|SIYE Time:15:15 on 17th December 2018|
Category: Post-Hogwarts, Post-DH/PM
Genres: Angst, Drama, Fluff, Humor, Romance
Story is Complete
Summary: This is a series of ten inter-connected one-hundred word drabbles about Harry and Ginny.
Hitcount: Story Total: 6354
Awards: View Trophy Room
Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.
This has been sitting on my hard drive for quite some time now. It was originally done as a simple exercise in writing, could I write a story in 100 words, no more, no less. I wrote ten. Did I succeed? You’ll have to decide.
This is my “Nineteen Years Later”.
‘Is that her? She looks ancient!’ The younger Healer whispered reverentially.
‘She is ancient.’
The white-haired old lady’s eyes were closed; she sat straight-backed, proud and frail, but failed to hide her apprehension.
‘What happened to him?’
‘He collapsed–in Diagon Alley–and was rushed here. She arrived within minutes.’
‘How did she know?’
The old lady lifted her eyelids. Bright brown eyes pierced the Healers.
‘She’s been married to him for more than three-quarters of a century, and despite being ancient, she’s neither deaf, nor daft.’ Ginny said firmly. ‘Harry Potter collapsing in the street will always be news.’
‘Do you remember what happened, Mr Potter?’ the Healer enquired.
‘I fell over in the street,’ Harry told her. ‘I probably celebrated too much yesterday, it was my hundredth birthday.’
Ginny chuckled. ‘We showed ‘em! You can still catch that snitch.’
‘You played Quidditch yesterday?’ the Healer asked.
‘It’s a birthday tradition, Potters versus Weasleys, we won.’ Harry said. ‘No players younger than half my age, because I’m getting old.’
‘Mr Potter, you shouldn’t be playing at all, given your age,’ ordered the Healer.
‘Huh, you want to spoil all my fun. Next, you’ll be interfering in my sex life.’
3: Health Advice
‘Sex?’ the Healer spluttered. ‘Mr Potter, at your age you should not be doing anything strenuous.’
‘It hasn’t done us much harm over the past eighty years,’ Ginny observed.
‘James turned my hair grey, remember,’ wheezed Harry.
‘He eventually grew up enough to become Minister,’ said Ginny. She caught her husband’s eye and winked mischievously; Harry immediately knew what was coming. ‘But, perhaps the Healer’s right; I’m not enjoying sex so much these days, Harry.’
‘Since when?’ Harry tried to sound surprised.
‘Twice last night, and again this morning,’ said Ginny.
They laughed at the Healer’s embarrassed and astonished expression.
4: Old Age
‘No!’ said Harry.
‘He hates hospitals, and he’s been having dizzy spells for over a year, since his hundredth birthday,’ begged Ginny.
‘It’s different this time,’ the Healer said.
‘Why?’ Ginny demanded.
Harry sat in his favourite armchair, fighting for breath. The Healer remained silent.
‘He’s dying, isn’t he?’ Ginny was astonished at her calmness.
‘How long have I got?’ Harry whispered.
‘A few days, perhaps weeks if you rest, I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ Harry said. ‘I’m not going to hospital! After a century, I’d rather fly for a day than be grounded for a week. I’ll make Luna’s pick-me-up.’
5: Grimmauld Place
‘Put the kettle on, Annie,’ James called to his wife.
‘We’re not staying for tea, James,’ said Ginny. ‘Your Dad wanted to look around the old place, that’s all. You don’t mind, do you?’
‘We spent the first six years of our married life in this house,’ said Harry, leaning on his stick and gazing around the hall. ‘Good times, but so long ago I can barely remember them.’
‘You remember that they were good, and that’s enough,’ said Ginny.
James noticed his mother fighting her tears, and realised.
‘Go wherever you want, Dad,’ said James hugging his dying father.
‘Hello, aged parents, what brings you here?’ Al asked.
‘Dad wants to go to the Drake Stone; to remember our life.’
Al Potter caught the unspoken anguish in his mother’s voice.
‘I’ll come too,’ he said. ‘I’ll let Violet know.’
Al held his father’s arm tightly when they arrived atop the irregular limestone block and gazed over tranquil Coquetdale.
‘Top of the world!’ Al recalled. ‘I was five when I got stuck. You helped me down, Dad.’
‘It was a pleasure, Al. Remember what I told you?’
‘You were right; being a dad is the best job in the world.’
7: Ynys Môn
Lily Jones looked at her father and realised immediately. He was frail and colourless; his age-wrinkled skin was grey.
‘I don’t want you to go,’ she sobbed.
‘My poor Lily,’ Harry said. ‘It’s hard, but no one lives forever. I made certain of that. I wanted to say that I love you; I’m proud of you.’
‘Me? I’ve done nothing. I wasn’t Minister James, or Head of Magical Law Al.’
‘You’ve done what you loved. Harpies mascot, player, captain, manager and finally owner. You followed your dream, Lily,’ said Harry. ‘You’re happy, and that’s all that matters.’
He kissed her.
8: Platform 9¾
They sat on the empty platform, arms around each other.
‘It’s almost ninety years since we first met; here,’ said Harry.
‘It’s almost eighty since I first told you I loved you. That was here, too.’
‘Right there,’ Ginny pointed.
‘I still love you, you know, but I can’t remember the last time I told you,’ Harry said.
‘It was only yesterday, Harry, when you gave me my birthday present. You embarrassed the great-grandkids, they don’t think that a couple of centenarians should be saying things like that.’
‘They’re wrong,’ said Harry. He coughed, and closed his eyes.
‘We’re the last DA members,’ said Hermione as they left the cemetery.
‘I know,’ said Ginny.
‘We’ll miss Harry. I still miss Ron, even after twelve years.’
‘It won’t be that long for me,’ said Ginny. ‘Before we were married, we promised we’d never spend more than a week apart. It’s been five days, he’ll be waiting.’
Grimmauld Place was packed with mourners.
‘Have you seen your great-grandma?’ Hermione asked a black-haired and green-eyed girl whose name she’d forgotten.
‘She’s in Grandad’s guest room, resting. She’s confused, I think. She said she was going to King’s Cross, to meet great-granddad.’
10: King’s Cross again
When Ginny opened her eyes she saw a misty and unformed King’s Cross.
She wore the short green dress which had been Harry’s favourite. A dress she’d expanded out of over sixty years ago. The years had fallen from her; she was in her prime, her early thirties. Her unbound hair fell across her face; it was bright red, a colour it hadn’t been for decades.
The fog cleared and she saw him. He was young, black-haired, smooth-skinned and his eyes shone. They ran towards each other and kissed passionately.
‘What happens now, Harry?’ she asked.
‘We catch the train.’
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