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SIYE Time:17:59 on 28th March 2024
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The Unexpected
By deenas

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Category: Post-HBP
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley
Genres: Fluff, Drama, General
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 38
Summary: Two weeks before his wedding, Harry receives an interesting package from someone from his past. Can he let go of all the hurt and forgive?
Hitcount: Story Total: 8125







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Letter Sent


Hermione Granger finished the letter she had written, wondering if she should even bother to send it. Would they read it? Would they care? She had to try, for Harry’s sake and hoped that he wouldn’t be too upset with her. His life was changing in a matter of weeks and she felt that something had to be done. She brought the idea up to Ron, and all he had to say was, “I don’t know why you’re getting your knickers in a twist over those two. They’re not about to care about a wedding, much less anything else that’s happened in Harry’s life.”

Part of her agreed with Ron, but she was an optimist and had to do something for Harry. He had no family and everyone deserves a second chance. Or third, or fourth, for that matter.

What if Ron’s right? I’ll feel just horrible! She put her hands on her desk and stared at the fawn-coloured parchment on which she had just finished writing. It was a risk, she knew, but really, who was it hurting? If anything, they’ll at least know the truth and won’t consider him a freak anymore.

But what if they come to their senses?
The thought had never occurred to her before. Would they come? Would Harry want them to? Would he be angry and throw them out? She took a deep breath, and decided to continue with her original plan as she began to re-read the letter.


Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,

My name is Hermione Granger, a friend of Harry’s. You probably don’t remember me; we hardly spoke when I came to pick up Harry on his seventeenth birthday. Anyway, I wanted to fill you in on some things that have happened with your nephew.

Most importantly, Harry is getting married in two weeks to Ginny Weasley. They’ve been engaged since last July. I have enclosed one of their engagement pictures with the letter. Don’t worry; I changed in into a normal photograph for you. He and Ginny are very much in love and eagerly await their wedding day.

I know that you and Harry have never been close. In fact, I know you don’t particularly care for him. But as one of his best friends, I am asking you to at least acknowledge his wedding. He will have no family of his own to stand with him when he gets married, and no parents to offer him advice and support. He does have many friends and has been very close with the Weasley family for many, many years. But a surrogate family has no connection to the real family he has lost.

There are also several other things you need to know, too. Harry has always been a bit of a celebrity in our world. He has, however, never used it in an unkind way. During his first six years at school, he tried very hard to avoid the limelight and just be an ordinary teenager. However, circumstances would not allow him to do that, and he became a marked man, so to speak, in a battle of which he was thrown in the middle. He is a very brave young man and has faced more danger than men twice his age.

When his godfather was killed, he took on a new urgency to redeem himself of the guilt he had from Sirius’ death. After moving out of your home, school was a mere distraction from his real quest, defeating Lord Voldemort. Remember the day when the fog had lifted after hovering over Britain for months? That was Harry. He fulfilled a destiny that had been mapped out by choices and circumstances from before his birth. In that battle, he quite literally saved the world. I know you don’t have any idea about anything I am saying, but I assure you, I am not making this up. Even the Prime Minister (yes, he knows about the Wizarding world) knows Harry and has given him a special commendation, albeit secret and unpublicized. There is a photograph of this as well. We don’t use computer imaging in our world so please know that it is authentic. You will also note the Prime Minister’s signature.

As Harry’s friend, I do appreciate you raising him. I realize it was difficult, but you did have a hand in shaping Harry into the man he is today. You should be proud of him, not ashamed. Through the blood-bond of his mother’s sacrifice, you helped save him from those who would kill him.

You will also find a number of news clippings and photos describing what Harry was done in the last few years. These have also had all magic removed from them.

If you would like to contact Harry, please post it to my address. I work at the Ministry for Magic and live in a non-magical neighbourhood. I will then be able to send it along to Harry by owl. If not, I understand and I promise this will be the only letter you ever receive from me, if that is your choice.

Thank you for your time and I hope this helps you understand him a bit more than in the past.

Sincerely,
Hermione Granger



There, she thought. That should do it. She placed the letter in the envelope and sealed it. The parcel containing the pictures and news clippings wasn’t yet finished. Hermione took a piece of delicately blue parchment and read it with a smile before adding it into the stack:

Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Weasley
Kindly request the honour of your presence
At the wedding of their daughter,
Ginevra Molly
to
Mr. Harry James Potter,
Son of the late James and Lily Potter
Friday, April the twentieth
Two o’clock in the afternoon
Number twelve, Grimmauld Place
London

Kindly respond by April the thirteenth
Attendance by scheduled Apparation only



Placing a stamp on the envelope, she dropped it in her outgoing post box and left for work.


