#jasminepotter

The mistake happened forty-three minutes into the Order meeting.

Which, according to Remus Lupin, was honestly impressive.

Most Order meetings went wrong much faster.

The discussion had somehow drifted away from Death Eaters.

Then away from Voldemort.

Then away from the war entirely.

Now they were discussing Hogwarts.

Specifically Hogwarts in the seventies.

Which was dangerous.

Not because of dark magic.

Because adults were incapable of remembering their teenage years accurately.

Jasmine Potter was curled sideways in an armchair.

A book rested on her lap.

Harry was sprawled across the floor doing homework.

Helena was asleep upstairs.

Remus occupied one end of the couch.

Sirius was upside down in a chair because apparently sitting normally was against his religion.

"So much simpler back then."

Arthur sighed fondly.

"Were they?"

Sirius asked.

"No."

Remus answered immediately.

Arthur ignored them.

"There was less confusion."

Molly nodded.

"People knew who they were."

Jasmine immediately became suspicious.

"What kind of confusion?"

Molly waved a hand.

"Oh, relationships."

Remus closed his eyes.

Sirius looked toward the ceiling.

Abort mission.

"We didn't have all these labels."

Sirius physically winced.

"Everyone was just normal."

Jasmine sat up.

Slowly.

Dangerously.

"Normal?"

Molly nodded.

"Well yes."

Arthur suddenly developed the expression of a man realizing he had wandered into a minefield.

Molly continued.

Completely unaware.

"There weren't really gay people when we were at Hogwarts."

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Then Jasmine fell out of her chair.

Not figuratively.

Not emotionally.

Literally.

One second she was sitting.

The next she was on the floor laughing so hard she couldn't breathe.

Harry looked up.

"Oh no."

"Jaz?"

Jasmine pointed at Molly.

Still laughing.

Harry immediately relaxed.

"Oh."

"What?"

Arthur asked.

"Someone said something stupid."

"Very stupid."

Sirius agreed.

Jasmine was crying now.

Actual tears.

Remus buried his face in his hands.

"Molly."

He said quietly.

"You've activated her."

"I've activated what?"

"The history lecture."

Molly looked confused.

Jasmine finally managed to gasp out:

"Molly."

"What?"

"I could name ten queer people from Hogwarts when we went there."

Molly blinked.

"Ten?"

Jasmine sat up.

"Ten."

Sirius groaned.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

Harry immediately abandoned his homework.

"Jaz's making a list."

Arthur looked delighted.

"A list?"

"A list."

Jasmine pointed dramatically.

"One."

The room braced itself.

"Sirius Black."

Sirius pointed at himself.

"Me?"

"You."

"I feel attacked."

"You are pansexual and genderfluid."

Sirius considered.

"Fair."

Molly looked horrified.

"You never told me that."

"You never asked."

Jasmine pointed again.

"Two. Remus Lupin."

Remus sighed.

"Bisexual."

Arthur blinked.

"You are?"

Remus stared at him.

"Arthur."

"What?"

"I dated both Sirius and Jasmine in seventh year."

Arthur looked genuinely shocked.

"I thought you were studying."

Sirius nearly fell off his chair laughing.

Jasmine continued.

"Three. Marlene McKinnon."

The front door opened.

"Lesbian."

Everyone turned.

Nymphadora Tonks wandered in carrying takeaway.

"Hello."

"How long have you been standing there?"

Remus asked.

"Long enough."

Tonks dropped into a chair.

"Continue."

Jasmine pointed.

"Four. Dorcas Meadowes."

"Also lesbian."

Tonks supplied.

"They were dating."

"They were absolutely dating."

Molly stared.

"They told everyone."

"Literally everyone."

Remus agreed.

Jasmine kept counting.

"Five. Alice Fortescue."

"Bisexual."

Tonks nodded.

"Six. Mary Macdonald."

"Also bisexual."

"Seven. Barty Crouch Junior."

The room paused.

"What?"

Jasmine asked.

"He was gay?"

Arthur asked.

"He was aggressively gay."

Sirius corrected.

Remus laughed into his tea.

"He flirted with every Quidditch player in a five-mile radius."

"Terrible taste in men."

Jasmine added.

"Horrific taste."

Sirius agreed.

"Eight. Gilderoy Lockhart."

The room groaned.

"Oh come on."

"Molly."

Jasmine looked concerned.

"The man spent seven years flirting with Quidditch captains."

"He really did."

Tonks admitted.

"I thought he was being friendly."

The entire room stared at Molly.

