured expression she’d witnessed in the pensieve, right before her daughter had shared that there were more important things…friendship and bravery. She knew at that moment that her instincts had been right…that Harry felt the same way. She fought the urge to scream in relief.
“Hungry?”, she asked as her daughter entered the room.
Six years later…
As she sat in the hospital waiting room making pleasant conversation with Andromeda Tonks… Harry’s godson skittering about in that unique manic way only eleven year old boys can manage…needing to move and react against the calm while having no idea why…she thought back on how odd it had been to be back in England over the last few weeks. Not bad…but odd. It had felt wrong without David sitting by her side…holding her hand…making jokes from time to time to calm her nerves as they waited to meet their grandchild.
It had been seven years since he’d left them and she’d thought she’d wrung all the grief and sorrow possible out of David’s passing, but being in England…in the same hospital where her daughter had been born…she had been proven wrong. It was an odd sensation…being so profoundly excited about what was to come while simultaneously devastated that her husband wouldn’t be there to experience it with her. It wasn’t fair.
She was broken out of her ruminations as the automatic doors opened and Harry emerged, carrying something small and precious.
He walked directly toward her, a tired smile on his face. She could practically feel Andromeda’s presence behind her…desperately wanting to see and hold and gush…but forcing herself to wait. Teddy bounded forward but Andromeda raised a hand and he stopped immediately. Teddy was hyper and energetic…a typical eleven year old boy. But he was also aware…and kind…and knew that this was the time to calm down and wait.
“Rosalind Jane Potter,” Harry said simply as he knelt down and gently placed the baby in her arms.
Tears began falling freely for the first time since David’s horrible funeral.
‘What do you think?” Harry finally asked.
“She’s extraordinary.”