***** ***** ***** *****< /center>


Letter Received



Harry Potter sat at the kitchen table looking over the list of names of those who had accepted the invitation: Weasley, Granger, Lupin, Moody, Longbottom, Lovegood, Thomas, Finnegan (and guest?), Hagrid, Maxime, McGonagall, Flitwick and Pomfrey. He sighed into the empty kitchen. He loved all these people dearly but knew that none of them would ever be able to fill a hole in his heart that had been empty for nearly his entire life. He smiled to himself as he realized that Ginny did a good job filling that empty space but this was the first time in many, many years that he wished there was someone on that list that had the last name of Potter or Evans.

Ginny had insisted on leaving two empty chairs at the ceremony and having a rose on each one. “We need to acknowledge them, Harry,” she had said. “They’re on the invitation.” He didn’t really understand her motives until this moment; she understood him better than he thought.

“Onto better things,” he said to the table. Taking a deep breath and exhaling forcefully, he looked down at his parchment where he was supposed to be writing his vows. He started and stopped at least fifteen times and got nowhere fast. “This is hopeless,” he told the parchment. “I’ll just do it off the cuff.”

Crunching the paper in his hand, he got up from the table and strode to the rubbish bin, stopping at the back door, where a small brown bird kept banging into the glass.

“Thump, thump. Thump, thump.”

Harry reached for the doorknob and opened it for Pig, who was carrying a parcel attached to his leg. The little owl flew in, circling him and smacking him on the side of the head with the package.

“Sit still!” He commanded the frantic little owl. Why didn’t I get him a new owl for his birthday? The bird settled onto the granite worktop and watched as Harry untied his delivery. Pig cooed and clicked, as if waiting for something. “Here you go,” said Harry, giving the owl a small biscuit. “Don’t tell Hermione.” He watched it fly off before turning his attention to the package.

“I think Hermione sent us another wedding present from her parents!” Harry shouted up the stairs to Ginny, not exactly knowing where she was. He stepped back to the table, moved aside the placemats, and sat back down.

Harry--

Please don’t be mad at me, but this is from your Aunt Petunia. I wrote and told them about your wedding. I didn’t read the letter.

Hermione



Hermione’s letter floated softly to the floor as Harry’s stomach lurched. He unfolded the letter with a heavy heart.


Dear Harry,

It took me by surprise when I received the letter from your friend. I gather you had no idea she wrote. It took me a while to actually gather the courage to read past the first paragraph.

Congratulations, Harry. The two of you look very happy together in the photograph she sent. Ginny’s lovely.

I certainly don’t know what to think about all the clippings Miss Granger sent along; it surely presents a different view of recent years. I am glad that you are safe and making a life for yourself.

Things have changed here, too. Vernon passed away two years ago from liver cancer. He went very quickly. Dudley, well, he doesn’t keep it touch. He did business with some unsavoury characters and has had a spell in prison. He has since moved to Wales. Ironic, isn’t, that you should have the life I always wanted for my son?

I have thought of you on a number of occasions over the years since Vernon died. Halloween is a trying time because, as the Fates would have it, that was the same day Vernon died. I don’t put the light on for the children anymore. Instead, I light three candles: one for Vernon, one for Dudley, and the last one is for you, the last of my family. I know you hate me, and I really couldn’t blame you if you did. We were cruel in the way we raised you, as Mr. Dumbledore pointed out to us the day he was here. Your “talents” scared us, no petrified us, and we didn’t want to understand you. I am sorry for not getting to know you as I should have. Losing someone you love, along with age, teaches you that. I only hope it will be a long time before you have to learn that lesson.

Now, regarding your mother. She and I were once very close, even though we enjoyed much different things. She was always carefree and enjoyed taking chances. The exact opposite of me. When we learned of her “gifts” I was jealous because I was just plain Petunia, never causing any kind of excitement while Lily was the bright young witch-in-training. I remember her being kind to me, regardless of how I treated her. But, I withdrew from her and pretended she didn’t exist. I am ashamed of that choice and I regret it, especially now.

If you could please open the package now, I will tell you about what I have given you.



Harry opened the parcel and discovered his eyes began to tear. He turned again to the letter.


The first thing is a picture of your grandparents. It is deeply hurtful that you never met them. They would have been very proud of you and loved you like you deserved.

Harry looked closely at the photo. His grandmother had the same, piercing green eyes as he and his mother did. His grandfather, he noticed, wore a huge smile that Harry realized was very much like his own. This is my family. My family.

Next, Harry, is something I found in Mother’s things a while back. It is her favourite brooch, which she wore every Sunday to church. Please give it to Ginny. She always said it was meant for her granddaughter.



Harry held the pin in his hand, feeling the delicate gold work and fingering the sparkling jewels. She would love it. Tears flowed freely now down his cheeks and onto the page.