"No."

"Nine. Rita Skeeter."

"What?"

Molly asked.

"Lesbian."

"What?"

"Still a terrible person."

Tonks nearly choked laughing.

"And ten."

Jasmine leaned back triumphantly.

"Glenda Chittock."

"Pansexual icon."

Sirius declared.

The room fell silent.

Molly looked like someone had informed her gravity was optional.

"That's ten."

"That's ten off the top of my head."

"Without trying."

"Without trying."

Sirius raised a hand.

"What about Fabian?"

"Oh absolutely."

"Gideon?"

"Absolutely."

Tonks joined in.

"Benjy Fenwick?"

"Queer."

"Emmeline Vance?"

"Queer."

"Marlene's cousin?"

"Queer."

Remus groaned.

"Oh we're doing census data now."

"Molly started it."

"I did not."

"You looked a pansexual woman directly in the eyes and said there were no gay people at Hogwarts."

Molly opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

"...that may have been a mistake."

The meeting never recovered.

By the end of the evening Arthur was crying with laughter.

Tonks had started a second list.

Sirius was attempting to calculate what percentage of Gryffindor House had been queer.

Remus regretted every life choice that had led him here.

Harry had stopped doing homework entirely and was taking notes.

And Molly Weasley had learned three important lessons.

One:

Queer people had absolutely existed at Hogwarts.

Two:

Jasmine Potter knew far more about everyone's love lives than anyone found comfortable.

And three:

Never challenge a pansexual woman to discuss queer history.

You will lose.

Charlie Weasley came out on a Thursday.

By Friday evening he was drunk in Diagon Alley.

This was not part of the plan.

To be fair, Charlie had not actually had a plan.

Just hope.

And hope had turned out to be considerably less reliable than expected.

The conversation had not been terrible.

That was the problem.

If Molly had yelled?

Charlie could have been angry.

If Arthur had thrown him out?

Charlie could have hated him.

Instead there had only been silence.

Questions.

Confusion.

Disappointment nobody wanted to call disappointment.

And somehow that hurt more.

So Charlie drank.

Then he drank some more.

Then he made several excellent decisions.

Unfortunately all of them were terrible.

Which was how Jasmine Potter found him.

Jasmine had left Flourish and Blotts with two bags of books, one sleeping six-year-old Helena balanced on her hip, and approximately zero desire to interact with other humans.

She had plans.

The plans involved tea.

A blanket.

And pretending the rest of the world did not exist.

Then she noticed a man crying behind a rubbish bin.

Jasmine stopped walking.

"...well."

Helena lifted her head from Jasmine's shoulder.

"Muma?"

"There's a man behind that bin."

A pause.

"Is he dead?"

"No."

"Are we checking?"

Jasmine looked toward the alley.

The man was definitely crying.

Definitely drunk.

And definitely having the worst day of his life.

"Unfortunately yes."

Helena sighed dramatically.

"You're adopting another one."

Jasmine pointed a finger.

"I have never adopted anyone."

Helena snorted.

"Muma."

"One time."

"Harry."

"That doesn't count."

"Auntie Andi."

"That also doesn't count."

Harry's voice drifted from beside them.

"You literally brought Auntie Andi home."

"I did not."

"You did."

"You are six."

"I know."

Jasmine looked toward the heavens.

Betrayed by children.

Again.

The man behind the bin started crying harder.

Jasmine sighed.

"Stay here."

She approached carefully.

The stranger looked up.

Red hair.

Dragon keeper robes.

Freckles.

A truly impressive amount of misery.

"Oh."

The stranger blinked.

"...hello."

Jasmine stared.

"You seem upset."

The man laughed.

Then immediately started crying again.

"Right."

Definitely the worst day of his life.

Jasmine sat beside him.

Because apparently that was the sort of thing she did now.

"My name is Jasmine."

The stranger stared.

"You just sat down."

"Yes."

"You don't know me."

"No."

"You don't know why I'm crying."

"No."

Another pause.

"That seems unsafe."

Jasmine considered.

"Probably."

The stranger laughed despite himself.

Small victory.

"My name is Charlie."

"Hello Charlie."

Charlie looked down at his hands.

For a long moment neither spoke.

The city moved around them.

People passing.

Shops closing.

Life continuing.

Then Charlie whispered:

"I think my parents are disappointed in me."

Jasmine's heart broke instantly.

Not because she knew Charlie.

Not because she understood the situation.

But because she recognized that tone.

The one people used when they were trying very hard not to fall apart.

