We Can Be Heroes
Also, shout out to @proffessrmoonylupin for the beautiful music they wrote for this, and to @comaraudery (MxPadfoot on ao3) for their gorgeous fanart of Jily after the Amortentia Episode, as well as @0kat0 for the proposal scene fanart - both absolutely stunning.
You are all outrageously kind and this chapter is a poor thank you.
Also, apologies for the angst, but this part of the story is always going to be pretty angsty (end of 1980/start 1981)
(TW: parental death; anxiety/depersonalization description)
And now it’s alright, it’s okay
And you may look the other way
We can try to understand
The New York Times’ effect on man
Whether you’re a brother or whether you’re a mother
You’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive
Feel the city breakin’ and everybody shakin’
And we’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive
Bee Gees Stayin’ Alive (1977)
“I think our letter to the Daily Prophet went down a treat with a certain subsection of our fellow purebloods,” Monty commented drily, peering over the open newspaper at his wife.
“It did, didn’t it?” Mia smiled back, her eyebrows raising spiritedly as she sipped her tea. “Caused a bit of a stir…”
“Almost a commotion,” Monty added, cleaning his glasses on his shirt sleeve. “I think you were right about the Usual Suspects not taking it particularly well? A tad miffed, perhaps?”
He shot Mia a look that was both fond and proud.
“Yes, I think that rather bothered might describe it best, or slightly livid, even?” Mia said, with a wicked smirk. “A definite increase in anti- Voldemort articles and charity donations since then, apparently.”
“Ha! Did the trick,” said Monty, placing the newspaper down and eying his slice of pumpkin pie with interest.
“Yes, it did,” said Mia, with a resolute nod, pouring them both another cup of tea.
“Do you know how much I love you, Mrs. Potter?” he said, humming with delight as he put another generous piece of pie in his mouth.
“Oh, rather a lot, I think, Mr. Potter,” Mia said, grinning back and leaning over to squeeze his hand.
“Perfection!” Monty said, popping the last piece of pie in his mouth and smiling back at her as he folding the newspaper.
“Are you referring to me or my baking skills?” Mia said.
“Both!” Monty said, with a chivalrous bow. “It’s a marvellous Autumn day, what do you say to a little dance in the garden?”
“Hmm,” Mia said, pretending to ponder the question. “I suppose I wouldn’t say no to that.”
“Wonderful!” said Monty, standing up and putting out his hand. “May I have the pleasure of your company?”
“You may, Mr. Potter,” Mia said, with a soft laugh. “Although I’ve noticed recently I’m not as fluid on my Promenade Step as I used to be!”
“Balderdash!” said Monty lightly, leading her outside the back door and into the sunlit garden. “You’re as lively and beautiful as the day I met you!”
“Oh yes, I do recall I was a bit of a wizened old hag back in the day,” she said, looking up at Monty with shining eyes. “With a wayward mop of grey hair and a touch of sciatica to boot.”
Monty snorted aloud, flicking his wrist as he started the old magical record-player.
“Pah! Grey or blonde, trifling details, but it was very wild, that I do recall. Your hair was the inspiration behind my first Sleekeazy success, Demolish the Dishevel,” he said, winking at her cheekily.
“Rude!” Mia laughed, smacking him on the arm. “Your hair is pretty unruly too, worse, I’d say!”
“D the D worked spectacularly well!” Monty hummed innocently, as they danced.
“Well not that well, darling, have you seen your son’s hair?” Mia said airily. “Although I suppose at least I can say I was your muse on that occasion!”
“You’ve always been my muse,” Monty said, with a slow smile.
“Oh, flattery!” Mia smiled back. “So without me, Sleekeazy’s wouldn’t have become the roaring success it turned out to be?”
“Without you, I’d be nothing, Mia Potter, and you know it,” Monty said, and his voice was still teasing but softer.
“That’s my line, Monty Potter, and you know it,” Mia said, stepping up on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss.
“The love we have in our youth is superficial compared to the love that an old man has for his old wife*,” Monty said.
“Old wife!” Mia rolled her eyes despite the wide grin she spotted. “Despite your silliness, I have never once regretted marrying you, Fleamont Linfred Potter.”
“Did you ever think things would work out so well?” Monty asked her.
“Never in my wildest dreams,” Mia said, as the song came to an end. “I have been utterly blessed. There isn’t a single thing I’d change about our time together.”
“Nor I, darling,” Monty said, as they slowed to a halt.
A vibrant hum filled the air followed by silence.