Finally, this is your mother’s wedding veil. I don’t know what Ginny has planned, but I want her to have it. Mother kept it and it is really the only one of your mum’s possessions that I had. One of your parents’ wedding pictures is in there, too.

Why am I giving this to you? Because no young man should have to get married without his mother, and you were her greatest joy. That’s why she died for you. I know that now. I ask her every day to forgive me and I only hope some day I can forgive myself.

I am proud of you, Harry. I misjudged you, your world, and your parents. Please forgive me.

Love,
Petunia



Harry felt a soft touch on his shoulder, knowing instinctively that it was Ginny. He stood up and turned to her, sobbing into her hair as the letter drifted to the floor. She held him to her, feeling him collapse onto her as nineteen years of built-up tears finally found release.


***** ***** ***** *** ** *****



Sins Forgiven



Petunia Dursley found the street written on the invitation, but couldn’t find the house. There was eleven and then thirteen. The other side of the street was a park. This is a joke, a terrible, sick, evil joke. She had gotten all dressed up and was now pacing back and forth along a street where Lord knows who could see her, feeling her temper rise and her embarrassment become palpable. She was ready to give up when she heard a gruff voice behind her.

“Petunia Dursley, I presume?”

She whipped around to find a grossly deformed man with sickly white hair that hung like a curtain around his face. “Y-yes. That is I.” It took all her refined manners to try and speak politely to this unsettling-looking man.

“Please, come with me.” He held out his arm, but she did not move. “Are you coming to the wedding or not?” He had one rather large eye and it was moving in a rather sickening fashion, independent of the other.

“Excuse me? You want me to come with you?” Her disgust at this man, she was sure, was evident on her face. She glared at him and then remembered she had seen him at King’s Cross five years earlier. Oh dear, he’s a...a wizard.

“You are Harry’s aunt, correct?” She nodded. “You are here for the wedding, are you not?” She nodded again. “Unless you can Apparate into that house, the only way you’re going to see this bloody wedding is if you come with me!”

“Well, I suppose I have no choice, then,” she answered, walking over to the man but avoiding his arm.

“My name is Alastor Moody, ma’am, and nice to see you again.” Dear heavens, he remembers me.

Mr. Moody gave a wave of his wand, and out from nowhere, appeared the facade of a large, brick home with stately oak doors accompanied by stained-glass sidelights and a glass arch over the top.

“Who lives here?” She had assumed the home belonged to some wealthy friend.

“Your nephew, ma’am,” he answered, in a none-too-gracious tone. Petunia’s jaw dropped and she was taken roughly by the arm into the door.

In the entry hall, a small gathering of other wizards and witches stood, staring at the woman who had raised Harry Potter. Some began to whisper unashamedly. Cracking noises startled her as a family of three suddenly appeared across the room and were greeted with a warm embrace by a red-haired man and what looked to be his wife. The woman, who was a bit older than she was, looked up as the door closed and walked toward her with a smile.

“Mrs. Dursley? I’m Molly Weasley. Pleased to meet you. This is my husband Arthur,” she said, pointing to a lanky gentleman on her right. As he held out his hand, she took it timidly.

“We’ve met before, Molly.”

“Yes, we have.” She remembered the day he and three of his sons exploded into their lounge through the unused fireplace.

“Please, come this way, and I’ll introduce you around.” Mrs. Weasley led her into the sitting room and people of a different world surrounded her. “This is Remus Lupin and his wife, Tonks.” They smiled. “Remus is a teacher at Hogwarts.” She again saw the man who led her into the house. “This is Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick, both of whom were Harry’s professors.” The tall tartan-clad woman shook her hand in a loose grip, feeling much like a fish. The small man merely nodded at her and continued his conversation with the woman. “And over there is a group of Harry’s friends. Boys, over here!” Three young men Harry’s age came over, some with ladies on their arms.

A dark-haired lad reached out his hand in greeting. “Hello, I’m Neville. This is Dean,” he said, nodding to a chocolate-skinned man with a large smile. “Here we have Seamus and his girl, Erin.” Her eyes fell on the decidedly Irish couple as they held hands. “And this is Luna Lovegood, my fiancée.”

“How do you do?” asked the blonde-haired woman in a dreamy voice. Taken aback by the greeting, Petunia reached out to clasp the outstretched hand of the young woman.

“Nice to meet you. You all went to school with Harry?” They nodded in acknowledgment. Such nice young people, she thought. I was silly for being so nervous. She looked around the room, trying to find Harry, but didn’t see him.

“Mrs. Dursley?” a young woman’s voice came from behind. “I’m Hermione Granger. Did you find the house all right?”

“Yes, thank you.” She lied for the first time in years. “I want to thank you for your letter. I was so stupid. I never knew.” She lowered her eyes to the floor, embarrassed that only one week ago, she knew nothing of the wonderful day that was taking place today. How could she have let the years go by as she did? “Where is Harry? If he doesn’t want me here, I’d like to know before the wedding starts to avoid a scene. This is his day.”

“I’ll see what we can do. Come with me.” She was led back toward the hallway that had several pictures on it, noticing a large, faded spot that she gathered once held a very large portrait. “Molly? Could you please get Harry?” Mrs. Weasley nodded across the room at Hermione and went upstairs.

Hiding in the doorway, she looked at the people around her. Many of them had red hair, which she gathered were the Weasley family. A baby cried somewhere. Not a large group, she thought, but then Harry doesn’t really have anyone....

She heard footsteps coming down the stairs and a deep voice mumbling, “How annoying.” It was Harry, standing only a few feet away. She drew in her breath and time slowed as she looked at her nephew for the first time in almost three years.

He’s grown, she realized. And he has new glasses. Much better than the other ones.

He wore what looked like a tuxedo, but was a bit more of a robe, and a small, white rose was on his lapel. His hair is still the same, unruly and hanging in his eyes, no matter how he tries to keep it back. His eyes, oh, his eyes. Those were Mother’s eyes. And Lily’s. Smile, please, so I can see if you have Daddy’s smile. She realised she had never actually seen him smile in all the time he lived with them. He truly looks like his father. He was handsome and had taken on a bit of an air of self-confidence she had never seen in young men his age. He looked impatient, and she swallowed hard, trying to find her voice.

“Harry?” She didn’t recognize the sound.

He turned and stared at her, and she saw a look of realisation come over his face. He took two steps and was in front of her. Without saying a word, he engulfed her in his arms, shaking from trying to hold back the tears that began to fall. She had begun to cry, too, feeling all the guilt, pain, and cruelty wash away as her nephew hugged her for the first time in their lives.

“How...I didn’t know..,” he stammered as he broke apart from his aunt and looked at her, tears brimming and falling freely from those piercing emerald eyes.

“I’m sorry, Harry. So sorry. Please forgive me, please.”

He didn’t move but continued to look at her, piercing her to the very core with his eyes. “It’s all right. I know.” He hugged her again. “Thank you for coming.”

“I think we need to get things going.” Petunia turned to find Mrs. Weasley standing at his side patiently. The crowd began filing toward the back of the house and out the French doors. Another red-haired, young man in the same type of clothes as Harry stood next to her.

“Hi, I’m Ron.” He reached out his hand and shook it firmly. “Let me take you to the garden and sit you down.” He led her into a beautiful garden. There was an archway with tulle and ivy garland trailing down the side. With everyone seated, she felt their eyes on her. He pulled out his wand, conjuring up a beautiful corsage on the left side of her dress. He leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “From Harry,” he whispered. She sat on the chair, waiting expectantly for the crowd to stare at someone else.

Music played from an unseen source, and Ron came down the aisle again with his mother, seating her directly across from Petunia on the left side of the aisle. He waited near the arch, smiling at whoever was walking toward him.

Petunia looked back to see Hermione carrying a beautiful bouquet of white roses with light green ivy cascading to the ground. When the girl reached the arch, she and Ron kissed quickly, moving toward opposite sides. Harry was next, walking all alone. Lily should be here, not me, thought Petunia. This is so unfair. He smiled at those he passed, stopping near Ron, looking nervous, scared, excited and anxious, all at the same time.

The music changed and Mrs. Weasley rose, glancing toward the house, with a smile gliding across her face and tears building in her eyes. Petunia turned to see Mr. Weasley escorting his daughter toward them. Her dress was the color of pearls and brushed the ground lightly with a gentle swoosh. Her red hair was pinned back with pearl-encrusted combs, falling past her shoulders in gentle curls, encircled by the fine lace of Lily’s veil. Petunia gasped, noticing her mother’s brooch in the middle of the bodice at the base of the deep neckline.

Harry smiled again and looked quickly at Ron. I’m so glad he has a friend like that, she mused. She could easily sense their strong bond of friendship.

When Ginny was next to him, he kissed her quickly and then turned to Mr. Weasley; they hugged in much the same fashion that Harry had hugged her. Mr. Weasley gazed at his daughter and kissed her daintily on the lips, giving her his own hug. As he sat next to his wife, he quickly wiped away tears with a handkerchief that appeared out of nowhere.

A wizard in green robes began a wedding ceremony that Petunia would never have dreamed she would be attending. Warmth began to flow through her as she listened to the words of the vows. She looked at the two empty chairs next to her, each with a single, red rose on the seat. Petunia swore she saw an outline of a woman with her dark-haired husband smiling at her, and telling her, finally, that sins can be forgiven.
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