"Do you want to tell me why?"

Charlie laughed bitterly.

"I told them I'm gay and nonbinary."

Silence.

Then:

"Oh."

Charlie groaned.

"No more 'oh.'"

Jasmine blinked.

"What?"

"Everyone keeps saying 'oh.'"

She thought about that.

"Fair."

Charlie laughed.

Actually laughed.

Progress.

Jasmine bumped his shoulder.

"For what it's worth."

Charlie looked over.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with being gay or nonbinary."

The words came easily.

Naturally.

Like saying the sky was blue.

Or fire was hot.

Or Sirius Black was an idiot.

Charlie stared.

Then his eyes filled again.

"Oh no."

"What?"

"You said that way too confidently."

Jasmine barked out a laugh.

"My first girlfriend would be furious if I didn't."

Charlie blinked.

"Your what?"

"My first girlfriend."

"You had a girlfriend?"

Jasmine looked offended.

"Charlie."

"What?"

"I'm pansexual."

The dragon keeper stared.

Then laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

For the first time all day it sounded genuine.

By the end of the evening Charlie was still sad.

Still hurt.

Still confused.

But he was no longer alone.

Sometimes healing didn't start with family.

Sometimes it didn't start with old friends.

Sometimes it started with a stranger sitting beside you in an alley and refusing to leave.

Jasmine Potter had become very good at carrying grief.

Practice helped.

There had been plenty of it.

James and Lily were dead.

Sirius was in Azkaban.

Remus had vanished somewhere between mourning and survival.

And Jasmine was left standing in the wreckage with two children.

Harry.

Helena.

One her nephew.

One her daughter.

Both six years old.

Both far too young to understand why the adults in their lives kept disappearing.

Jasmine understood.

That was the problem.

"Muma?"

"Yes, darling?"

Helena tilted her head from where she sat in the shopping cart.

The little girl wore oversized sunglasses despite being blind.

Because according to Helena they made her look cool.

Jasmine had learned to pick her battles.

"Harry stole my sweet."

"I did not."

"You did."

"I borrowed it."

"You ate it."

Harry looked offended.

"That's how borrowing food works."

Jasmine sighed.

"I am raising criminals."

Harry grinned.

Helena looked delighted.

Neither denied the accusation.

The market was busy.

Crowded.

Noisy.

Normally Jasmine liked that.

Crowds made it harder to think.

Harder to remember.

Harder to miss people.

Today it wasn't enough.

Because today everything reminded her of Sirius.

A joke someone made.

A bark of laughter.

A motorcycle roaring overhead.

Little reminders.

Tiny cuts.

Death was easier.

Death was final.

Death stayed dead.

Azkaban was different.

Azkaban left room for hope.

Hope was cruel.

She was reaching for bread when she heard a laugh.

Soft.

Elegant.

Familiar.

Jasmine froze.

The loaf slipped from her fingers.

No.

Her heart began hammering.

No.

Not possible.

Not—

She turned.

And the world stopped.

Blonde hair.

Blue eyes.

Perfect posture.

A silver wedding band.

Narcissa Malfoy.

For a moment Jasmine was sixteen again.

A girl beneath the Astronomy Tower.

Kissing another girl beneath starlight.

Whispering promises neither of them understood.

Sharing secrets in library corners.

Passing notes through Andromeda because owls were too obvious.

Falling in love.

Slowly.

Hopelessly.

Completely.

Narcissa looked up.

Their eyes met.

The smile disappeared.

Jasmine watched recognition hit.

Watched surprise.

Shock.

Something softer.

Something sadder.

Oh.

That hurt.

That still hurt.

Years later.

After Sirius.

After Remus.

After children.

After funerals.

After wars.

It still hurt.

Not because she was still in love with Narcissa.

Not exactly.

That wasn't the wound.

The wound was remembering.

Remembering the girl she used to be.

Remembering who Narcissa used to be.

Remembering the future they once imagined.

The shape of it remained.

Even if the life itself never happened.

The market suddenly felt too small.

Too loud.

Too bright.

Jasmine couldn't breathe.

Not properly.

Her chest tightened.

Air refused to cooperate.

No.

Not here.

Not now.

Harry looked up immediately.

"Aunt Jasmine?"

Panic.

Merlin.

Not now.

Then someone touched her arm.

Gentle.

Steady.

Familiar.

Narcissa.

The years vanished.

Just for a second.

Because Narcissa had always known.

Always.

The first panic attack at sixteen.

The first nightmare.

The first time Jasmine had cried so hard she couldn't speak.

Narcissa had always known.

"Jasmine."

The voice was older.

Softer.

But still hers.

"Look at me."

Jasmine obeyed.

Blue eyes.

Steady.

Calm.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Again.

Again.

Again.

The panic loosened its grip.

"There you are."

The words were quiet.

Narcissa always spoke softly during panic attacks.

As if raising her voice might break something.

Jasmine laughed weakly.

"Hello, Cissy."

Narcissa smiled.

Small.

Painfully familiar.

"Hello, Jasmine."

Harry had moved closer.

Protective.

James's son through and through.

Helena sat quietly in the cart.

Listening.

Always listening.

"What happened?" Harry demanded.

Jasmine closed her eyes.

Of course he would ask.

Narcissa looked amused.

"You must be Harry Potter."

Harry frowned.

"How do you know that?"

The smile softened.

"Because you look exactly like your father."

Harry immediately accepted this.

Jasmine resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Narcissa's attention shifted.

"And Helena?"

The question landed differently.

Softer.

More careful.

Helena beamed.

"I'm Helena Potter-Black."

Narcissa froze.

Black.

Not Potter.

Not Lupin.

Black.

Understanding dawned.

Sirius.

Of course.

Jasmine saw the realization.

Saw the grief that followed.

Because everyone knew.

Everyone knew where Sirius Black was.

"She has his smile."

The words were barely above a whisper.

Jasmine swallowed hard.

"Yeah."

For a moment neither woman spoke.

Neither needed to.

The absence sat between them.

Heavy.

Unavoidable.

Sirius.

Always Sirius.

Eventually Narcissa asked,

"How are you?"

Jasmine laughed.

The sound bordered on hysterical.

Narcissa winced.

"That bad?"

"Worse."

The honesty escaped before she could stop it.

Because it was Narcissa.

And somehow lying to her had always been impossible.

They stood there for several minutes.

Talking.

Carefully.

Awkwardly.

Like strangers.

Like old friends.

Like something in between.

Jasmine learned Draco was six.

Narcissa learned Helena had inherited Sirius's stubbornness.

Some things never changed.

Then silence settled.

Comfortable once.

Painful now.

Jasmine broke it.

"You got married."

Narcissa's fingers tightened around her basket.

"Yes."

Simple.

Small.

But the word carried years.

Jasmine remembered the wedding.

Every detail.

The flowers.

The music.

The white roses.

The way Lucius Malfoy looked at his bride.

The way Jasmine had smiled through the ceremony.

The way Andromeda held her hand during the reception because she knew.

Because Andromeda had always known.

The way Jasmine had gone home afterward and cried until sunrise.

"You came."

Narcissa's voice was quiet.

Jasmine smiled sadly.

"You invited me."

"You didn't have to come."

No.

She hadn't.

But she had loved Narcissa.

And love had made her stay.

Even when it hurt.

Especially when it hurt.

For a moment neither spoke.

Then Jasmine admitted the truth.

The old truth.

The buried truth.

"I loved you."

Narcissa closed her eyes.

A visible ache crossed her face.

"I know."

No denial.

No pretending.

Just honesty.

The sort that came years too late to change anything.

When Narcissa opened her eyes again they were shining.

"You looked beautiful."

Jasmine laughed softly.

"At my wedding?"

"At yours."

Narcissa smiled sadly.

"You looked beautiful at mine too."

The words nearly shattered something.

Because they remembered.

Both of them.

Every second.

Eventually it was time to leave.

It always was.

People had lives.

Children.

Families.

Responsibilities.

The future kept moving whether you wanted it to or not.

Narcissa turned to go.

Then paused.

Looked back.

For one impossible moment Jasmine saw the girl from Hogwarts.

The girl she had kissed beneath stars.

The girl who wanted to run away.

The girl she had loved.

Not her soulmate.

Not anymore.

But perhaps the shape of one.

The outline left behind after years.

The ghost of a possibility.

"I was glad to see you."

The words were simple.

Honest.

Narcissa smiled.

A little broken.

A little fond.

"So was I."

Then she left.

And Jasmine stood in the middle of a crowded market holding a loaf of bread she didn't remember picking up.

Harry complained about groceries.

Helena asked for sweets.

Life continued.

As it always did.

But for the first time in years Jasmine allowed herself to grieve something other than death.

Not Sirius.

Not James.

Not Lily.

Not the war.

Just a road not taken.

A future that never happened.

The shape of a soulmate.