One-shot. Harry Potter defeated Voldemort, but died three weeks later by the hand of an escaped Death Eater. But he isn't gone; not really.

The day was May 23, three weeks after the tenth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts.

Ten years since the death of the savior of the wizarding world.

His body lay deep in the earth in a small plot of land in the small wizarding village of Godric's Hollow. He might have been gone, but he really wasn't, not really. His legacy lived on, in his surrogate family, in the chocolate frog card that had his name on it, in his son.

Harry Potter had a son. A son that he would never meet.

Hermione Granger was weeping, sitting cross-legged in front of the gravestone that read 'Harry James Potter: Maker of Mischief from July 31, 1980 - May 23, 1998'. His grave was nestled near that of his mother, his father, his godfather, Remus Lupin, and Nymphadora Tonks.

"Oh, Harry," she said, sniffling. "Adrian's off to Hogwarts next year. He's so much like you. There was never a doubt in my mind that he was your son, and not Ron's. He looks just like you. Messy black hair, and the brightest emerald green eyes. He's got your god-awful eyesight too." A wet chuckle escaped her lips. "But he's different, too, in a way. He's just as stubborn as you, but he seems to have my thirst for knowledge and your love of flying." She paused.

"I got him a snitch this year for his birthday. He rides your old firebolt, I remember you were so happy when we found it. I couldn't give him yours, because I still can't open that blasted pouch."

"Look, Harry!" came Ron's gleeful call. "Bill was looking around, and he found your firebolt! Right near the Tonks' house!" A wide grin spread across the face of the messy haired, bespectacled boy. It didn't seem like such a big deal, but to Harry, it was a sign of normalcy, and it gave him back a piece of his godfather.

"Wanna go flying, Ron?" he asked, fishing around in his moleskin pouch for the snitch he always kept close to his heart. His ginger haired friend grinned.

"Do all Weasleys have red hair? Of course I want to go flying!"

"What is it, Adrian?" came the excited voice of a little boy with messy ginger hair and freckles; the son of Ron and Lavender. His name was Harry, and he was four years old.

"It's a snitch!" said Adrian excitedly, looking up at Hermione with big, green eyes, framed with glasses that made him look so much like Harry it almost made her cry. "Wow, mum, it's so cool! D'ya think that dad'd be proud of me?" Unshed tears glistened in Hermione's eyes.

"I think he would be, Adrian," she choked out, smiling wetly at him. "I think he'd be very, very proud."

It seemed cruel, really, that Harry'd been ripped away from the world that loved him right as he was finally getting a chance to actually live, and Hermione hated whatever deity there was for mapping out his fate. He'd deserved to be happy.

"I miss you, Harry," she sobbed. "I miss you so much, and Adrian, he's finally old enough to understand. And he misses you, too."

July 31st was always a solemn day for many people, but more so for Hermione Granger and her son, Adrian Harold Potter-Granger. He was nine years old, and this was the first time he was accompanying his mother on her annual trip to visit Harry (she also visited on the anniversary of his death, and other momentous occasions).

"Hey dad," he said, somewhat awkwardly at first. "I'm new to this, 'cos this is the first time mum says I'm old enough to visit you." He paused. "Uncle Ron, and the other Weasleys, they tell me lots of stories about you, and how good of a person you were. They say I'm quite grown up for my age-" here he puffed up rather proudly. "-and that I take good care of mum, but some times, I wish that I didn't have to take care of mum, because you'd take care of her instead, and we'd be a happy, whole, family. I wish that I could've known you like mum and Uncle Ron knew you, that you would've been the one to teach my how to fly, or gotten me my first owl. I named her Hedwig, by the way, I hope you don't mind."

By this point, there were already some tears making their way down both mother and son's cheeks, and Adrian took a deep breath.

"Most of all, dad, I wish you could just be here, with us, and mum would be happier, even if she says she's happy now. But, I know you can't because fate decided that you had to go, and I know you're with your own mum and dad now. I just wanted to say that, even if I never got to meet you, I still love you, and you're still my dad. You may be gone, but you really aren't, not really."

Hermione sniffed, and Adrian held her hand for a while, as she'd almost forgotten he was with her.

"It's me again, dad," said Adrian. "I'm sorry I don't come to visit more often, but little Harry keeps me on my toes, and I visit with him a lot." He paused. "I'm excited to go to Hogwarts. Mum says if she finds out I've inherited your trouble making skills, she'll curse you, but I don't think she will." Hermione chuckled slightly at this.

"It'll be fun, still, no matter what. I hope that I'm in Gryffindor, and I already have the cloak and the Map, so I'm all set if I do want to mischief make." He smiled. "Hope you're having fun, where-ever you are, dad." He stuck his hands in his pockets and took a step back.

"Goodbye, Harry," said Hermione, fingering the engagement ring she'd never taken off. "For now, anyways."