Safe in Harbor by weird4hanson

Rating: NC17
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 07/10/2003
Last Updated: 22/10/2003
Status: Completed

Harry Potter:The-Boy-Who-Lived? Sure. Harry Potter:Quidditch Star? No problem. But Harry
Potter:Single Parent? Of an infant? By himself? Crikey! And how does Hermione Granger factor into
the whole thing? Set 8 years after Hogwarts.




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**Chapter One**


On an unusually balmy day in late September, twenty-six year old Harry Potter threw down the sheaf
of parchment he was reading and rubbed his eyes wearily. His weariness could be blamed on the
combination of the hot, sticky weather they'd been having lately and the fact that it was
almost ten o'clock that night. He'd been up since five that morning, responding to the
frantic owls that he'd gotten from various people.

Why frantic? Well, you see, a rumor had recently erupted that Harry Potter was quitting Quidditch!
Anybody familiar with Harry's story (who isn't?) knows that he's a natural at the game.
And now he's quitting?! Oh, they couldn't have that! So Harry was bombarded with messages
from Ron Weasley, his longtime best friend (*Harry, I just heard the best joke in a long while.
You're quitting Quidditch! Haha! What a joke! Right??*), Oliver Wood, his Captain at
Puddlemere United where Harry was currently Seeker (*Harry! What the bloody hell is going on?
You're quitting? Why am I hearing about this from the Daily Prophet? Owl me as soon as you get
this - and I mean yesterday!*). His other best friend, Hermione Granger, owled asking if
everything was OK and to brace himself for an infestation of owls.

Harry groaned.

Infestation was an understatement. He'd been startled awake by Hedwig's indigent squawk as
a volley of owls clamored at his kitchen window. When he opened the window, they'd all swooped
in and fought, trying to be the first to deliver their scrap of parchment. To his dismay, there
were not one, not two, but three Howlers from people he'd never heard of yelling at him for
being an ungrateful brat and what the hell kind of team player was he? And what about England being
in the running for the World Cup for the first time in four years? (Harry was Seeker for England
too). Didn't he even care?! Vol- Ah, dangit, I still can't say his name! You-Know-Who
should have finished you off!

Poor Harry had no idea what they were screaming about until he managed to open Hermione's
letter, which included a clipping of the blasted article. There was a picture of him soaring and
diving on his broom in his Puddlemere uniform, beneath a headline which boldly proclaimed:

**HARRY POTTER TO QUIT QUIDDITCH**
**The Boy-Who-Lived reportedly "tired of [this] infernal sport."**


Harry had cursed quite heartily. He'd never said anything remotely like that! Not that the
*Prophet* had ever cared for getting stuff right. Especially where he was concerned.

So he'd brewed himself some coffee and set about replying to the most important owls and the
day had gone downhill from there. So many more owls arrived that he'd taken to yelling at them
to go back where they'd come from. It worked, if he ignored the numerous cuffs the disgruntled
owls gave him as they flew back out the window. In the end, he wrote a tersely-worded letter to the
*Prophet*, denying that he was quitting Quidditch and not-so-politely suggesting that they get
their damn facts straight before they printed stuff.

'Not that that's likely to happen,' he thought bitterly as he ran a hand through his
untidy hair. All he wanted now was a long, hot shower and some dreamless sleep. With that in mind,
he got up and stumbled toward his bedroom but just as he reached it, his doorbell rang.

"What now?!" he yelled to the room and stalked toward the door. Against his better
judgement (he'd had problems with groupies), he yanked the door open and glared out into the
empty hallway. Empty? What the flippin' flip!

"Great," Harry muttered. "Now I'm getting cranksters."

He started to slam the door but something on the ground caught his eye. It was what appeared to be
a doll carrier with a black-haired doll in it. The doll was wrapped in a strangely-patterned woven
blanket in vivid reds and golds.

Harry squatted and stared in confusion at the doll, which gave a soft sigh. It took a full minute
for it to register in Harry's addled brain that dolls - magical or otherwise - do *not*
sigh.




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**Chapter Two**


Harry scrambled backward so fast he tripped and whacked his head on his front door. He only just
managed to stifle his yell, mentally cursing his clumsiness. The doll shifted and the little mouth
made sucking motions at a nipple only it could see. Harry stared in near terror.

'Who the hell left a baby at my doorstep?' he thought, looking frantically up and down the
hall as if expecting the mother to come running if he moved his head fast enough. The hallway was
deserted and it slowly dawned on him that nobody was likely to return.

"Oh, God. This is *exactly* what I need right now," he moaned, as he crept forward
and gingerly picked up the carrier. There was a lumpy, overstuffed bag covered in pink butterflies
at the baby's feet. Harry balanced the carrier in one hand, opened the door and carried the
baby across the room.

He laid the carrier on his black leather couch, and stood awkwardly looking down at it. He was at a
loss as to what to do! Finally he sat down and stared at the baby. It was a generic-looking infant,
with thick black curls and long lashes against plump cheeks that were rosy with sleep. There was a
small mole on the infant's left cheek. The nose was an almost non-existent bump and there was a
tiny pink rosebud of a mouth. The baby's skin was a shade or two darker than his own and the
tiny fists were clenched under the chin.

Harry's mind was whirling. Gone were thoughts of sleep or that shower he'd been about to
take. He had a *baby* on his hands! The thought was so ludicrous that he laughed out loud. Bad
idea. The baby jerked and the bag fell out of the carrier, causing something inside to rattle and
Harry froze. The baby was suddenly staring at him, wide-eyed and he doubted he had ever seen eyes a
more vivid green. It raised its head slightly, eyes not leaving his, then the little face scrunched
up and let out a pitiful whimper. Before he knew what was happening, the baby was screaming as if
somebody was stabbing it with white-hot needles, the little face red and the feet kicking in the
woven blanket.

Cursing his stupidity, Harry looked around his living room thinking *help, help*! There was no
one else there but Hedwig who was looking quite upset by the racket the little human was
making.

"Hedwig! What do I do? I have no idea what to do with a baby! I'm not a woman. I'm not
Hermione! She's the one who probably knows what to- Hermione!" Harry jumped up and grabbed
a quill and a piece of parchment. He squibbled a quick note and tied it to Hedwig, fumbling in his
haste.

"Hurry, Hedwig! Go as fast as you can!" He pushed Hedwig out the window, grabbed his wand
and muttered a quick silencing charm on his door. "It would never do to have people thinking
I'm a sadist as well. I can just see the headlines: UMEMPLOYED BOY-WHO-LIVED RESORTS TO CHILD
ABUSE..," he mumbled bitterly.

He threw the wand down and sat back on the couch. The baby was still demonstrating what an
excellent pair of lungs it had and Harry reached a hand out tentatively.

"Shh, shh," he said, patting the blanket. The kid ignored him, starting to hiccup in
between screams and Harry was sure it would suffocate. The thought suddenly occurred to him that he
would much rather be doing something less dangerous right about now - like maybe poking Fluffy in
the eye or attempting Kung Fu on a resurrected Voldemort.

He shook his head, gathered his courage and picked up the baby. The blanket fell away, revealing
that the baby was wearing a thick, pale yellow romper and the legs were still kicking frantically.
He put it on his shoulder and started walking slowly around the room, patting its back nervously,
murmuring soothing words. Or maybe not so soothing, because the screaming didn't let up one
iota.

"Come on, Hermione," he pleaded.

As if in answer, she was suddenly there in his living room, wearing jeans, a Puddlemere t-shirt
he'd once given her and a completely perplexed expression. Her trademark bushy hair was falling
out of the ponytail she'd hastily gathered it into. Without a word to him, she took the baby
and laid it across her shoulder.

"Shh, shh, there, there," she said juggling it and after a minute or two, amazingly,
miraculously, there was silence. The baby gave one or two half-hearted cries of distress but was
soon completely quiet - staring up at Hermione as she whispered cooing words.

"I know, Sweetie. I know," she murmured and Harry gazed at her with awe and not a little
irritation. He'd been saying the same things and, if anything, the damn kid had screamed even
louder. She carried the baby to the couch, wiped its face and started to undress it.

"Poor little thing needs a change. Hand me a clean diaper, would you?" She said,
indicating the bag on the floor and Harry hastened to do her bidding. He handed her the tiny nappy
just as Hermione cooed, "Ohh, you're a girl!" Harry sat back and watched her change
the small girl.

That done, she gathered the baby up, cradled her in her arms and rocked her gently. She began
humming softly under her breath and Harry and Hermione watched the green eyes slowly close as the
baby relaxed. She heaved a great sigh and Hermione smiled.

Harry felt quite strange watching Hermione. He'd never seen her with such an expression before.
Fifteen years of friendship had seen them in almost every situation imaginable but this was new.
Her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed with - *something* - as she held the baby. He
suddenly felt an almost overwhelming desire to kiss her and swallowed and looked away
quickly.

Now was not the time. He couldn't think about his feelings for his best friend; feelings that
had been growing steadily since their 6th year at Hogwarts. He had an abandoned baby to deal with,
and the inevitable media circus that would result once they got wind of it.

He closed his eyes and groaned mentally.

"Harry," Hermione whispered. He looked up at her. She smiled and put a finger to her
lips. "I'm gonna put her on your bed, OK?"

He nodded and watched as she carried the baby into his room. How had he never noticed just how
sensual her walk was? The way her hips swayed, the way her shapely.. Harry shook his head. *Stop
it*. She came out, closed the door and muttered a silencing charm and another he didn't
recognize.

"That's so we can hear her, even if she can't hear us," she explained and sat
down next to him. Her lovely brown eyes focused on his. "Ok. I'm dying of curiosity here.
Where did she come from?"

Harry told her and watched her expressions range from puzzlement to surprise to alarm. "Are
you sure? There was nobody out there?"

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily. "I'm sure, Hermione. Don't you
think I'd rather someone else were out there? What do I want with a baby?"

Hermione, ever the resourceful one, grabbed the carrier. "I'm sure there's some kind
of explanation. Maybe they didn't mean to put her on your doorstep. Maybe.. there must be some
kind of clue in here." She picked up the strange blanket that the baby had been wrapped in and
shook it out. "Hmm, this is interesting. This looks ethnic, somehow. Muggle ethnic. Like
Mexican or maybe North American Indian. See the pattern?" She pointed out the triangular,
circular and seven-sided stars woven into the soft cloth. Her long fingers smoothed the blanket and
again that heart-rending look crossed her face. She sighed and folded the blanket carefully then
reached into the carrier again.

"Oh, there's something else," she said, pulling out a plastic zippered bag. There
were papers inside and she turned them out onto her lap. The first thing she picked up was an
envelope. "Uh."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Well, there goes the theory that this was an accident. It..it has your name on it," she
replied somewhat shakily, handing him the plain white envelope.

His name was written in an elegant cursive that Harry thought seemed vaguely familiar. Frowning, he
opened it and took out a letter. Hermione gave him an encouraging smile, he unfolded the letter and
began to read.




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**Author's Note:** Whoa. Thanks so much to everybody who reviewed! That totally made my
day, seeing as how this is my first real fanfic. Thanks so much for the positive reviews and the
suggestions. I **did** intentionally leave the story where I left it, hehe.. Some of your
theories are hilarious! Cho? Voldemort? Hmm.. hope you guys like the rest of it! Rock on!

**Chapter Three**


*Dear Harry,*

*If you're reading this, it means you have the baby. Her name is Emerson Rosewater. And she
is your daughter.*

Harry blinked. My daughter?! My...daughter.. He squeezed his eyes shut for a minute then read
on.

*You probably haven't a clue who I am so let me remind you. We met last year at the
International Quidditch Conference in London.*

'Oh, Merlin,' Harry thought. He remembered. Oh God, did he remember. He glanced guiltily at
Hermione who was watching him curiously and dragged his eyes back to the letter.

*I am so sorry for never writing to you, but I didn't want you to think you owed me anything.
I really did enjoy your company (among other things) but I've always prided myself on my
independence and what I had started to feel for you, in so short a span of time, quite scared me.
Besides, I didn't want to force things. We agreed not to try to pursue anything after the
Conference, and I was afraid of my feelings if we tried to keep up a correspondence. I was afraid
that I would start to hope. And if that happened, I knew they would be dashed because even though
you never told me, I knew someone else had your heart. And would probably have it for a long time,
if not forever.*

*So imagine how I felt when I discovered I was pregnant. I didn't find out in the
conventional way. My cycle had always been irregular so I didn't think anything of it when I
skipped a month or two. But then during a routine checkup, about two months after I left London, my
doctor ordered extra bloodwork and it was discovered that I had non-Hodgkin's lymphoma - a form
of cancer. In the next breath, he informed me that I was also pregnant.*

*I can't begin to describe for you the range of emotions that overtook me. I don't
believe that I've ever cried more in any given timeframe. There I was, age 24, and being
confronted with my own mortality. I know people younger than me die everyday but like everybody
else, I never thought it would happen to* me*! I had to make all these decisions, mainly did I
want to keep the baby (the answer to that never wavered from a resounding 'YES'), and did I
want to start treatment immediately? I was advised that the conventional methods of cancer
treatment (Chemotherapy on the Muggle side and Hyperthermius Therapy on the wizarding side) could
harm the baby, so I would need to either wait until after the baby was born to start treatment,
abort the baby, or start treatment immediately and risk harm to the fetus. I chose the first
option.*

*I knew it was your child and that I should contact you, but you seemed so busy, all over the
place, media on your tail 24/7. It sounds so silly now, but at the time I thought it was the right
thing to do. I didn't want to bother you. Besides, my doctors informed me that non-Hodgkins is
one of the milder forms of cancer - and we caught it early. I should be able to beat it. No
worries. I know nothing has changed for you, so why have I sent Emerson to you now?*

*The short answer is - I am dying. Turns out that waiting to start treatment was the worst thing
for my body because it had to contend with both the unchecked ravages of the cancer - even a mild
one like non-Hodgkins - and sustaining a growing baby (and let me tell you, Emerson grew
vigorously! She was 7 lbs. 10 ozs. when she was born). My pregnancy was classified as high-risk,
because of my illness, but the pregnancy itself was a breeze. There were no complications, except
for a small scare during delivery.*

*My family wanted to keep her, wanted to raise her but I remembered your story. The fact that
you're the last Potter and now I was carrying your child. It was a no-brainer. She belongs with
you. Even if I were not in the state I'm in, I would have wanted you to have as much access to
her as possible, as is your prerogative. You have the right to decide what you want to do, whether
or not you want to raise her or leave her with my family.*

*Your daughter is perfectly healthy, beautiful and thriving. I am delighted that she got your
eyes! It was your eyes, afterall, that were my undoing. Do you remember when we were trying to
decide if we wanted to take the next step? Well, I was seriously considering saying 'no',
even though I wanted you more than I had ever wanted anybody in my life. You were so damn sexy,
Harry Potter! But there were just too many things that could go wrong there. And then I looked into
your eyes, and something in their emerald depths chased away all my reservations, all my fears. And
you know what? I don't regret it one bit. The memories of that weekend we shared helped sustain
me through the past difficult months, through the sleepless nights when Emerson wouldn't stop
turning somersaults, through the times when I was in so much pain I could barely stand to breathe.
Because what we shared was wonderful, albeit brief, and it gave me my daughter. Our
daughter.*

*Please, Harry, take care of her for me. I know you'll make the right decision. All I ask is
that you send a letter to my parents - maybe a couple times a year and let them know how she is
doing. I have enclosed a letter for her; please give it to her when you feel the time is right. I
love her so much, and I don't regret for a minute the choice I made. My only regret is that I
will miss seeing her grow.*

*Her name is Emerson after my favorite poet, Ralph Waldo Emerson and her Cherokee name is
Rosewater. All her necessary papers are enclosed.*

*God bless you, Harry. May the Great Spirits watch over you, and my little darling. I know I will
be, when I am gone.*

*With love, always,*
*Julia Crying Wind Thomas*


*********

Harry lowered the letter slowly and stared at it in shock. Julia was dying, perhaps dead?
Beautiful, exotic, vibrant Julia? It seemed impossible, somehow. It seemed unnatural for somebody
that lovely, that graceful, that *young* to be dying. She was younger than him, for God's
sake! It was a mark of how abnormal his life had been that he knew numerous people his age (and
younger) who had died. But however horrible those deaths were (and he still had nightmares
recalling Cedric Diggory, Seamus Finnigan, Cho Chang and the others who had fallen), their deaths
had at least been quick. No less tragic, but none of them had really suffered. But Julia, from the
sound of it, was slowly wasting away. Painfully.

And the baby. Emerson... Harry's heart constricted within him and he swallowed the sudden lump
in his throat.

"Harry." He jumped. He'd forgotten Hermione was there.

"She's my daughter," he managed to croak and registered Hermione's audible gasp.
Wordlessly, he handed her the letter.

Harry was in shock. He was a father! The baby sleeping in his bed right now, who had almost
deafened him earlier was his daughter. That's why she had those eyes. He'd noticed as soon
as she opened them. Funny, he'd thought to himself that he'd never seen eyes that color
before when he actually saw eyes like that daily - in his own skull. *Oh, God*. What was he
going to do? He had Quidditch, he had to travel all over the place. He kept weird hours. How was he
going to fit a baby in? How was he going to care for her? What was he going to *do*?

Hermione sniffled and he looked up at her.

"Oh, Harry!" And suddenly she was in his arms and he was crying too. Crying for his own
fear, confusion and regret. Crying for beautiful, vibrant Julia, who was no more. And crying for
poor, motherless Emerson.




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**Disclaimer:** Same old, same old.. Harry Potter and his world is not mine; I'm just
playing in it. If there's somebody mentioned that you don't recognize from canon then
it's mine. Cheers!

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everybody who reviewed! I'm glad y'all like the story
so far. You guys truly make me want to churn out the lines even faster and do better. And actually,
I do believe that "Emerson" is a girl's name. I just didn't want to name her the
everlasting "Lily". Almost every story in which Harry has a daughter has her named Lily.
Just trying to be different :) Anyway, onward..

**Chapter Four**


Harry and Hermione sat at his kitchen table more than an hour later, Julia's letter and the
other papers spread out between them. Hermione was still emotional, occassionally dabbing at her
eyes but Harry had kind of settled into an uneasy acceptance. He had had upheaval and upsurges in
his life so often that he had more or less come to expect such things. Not that one expects to be
stashed with a baby without a mother but it wasn't any more unlikely than an evil wizard out to
murder you on any given day. At least he didn't have to worry about Voldemort anymore. Harry,
with the help of the Order, had finally vanquished that scourge of the earth once and for all in
Harry's last year at Hogwarts.

"Here's the letter for Emerson," Hermione choked out, handing him an identical white
envelope with Emerson's name in Julia's elegant crusive. That was Julia in a word: elegant.
Harry shook his head, not wanting to think about her right now. He would need to make some
objective decisions without being too clouded by emotions.

He put Emerson's letter aside and picked up her birth certificate. She had been born on June 21
in Dallas, Texas, weighing in at 7lbs. 10 ozs. and was 21 inches long. Black hair. Slate blue eyes
that were now already her father's emerald green.

"She's only three months old," Harry said, almost to himself. "What am I going
to do, Hermione? I don't know the first thing about caring for babies."

She reached across the table and took his hand. "Don't worry. You have all of us, of
course. And Molly has raised 7 kids. She's a storehouse of knowledge and experience if ever
there was one. And I can always camp out at the library," she added, with a small smile.

Harry smiled back, staring into her eyes. "I'm so glad you're here. I was absolutely
terrified earlier. I thought she was gonna suffocate with all that screaming; she was barely
drawing breath."

"You should probably get used to it," she said, stifling a yawn. "But babies are
really demanding. If you think Quidditch is brutal, wait till you're by yourself with Emerson.
Not to scare you or anything."

"Oh, hell. I'm already scared. Voldemort had nothing on this."

Hermione was quiet for a long time, as she shifted through the papers. "Do you like her
name?" she asked suddenly.

Harry looked at her. He got the feeling that that wasn't what she really wanted to ask, but
decided to let it go. " 'Emerson'. Yeah, it suits her somehow. I mean, I doubt I would
ever have thought to name her that if I'd had the choice. But it's the least I can do to
honor her mother." He grinned wryly. "At least, it should make for interesting
conversation when she's older. Imagine explaining 'Rosewater'. I'm gonna have to
learn about the Cherokee so I can tell her about her name." Harry didn't even notice that
he was thinking and talking as if the decision to keep Emerson had already been made.

"Or you could have her grandparents explain it. If you keep in touch with them like Julia
asked," Hermione reminded him.

He nodded. "I intend to. It's the least I can do. Actually, if I remember correctly only
Julia's mother is Cherokee. Her father is Jamaican or something."

"So Emerson is a quarter Cherokee, a quarter Jamaican and half British? She's a virtual
globe all by herself," Hermione quipped.

As if to remind them just what else she was, there was a sudden plaintive wail from the direction
of Harry's room. Harry and Hermione both jumped up but Hermione put a hand on his arm.
"I'll get her. See if you can find a bottle in there."

"A what?" Harry asked blankly, but she was already striding away purposefully and after a
brief moment of panic, Harry took to rooting through the baby's bag. "A bottle. A
bottle," he muttered as he shifted little jumpers and onesies, clean diapers, the rattle that
had set off the earlier screamfest, wipes. There were a few bottles and he held them up one by one.
Shampoo. Lotion. Baby Oil. Baby Powder. Somehow, he didn't think those were what Hermione
meant.

Emerson's wails were getting closer. "Did you find one? Poor little thing is probably
starving."

"Er, no.." Harry muttered, feeling distinctly useless.

Hermione frowned. "They must be in there somewhere." She turned the bag around, checking
the sides and sure enough, there was a tell-tale bulge where there were at least a half dozen
bottles, kept magically at the perfect temperature. Harry pulled one out and held it out to her,
looking sheepish.

"Sit down," she told him, ignoring the bottle.

He sat, puzzled but his expression quickly changed to near terror when she placed Emerson in his
arms. The baby was still crying, obviously upset that they hadn't yet satisfied her whim. Harry
looked from her to Hermione, who after a moment grabbed the bottle impatiently.

"Oh, Harry! Here, hold her like this." She adjusted Emerson so Harry was cradling her
across his arm. Emerson turned her head and nuzzled his armpit and Hermione's face softened.
"She's looking for the nipple," she said softly. "Just rub it on her lips so she
knows where it is."

Harry took the bottle and nervously did as told and to his surprise Emerson turned her head and
immediately latched on. She began sucking as if she had never eaten before and Harry watched in
awe, feeling his heart swelling. With a jolt, he realized that he finally had what he'd always
wanted: a family. Specifically, somebody directly related to him who didn't cringe at the sight
of him. As such, the Dursleys didn't count. He hadn't been in touch with them in
years.

But here in his arms was a tiny human being, his flesh and blood. Her eyes were closed, the little
forehead creased as if what she was doing required the utmost concentration. He was suddenly
overcome by a wave of emotion and he blinked rapidly so as not to burst out bawling. Emerson
probably wouldn't like that. Was giving her up even an option?

Finally, Emerson let go of the nipple and smacked her lips. Harry laughed softly. "You liked
that, didn't you?" He wiped a dribble of milk off the corner of her mouth.

"Now put her on your shoulder and pat her back, like this," Hermione instructed, taking
the almost empty bottle. Harry did as told, breathing in the wonderful baby smell from her hair and
feeling such a rush of love as he'd never experienced bef-

"What the..!" he exclaimed as something warm and wet dribbled down his neck.

Hermione laughed. "It's just spit-up," she giggled at Harry, who held Emerson away
from him. Emerson frowned at him as he handed her over to Hermione, who grinned at his antics as he
pulled his shirt off and wiped the white goo off his neck.

"Why didn't you tell me to expect that?" he demanded.

She rolled her eyes. "That's the purpose of patting her back, Harry. So she can burp and
sometimes stuff comes up when she does."

"And of course I'm the quintessential expert on babies so I knew that," Harry
retorted sarcastically.

Hermione ignored him. "Your Daddy is very silly," she was whispering to Emerson who
blinked as if in agreement then gave the sweetest yawn. Harry dropped the shirt and sat down on the
couch again and gingerly took his daughter. He was still nervous handling her but not as much as
before. Her big, green eyes regarded him sleepily and he reached out a finger to smooth the black
curls off her forehead.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" he murmured as he started rocking her, aware of
Hermione's warmth beside him. He turned to look at her and found himself unable to look away
until Emerson gave an odd grunt.

Hermione jumped up, looking strangely flustered. "I should probably go, but first let me show
you how to change her. She'll probably be up a couple times tonight, whether for feeding or
changing."

Harry gulped. *A couple times?*

"Put her down here and undress her."

Harry did, handling the little limbs tenderly noting how small and fragile they appeared in his
Quidditch-roughened hands. The baby waved her arms sleepily, but was otherwise still. After a few
minutes of fumbling, he finally managed to get the diaper off and tried gamely to follow
Hermione's increasingly amused instructions for putting a clean diaper on.

"Well maybe if you stopped laughing at me, I'd get it right," Harry grumbled as the
diaper fell apart for the second time.

Hermione was almost crying with mirth. "Oh, Harry. You're hopeless. You have to pull it
tighter! She won't break."

"Easy for you to say! You don't have huge, baby-crushing hands. There. That should
hold." He picked up the now-sleeping Emerson and the diaper promptly slid off. Hermione might
have kept herself under control if Emerson hadn't decided at that moment to let loose a warm
stream. Even Harry couldn't help laughing. ("Bet she was just waiting to do that, the
little witch!").

A quick drying charm got rid of the pee, Harry finally put together a functional diaper, some
clever Transfiguration turned the carrier into a bassinet ("You realize we're gonna have
to go shopping, don't you?") and Emerson was down for the night. Or a few hours, at
least.

Harry yawned hugely and grimaced as he stretched. He pulled Hermione into a hug, loving the feel of
her hands on his bare back, burying his nose into her hair. He pulled away reluctantly. "Ah,
Hermione, I'm completely knackered."

She gave a worried smile. "Are you sure you'll be ok? I'll be over tomorrow, first
thing."

He raised his eyebrows. "What about Evan?"

She rolled her eyes. "His name is *Ian*. And he'll be fine. Good night, Harry."
A quick peck on the cheek and she was gone.

"Evan. Ian. Same bloody difference." Harry hated Hermione's boyfriend. But then
again, he'd hated all her boyfriends - not that she'd had many. It had taken him awhile to
figure out why, which did nothing to make things any easier.

The desired shower long forgotten, Harry collapsed on his bed and surrendered to sleep. Just before
he drifted off, however, a question suddenly flared in his brain: If Julia was on her deathbed, who
had delivered Emerson to his doorstep?




5. untitled
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**Disclaimer:** Same as before.

**Author's Note:** A Shout-out to everyone who reviewed! Thanks so much! Please keep doing
that - it motivates me like you wouldn't believe :) And onward!

**Chapter Five**


Morning found a bleary-eyed Harry Potter hastening to the side of a wildly screaming infant. All
sleepiness vanished, however, as soon as he caught a whiff of Emerson's diaper.

"Uh, what the hell," he groaned as he carried the baby to the bathroom. Not knowing what
to do, he placed a towel on the floor and lay Emerson on it. She did *not* like that, and
Harry gripped his hair and stared at the angry, red face before stumbling back to his room and
grabbing her bag.

He thought desperately of owling Hermione then decided against it. Was he or wasn't he a
Gryffindor?

'Besides, she was here till late last night; she deserves some rest. And if I don't learn
to do this now, I never will,' he thought as he listened to the baby's yells. Taking a deep
breath, he set to undressing his unhappy daughter.

"Come now, Em. It's not that bad," he murmured as he opened her diaper. "Yowza!
I take that back! It *is* that bad! What the hell have you been eating? Smells worse than
Snape's worst potion. Gah!" He quickly wrapped the smelly diaper and banished it to the
wastebasket.

Emerson seemed to have calmed down somewhat, hiccuping slightly now, and Harry figured he'd be
upset too if he had to lay about in nasty stuff like that. "You are only human after all,
huh?" he said as he gently brushed her hair from her forehead.

Leaving her on the floor, he started the water running in his tub to give her a bath, aware of that
now familiar feeling of panic rising in his throat. Was it only yesterday he got her? What if he
dropped her? What if he made the water too hot? Dammit, why couldn't he just wave his wand and
make her clean?

"Why, indeed," he said aloud, jumping up and grabbing his wand. "Only one way to
find out." A quick *Scourgify* and she was fresh as the driven snow again and needless to
say, Harry was quite pleased with himself.

Another *Scourgify* and some quick swishing and flicking and the bassinet was a carrier again.
He dressed her, fed and burped her (with a towel on his shoulder, thank you very much), then he set
the carrier in the middle of his bed. All this was accomplished with much fumbling and
exaggeratedly slow movements. Except for the swishing and flicking, of course.

He grabbed an ultra-quick shower, dressed and carried her into the living room. After making
himself a cup of coffee, he sat down beside her and father and daughter stared at each other.

"What are you thinking, little girl? Are you wondering who I am? Where your Mummy
is?"

Emerson waved her arms and made a soft cooing sound. Harry grinned. "You're trying to talk
to me, aren't you? Aren't you?"

She smiled and Harry's heart melted. He picked her up tenderly and kissed her small forehead.
"Emerson. I'm your father. Harry Potter. So you're Emerson Potter. Emerson
*Rosewater* Potter. That sounds funny, doesn't it?"

The baby gurgled and touched his cheek with one tiny hand and Harry knew in that moment that he
could conjure the world's best Patronus. *My daughter. My... daughter...*

"You have your mother's smile," he told her. "In fact, I do believe you look
exactly like Julia except for your eyes. Those are mine. I wonder how Julia is. I wonder if
she's already... gone."

His heart suddenly heavy, he put Emerson down and picked up the packet of papers. On the baby's
birth certificate, he noted that the "Father's Name" was blank. How will he get his
name put on it?

There was a 'pop' behind him and he turned to see a strangely fresh-faced Hermione heading
straight for Emerson. "That's right. Ignore your best friend of the last 15 years.
Typical. The elders get no respect," Harry muttered in mock bitterness.

Hermione laughed which in turn made Emerson smile sleepily and coo.

'Great Scott, she's beautiful,' Harry thought, staring at his best friend. 'Why did
it take me so long to notice? How could I had even looked at other women when she was right there
under my nose? Right there beside me?'

She was murmuring nonsense words to Emerson when she looked up suddenly and caught his eye. A
strange expression flitted across her face and she looked away quickly, a faint blush evident on
her cheeks. For some reason, Harry found himself blushing as well and he jumped up and pretended to
refill his mug. 'Don't weird her out, you idiot!' he silently berated himself. 'She
has a boyfriend. She doesn't feel that way about you.'

"So you weren't kidding when you said she'd be up a couple times," he told
Hermione, trying to dispel the awkward atmosphere. "She was up twice last night! The first
time she had to cry for a while before I remembered that I *did* have a baby in my room and
wasn't just imagining the sound. She was not happy about that, let me tell you." He ran
his hands over his face as if washing without water.

"Shh," Hermione whispered, and they watched Emerson fall asleep. Harry picked her up and
laid her on his bed with a kiss on each plump cheek.

Once the door was safely shut and the appropriate charms put up, Harry turned to Hermione.
"What do I do now?"

She looked at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "Have you eaten?"

He shook his head.

"Well, let's make some breakfast, then we can talk."


**************

Hermione watched Harry wolf down his bacon and eggs and smiled inwardly. There were times when she
caught glimpses of the boy he had once been, and they usually emerged at completely mundane
moments. Afterall, how many times had she groaned at his and Ron's table manners in the Great
Hall at Hogwarts? There was nothing special about seeing Harry eat; she had observed that so many
times, yet she never could stop watching him. There was that way he had of softly closing his eyes
as he savored a particularly tasty morsel. And he had an oddly endearing habit of shaking his fork
after every bite, as if to dislodge something on it. She's pointed it out to him once and
he'd been adorably perplexed. He didn't know he was doing it and so couldn't
stop.

It took her a moment to realize that Harry had stopped eating and was staring back at her. She
mentally cursed her fair skin and hastily pretended to be busy cutting her kippers. After a
sufficiently long moment, she looked up again. He was still staring at her, something he'd been
doing a lot lately.

'You're one to talk,' a small voice retorted in back of her head. 'He's
probably staring wondering why *you're* staring at him.' Mainly to shut up her
traitorous thoughts, Hermione blurted "So are you going to keep her?"

Harry blinked. "Keep.. wha- oh, Emerson. Yeah, I'm going to. I have to, don't
I?"

"No, you don't," she found herself saying. "Julia's family could take
her."

Harry frowned. "You don't want me to keep her? She's my daughter,
Hermione."

"Yes she is, but you don't have to keep her if you don't want to." Hermione
looked up at Harry who was looking at her like he had never seen her before.

When he spoke, his voice had gone cold. "I thought you of all people would understand what
this baby means to me. I've always wanted a family, you *know* that, and this might not
have been my first choice for going about it, but there you go. She's my daughter and I love
her. I want her and I'm going to keep her because even though I've had her for less than a
day, I can't bear the thought of my life without her. Now that I know her, I can't just-
what?"

Because Hermione was smiling. She reached across the table and took his hand. "Oh, Harry.
That's all I wanted you to say. That you want to keep Emerson because you love her, not because
you have to."

Harry mouthed like a fish before grinning sheepishly. "It sounded that bad?"

She nodded. "It did."

"I love her, Hermione. This morning when she smiled at me for the first time, this beautiful,
tiny, little creature - I felt like I had seen God or something. Like I would do anything to make
her smile again." His voice was filled with wonder and Hermione squeezed the hand she was
still holding. She was happy for him, she really was, yet a small part of her was envious - was
wishing that she, Hermione, was the 'she' Harry was talking about.

Hermione remembered the sense of complete panic she'd experienced when she got Harry's note
the night before. Her fertile imagination went into overdrive, imagining all kinds of horrible
reasons why he needed her over here urgently. When one has gone to hell and back with someone and
survived that hell, you're not only a survivor but you're a scarred survivor. And as such,
you have to deal with the psychological ramifications of surviving. The guilt, the nightmares, the
paranoia. So she hightailed it to Harry's flat with her heart in her throat, mentally preparing
herself for the worst.

Suffice it to say, even her hyperactive imagination hadn't envisioned the sight of a terrified
Harry Potter trying to comfort a hysterical baby. Once she got over her shock, the memories of
summers spent babysitting various bratty kids flew to mind and she knew what to do. She got the
baby calmed down then set about changing Harry's child. Because of course she knew. One look
into those green eyes was all it took and she knew. You don't spend 15 years admiring
someone's irises without recognizing others exactly like them.

It soon became obvious that Harry was being his usual oblivious self, though, so Hermione tried to
pretend that she hadn't recognized Emerson as his daughter. And admittedly, a small part of her
was hoping she'd been mistaken. She hoped (secretly, of course) that any children of
Harry's would be hers too.

As luck would have it, she wasn't mistaken and she was dying of curiosity to know how Emerson
came about. But Julia's letter came as a shock and having lost her own mother to breast cancer,
Hermione was overwhelmed. At least she'd had 22 years with her mother before she lost her. Poor
little Emerson wasn't even six months old and was already motherless. Julia had literally given
her life to give Emerson life. She felt a strange kinship with the other woman. It was obvious to
her, from the letter, that Julia had loved Harry and Hermione understood that completely. She loved
Harry too, though she would never have a chance with him.

Harry refilled their mugs, banished the dishes to the sink and they sat across from each other
again. He pulled out the birth certificate. "I noticed my name isn't on this. I'll
have to figure out how to go about getting her down as mine."

Seeing an escape from her melancholy thoughts, Hermione perked up. "Well, I was looking up
some things last night and-"

"Hermione, did you sleep at all last night?" Harry interrupted, gaping at her.

She waved her hand dismissively. "Of course I did. But listen, since she was born in America
I'm not sure what the laws are for getting your name on the certificate after the fact.
Besides, that's her Muggle certificate. For her to be recognized as your daughter in our world,
you have to take her to the Ministry of Magic and do the test." She said all that very
fast.

"What test?" he asked, looking aghast.

"The *Patrius* Charm Test to determine that she really is your daughter. They just say
the charm over the both of you and it determines how the two of you are related, if you are. Of
course if you were just adopting her, that would be a whole other procedure."

Harry groaned. "I'm definitely not looking forward to the press finding out. Take her to
the MoM? I might as well put out a front page announcement in the *Daily Prophet*. Can't
we just camp out here until Emerson's ready for Hogwarts?"

*Don't tempt me*. Hermione hid a smile. "Don't be silly," she said briskly.
"What're you going to do about Quidditch?"

"Shit! Quidditch. I need to get in touch with Oliver. I'll have to quit for a while. And
only yesterday I denied that I was going to. Dammit."

"You don't have to," Hermione said for the second time that morning and once again
Harry looked at her like she had suddenly sprouted another nose.

"What? Of course I have to! I need to take care of Emerson. Remember Emerson?"

She took a deep breath and made her pitch. "I can stay home and take care of her."

Harry's eyes bulged behind his spectacles. "Hermione, are you feeling quite alright?
Because I think you might be going senile. Stay.. what.. what about your job?!"

Hermione was the assistant to the Chief Researcher at St. Mungo's. Her job was strenuous and
demanding but to everyone, she seemed to thrive on the busy schedule. Lately, they had been making
well-publicized progress on a cure for Prolonged Cruciatus Curse victims. They'd been working
non-stop for the better part of three years, and a breakthrough was said to be imminent.

She was definitely excited about that, finally seeing some fruit from all those labors but she had
a secret. Everybody thought Hermione Granger was on top of her game. She had a great, exciting job
with numerous opportunities for advancement. She had many friends - chief among them the great
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. She had a more or less successful love life, having been involved
with her current beau, Ian Boynehill, for almost a year.

But what people didn't know - not even her very best friends - was that Dr. Hermione Granger,
top of her class at Hogwarts and again at Excalibur Wizarding and Oxford Universities, was fast
approaching burn-out. She was tired of her job, tired of the endless disappointment, the constant
60+ hour weeks. She was tired of dating men half-heartedly when she knew none of the relationships
would ever go anywhere. She entered all of them with a piece of herself held back - the piece that
was stubbornly in love with her best friend. Hermione had tried fruitlessly to let go of these
feelings for Harry Potter because she knew he didn't feel the same way and she was terrified of
damaging their friendship unnecessarily.

She knew most people thought she was a relentless and ambitious career woman, intent on reaching
the top without a thought or care for family or children. *Au contraire*. Lately she'd
been having dreams of little bushy haired children, all with startling green eyes. And what do you
know, but here was a little child - minus the bushy hair, sure - with the green eyes, belonging to
the man she loved and she wanted a chance to soothe that ache within. She hadn't even had to
think very long before she'd convinced herself. She was 26 years old, for godsakes. Harry
needed her help. And it didn't hurt that Emerson was the most precious baby she had ever laid
eyes on...

But Harry was still talking. "I can't let you do that, Hermione. You've worked too
hard to stop now. What about Dr. Garg? I doubt he'd be in any great hurry to let you just stop
now. I thought you guys were close to a breakthrough?"

"It'd only be for a little while, until you got something worked out. I have vacation time
stored up, anyway," she muttered, not meeting his eyes.

Harry snorted. "Some vacation! Getting your eardrums imploded and cleaning poopy diapers.
I'm telling you, Hermione, judging from the smell they could use that stuff to make a nuclear
bomb."

They laughed companionably, Harry shaking his head. She sobered first and looked up into his eyes.
"Just think about it, Harry? Please?"

He looked at her oddly but only swallowed and nodded. "I'll think about it. But in the
meantime, I'm going to take some time off. I need to take her to the Ministry to do that test
you mentioned. I need to learn her schedule and get to know her, right? Then there's shopping
and I should probably read a couple books so I at least have some idea of what's going
on."

"And talk to Molly," Hermione added.

Harry groaned again. "And Ron. How am I going to tell them?"

She smiled sympathetically before shifting through the papers again. A flash of color caught her
eye and she fished out a photograph. It was a Muggle snapshot of a lovely young woman with long,
wavy dark hair. She was wearing a sleek maroon gown and holding a wine glass, smiling sensually
into the camera. You got the impression that this was a woman that made men do double takes and
women feel insecure simply by being in the same room with her. Hermione felt a pang of jealousy.
She didn't consider herself ugly, not by any means, but she was certainly nowhere as stunning
as this woman in the picture. *I haven't a hope in heaven of being with him - not when he can
get women who look like this.*

"What's that?" Harry asked, indicating the picture.

She held it up. "Is this Julia?"

He took the picture, stared at it for a long moment before he nodded. "She was so
beautiful," he said softly, almost to himself. "Emerson looks just like her, doesn't
she - except for the eyes."

Before she could stop herself, Hermione blurted out "Tell me about her."

To her surprise, Harry grinned. "I wondered how long it would take you to ask that
question."

Hermione blushed.

"It's ok. I want to talk about her. I *need* to talk about her." He blew out a
deep breath and stared at the picture he still held, seemingly lost in thought. Hermione leaned
back in her chair and waited for him to begin.

He did.




6. Chapter 6
------------

**A/N:** Thanks soooo much for all the lovely reviews! This is the chapter in which we meet
Julia Thomas and hear her story. This is the longest single chapter because I wanted to keep it
confined to this one chapter and it spans five days. After this, it's back to Harry, Hermione
and Emerson goodness. Rock on and don't forget to review!
**
Chapter Six**

*September 21, a year earlier*


"Why'd you have to drag me to this, Oliver?" Harry Potter whined as he followed the
neat brown head of his Quidditch Captain through the crowded hotel lobby. It was early afternoon in
cold, wet September and Harry had been cajoled, coerced and mildly bribed into attending the 48th
Annual International Quidditch Conference at the ultra-modern and posh Pegasus Hotel off Diagon
Alley.

To say he didn't want to be there would be a gross understatement. Harry Potter hated crowds,
always had, a drawback to his days as the Boy-Who-Lived and eventually
The-Boy-Who-Kicked-Voldemort's-Arse. Even a Quidditch crowd made him slightly uneasy, unless he
was actually in the game and thus somewhat separate from it all.

Oliver Wood thought attending the Conference to be an excellent idea, of course. "Think of all
the strategies, gameplans, new manuveurs we could pick up!" he told Harry, gesturing almost
maniacally. Which was all good and well, but why did *Harry* have to be here? Oliver could
have taken anyone else or even come alone.

'It's not like he wouldn't tell me about it anyway,' Harry thought irritably.

"Trust me, you'll be thanking me by the end of this," Oliver was saying as they
elbowed their way to the lifts. The golden grille gates of the lifts reminded Harry of the ones at
the Ministry of Magic but these were more intricately decorated with the wings of, presumably,
Pegasus folded over as handles. It was all quite opulent, but tastefully so. The air inside was
kept magically at the perfect temperature so even though there was a teeming mass in the lobby, it
never got uncomfortably warm. Uniformed bellboys *Leviated* trunks and other luggage to their
respective rooms with merely a touch of their wands.

Harry was too miserable to really take anything in, though. They managed to squeeze into a lift and
Oliver pressed the button for the 48th floor. "48th Conference. 48th floor. Get it?" he
grinned and Harry rolled his eyes and tried to inconspicuously flatten his bangs over his scar. The
people in the lift chattered in French, Italian and variously-accented English and all bore the
animated anticipatory expressions of Quidditch freaks.

Much like Oliver.

Harry sighed. It was going to be a long five days.


*************
*September 22*


"...and as a result of that, the Hawkshead Attacking Formation is the number one and most
effective option for such a situation. Thank you," concluded the tiny Japanese presenter, to
the polite applause of his audience.

It was the first full day of the Conference and Harry was already counting the days till he could
go home. Already, he'd shaken so many enthusiastic hands that it'd be a wonder if he ever
regained feeling in his fingers. The Japanese presenter, Yuichiro Hashimoto, in particular had
almost crushed Harry's digits in his excitement, his small stature apparently a deceptive
indicator of his strength.

Leaving Oliver, who was caught up in an animated conversation with an Italian captain, Harry made a
beeline for the hotel's elegant dining room - intending to bury his woes in a nice bowl of
pasta. Hermione had highly recommended he try the Pegasus' pasta. Apparently, her new boyfriend
Evan Something-or-other had taken her here for her birthday a few days ago.

Thankfully, the dining room was only just filling up and Harry quickly dished himself some aromatic
pasta puttanesca. He reached for the bowl of Parmesan cheese and his hand collided with another
that was reaching for the same bowl.

"Uh, sorry," he muttered, not looking up. "You go first."

"Thanks." It was a woman's voice and as she shifted closer to grab some cheese, the
most delicious smell - quite separate from the odors of garlic, tomato and basil that streamed from
his pasta - wafted from her hair. It smelled tropical, like mangoes or kumquats or both. Harry
found himself inhaling and admiring the shiny, long, black locks that flowed down her back and
before he realized it, he had reached out and touched her hair. A split second later, he drew his
hand back as if burned, blushing furiously.

"I- I'm sorry," he stammered, mortified.

The woman looked up at him and smiled. "It's quite alright."

And Harry found himself staring. One of the most beautiful women he had ever seen was smiling at
him while he gaped like an imbecile. Her lovely, fragrant hair framed her equally lovely face. She
had a long neck, with a small mole at her throat, a graceful jawline, full, red lips, high
cheekbones and wide-set, dark eyes. Her finely chiseled features were combined in elegant harmony,
coupled with long lashes, arching eyebrows and a slightly upturned nose.

"I'm Crying Wind," she said, her smile exposing perfect, white teeth.

"Uh, what?" Harry shook his head, aware of his face burning.

"My name. Crying Wind. What's yours?"

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"Nice to meet you, Harry." She smiled at him again and turned to leave.

Harry stared after her, watching the way her light blue robes swirled about her hips as she walked
away. *She was walking away! She was*- "Wait!"

She looked back at him quizzically. Harry hurried forward, the Parmesan cheese long forgotten.
"Do you want to get a table?" *Real smooth, Potter. Shut up.*

To his relief, she only smiled and Harry felt his heart rate speed up. He followed her to a table
set back from the others near the wide, bay windows overlooking a lush garden and sat down across
from her.

"Ok, let's start over. I'm Harry Potter," he said, grinning nervously.

She laughed softly. "That was pretty 'middle school', wasn't it? I'm Crying
Wind." She reached her hand across the table and he shook it.

"Nice to meet you, Crying Wind. Your name's unusual," he said, still holding her
hand.

"Yeah, it's American Indian. You can call me 'Julia' if you'd like. It's
my English name, I guess you could say." She looked pointedly at where their hands were still
joined and Harry dropped it, looking sheepish.

"I hope you don't think I'm some kind of weirdo. I didn't mean to touch your hair;
don't know what came over me," he finished lamely.

"It was quite flattering, actually. And your eyes are lovely, by the way." She
grinned.

Harry swallowed his mouthful of pasta. "Thanks. So are yours."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Harry could barely keep his eyes of her. "So,
you're American?"

She nodded. "I came with the Contingent. That's the League we belong to over
there."

"Where in America?"

"Dallas, Texas. I'm with the Dallas Diricawls. What team are you with?" She took a
bite of her chicken.

"Puddlemere United. I play Seeker. Do you play?"

She grinned. "Chaser. Or I used to be. Lately, I'm more into strategizing. I still like to
fly, but not competitively anymore unless it's just a pick-up game. Or for fun."

"Why not?"

"I dunno. It's just kinda intriguing, planning, ya know? Making game plans, and then
seeing them actually unfold on the field. It's satisfying in a different way than scoring a
goal. You feel more a part of the whole - like you're involved in every aspect of the game, not
just the position you play in." Her dark eyes were flashing with excitement, and as she waved
her fork around a speck of tomato sauce landed on Harry's cheek. "Oops. Sorry," she
laughed, and reached across and wiped his cheek with her napkin. Harry's skin tingled where she
had touched it and again his heart rate sped up.

They spent the rest of lunch laughing as they compared Quidditch stories and Harry found himself
quite intrigued by her. She came across as warm, intelligent and completely down-to-earth. In his
experience as a celebrity, Harry had encountered countless beautiful women, and the one thing they
all had in common - other than their beauty - was their incredible lack of depth. Their shallowness
was sometimes astounding. They looked down on people who they perceived to be less wealthy, less
'Pureblood', less beautiful, less whatever and Harry was always uncomfortable in their
presence (though that hadn't stopped him from bedding a few. Hey, he's a healthy young
male!) because he knew they were only paying him attention because of his scar and/or Quidditch
status. He had learned to be wary of beautiful women.

But Julia seemed to have a "Who cares?" attitude to her beauty. She seemed unaware of the
effect her attractiveness had on people around her. And she had not commented once on who he was
which, to Harry, was undeniably refreshing.

"Whoops," she said after glancing at her watch. "I gotta run. There's a seminar
about incorporating Muggle fitness techniques into Quidditch that I want - or rather have - to
attend." She stood and tossed her hair out of her face. "It was so nice to talk to you,
Harry. I can't believe how the hour has flown."

"Maybe we could do it again?" he surprised himself by suggesting.

She gave that beautiful smile again. "Sure thing. How about dinner? You could bring - what was
his name - Oliver?"

*No, I don't want to bring Oliver!* "Um, sure." Harry stood up and reached out
to shake her hand again but she batted it away playfully and gave him a hug instead. She walked
away after throwing him a wink and Harry watched her go, feeling unbelievably light of being.


*************

He had dinner with Julia and Oliver that night and was more than a little irritated more than
once.

Oliver went on and on about Quidditch and while Julia made a few attempts to steer the conversation
to other topics she soon gave up, smiling apologetically at Harry, who shrugged and rolled his
eyes. Now, Harry was as devoted a Quidditch fan as any and the #1 Seeker in his League but he
wanted to get to know that woman across from him with the laughing dark eyes and he was sure there
was more to her than Quidditch, dammit!

Finally, some boisterous friends of Julia's came over to their table and after introductions,
Oliver took off with them. Harry and Julia begged off the excursion and instead refilled their
wineglasses and went for a walk in the garden.

"It's beautiful here," she said, looking around at the dense foliage of shrub and
flower. The air was pleasant with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and there were other couples
strolling the garden in spite of the chill.

*Not as beautiful as you.* "Yeah, it is. Let's sit here." He led her to a bench
that was kept magically warm, which felt good against the chilly air. They sat in companionable
silence for a while, sipping their wine.

"There's Sirius," Julia said suddenly, looking up.

Harry started and choked and she reached around to pound his back. "You alright?"

He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," she said, looking concerned.

"It's alright, really. It's just you said 'Sirius'. I had a godfather named
Sirius," he explained, not looking at her.

"Oh. Sirius? That's not a very common name, is it?" She seemed to be thinking hard.
Then- "Sirius Black?"

Harry looked at her. "Yeah. He was my godfather."

"I'm sorry, Harry." She touched his arm and Harry nodded then shrugged, feeling
silly. "It was a long time ago," he muttered.

"No matter. You never forget those you love, whether it's been a month or 30 years. They
are always with us for as long as we remember them." She was quiet for a moment. "Tell me
about him."

And Harry found himself talking about Sirius, telling her of his parents and their friends. And of
Ron and Hermione and Hogwarts. The words were just flowing out of him and he was suddenly
frightened.

"Who are you?" he asked her. He was being continuously amazed by how open and honest he
was being. For instance, Ron and Hermione were the only people to whom he had spoken to about
Sirius, to any great length. And now here he was spilling his heart to a woman he'd only known
a few hours!

She was quiet for a long time and Harry thought maybe she hadn't heard him. But then she began
to talk. "I am Julia 'Crying Wind' Thomas. Age almost 24. My birthday is this
Saturday. Part Cherokee, Part Jamaican. American. Music and poetry buff. Dancer. Quidditch
strategist. Bookworm. Procrastinator Extraordinaire. Oreo Addict. Should I go on?"

Harry thought it was an odd way to answer his question, but something she'd said caught his
attention. "Oreo addict?" he grinned.

She laughed. "Yeah. I could eat the whole package in one sitting unless somebody stopped me.
It's quite pathetic, really."

"Where did you go to school?"

"Berkshire Academy in Massachussetts. It was a good school; I have fond memories." She
sounded wistful. "What was Hogwarts like?"

Harry sighed. "It was home. For the most part, I was liked and accepted there - even though I
had to contend with the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing. I was happier at Hogwarts than anywhere else.
What about you? I bet you were really popular and everything?"

She shook her head. "Not really. I had a lot more guy friends than girls. Girls didn't
like me, for some reason. I do have a best friend, Merry. We've been best friends since we were
6 years old, so that was lucky. She didn't walk away when things started getting weird and we
went to Berkshire together."

Harry could understand why girls avoided her. He had seen the looks women gave her, simulataneously
envious and hateful. Next to Julia, most women must feel positively ugly and the fact that she
wasn't at all stuck-up probably didn't make things any easier. If she were snooty, they
could at least justify disliking her without feeling petty.

"I didn't understand it at the time, and I cried a lot and was depressed a few times. But
I do now. I mean.. I understand now. The girls were threatened by me, and add to that it didn't
help that I was friends with all the guys, even the ones they liked. That was pretty hard to get
used to. I had to learn not to let my looks define me. People make assumptions on how I am based on
how I look, which really pisses me off. But it's no different than somebody who's covered
in multiple piercings and tattoos. Ya know?" She looked up at him and Harry nodded.

"People then assume that you're into devil worship and virgin sacrifices and all that
shit. Only with me, they assumed I had sex on the brain all the time and was out to get their men
and make them look bad. But I've more or less come to expect that. That's one reason why
I'm glad we met. Maybe you could give me some tips. If anybody knows about being assumed about,
it's you, huh?"

Harry snorted. "Truer words were never spoken. It's gotten to be such that I enjoy meeting
new Muggles more than meeting new wizards because at least I know the Muggles won't go barmy as
soon as they hear my name."

They talked for a long time, about everything and nothing, finding so many things they had in
common - like a love for the Muggle band, Travis; a fondness for General Tso's chicken
("It's all I ever order, which really annoys my friend Hermione."); a mutual dislike
of early mornings.

Before too long, the grounds had emptied of the other strollers and it was quite late. Harry walked
her to her room and bid her goodnight. He had a burning desire to kiss her, but didn't, though
he did leave her with the promise of breakfast the next day.

Harry slept soundly that night and dreamed of Oreos, constellations and dark, flashing eyes.


*************
*September 23*


"Morning," Julia said, stifling a yawn. "Sorry. I hate mornings."

Despite her professed tiredness, she was looking radiant in a patterned, woven red jumper, her hair
pulled back in a low ponytail and interesting starburst earrings dangling from her ears. Her
mocha-colored skin glowed with a healthy sheen and Harry thought she was lovely.

He smiled and put down his plate of pancakes and sausages. "For some reason, I didn't mind
getting up this morning."

"Well, there *are* some pretty good lectures planned for today," she admitted
grudgingly.

"I wasn't talking about the lectures," he said, looking her straight in the
eyes.

She smiled shyly and dropped her eyes before looking up at him again. "If I'm not
mistaken, I do believe you're flirting with me, Harry Potter."

He held her eyes. "That's because I am."

When Harry had woken up that morning, he'd felt a vague sense of happiness that had him
bounding out of bed with unusual enthusiasm. He grinned shamelessly at his reflection in the
bathroom mirror as he recalled the lovely dark eyes and sparkling laugh of Julia Thomas. He was
attracted to her, there was no doubt about it. And even though he'd been burned before by
beautiful women (and to be fair, had done his share of burning), there was something about Julia
that had him lowering his walls, at least a little bit. Something that made him want to ignore the
fact that in less than three days they would go back to their separate lives, a continent apart.
Something about her that had him craving a fling, however tightly scheduled.

Hell, he just wanted to taste those full, red lips.

By the time he came down to the dining room, Harry had decided to make his interest known. If she
rebuffed him, it would sting but he'd survive. At least he had tried, right? Now, though-

"Well, I do think you're damn sexy," Julia was saying, then laughed when his eyes
widened. "Don't look so shocked! You're not the only one feeling the
electricity."

Harry gazed at her open-mouthed before he joined her in laughter. They returned to eating, sneaking
glances at each other and grinning. He reached for her hand across the table and squeezed it.
"Let's go outside for a bit," he said, suddenly wanting to be alone with her. She
nodded and they slipped into their cloaks and went back to the garden they'd been in the night
before.

"Here's our bench." They sat and Harry watched her twist her hands in her lap. Could
she really be as nervous as he felt? Summoning his Gryffindor courage, he reached for her hand and
she looked up at him. For a moment they just stared at each other, each mentally debating taking
this step, then almost simultaneously, they leaned forward and their lips met.

Harry was struck first by how soft her lips were, how well they molded to his. He kissed her
open-mouthed and ran his tongue over her lips and she granted him access with a soft sigh. Harry
wrapped his arms around her, holding her closer and feeling like he never wanted to stop kissing
her. She felt so good in his arms, her breath warm against his cheek, her breasts pressed against
his chest even through their cloaks. But that pesky requirement called breathing soon got in the
way and they had to pull apart.

They smiled at each other before Harry cupped her face and kissed her again. His tongue explored
her mouth slowly, reveling in the warmth. She tasted so good, like cinammon and orange juice and he
felt a tingle run down hs spine as her tongue rubbed against his. Their breathing had sped up again
and her hand was caressing his lower back through his cloak.

They broke apart slowly, Julia sucking on his bottom lip and Harry tried to suppress a groan but
didn't quite succeed.

She grinned. "You're a good kisser."

He blinked, feeling slightly dazed. "So are you."

She touched her lips and sighed. "What are we doing, Harry?"

He pretended to be puzzled, though he knew what she meant. She gestured between them. "I mean
this. Don't get me wrong, that was nice. No, that was *very* nice. But the Conference is
over day after tomorrow and then I go back to Dallas. Besides, you're Harry Potter, and all
that that involves. Do you really want to do this?"

Harry looked out across the grounds where the blue hydrangea bushes showed off their blossom
clusters. Did he really want to do this? On the one hand, he'd probably never see her again. He
didn't kid himself into thinking love was involved here at all. It was purely chemical.
Entirely physical. Wasn't it?

He turned back to her. "Do you want to? I don't have any illusions here, Julia. But I like
you. I like you... a lot.. and..," he trailed off searching her eyes, trying to figure out
what she was thinking.

She stared back at him for a long moment before sighing and cracking a wry grin. "What the
hell. I want to. I really like you too, Harry, but just so we know what we're getting
into."

He nodded. "At the end of the Conference, that's it. We won't try to make it into
anything more."

Julia looked away for a moment, and Harry thought he saw a strange look cross her face but before
he could decipher what it meant, it was gone. Maybe he'd imagined it. She looked back at him.
"Ok. Besides, every woman should have at least one intense 3-day relationship,
right?"

He grinned back, relieved. "Interesting earrings," he said, leaning forward and fingering
one.

She stared into his eyes and when she spoke, she sounded strangely out of breath. "It's
the sacred Seven Star of the Cherokee." She swallowed visibly. "Stop teasing
me."

Harry leaned even closer so their lips were almost touching, but not quite. "How am I teasing
you?"

"Just kiss me, damn you," she breathed and he did just that, loving the feel of her hands
in his hair, their tongues dueling as they kissed hungrily.

"Crying Wind? Julia? Hey, Julia!"

They broke apart, panting slightly and looked up to see who had intruded on their ardor.

"Julia? What're you doing?! You're supposed to be in the Extreme Feinting lecture and
exhibit!" It was a short, blond man with a pot-belly, wearing dark blue Dallas Diricawl robes
and looking very upset.

Julia pulled out of Harry's embrace, looking sheepish. "Tom! I'm so sorry. I
completely forgot."

Tom cast her a disdainful look. "Apparently. Come on, it only just started. You might not have
missed much."

"I'll see you later?" she asked Harry.

"Sure thing," he said, giving her a quick hug. "If I don't see you before then,
how about dinner?"

She smiled. "You're on. Bye-bye." And Tom practically frog-marched her into the
hotel.

Harry sat back down and sighed contentedly. Somehow, the Conference didn't seem quite so bad
afterall.


************

"Didn't you say your birthday was coming up?" Harry asked Julia after dinner that
night. They had just wandered out to the garden, bundled up against the cold but simply unable to
stay away. There was something magnetic about that garden.

"It's tomorrow, actually," she said, brushing some leaves off what had unofficially
been dubbed 'Their Bench'.

He stopped short. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Why?" She looked amused.

Harry sat down and took her hand. "Let me take you out tomorrow. I can show you the sights and
all that."

"I'd love to, Harry, but I can't." She pouted prettily. "I have three
lectures lined up to attend and you saw how Tom was freaking out earlier and I'd barely missed
five minutes of it."

"How about just dinner, then? But we'll go out into London rather than eat in the dining
room."

She stroked his cheek, her eyes caressing his. "You really want to? You don't have to do
that, you know."

Harry felt his heart twitch at her adoring gaze. "I really want to, Julia," he said,
kissing her fingers.

"We'll do that then." She smiled and snuggled up to him, nuzzling his neck and they
began to snog like teenagers. They felt themselves getting caught up, hands wandering over each
other and Harry was incredibly turned on. He wanted her, but he wasn't feeling quite brave
enough to try to initiate something more. He didn't want to rush her.

'But it's not like I have a lot of time,' he told himself as he caressed her breasts
through her jumper. Julia gurgled and leaned into him and, encouraged, Harry's hands crept
under the shirt and pushed her bra up. She moaned as he tweaked her nipples and her hands groped
around his lap tantalizingly. Harry lifted his hips into her hands, silently begging her to do it
again as he kissed her with increasing pressure, his tongue thrusting into her mouth
hungrily.

"Oi! Get a room!" Laughter. "This is a 'otel; there are rooms aplenty, fer
crying out loud!"

Julia pulled away and giggled breathlessly, blushing. Far from that reaction, Harry was annoyed.
Muttering a few choice words under his breath, he straightened her clothes and pulled her up.
"Let's go up."

But, alas, they were not to have any more time alone that night. On the way to Harry's room,
they bumped into some of Julia's co-workers who frantically insisted that there was something
or other really important that they needed her expert advice on, and they were *really* sorry
but we need ya to look at this, Crying Wind, and innocent babies will die, the Earth will stop
spinning on its axis if you don't come right now and-

"ALRIGHT!" Julia yelled. She glared at them and they sported identical innocent grins.
"Honestly! With friends like you guys!" She turned to Harry, her eyes gone pleading.
"I am so sorry. These mufuhs.."

"Hey!" they chorused, now adopting identical wounded looks. She stuck her tongue out at
them.

Harry hugged her. "I'm sorry too," he whispered. "Just clear your parchment for
tomorrow night," he added, quite seriously.

He felt her smile against his neck. "I promise."

As Harry watched her go, playfully slapping at her boisterous friends - even though his loins ached
- he couldn't be too upset. There was, afterall, the promise of tomorrow.


****************
*September 24*


Harry pushed Julia's chair forward, then quickly sat down across from her. They were in one of
London's best Muggle restaurants, Fifteen, whose owner, Jamie Oliver, was a good friend of
Harry's. He'd sent Jamie an owl the night before begging an emergency table and Jamie had
managed to conjure one up in the busy restaurant. Fifteen was usually booked up to a year in
advance, so Harry was really grateful.

"This place is awesome!" Julia was saying as she looked around. And it was. The
restaurant was designed with a retro styling and an open kitchen, which made for a relaxed and
friendly dining experience. There were splashes of color everywhere, bright red leather booths, a
large mural painted directly on one wall. The painting kept changing color, which Jamie had said
only wizardfolk could see, of course. To Muggles, the painting didn't shift. Delicious smells
wafted from the kitchen and the steady buzz of conversation all around made for pleasant background
noise.

"Hey mate!" A jovial-looking young man with tousled, slightly curly blond hair and
crinkled blue eyes was striding up to their table, wearing a dark blue and white striped apron over
jeans and a white shirt.

"Jamie!" Harry stood up and gave him a manly hug. "Thanks for this. I really
appreciate it."

Jamie glanced at Julia with an appreciative air and grinned conspiratorially. "No problem.
Who's the lovely lady?"

"This is Julia Thomas. Julia, Jamie Oliver, Chef Extraordinaire and celebrity."

Jamie laughed. "Don't listen to him. Lovely to meet you, darlin'. My wife is Julia
too, but we call her Jules." He bent and kissed her hand.

Julia beamed him one of her megawatt smiles and he blinked. "Nice to meet you too, Jamie.
I've heard of you."

"You have?" Jamie sounded pleased.

"Yeah. You have a show called 'Oliver's Twist', right? My mom loves to watch
it," she told him. "The stuff always looks so good, and I think it's wonderful what
you're doing with your charity. I'm looking forward to experiencing the goodness
finally."

"Lovely. Just let your waiter know what you want and we'll whip you up something damn
tasty. Nice to see you again, Harry, mate. Drop me a line sometime." He slapped Harry on the
back and bounded off to greet some other guests, leaving Harry and Julia grinning behind him.

"My mom will be tickled that I met him," Julia said as she sipped her wine. "Man,
this is good stuff!"

Harry smiled at her enjoyment. "Glad you like it. You look absolutely ravishing, by the
way."

She blushed. "Thank you. You clean up quite nicely, yourself."

"Hey! Don't bite the hand that feeds you." They laughed and Harry had honestly never
seen a more breathtaking woman. Her luscious hair was swept up in an elegant updo, with loose
tendrils falling about her long neck as if beckoning him to kiss them away. She was wearing a long,
sleeveless black dress with a deep V-neck, which hugged her curves. Minimal makeup, small diamond
studs and strappy heels completed her outfit. Her skin seemed to glow from within, with a luminous
light.

Harry was dressed in the suit he had decided to pack at the last minute and he was glad he had. In
anything else, he would have looked woefully inadequate next to Julia but the black suit, white
shirt with bow-tie and wingtips lent him a distinguished air and he had felt quite proud to escort
her through the restaurant. Of course, Harry hadn't noticed the appreciative glances he had
garnered from more than a few women.

The fact that Fifteen was primarily a Muggle establishment, and so well-booked at that, made it
less likely that Harry would have to deal with any media attention. Besides, the Obscurity Charm
he'd placed on their table rendered them virtually invisible to anyone who didn't know they
were there. So far, only Jamie and their waiter did and Harry hoped it would stay that way.

"Thank you for doing this, Harry. This is the nicest birthday present I've ever
gotten." Julia took his hand across the table and Harry kissed it, wishing he could kiss so
much more. *Soon, old boy.*

"My pleasure," he said, looking up at her through his eyelashes and could have sworn that
Julia moaned. Well, her eyes *were* rather bright anyway and she seemed to be breathing a bit
too fast for a sitting position.

He dropped her hand and mentally willed the waiter to bring their food pronto because he was dying
to get out of there, no offense to Jamie Oliver or Fifteen. He just wanted to finish what he and
Julia had started the night before. He hadn't had a chance to so much as grab a kiss from her
all day. Besides, he was trying to kinda let the anticipation build. Well, boy, was it building!
Harry had gone hard at his first sight of Julia in that dress and the look in her eyes right now
made him want to throw her onto the table and shag her senseless.

'Not a bad idea,' he thought, positively leering at her. 'There's the Obscurity
Charm and nobody can see us-'

"Here you go, darlin'," Jamie said as he set a steaming plate before Julia.

*Well, scratch that.*

Harry thanked Jamie who reminded them to let him or their waiter know if they needed anything. The
aromas from their food was mouthwatering and, without further ado, they tucked in.

"Mmmm," Julia moaned, closing her eyes as she savored a bite of her grilled sirloin of
McDuff beef (hung for 30 days) wrapped in prosciutto with garlic mash, caramelised endive and
chanterelle mushrooms. "This is simply heavenly!"

Harry's mouth was too full for him to speak, so he nodded enthusiastically instead. His
line-caught Atlantic halibut tranche baked with lemon, anchovy and rosemary, with onion, fennel and
parsley salad was unbelievable. Conversation was forgotten as they savored their meal and when the
last bite had been swallowed, they both sighed in contentment and sank back into their
chairs.

After a few minutes of sipping their wines, Harry leaned forward. Now that the meal was over, he
was once again being forcefully reminded of the unfinished business between himself and Julia.
"How about dessert?"

She caught his tone and gave him a saucy grin. "What do you have in mind?"

Harry grinned right back. "You really wanna know?" His voice had gone husky and he
thought he saw Julia shiver. Maybe she was cold. She licked her lips and nodded.

He pretended to think hard. "Well, it involves you, me and my hotel room."

"What else?" she asked breathlessly.

He searched her eyes. "Some champagne. And us naked."

"Well I have just one question for you, Mr. Potter."

"What's that?"

"What the hell are we still doing here?"

With that, Harry waved Jamie over, paid the bill and after profuse thanks and good wishes to Jules
and the girls, Harry and Julia went back to their Obscured table and Disapparated.

They arrived in the Pegasus' lobby, the designated Apparation spot and hurried to the lifts.
"Yours or mine?" he asked as the doors closed.

"Mine. It's closer." She pressed number 28 and Harry squeezed her hand.
"Harry-" she began, but Harry couldn't wait anymore and kissed her. Her arms went
immediately around his neck and he pushed her against the wall of the lift as their tongues met and
mated frantically. His lips left her mouth and went to where her shoulder met her neck and she
moaned deep in her throat. Harry couldn't get enough of her. She smelled so good! Her hands
were on his butt when the lift dinged and announced "The 28th floor." They broke apart
and stumbled out and Julia practically dragged him to her door.

"Dammit," she swore as she fumbled with her wand, trying to open the door.

"Here, let me." A quick *Alohomora* and they were inside. They paused just long
enough to toss their wands and her purse on the table before they were in each other's arms
again. Harry was floored by how delicious she tasted - like sweetness and red wine. And so
warm.

They managed to stumble their way into her bedroom and collasped on the bed, lips fused, hands
feverishly clutching at clothes, eagerly racing for the reward just beyond their reach...

*************
*September 25*


The sound of loud laughter outside woke Harry the next morning. He raised his head and listened as
the noise faded down the hallway and rubbed his eyes. Groaning, he rolled over and found his face
smushed against a fragrant mane of dark hair. The sweet scent of mangoes or kumquats or both
(he'd have to remember to ask her about that) filled his nostrils and in a rush, images of the
night before flooded his brain.

Harry rolled onto his back and grinned sleepily. He felt wonderfully alive and his muscles ached
pleasurably. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well or the last time
he'd had such extraordinary sex. His last relationship had been more than six months previous
and he hadn't been that sexually involved with the girl anyhow. She had had some issues that
didn't make for a roaring sex life, to say the least.

But Julia... Harry closed his eyes and smiled to himself, remembering. She was such a great lover,
eager and responsive, who gave as good as she got. She was not at all shy about voicing her joy or
telling him what she wanted. And what a body! He'd found himself unable to get enough of her,
barely giving her time to recover before he started working her again. He just could not help
himself.

Julia mumbled and rolled over, baring her beautiful, full breasts and Harry was instantly wide
awake and aroused. His fingers itched to touch her, to caress her, to make her cry out his name
again in that breathy way she had.

'Geez, give her a chance to rest, you horny bastard,' he scolded himself. 'You've
already completely worn her out.'

So instead, Harry slipped out of bed slowly, so as not to disturb her and padded to the bathroom.
He took a long shower, secretly hoping that she would wake up and join him (they'd almost
broken their necks in here last night!) but when he came out she was still fast asleep. He put on
his clothes from the night before, left her a note saying he'd be back, and slipped out of her
room.

When he got to his suite on the 48th floor, it was to the sight of Oliver Wood knocking on his
door.

Oliver looked up. "Oh, there you are! You're up already? Good. Listen, there's a
Conference-wide pickup game this afternoon and I told them you'd play Seeker."

Harry glared at him. "Do I have any choice at all in the matter, Oliver?" He opened his
door and they stepped inside.

Oliver ignored him. "The game is at 2 o'clock. You'll be playing for the European team
against the North & South American team. And of course they're right chuffed to have
you!"

Harry went into his bedroom and started to change. "What if I said I have other plans?"
he called. He didn't really, other than staying in and making more amazing love with Julia; not
a bad idea, but she'd probably want to watch or help plan the game. Besides, the thought of
playing alongside some of the best players in the world was undeniably exciting. No, Harry just
wanted to yank Oliver's chain a bit, knowing exactly how the other man would react.

Sure enough, Oliver began spluttering. "What?!" he yelled. "Are you crazy, Harry?
You'll be on the same team with Aidan Lynch, Dimitrov, *Moran*! What could be more
important than that? You need to sort out your priorities! Are you insane?!"

Harry laughed as he pulled on a dark blue jumper over his jeans. "Calm down Oliver, before you
bust a vessel. I'm just having you on. Of course I'll play." He ducked as Oliver
pretended to swat him.

"Prat. Where were you last night, anyway? I came by to tell you about the game but you
didn't answer the door."

"I was.. ah.. sorta busy." Harry stooped and fiddled with his laces, trying to hide his
blush.

"Busy? Hmm.. I bet it was that pretty American witch. Did you shag her?" Oliver laughed
when he saw Harry's red face. "You did, didn't you? Not that I blame you, Harry, mate.
She is way hot."

Harry grinned. "Careful, Oliver. You're giving me good blackmail ammunition here. Think
about Katie." Oliver was married to their former schoolmate, Katie Bell.

"Ah, Katie knows she's my number-one girl. That doesn't mean I can't admire beauty
when I see it. You feeling peckish?"

Harry shook his head. "Not right now. I told Julia I'd be back." He ushered Oliver
out and they headed to the lifts. "Do I just go down to the pitch at 2 o'clock or
what?"

"Actually, we're to meet in the Dumbledore Ballroom at 1 for some last minute strategizing
and so everyone can meet everyone," Oliver told him. He glanced at his wristwatch.
"It's almost 9am, so about 4 hours."

The lift stopped on the 28th floor and Harry got out. "Alright. See you then."

"Don't shag yourself out. You need to save your energy for the match!" Oliver yelled
after him as Harry walked away.

"Sod off, Oliver!"

Harry was grinning as he let himself into Julia's room and his grin widened when he saw her.
She had obviously just come out of the shower and was toweling her hair dry, looking well-scrubbed
and strangely younger than her newly 24 years. "Hey," he said as he walked over to her.
He gathered her into his arms and gave her a long, leisurely kiss.

"Mmmm." She smiled up at him. "You're in a good mood this morning, Mr.
Potter."

"Well, after the night I had can you blame me?" He nuzzled her neck, inhaling her scent.
"Hey, what do you use in your hair? I keep trying to figure out what the scent is."

"It's a herbal shampoo that has, among other things, mango, papaya and some kinda citrus.
I can't remember the name of it," she replied.

"Kumquats?"

"Ya know... yeah! That's it. You know your scents."

Harry's eyes darkened. "There's a particular scent I'm craving right about
now," he murmured into her ear.

Her breath hitched. "Oh really?"

"Yeah." His hand slipped beneath her bathrobe. She moaned and threw her head back and her
hand crept under his jumper. Harry picked her up and carried her to the bed and needless to say,
they didn't leave the room for a long time.


*************

The pickup game had all the markings of a full-fledged World Cup match - with the notable exception
being that instead of each side cheering one particular country, they were cheering a whole
collection of countries. Harry felt wonderful soaring above the stands that had been hastily put
together, feeling the cold wind blowing through his hair. The stands were packed with the
Conference people and whatever other guests were staying at the hotel. No outsiders or media were
allowed, what with so many high profile players in the game; it was a matter of security and
sanity.

Hours later, they were all sitting around the Dumbledore Ballroom drinking beer while they laughed
and analyzed the match. The game had gone on for almost three fierce and exhilarating hours and
Harry was currently engrossed in conversation with the Atlanta Alchemists Seeker, Orlando Vaughn, a
tall bald, black man a little older than Harry who had been the Seeker for the North/South American
team.

It had been a close game, the North/South team leading by more than 100 points when Harry caught
the Snitch after a spectacular dive. The Europeans won by a mere 40 points, and Harry recognized
what a great player Orlando was. Apparently, he also had a wicked sense of humor because Harry had
been laughing almost non-stop the entire conversation. Julia was with a group of fellow strategists
who were analyzing a particularly thrilling moment when there had been some kind of bizarre
combination of the Hawkshead and the Porskoff Play that had worked beautifully for the North/South
team. It had come about purely by accident but they were trying to figure out how it had happened
so they could duplicate it.

The conversations continued all through dinner and into the night and it was after midnight when
Harry bid his adieus. Julia was still animatedly demonstrating her take on what they were calling
the Hawkskoff Medley and not wanting to interrupt her, he slipped away to his room and went to
bed.

He was awakened by somebody kissing along his jawline, and he needed only take a breath to know who
it was, even though he couldn't see without his glasses. "Julia?"

"Yeah. Let's go outside," she whispered.

"What?" He fumbled for his glasses and put them on. "It's- it's 4
o'clock in the morning!"

"I know. Bet you've never been outside at 4 o'clock. Come on, Harry Potter, live a
little!" She began to pull on his arms and after a few minutes of whining, Harry got out of
bed, pulled on some clothes and his cloak and let Julia drag him to the garden. They sat down at
Their Bench and she leaned back in his arms. "It's not so bad, is it?"

Harry had to admit that it *was* rather nice. The grounds were completely deserted and fog was
beginning to creep upon them from the far corners of the hotel, lending an eerie air to the whole
thing. The sky was black, a few stars were visible through the encroaching mist and Julia pointed
them out before reciting something that sounded like:

*Scintillate, scintillate globule vivific
Fain do I fathom thy nature specific
Loftily perched in the ether capacious
Strongly resembling a gem carbonaceous*

Harry's brow wrinkled. "What?"

She turned to him and grinned. "That's just a nerdy way of saying "Twinkle, twinkle
little star." She laughed at his expression then hugged him suddenly. "Oh, Harry! I'm
gonna miss you so much!"

He hugged her back. "I'm going to miss you too. We could always write to each other. You
know, keep in touch?"

Julia pulled away and seemed to be blinking back tears before shaking her head. "I don't
think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"Because it wouldn't work," was her response.

Harry opened his mouth to ask her why she thought it wouldn't work, but she put a finger to his
lips. "Shh. Let's do something else. Something we both like. Something that needs no
debate."

She kissed him on the cheek, on the forehead, his nose. She took his glasses off and kissed each
eye, soft, feather-light kisses that gave Harry goosebumps. He grasped her face and returned the
soft, light kisses before capturing her lips deeply. It was a long time before they pulled away,
breathing heavily and Harry shifted her onto his lap. She was wearing a long, white nightgown that
he pushed up as he ran a hand up and down her thigh and she undid his pants and pushed them down.
Harry groaned into her mouth.

He broke the kiss and slipped her cloak off then lifted her nightgown over her head, before putting
her cloak back on her. Despite the chill, her skin was almost hot to the touch as she writhed in
his lap.

"Please, Harry. I need you," she gasped, and he obeyed without hesitation.

The sudden urgency meant that it was over quickly and they clung to each other, the fog swirling
all around them now and the fine mist feeling wonderful on their flushed skin. Afterwards, they sat
there in the murky darkness as their breathing slowly returned to normal and the blood pounded in
their ears.

Harry wanted to resume their earlier conversation but he was feeling too blissful to bother and his
interrupted sleep was catching up with him. Finally they went back to his room, Harry gathered her
into his arms and they fell deeply into dreamless slumber.


**************
*September 26*


When Harry woke on the last day of the Conference, the first thing he noticed was that he was alone
in the bed. He rolled over and put on his glasses and saw her standing by the window, her long,
black hair a stark contrast with the white of her robes.

She was leaving today and Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, they lived
so far apart and was he really ready for a long-term relationship? His last one hadn't ended
well and besides, they had agreed not to pursue anything although Harry didn't understand why
she was so adamant about that. It was for the best though, wasn't it?

But on the other hand, something inside Harry ached at the thought of never having another of those
insanely long conversations with her again; at the thought of never hearing her laughter again; at
the thought of never again being enveloped by her wonderful, wet warmth. How could not having
something that good be for the best? He knew he didn't love her - there was someone he'd
been in love with for years, but he didn't stand a chance with her - but he did feel
*something* for Julia.

Rubbing his head in confusion, Harry got up and walked over to her. As he neared, he was aware of
her shoulders shaking. He thought maybe she was laughing silently about something but when he laid
a hand on her shoulder, she spun around and Harry drew his hand back in shock. Julia's face was
awash with tears, her beautiful features twisted in abject misery. She had obviously been biting
her lips in an effort to keep quiet but seeing that he was up, a cry so fraught with despair came
from her mouth and she launched herself into his arms.

Harry staggered backward in surprise, even as his arms went around her. "Julia? What's
wrong? Did something happen? Are you ok?" He gathered her hair, which was wet, away from her
face, trying to look into her eyes but she clung to him.

"Oh, Harry!" she sobbed. "Please d-don't, don't le-" She broke off and
shuddered in his arms.

Harry was confused and alarmed. Don't what? What didn't she want him to do? But when he
tried to get her to elaborate she just shook her head and begged him to hold her. At a loss as to
what else to do, he obeyed and gradually she calmed down.

After a while, she drew away from him and wiped her swollen eyes shakily. "I'm sorry. I..
I didn't mean to fall apart like that. Did I wake you?"

He shook his head, gazing at her perplexed. She gave him a watery smile and slapped his bare butt.
"Well, why don't you take a shower and I'll order some breakfast? Go on."

Harry didn't move; he just stood there staring at her while she stared back and after a few
minutes, her brave facade crumbled and tears began to fall down her cheeks again. She took his hand
and led him to the bed, drying her eyes as she went. They sat and Julia leaned over and kissed him,
softly and sweetly. Harry was still very confused but he knew this would cheer her up so he let
her. She straddled him, undoing her robe and pushed him down on the bed. He buried his hands in her
hair and kissed her back, feeling the heat rising in his body as her tongue caressed his.

He lay back and let her do what she wanted. She gave him her all, her everything and when, almost
simultaneously, they reached that blissful peak, Harry felt such a profound sense of connection
with her that he wept. He didn't know why he cried; they just held each other, two confused
young people seeking comfort. And finding it.


*************

She never did tell him what had made her so upset that morning but they parted as friends, Julia
trying valiantly not to cry again. Harry hugged her for a long time before letting her join her
teammates, who were watching avidly.

"Goodbye, Harry. I will never forget you," she whispered.

"Bye."

She walked toward her teammates and touched the wooden spoon they were using as a Portkey. A few
more seconds, one final wave and she was gone.

Harry stood there for a long moment and stared at the spot where she had been before he picked up
his bag and joined Oliver at the Apparation point.

"Ready to go, mate?" Oliver asked.

He nodded, and was suddenly reminded of Oliver telling him at the start of the Conference that
Harry'd be thanking him by the end. Well, he'd been right. Not that Harry would ever tell
Oliver that.

At least they had parted as friends. Who knows, maybe they would bump into each other someday.
Whatever else happened, wherever life took him, Harry knew he would never forget her either.
****



7. Chapter 7
------------

**A/N:**Once again, profuse thanks for all the reviews!! I'm glad you guys liked the
Julia chapter. Somebody said that now they were sorry that she had to die. Wow. I guess what I was
trying to do got across.. I wanted you guys to like her, even if she wasn't Hermione. Anyway,
from now on, the story is Harry and Hermione (and Emerson, of course). Thanks again for all the
reviews, and please continue! Sorry this chapter is so short, and the ending is intentional *evil
laugh* :)


**Chapter Seven**


It was five days after Emerson arrived and Harry Potter was ready to tear his hair out in clumps.
No, it wasn't because of the baby. Emerson was at the moment sound asleep, a little smile
playing about her rosebud mouth. Even in such a short time, Harry had come to realize that Emerson
was a very good baby who so far only cried when she was hungry or needed a change. Her one big
meltdown had occurred because he'd startled her in a strange environment.

Or at least that's what the books said.

Harry's daughter was mostly smiles, giggles and baby babble. She had even laughed out loud
once, startling Hedwig and making Harry, in a burst of fierce Daddy love, pick her up and shower
her little face with kisses while she grabbed at his glasses and gurgled. His glasses were an
endless source of fascination to her, apparently.

He marvelled at how much he had come to love the little tousle-haired moppet (poor kid had
inherited his unruly hair, but in the form of fat, black curls) in such a short time.

Not that there weren't the times when he seriously questioned his sanity in keeping her -
especially at 3 o'clock in the morning when she wouldn't shut up no matter what he tried.
But any second thoughts that cropped up promptly evaporated like mist on a hot day in the face of
Emerson's lopsided grin or one of her little contented sighs. And when she smiled at
him..ah..no words existed to describe the emotion that swelled his heart.

No, Harry Potter was violently clutching his chronically untidy hair out of sheer anxiety. Today
was going to be his first foray into the wizarding world with his daughter and he was nervous as
all hell. But he just couldn't put it off any longer. He had already broken two appointments at
the MoM, to Hermione's great chagrin since she was the one who had set up the meetings using
her various contacts.

The last time he had done that she had given him such a thorough chewing out that he'd been
surprised that she hadn't hexed him.

"Do you have any idea how that reflects on me, Harry?" Hermione's hands were on her
hips and her dark eyes flashed dangerously. "I've already gotten Susan Bones'
assurance that she will *personally* handle your case and you know she's the Head of that
department. What more do you want? Emerson has already been here almost a week and I *told*
you that Susan said the longer you wait, the more chances that she might not be able to do it
herself."

"But Hermione-"

"Listen, Harry. I understand that you're nervous, I understand that you're worried
about it getting out before you're ready. I *understand*. But hiding out in here, putting
off what needs to be done will not solve anything! So you had better be ready to leave tomorrow
morning at 8:30 or I swear by all that is holy that you will regret it. Just try me!" She
disapparated in a huff leaving an extremely irritated (and guilty) Harry behind to berate
himself.

Needless to say, trying Hermione when she got like that did not bode well for one's chances of
survival which was why Harry and his daughter were ready and waiting.

There was a 'pop' behind him and he turned. It was Hermione. "Hey," he said
nervously.

She gave him a quick hug and Harry greedily sucked in the sweet scent of strawberries from her
hair. She was beautiful in pale blue robes and he didn't want to let her go. But she pulled
away, looking anxious. "Ready to go? Susan gave me a Portkey that'll take us directly to
her office so we won't have to meet anyone else."

Harry nodded and picked up Emerson while Hermione shouldered the baby's bag. She held up a
large eagle feather quill and checked her watch. "Another minute now."

They gathered around and Harry held Emerson's hand on the quill. A few more seconds, there was
that familiar pull behind his navel and they were standing in a large carpetted room lined with
bookshelves. There was a large desk covered with neatly arranged folders and paperweights in the
center of the room, behind which sat their old schoolmate Susan Bones. Susan looked much the same
as she had at Hogwarts except now her blond hair was cut in a short bob instead of pigtails.

Harry looked down at Emerson; she was awake, her green eyes wide and startled. Uh-oh. "Hey,
it's ok," he said hastily. "I hate Portkey travel too. Would much rather apparate.
But we're there now." Emerson frowned and Harry held his breath but after a few tense
seconds, she decided not to cry. Crisis averted. Thank Merlin, because when Emerson cried she
really brought the house down. He blew out the breath.

"How're you doing, Harry?" Susan came around the desk and shook Harry's hand. Not
waiting for an answer, she looked down at the baby. "So this is your daughter?"

"That's what we're here to find out, isn't it?" He smiled nervously.
"Thanks for doing this, Susan. I appreciate it very much and sorry about the.. er.. canceled
appointments."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. Shall we start then?" She
instructed Harry to lay Emerson on her desk and Harry sat down beside Hermione. "What did you
say her name was?"

"Emerson," Hermione said.

Susan looked puzzled then shrugged. Harry and Hermione exchanged amused looks. "So did
Hermione give you the documents that you needed to fill out?"

"Uh, yeah." Harry handed her the packet of completed forms.

Susan nodded. "Ok. All we have to do then is the *Patrius* Test and I'll put the
appropriate information on the papers. We should be out of here in no time. Shouldn't take more
than 10 minutes."

She waved her wand in tight circles over Harry's head. "*Patrius*." A circle of
emerald green light streamed from her wand and ringed his head and Harry felt a strange warmth on
the back of his neck. Next she did the same motion over Emerson's head, but muttering
"*Filiola*" instead, and the three adults smiled as the baby's eyes followed the
motion of the wand.

Suddenly a beam of light shot out of Susan's wand, circling Emerson's small head and Harry
and Hermione gasped.

The light was a deep, unmistakable blue.


***********
End notes: The latin words are from (www.nd.edu/~archives/latgramm.htm). *Patrius* just means
"of a father" and *Filiola* literally means "little daughter".
Next chapter: um.. you'll see, hehe..



8. Chapter 8
------------

**A/N:** Wonderful! Y'all survived, heh heh :) Thanks very much for all the wonderful
reviews!! They truly make my day and please keep it up! A few people guessed the meaning of the
ending of Chapter 7; good job! Without further ado...


**Chapter Eight**



Harry froze, staring at the scene before him.

A ring of blue light surrounded Emerson's head and he looked up in alarm, feeling cold dread
creeping into his heart. One of the things he had most been dreading seemed to have occurred. He
couldn't bear to mention it to Hermione but Harry's fear of this very outcome had been at
least partially the reason why he'd canceled those two previous appointments. And now it had
happened.

But it couldn't be. There had to be a mistake! There had to-

He looked desperately to Susan. "What does that mean? Does that mean she's.. she's
not.."

Susan seemed bemused by his reaction. "What?"

"The light! Her light is blue and mine is green! Does that mean she's not my
daughter?" Harry demanded, panicking slightly.

"Harry."

He turned to look at Hermione, who seemed to be trying not to smile. How could she find anything
amusing about this! What the hell was going on? "What?" he asked sharply.

She sighed. "Didn't you read the information sheet that was included in the
packet?"

"What information sheet?"

"The one explaining how the *Patrius* Test works," Susan said, looking at him like
he was slightly demented.

Harry shook his head, frowning. "No. I thought it was just an instruction sheet for filling
out the forms. What does that have to do with this?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well if you had read it, you would have spared yourself the near
heart attack you just had."

"What just happened is actually pretty common, especially between fathers and daughters. The
daughters oftentimes take their mother's color. Likewise, boys usually take their father's
color. Then in those cases, the test goes one step further. If she really is your daughter, what
I'm about to do should change both your auras to dark green," Susan explained.

Harry felt a surge of hope flare through his embarrassed discomfiture. And even though he was
slightly irritated at Hermione (Why hadn't she told him?), he couldn't help grabbing her
hand as Susan began the second part of the charm. He saw Susan begin to draw a big circle
encompassing both his and Emerson's heads before he clamped his eyes shut. Emerson had to be
his. She just had to be!

"*Cognatio Cuiusmodi*."

Again Harry felt the strange warmth on the back of his neck but he kept his eyes closed, silently
willing the light to turn the right color. He kept them shut for what seemed like an eternity
before the sound of a baby's soft cooing made him slowly open his eyes. Emerson was waving her
arms trying to get at the band of light that pulsed around both their heads. A dark green band of
light.

Harry forcefully expelled the breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. Overcome with
emotion, he got up quickly and cradled his daughter to his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut and
fervently said a silent prayer of gratitude to every deity that would deign to listen. He
wouldn't have to give up that tenuous link to a family that he finally had.

Emerson was his. She was really his.


**************

Hermione sat alone in Harry's living room late the next night, deep in thought. She had been
spending more time at Harry's flat than she ever had and to be completely honest, she
didn't mind in the least.

She loved being around Harry, of course, he was her best friend. But something about being a father
brought out another side of him. A tenderness. The memory of the way he had been at the MoM
yesterday was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She had known exactly what he'd been thinking,
when he'd had that little scare in Susan's office. How could she not? Hours upon hours
spent studying his facial expressions, his postures, she knew him so well. She knew what he feared
but she let him go on thinking that she didn't. Even with her, Harry could be such a private
person.

Hermione's confusion was steadily mounting. Her feelings for Harry were becoming even more
difficult to control. Listening to him talk about Julia had been both fascinating and harrowing.
Her emotions had been all over the place: jealousy of Julia for being with him; smug satisfaction
that they'd lasted less than a week; guilt for thinking that way about a woman who was most
likely dead. What had distressed her the most though was a surprising amount of anger at Harry for
having a casual fling when she was right here in front of him, loving him so much that it hurt. Why
couldn't he see it? Why couldn't he see *her*? She'd wanted to hit him.

Not that she was entirely blameless. She badly wanted to take the first step. But his apparent
blindness didn't do anything to bolster her reserve to tell him how she really felt. Her fear
of the destruction of their friendship was almost palpable, but she loved him so much! Why did it
have to be so hard? Why had she gone and fallen in love with him? She would watch Harry pretend to
eat Emerson's little toes and the desire to kiss him would be so strong that she wanted to
weep.

'But it's not all bad,' Hermione thought to herself almost defiantly, trying to shake
her somber mood. 'We have fun too.' And, well, they did.

They'd a great time reading the baby books they'd picked up, laughing and arguing about
what certain things meant. Harry had been terrified by the chapter on SIDS and had been checking
and double-checking Emerson's breathing every night. Which didn't help his disposition the
next day. So far he hadn't taken Hermione up on her offer to stay home with the baby and other
than Susan, she was still the only person who knew about Emerson. Harry was planning a "Meet
Em" party for the weekend, though, and all the necessary people had been notified.

Hermione smiled to herself at the memory of earlier. They had gone shopping in Muggle London for
even more things for Emerson. Who knew babies needed so much! An elderly woman in the store had
stopped to coo over Em and complimented them on their beautiful daughter and remarked on how much
Em resembled Hermione.

They hadn't had the heart to correct her, but Hermione could barely look at Harry for the
remainder of the trip. She couldn't bear for him to see anything; her emotions were surely
clearly displayed, despite all her best efforts for the contrary.

Harry came into the room then, wearing jeans and a dark green jumper, barefoot and holding two
glasses of white wine.

'Molly is right,' she mused silently. 'Green does bring out the color of his eyes. And
would it be too forward to run my hands through his hair? And his lips-'

Hermione sighed and took the glass that Harry offered.

He grinned. "To our sanity."

She gave him a weak smile. "To our sanity."

They sipped their wine in companionable silence. "So how are things with Evan?" Harry
asked, swirling the wine in his glass.

She swatted his arm playfully. "Honestly, Harry! Try to get it right. It's
Ian."

He rolled his eyes so hard that she expected them to pop through his glasses and bounce on the
carpet. "Sor-ry. How are things with *Ian*?"

"Ok, I guess," Hermione shrugged.

Harry looked up at her, clearly intending to interrogate her but Hermione jumped up. She didn't
want to talk about Ian. Just thinking about him made her feel terribly guilty. Here she was
spending so much time with another man while continually canceling dates and lying to her
boyfriend. They'd already had more than a handful of fights about this very subject. She knew
she wasn't being fair to him.

Not so subtly changing the subject, she said "So, everything ready for Sunday? Have you heard
from Ron?"

Harry stared at her for a long moment before he nodded. "Yeah. He'll be here but he has to
go back that night." Ron was the tour manager for the Chudley Cannons, who were currently on
the road. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" he added suddenly.

*Not anything*. Hermione nodded. "I should probably go. Dr. Garg said I could take my
vacation starting next week but only if I put in some extra hours this week. I don't really
mind, because then I'll be off almost 3 months."

His eyebrows arched. "Three months? What'll you do with yourself? Lots of reading, no
doubt."

"I thought I'd spend some time with my dad, maybe convince him to go away with me one
weekend. He's taken up golfing, did I mention?"

Harry grinned. "Don't let Mr. Weasley hear. He'd bombard the poor man to death."
Ron's dad was still as Muggle-crazy as ever.

They laughed. Harry stood up and walked over to her. He grasped her shoulders and looked into her
eyes and Hermione had to will her knees not to betray her.

"Hermione, thank you. For everything. I'd have been lost without you this past week and I
know Em and I are gonna need you badly. You are invaluable." He leaned in and for one glorious
second Hermione was sure he was going to kiss her. Well he did kiss her but not where she had hoped
and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, feeling his warm lips pressed to her forehead. *I love you,
Harry*.

She pulled away and smiled shakily. "What are friends for, huh? Good night."

Unable to stay there and look at him any longer, she apparated into her living room, dropped her
bag and let out a scream of frustration. Then she surrendered and allowed the tears to come.


************

The latin is from the same place as before. *Cognatio* "Connection by blood";
*Cuiusmodi* "what kind?"



9. Chapter 9
------------

**A/N:** Once again, many, many, many thanks for all the reviews! I can never say that
enough. It is much appreciated. And to the people who are asking for smut: patience, patience. It
is coming (no pun intended, hehe) and I hope when it arrives, it will be worth the wait :) After
this chapter will be 3 more and an epilogue. Hope y'all will stay with me. So here's the
next one. Enjoy!


**Chapter Nine**


"So I need you to be really good for Daddy's friends today, ok? None of those temper
tantrums, no banshee wailing, no mosquito whining. Yeah?"

Harry was laying down the law to his daughter who was busily engaged in her favorite activity -
Greedy Bottle Sucking. He doubted she understood or cared but the books said to talk to babies as
if they understood so that's what he was doing.

Em let go of the nipple and gave her trademark contented sigh. Harry smiled and fitted her onto his
shoulder, burped her then cleaned her up and dressed her in one of her new sleeper outfits that
Hermione had picked out. He brushed her curls and laid her in her bassinet, conjured up some
fairies to amuse her and slipped out of the room.

Harry took a deep breath and clapped his hands together. He was nervous. All the people he cared
about would be descending on his flat shortly, to meet his daughter. He knew they all cared about
him and surely wouldn't judge him but it was still a momentous, not to mention nerve-wracking,
thing to spring on people.

"Hello, this is my illegitimate daughter. Isn't she lovely?"

Two journalists would be at the gathering, in the persons of Parvati Patil and Ginny Weasley - who
worked for rival papers - and he would be giving them official press releases. He knew he could
trust them, but he was worried nevertheless. The press had never been kind to him and he didn't
want Emerson to grow up to their harrassment just because she was his daughter.

"But it's not like I can control the press now, can I?" he said aloud.

"Talking to yourself, Potter? A sure sign of impending madness, that," drawled a silky
voice from behind him and Harry spun around to the sallow, hook-nosed face of his former Potions
Professor.

"Not that that would surprise you, would it, Severus?" Harry replied, his eyes twinkling
as he walked up to shake the other man's hand.

"Precisely. So what's the purpose of this meeting?" Snape asked, sniffing the air as
if expecting to smell the reason.

Harry grinned. "Patience is a virtue, Severus. Remember that."

"Remember what?" came the deep baritone of his best friend.

Harry smiled again. "Ron. Good to see you, man!" He hugged his best friend but before he
could say anything else, more and more people had apparated into his living room and he went around
hugging, shaking hands, pecking the odd cheek. Soon everybody was there and once everyone had a
drink in hand, Harry stood in front of them all as they sat about his living room, looking out on
those he trusted and cared about most in the world.

There were Ron, Hermione (and Ian, to Harry's annoyance but what could he do? The man was
dating Hermione, even if Harry wished it weren't so), Arthur and Molly Weasley. There were Bill
and his wife Fleur, Fred and Angelina, George and his Muggle wife, Nina, Dean and Parvati, who were
dating, Ginny, Susan Bones (Harry didn't usually socialize with her but he thought it was the
nice thing to do to invite her after the enormous favor she'd done them. As far as he knew,
nobody else knew about Emerson besides himself, Susan and Hermione). Also in the group were Remus
Lupin and his wife Tonks, Oliver Wood and Katie Bell, Professors Snape and McGonagall and Draco
Malfoy. Yes, Harry was on good enough terms with Malfoy to have him in his home. Malfoy had been a
huge asset to the Light Side during the Second War and while he and Harry would never be best
mates, they could at least get along now.

"So what's this big news you have for us, Harry?" asked Mr. Weasley.

Harry met Hermione's eyes and she gave him an encouraging nod. He thought she was beautiful,
but he wished Ian didn't have his arm slung over her shoulder in such a possessive way. The
slimy git. Harry wanted to punch him, but of course not, so instead he took a deep breath and
looked away.

"First off, thank you guys for coming on such short notice. Like I said in the invites,
there's something really important I need to tell you all."

Harry smiled mentally at the immediately worried expressions that sprang to more than a few faces.
Some things never changed. He hastened to reassure them. "Oh, it's nothing really bad. I
just wanted to tell you personally before you hear it somewhere else and get the distorted facts
that the press so loves to put out about me. No offense Ginny, Parvati."

"None taken," Parvati said while Ginny smiled at him. Harry had long got the feeling that
contrary to her claims to the opposite, Ginny had never fully gotten over her crush on him. Which
was too bad; she was a lovely girl, really, but he just wasn't interested. Never had been.
Harry got the feeling that Malfoy fancied her, though... hmm.. maybe a little matchmaking was in
order.

"I know!" Dean Thomas said suddenly. "You're gay!"

Harry snorted over the laughter. "You wish, Dean. No, let me cut to the chase. I know I just
put out a statement to the contrary but-" he paused then hurried on. "I'm quitting
Quidditch."

Stunned silence greeted him. In any other situation Harry would have laughed at their expressions;
they all looked completely bamboozled. With the exceptions of Hermione and Susan, of course. And
Snape. Harry doubted anything could faze the Hogwarts professor.

Parvati gasped. "So the article was right afterall!"

"No, it wasn't. At the time that it came out I had absolutely no intention of doing
anything of the sort. And I'm not quitting for the reason that piece of junk stated either. But
since the article came out, something, or rather someone has happened."

Fred grinned suggestively. "You got a girl, Harry?"

Harry grinned back. "As a matter of fact, I do."

Oliver looked horrified. "And you're quitting because of her?!" Upon Harry's nod
to the affirmative, Oliver regarded him as if he were insane. "No offense, mate, but
what're you doing with a girl like that - who doesn't understand what Quidditch is to
you?"

"Unlike me," supplied Katie, with a slight smirk.

Harry knew he shouldn't but he couldn't resist. He caught Hermione's eye again and she
ducked her head, obviously trying not to laugh. "Ah, but she's gorgeous, Oliver! I
can't imagine my life without her."

"But from what you just said this happened after the article, which was barely a week
ago!" That was Ginny, who sounded dismayed and devastated. Malfoy's brow furrowed.

"Yeah and she's changed my life already. See just what a hold she has over me?"

They all exchanged varying degrees of concerned looks and Harry had to bite the inside of his mouth
to keep from laughing out loud.

"Harry." He looked up at Hermione, who shook her head and he grinned at her.

"I think I'd better bring her out. I'll be just a minute." He went into his
bedroom and gazed at his daughter who was still sleepily swiping at the fairies. He picked her up.
"Hey, sweetheart. We're ready for you. Show them that dazzling smile of yours and
they'll fall head over heels too, ok?"

Emerson grinned up at him and Harry grinned back. "Yeah, that one." He gave her a quick
kiss and carried her out into the living room. "Ok, here she is. The girl who has stolen my
heart in a few short days and has me completely wrapped around her left pinkie."

He observed the dropped jaws and goggled eyes of the roomful of people and everyone just stared at
them in silence for a long moment. Emerson kicked her little legs and yawned as if to say
"These are your friends? Not exactly a lively bunch, are they now?"

Malfoy was the first to recover. "What're you doing adopting a kid, Potter?"

"Ah, but she's not adopted, Malfoy. She *is* my daughter. Can't you see the
resemblance?" He held Em's face up to his and she grabbed at his glasses. "Not
Daddy's glasses, Em."

Hermione came up to them and held out her arms. "Hey, Sweetheart."

Harry handed Emerson to her and watched as everyone crowded around to get a good look at his
daughter. She looked around at them with her lovely green eyes, so like his, examining their faces.
Suddenly she reached out and grabbed Ron's hair and squealed. Everyone's faces softened,
though Malfoy smirked too.

Ron disentangled her little fists from his hair and gazed at her in awe. "Wow,
Harry."

Harry took her from Hermione and sat down facing everyone again. "So here she is. Her name is
Emerson."

"Em-uh..what?" That was Ron, but he obviously wasn't the only one with that
particular question in mind.

"Emerson. Her mother named her that and I decided not to change it," Harry
explained.

"Who is her mother?" asked Ginny, looking upset.

He smoothed Em's curly head before answering. "I'll get to that. But she is 100%
biologically mine. We already did the *Patrius* test at the Ministry. She's almost 4
months old. Isn't she lovely?"

The baby yawned again and squirmed, blinking sleepily. She buried her face in his shirt and fussed.
"That's Emerson-speak for 'I'm really tired but I don't want to go to sleep
yet so I'll just whine for a bit.' " Harry translated.

Hermione jumped up again, her eyes shining. "I'll put her to bed."

He kissed the baby before handing her over and watched Hermione take her to his room. Turning back
to his friends, he sighed. "Let me start from the beginning. I met her mother, Julia, last
year at the International Quidditch Conference. Remember, Oliver?"

Oliver frowned for a few seconds then brightened. "Oh yeah. That girl you were joined at the
hip with the whole weekend. The one from the American contingent. Her captain couldn't stop
raving about her. She's a brilliant strategist."

"Obviously they were joined at more than the hip- OW!" George quipped, earning himself a
firm jab in the ribs from his wife, Nina.

Harry blushed. "Well, anyway. After the conference, she went home. Dallas, Texas and I
didn't hear from her again until last week when someone dropped Emerson off."

"What do you mean someone 'dropped her off'?" asked Angelina

"I mean literally rang my doorbell and left her on the steps."

Once again aghast faces regarded him.

"How could she do that?!" cried Ginny, who seemed determined to be upset.

Harry sighed. "It wasn't her fault. You see, Julia is dying. Actually, I think she might
already be dead." Stunned expressions once again. *Oh yes, the revelations are really
flowing tonight.* "I wrote to her parents but I haven't heard back from them yet so I
don't know for sure. Julia wrote a letter explaining why she sent Emerson to me but I still
don't know who left her at my door and why they did it like that. Why didn't they contact
me or at least stay to explain? I won't know until her parents write back. It makes me angry to
think about it, you know? That whomever it was basically just dumped my daughter at my door. What
if I wasn't home? Even with all the wards around here, anything could have happened; anyone
could have found her."

Professor McGonagall exchanged an appalled look with Mrs. Weasley before turning back to Harry.
"And you say you haven't heard from her parents yet?"

"No, I haven't. It's only been a day or two, though, and post takes longer from this
distance."

"Can't believe she's dead." Oliver shook his head. "What a waste. And she
wasn't bad-looking either."

"Oh, really?" Katie looked at her husband sardonically.

"What? I'm just being honest!" Oliver said, spreading his hands in innocence.

Harry smirked. "Actually, I have a picture." He fished out the snapshot Hermione had
found and passed it to Ron.

"Damn, Harry!" Ron sounded almost reverent. "How comes you never told me about
her?"

Harry shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal. She was just a fling. If it hadn't resulted in
Emerson, you'd probably never know about Julia."

"Some best mate you are," retorted Ron.

Malfoy took the picture from Ron. "Well, good for Emerson that she got her Mum's looks and
not yours, Potter."

Harry flipped him off, earning himself a disapproving glare from McGonagall. Yep, some things never
changed.

"Hey, didn't she introduce herself by some kinda weird name?" Oliver asked, passing
the picture to Fred who raised his eyebrows appreciatively.

"You remembered, huh? She was also called Crying Wind. She's part Native American,"
Harry explained.

"Ahh. What tribe?" asked Snape, who up to now had been silent.

"The Cherokee."

Snape nodded. "They are expert Potions Masters and are very skilled in ancient magicks. I seem
to recall all their children being required to have a tribal name. Does the baby have
one?"

Harry nodded. "'Rosewater', although of course I don't know what it means. I'm
sure it only translates to that, without meaning that literally."

Hermione came back into the room, smiling slightly. "She's down for the count."

"Thanks, Hermione. Hermione's been.." he trailed off. "I'd have been useless
without her this past week."

Hermione blushed prettily, before sitting down beside Ian who promptly draped his arm around her
again..

"But why're you quitting Quidditch, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley inquired. "If it's
a matter of having someone to look after her, you know we'd be more than happy to."

Harry nodded. "And I appreciate it, Molly, really I do. But I just couldn't bear to be
away from her. Not right now, not for awhile. Last week if someone had told me that in just a few
days Quidditch would be a distant second on my list of priorities, I'd have asked for some of
whatever they were smoking."

Ron laughed. He and Harry had once tried some excellent Muggle ganja, to hilarious results.

"But most of you guys are parents too. I don't need to explain how they just occupy your
thoughts, and not just the times when they wake up at 2 AM wanting to play. I love Quidditch, I
always will but my heart just wouldn't be in it right now. I'm really sorry, Oliver,"
he continued.

Oliver seemed to pull himself together enough to nod. "Ah, hell. I understand, mate. I know
I'd drop Quidditch in a heartbeat if it were to help Brandon." Brandon was his and
Katie's 3 year old son.

Dean snorted. "Bullshit. You'd probably put the kid up for adoption."

"We'll have to train up the reserve Seeker," Oliver said loudly over the laughter.
His former housemates were especially cracking up and Oliver glared good-naturedly at them.
"We'll also need to pick someone else to be reserve. How long d'you reckon you'll
be out, Harry?"

"About 6 months, at the very least. I want to stay home.. get to know her."

"Well can you come in one evening and just help me pick out the reserve?" Oliver looked
anxious.

Harry frowned. He knew one evening away from Emerson wouldn't hurt but that didn't mean he
was in any great hurry to do that. He knew it was irrational but he was afraid of letting her out
of his sight for too long. What if whomever dumped her came back and-

"Harry?" Hermione's voice broke through his musings. "I could watch her for you,
of course."

"Or me," volunteered Ginny.

He gave them a small smile. "Just... just let me know when you plan to have the tryouts,
Oliver, and we'll see then," he answered somewhat reluctantly.

Oliver sighed. "Fair enough."

"Well, fascinating," Ron said loudly. "But when do we eat?"

And once again, laughter rang through the living room. As Harry watched his friends get up and move
towards the kitchen, laughing and chattering, he couldn't help but send up a small prayer of
thanks. With them all on his side, somehow, he knew he would be alright.





10. Chapter 10
--------------

**A/N:** Broken record alert!! THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU for all the
reviews!!! You guys are soooo awesome and kind and nice and.. well, you get the idea, and please
keep reviewing! Now, I realize I should have chosen "Angst" as the second category..
seems a lot of tears are being shed in this story! But like the Good Book says "Weeping may
last for a time, but joy comes in the morning." I promise that joy is coming in the next
chapter. :) Thanks for staying with me... and here's another one.


**Chapter Ten**


When Harry looked back, he could hardly believe that three months had gone by. Those three months
felt so much longer, so much more substantial than any other period of time in his life since
Hogwarts. Rarely now did he think about the life he had led before Emerson; the endless Quidditch
road tours, the drinking parties, the flashy, superficial women. He felt now that his life held a
loftier purpose, much more meaningful and almost entirely due to someone who had been an unplanned
and unexpected surprise.

Emerson was a happy, healthy and beautiful baby. At six months old she was a bundle of energy and
assorted noises - babbling, squealing, laughter. She was completely enamored with Hedwig, loved to
imitate the bird's squawks, to Harry's great amusement. It wasn't easy being a single
parent but with help from various sources and much trial and error, he'd gotten her onto a
schedule - which simplified things a bit. She slept through the night now and was onto solid food,
although there were times when nothing but her bottle would do.

Harry knew he could not have come this far without the help of his friends. They had been an
impenetrable fortress of support and solidarity for him. As Harry had expected, the news about Em
had taken the wizarding world by storm. Even with the official releases Harry had put out, the
*Daily Prophet* and the other papers and magazines had had a field day, publishing such
astonishing rubbish that Harry was rendered speechless more than once. They would be the stuff of
great laughs in the future but in the moment they were nothing but incredibly irritating.

Worse, the media frenzy did not seem to have any intention of dying down for a while. Not unless
some other scandal erupted which, knowing Harry's luck, was quite unlikely.

But he tried not to worry about those things. He stopped reading the papers and instead
concentrated his efforts on shielding his daughter and enjoying the love of his friends.

He bought a 5048 sq. ft. estate in the Hertfordshire countryside near Borehamwood, built on more
than twenty rolling acres and set about making a home for Emerson. The house was unplottable and
had never been connected to the Floo Network. The only way in or out of there was by apparation or
Portkey and only the people who were at the party, and a select few others, had authorization to
breach the heavy wards.

Effectively removing a great weight off his mind and supplying numerous answers were Julia's
parents, Herb and Enigi Thomas. Their response had come a week after his letter and they had been
shocked and dismayed by how Emerson had been delivered to him. According to them, a friend of
Julia's who traveled to Europe frequently on business had offered to bring the baby to Harry.
Herb and Enigi said that Julia had declined the offer at first, telling her friend that her parents
would bring Em over themselves.

But the friend insisted. "It's the least I can do and you *know* I'll be really
careful and make sure she gets to him safely! How long have we been friends? Years upon years.
Please let me do this for you."

Julia relented.

And then her friend had gone and basically dumped Emerson.

Herb and Enigi had been understandably furious and were only grateful that nothing horrible had
resulted. They were also thankful that Julia never had to know what a final act of dangerous
betrayal her so-called "friend" had wreaked. They said Julia passed away in her sleep the
same night Harry found Emerson. She had been cremated and her ashes scattered over the Susquehanna
River in the Chesapeake Bay, per her wishes. She had made many camping trips to the area during her
school years.

Like Harry, Julia had been an only child and thus Emerson was Herb and Enigi's only link to
their daughter. Knowing what a void a lack of family could create and hoping to offer some comfort
in the midst of their grief, Harry gave them his solemn word that he would make sure that Emerson
always was a part of their life. He sent them monthly updates and had arranged for them to visit
after the Christmas holidays.

Emerson was the center of his world but Harry made sure to include his friends as much as possible.
After that first time when she grabbed his red hair, the baby loved Ron and had strangely taken a
great liking to Snape.

She was also a big fan of Malfoy, ever since he had fed her her first taste of ice-cream, over
Harry's objections.

"No, Malfoy! The books say she shouldn't have dairy before she's six months," he
half-yelled as Malfoy moved an admittedly minuscule amount of vanilla ice-cream towards Em's
eagerly open mouth.

"Come on, Potter. This is barely anything," Malfoy drawled as the spoon arrived at and
was swallowed by the little lips.

Harry stared at his daughter, worried, expecting something horrible to happen, but at first Emerson
just looked puzzled.

Then her eyes widened. "Mmmmmm!" she said, kicking her legs and trying to grab the bowl
from Malfoy, who laughed.

"See. She's fine. She likes it," he said, looking at Harry who gazed in awe at his
daughter going wild. He let Malfoy give her two more spoonfuls before he took her away, to
Emerson's great distress. But from then on she loved Malfoy, whether because of the ice-cream
or because as Ron said "She just likes men. You're gonna have trouble on your hands, Harry
mate, when she gets older. Look at her. It's obvious she's gonna be a real
heartbreaker."

But regardless of how much she liked all his friends, Emerson was thoroughly and completely
Daddy's girl. She knew him on sight, usually greeting him with a dazzling smile and a round of
squealing. She loved being with him; nobody could calm her like he could. Hermione had taken a
picture of her asleep on Harry's chest as he too slept on the sofa. She'd framed it and
given it to Harry for Christmas and it was currently in a prominent place on his nightstand.

And who could forget Hermione? She was priceless, invaluable. She was the only person besides Harry
whom Emerson squealed to see. Harry's decision to buy the estate in Hertfordshire had been
largely based on Hermione's reaction to the place. She'd gone into raptures when she first
saw it and while he agreed on the finer points of Ballynore (as he'd taken to calling it), it
was his secret hope that one day it would be her home too that helped him make the final
decision.

Harry's feelings for Hermione had grown so much over the past months that they were almost
painful. And it didn't help that she had been looking increasingly troubled lately. She spent a
lot of time at Ballynore, helping him with Emerson and always seemed extremely unhappy when she had
to leave. She was wonderful with the baby and Em obviously adored her.

Harry kept trying to find out what was wrong, he wanted to help her so badly, but Hermione had
become adept at changing the subject, assuring him that she was fine while giving him strained
smiles. He didn't know what to do. Ron was still on the road with the Cannons and Harry
didn't know who else to talk to.

There was a tension building between them, getting slowly unbearable but increasing steadily
nonetheless.

And like a rubber band stretched too far, a snap was inevitable.


***********

It was a week into the new year and Harry had come to a decision.

Emerson's grandparents had just left to return to Dallas after a wonderful week at Ballynore.
They were delighted by their granddaughter, marvelling at how much she resembled Julia and
repeatedly expressing their gratitude to Harry for allowing them to visit and for talking such
excellent care of Emerson. Herb and Enigi were warm, open people; it was easy to see where Julia
had gotten her personality and they had all parted on good terms.

But the decision he had made had to do with Hermione. Harry had awoken that morning to a thought
nagging at him: *why was he so afraid to tell Hermione how he felt?* Why didn't he just do
it? They had been best friends upwards of 15 years. Could telling her that he felt more than
friendship, and had for a long time, be that bad? Was it really likely that their friendship would
just collapse if she didn't feel the same way?

"What do you think, Em? Should I tell her?" he asked his daughter as he spooned mashed
carrots into her mouth.

Emerson clapped her hands and nodded, though Harry didn't know if she was really nodding her
approval. She'd discovered the activity recently and had taken to nodding at every sound.

Harry chose to take it as an affirmative. "You think so, huh? I'll tell her I love her.
All she has to do is say yes or no, right?"

"Babababa," Emerson said, agreeing. She nodded vigorously.

"Yeah. I'll do that. I'll tell her how I feel. Today. If she feels the same way, I
hope she'll be your new mum. Would you like that? Hermione as your mum?"

Em smacked her lips. "Babababa."

Harry grinned at her as he wiped an orange gob off the corner of her mouth.

He knew he would be taking a huge risk. But now that he had made a decision, he also felt a great
sense of relief.

All that remained now was getting his point across, and Hermione's reaction and answer.


************

Meanwhile Hermione was having the day from hell. Everything that could go wrong, did and it
didn't help that the day before she had had the biggest fight of her relationship with
Ian.

Hermione sighed. Ian had surprised her by asking her to move in with him and when she balked he had
turned culpatory. He accused her of not being "invested in the relationship"; of putting
her friends, especially Harry, before him.

Hermione was starting to get annoyed. "I don't know why you're making such a big deal
about this. You knew from before we started dating how much my friends mean to me. Why are you
acting like this?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were in love with him," he spat.

Hermione froze then started when Ian stood up suddenly. She looked up to see him glaring at her in
absolute disgust. "It's true, isn't it? You *are* in love with him!" He
threw down his napkin and grabbed his cloak. "Then there's no point in continuing this, is
there? I don't have to be with someone who doesn't appreciate me. There are plenty of
witches out there who would love to be with me. Which is more than can be said about your beloved
Harry. You're just a friend to him. He doesn't want you. He never will." With those
last nasty words, Ian disapparated leaving a stunned and stung Hermione with the bill.

She would never tell him that, of course, but Ian had hit the nail squarely on the head, and
Hermione was devastated. Not because she had been systematically dumped in a restaurant - she was
more than relieved that the relationship was over - but because, to her eyes, there was no prospect
of the reciprocal of feelings from the man she loved. And Ian had picked up on her fear and thrown
it in her face. Asshole. That fucking bastard. Yeah, she was more than happy to be rid of
him.

Against her better judgment (she much wanted to go home and cry), after work Hermione apparated to
Ballynore.

Harry came into the living room as the chimes sounded that he had charmed to play when someone
arrived. He broke into a smile when he saw her and even as her heart sped up at the sight, Hermione
felt a wave of anger ripple through her. How dare he look so good? How dare he look so fucking calm
and unencumbered when she was slowly wasting away inside for want of him?

If she hadn't been so emotional, Hermione would have noticed that Harry seemed extremely
nervous about something. But as it was, she was suddenly furious. Every nasty, resentful, shocking
thought that she had shamefully suppressed suddenly erupted to the forefront of her mind. Her hands
shook as she watched Harry approach her.

"Hey," Harry said. "Have a good day? I sure hope yours was better than mine. I made
the mistake today of opening the *Prophet*-"

"Oh shut the hell up and quit being such a baby!" Hermione burst out. "You already
have one here."

Harry stopped short. "What's wrong?"

Hermione gave a harsh laugh. "You want to know what's wrong? Everything! Every
*bloody* thing is wrong; nothing at all is right. My life is such a big fucking joke!"
she said, her voice rising with every word.

Harry was gaping at her in shock and somewhere in the back of her mind a warning bell was going
off. But the dam had been breached and would not be contained, not until everything inside had come
gushing forth.

She glared at him. "I am so sick and tired of listening to you whine about the stupid press!
Don't you know by now that that's how they are regarding you and how they always will be?
If you're so worried about what the damn newspapers say, maybe you should be more careful than
just going out and fucking some random pretty face. Or at the very least, try to use some bloody
protection!"

Harry was looking at her as if she had slapped him and suddenly all the feelings that had flared
just as quickly drained away, leaving her filled with horror. Hermione brought her hand up to her
mouth, her eyes wide but before she could get a word out, before she could tell Harry that she
hadn't meant that, she didn't think that at all, Emerson started crying upstairs.

Harry's face had closed but when he spoke, his voice was so cold that she shivered
involuntarily. "If that's how you really feel, Hermione, then maybe you shouldn't be
here."

He turned on his heel and strode out of the room and Hermione watched him go, her eyes filling up
and her heart shattering into a couple million pieces within her chest. *Why had she said
that?* Oh dear God, why had she said that? But no answer emerged from the backwash of misery
that smothered her mind and choking back her sobs, Hermione concentrated and apparated home.

**********

That night, barely twenty miles apart, two confused young people lay alone in their beds and shed
anguished tears. They wept for their friendship. For their future. For the lost chance that might
have been wonderful.



************
**End Notes:** