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Plus Ca Change...
By elaithin

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Category: Post-DH/PM
Genres: Fluff, General
Warnings: Mild Sexual Situations
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 13
Summary: The more things change, the more things change the same. Shortly after the thirty-year anniversary of their wedding, Harry reflects on the patterns of his life...
Hitcount: Story Total: 5515

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.

Author's Notes:
Just a little plot bunny that wouldn't get out of my head until I rounded it out and finished it off. Hope everyone enjoys!


"Plus ca Change..."

Harry Potter frowned.

His reflection frowned back. Not for the first time, he wondered when he'd gotten... well, old. There was more than a bit of grey in the edges of his beard, now, and more than a few liberal shots of it running through his once jet-black hair. (If wide streaks could be referred to as shots.) It was a concept that took some getting used to, as his mental self-image was getting more and more out of date. For some reason, he still expected to see a gangly youth with short, messy hair and thick, round-framed glasses.

Never mind that he'd been wearing rimless specs and had his hair down past his shoulders for almost thirty years now. Or had a beard for - what, ten years now?

The fact was, Harry just wasn't as young as he'd once been.

No one is, Potter, he admonished himself. And if Dumbledore had been any indication, Harry had a good century or so left in him.

"It's not the years, it's the mileage," the mirror informed him sagely, and Harry frowned once more. Cheeky thing, he thought, and wondered if anyone would ever notice if he put a silencing hex around the mirror.

"Worrying about it will just make grey faster, you know," the voice of his wife admonished him. Harry smiled. Ginny Potter could still distract him from his moods, even after several decades of marriage. These days she was especially talented at cutting them off before they ever even got started. It was just one of the many reasons he was grateful for her. She was sitting on the sofa in front of the fire now, curled up with the latest copy of Quidditch Monthly. She stretched, catlike, as she began to tease him, "And I've told you, it makes you look very distinguished... Professor."

She emphasized the last word by waving a hand at their new surroundings, the spacious chambers of Hogwarts' newest Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms Professors. Harry had to admit - the quarters were certainly adequate. Very much so. Situated at the top of Gryffindor Tower, as befitted the new Head of House, the rooms had a fantastic view - one could see the Quidditch Pitch, Hogsmeade, and even Teddy and Victoire's home (the former Shrieking Shack) from here. There was ample room for all the things they'd brought with them - brooks, brooms, photos of friends and family, and the associated curios and devices Harry had collected in forty years of fighting the Dark Arts. Ginny had a stack of framed articles that she'd written for the Prophet, as well as a framed set of her old Holyhead robes. Some of these things would decorate their offices, but most would likely stay in their quarters. The room even had a large fireplace with a private Floo connection back to their home.

"And yet," Harry teased back, "your hair is just as red as the first time I met you. Doesn't seem quite fair, somehow."

"I haven't been Head of the Auror Division for nearly a quarter-century," Ginny reminded him pointedly, and Harry couldn't stop the small noise that escaped his lips. Of course she hadn't - though he'd wondered often if she wouldn't have been better at the job. Instead, she had played for the Harpies, and when James had come, had retired in order to write for the Prophet. Harry had rather enjoyed her job as Quidditch Correspondent - it had meant tickets to the World Cup every year, and all on the Prophet's Galleons.

But he had. From working as a 'Reserve Auror' when he'd gone back to finish his last year at Hogwarts, Harry had been an integral part of the Auror Division for several decades. Ron had been his right hand that whole time, while Hermione had brought accountability to the Wizarding World's legal and political system. The three of them had continued Kingsley's work, cutting a swath through the centuries of corruption that had embedded itself in Britain's Wizarding government. And they'd had plenty of allies, too, with the reconstituted Order of the Phoenix reformed from the ashes of the old, this time as a preventative agency. The Order had eyes and ears everywhere in magical society, and served as a check on the power of the Ministry.

He moved to look out the window, where Hagrid's old hut - the one that had been rebuilt after the Battle of Hogwarts - was clearly visible. Hagrid still lived there, of course, along with his wife, Olympe. 'Hut' hardly described the dwelling anymore - it was practically a small manor. They'd had to expand the hut significantly when the children had come along - and wasn't their eldest due to start Hogwarts this year? So much had changed since he'd first met Hagrid - and it seemed like everything was changing again.

Ginny came up behind him, slipping her hands up to his chest in a familiar gesture. "Not regretting turning things over to Ron, are you?"

"No," Harry answered. "No, he'll do fine. Better than I did, probably. And he should be at the Ministry. Maybe he'll be able to keep Hermione from working too much."

Ginny answered that with a rather unladylike snort. Neither of them considered that likely, especially if the rumors that the Supreme Mugwump position on the Wizengamot was going to be open soon. Hermione could accomplish a lot if she held that post - and with all the political capital she'd garnered over the years, it was practically guaranteed. Her Blood Equality Act, House-Elf Rights Act and the Werewolf Rights Acts had garnered her phenomenal support among the populace - and a in a good chunk of the Ministry, too. Harry fully expected that in another ten years, she'd be making a run for the Minister's Office itself - if not sooner.

Ron knew how to manage his wife, however, just as well as she was able to manage him. He'd make sure she didn't work herself into the ground if he had to stun her and Apparate her home himself. And with the Auror Division safe in Ron's hands, Harry was free to indulge a long held wish - to teach. When Bill - Headmaster Weasley - had told him that his Defense and Charms Professors were retiring, Harry and Ginny had not been able to say no.

"Well, what is it then?" Ginny asked, sharply feeling the sensation of nostalgia that was running through Harry.

"It'll sound ridiculous," Harry hedged, knowing he'd have to admit what was bothering him, regardless.

"You miss Potter's Home," Ginny answered for him, instead. She was referring; of course, to the home they'd built in Godric's Hollow while she was pregnant with James. Grimmauld Place had certainly been fixed up for several years, but both had wanted their family raised in a place more like the Burrow. Somewhere with room to play, and open skies to fly. Potter's Home - named so by Ginny - had been that place, built not too very far from the ruins of the cottage his parents had owned. It was the first home that had ever truly belonged to Harry. He had even moved the Potter Tapestry from Grimmauld to Potter's Home once they'd moved in. Grimmauld had then been restored to its former status as Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

"I do," he admitted reluctantly. "It's nice being back at Hogwarts - I'm looking very much forward to teaching, but..." he lifted his shoulders in a helpless shrug.

"It wouldn't be the same, Harry," she reminded him. "Not with the children all out of the house. We will be back for the summers and holidays, of course."

"I know, I know," he admitted reluctantly.

James and Sarah - Neville and Hannah's eldest daughter - had been married two years ago. Ginny suspected that Sarah was pregnant, and Harry agreed - he had ten Galleons down with Ron on when his oldest son would finally come to tell them.

Hell, Teddy and Victoire's oldest would start attending Hogwarts this year, too - He had already reminded young Remus that he couldn't call him 'Grandpa Harry' at school. Given that young Remus shared his father's metamorphmagus abilities and his namesake's quiet mischievous streak (no doubt nurtured by James, Hugo and Fred over the years), it remained to be seen whether or not the boy would remember.

Al had gotten married last year, and Harry had greatly enjoyed teasing his middle son about upholding family tradition and marrying a redhead. Lily - the girl he still called 'Little Lil' ' every time he saw her - she was marrying Lysander, her godparent's oldest, in less than month's time. Lysander Scamander had been in the year below her at Hogwarts, and he and his twin had just graduated a few months prior.

Even Ron and Hermione's children were married, or soon would be. Rose and Scorpius - Harry still couldn't stop laughing at the thought of Ron and Draco as in-laws - were expecting, too. Scorpius was a good kid, though. Harry's work with Draco all those years ago had paid off, and Draco had been a better father than Lucius ever had. And Rose, she was what - seven months along, now? And Hugo was getting quite serious about the Muggle girl from Ottery St. Catchpole he'd been seeing, or so Hermione had informed Ginny.

"It's all changing again," Harry noted, and realized he sounded much younger than his forty-nine years.

"Life does that," Ginny said sagely, and then she giggled when he stuck his tongue out at her.

With clear purpose, Ginny turned him away from the window. With no words, she drew him towards their - in his opinion, ridiculously large - bed. "Come on then, Harry," she said, with that particular tone to her voice, that tone that never stopped making his pulse race. "Remind me that some things never change, and let me remind you. You haven't told me you love me today, you know."

Harry had promised to do so a long time ago. He'd kept that promise for thirty years. "I love you," he said simply, bringing his lips down to hers, and brushing his fingers against the clasp of her robes.

"I love you too," she said back, and Harry marveled that the words, and the look in her eyes, still made his stomach leap as much as it had the first time they had made love, back on her seventeenth birthday. "Now show me," she said.

And he did.

Reviews 13

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