the story

a boy and a girl

"Aunt Lucy, Aunt Lucy!" Harry called out from his bedroom, his large, round glasses making his eyes look much wider than they already were.

Lucy bound up the stairs quickly from her spot on the loveseat in the living room, smiling softly down at the seven-year-old boy in his pale blue pajama set.

"Are you all ready for bed, then?" she asked, her hands resting on her hips as she looked down at the young boy.

Her nephew shook his head quickly, squeezing his stuffed hippogriff against his chest as he looked up at her with pleading eyes. "Can we play for a little longer? Me and Witherwings wanted you to play hide and seek with us!" Harry protested, the thick black glasses identical to his father's sliding down the bridge of his nose as he spoke.

" Witherwings and I ," she corrected him, shaking her head softly at his proposal before kneeling down to his height. "As much fun as that would be, you have to go to bed, bubs. We're going to visit Uncle Moony tomorrow, so we have to get up early so we can see him," she reminded him, sighing softly as he frowned up at her.

He folded his arms across his chest, his stuffed creature tucked under his arm as he tried to silently persuade his godmother with his infamous puppy dog eyes. "Just one game, Aunt Lucy? Pretty please?" he begged, going so far as to sticking his bottom lip out pleadingly.

However, Lucy shook her head yet again. "Sorry, Harry," she said, leaning around the boy and pulling back the maroon covers and sheets on his bed. "But I'm sure Uncle Moony would love to play hide and seek with us tomorrow," she added, picking up her young godson and setting him in his bed.

At the idea of playing with his favorite uncle in what would now be a few mere hours, his face lit up brightly as he pulled the comforter over his short legs and torso. "Can you at least read me a bedtime story?" he asked, tucking in the grey hippogriff under the covers alongside himself.

Lucy gave him a soft smile, moving up to sit on the edge of the double bed covered in Gryffindor Quidditch sheets and blankets. He had had this set when he first moved from a crib into a real bed, and to this day they were his favorite sheets to sleep with.

"How about I tell you a story instead?" she asked, smiling a little bit as he grinned brightly at her suggestion and nodded quickly.

"Alright then," she said, pushing some of his short hair out of his face as she spoke. "Let me tell you a story... about a boy and a girl," she started, grinning a bit when her curious nephew interrupted her.

"What were their names?" he inquired, tilting his head slightly to the side as he talked.

Lucy just smiled softly and patiently at his question, pretending to think for a moment before looking back down at Harry. "James and Lily," she told him, grinning as the young boy smiled brightly.

"They're my favorite!" he exclaimed, squeezing his small fist down on one of his hippogriff's plush wings.

Every since Lucy Potter had gained custody of her nephew and godson when he was barely a year old, she always did her best to tell him stories of his parents; she wanted to make sure he would never forget them even if he didn't fully comprehend that the main characters in her dramatic retellings were her late brother and sister-in-law. As far as Harry knew and understood, James and Lily were some of his aunt's good friends from her seven years at Hogwarts. One day, though, when he would be old enough to really understand what had happened in Godric's Hollow on Halloween night in 1981, she would explain to him how important James and Lily really were, not just to her, but to him as well.

"I've got to warn you, though: it's kind of short and kind of boring -" she started, smiling yet again as her nephew giggled at her words. "-But the end is a whirl."