𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 | 𝐡. 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝟔 - 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

It was the start of the Quidditch season, and the air was static with excitement for this week's match, Gryffindor VS Hufflepuff, Ophelia could tell that Harry was anxious to get playing again, to slip into something he can rely on and know he's good at. Though she was almost as excited to watch it, she was well aware that her dad had transformed recently and it was a rough one this time, she went to visit him in his sleeping quarters and found him shivering with cold.

"Dad, you need to eat something warm, drink this soup." she held out a hot flask and poured him a cup, she watched as he drank it before filling it up again for him.

"Did you take your potion?" she asks quietly, her gaze instead focusing on the stone wall in front of her, he coughed a little so she put another pillow behind his head to keep him propped up.

"Of course, but it should be me worrying about you not the other way around-"

"But Dad, you've been feeling sicker and sicker each time now, are you sure Snape isn't slowly poisoning you?"

Remus lets out a dry chuckle, disturbing his weak chest which causes him to go into another coughing fit, she rubs his back gently.

He manages to croak out "I know you don't like Snape, but I trust his potion-making skills, he was always the best at it."

"I could always brew you some instead?" she offers, he shakes his head and he looks up at his daughter, concern creasing her brow as she worries terribly over his condition.

It makes him feel guilty, he should be spoiling her and making an effort to be a better father to her instead of being a debilitated old-man. He had to hand it to her, she was incredibly patient when it came to his condition, just as her mother had been. Ophelia was truly the best thing he ever contributed to this world. He propped himself up in the bed, taking another cup-full of soup, smiling at the taste he asks her

"Did you make this?"

"Yeah, I snuck down to the kitchens, the house-elves didn't seem to mind. They just handed me ingredients when I asked for them," she explains, putting the flask down by his bedside.

"When did you learn to make this?" he asked, looking at his daughter endearingly.

"Over summer, gran gave me a couple of mum's journals. There was a full book of recipes that she made, the title for this soup was "For my dear Remus." she murmured

"That was kind of her, your mother used to make this soup every time I transformed, she always had it ready. The hazelnut and parsnip soup." he smiles fondly of the memory.

He was laying in their bed, finally managing to climb into it after turning back human, he was truly exhausted but he could hear Guinevere trudging up those stairs, in their home that they had made together. She stepped into the room, tray in hand, lifting it high above her swollen belly that held his unborn child, he sat up and she gently kissed him on the temple as she placed the tray in his lap.

"You don't have to do this every time, love," he says, looking at his wife who was adjusting the bed sheet to keep him warm, she grins and tells him

"Oh yeah? Well, who has to deal with your constant whinging about it? I'd gladly swap an hour for soup to make you feel better than an hour of complaining where I can't do much for you."

"So you'll make me soup every month, every year until the day I die?" He muses, she comes over and kisses him lightly on his nose.

"I did agree to a lifetime deal with you, you know? The ring on my finger?"

She wiggles her ring finger as she puts herself down on the bed beside him, they chuckle heartily, and he reaches out to put his hand on her belly. He never knew he could ever feel this content and halt laying in bed sick,  under his palm he felt a kick, he grins.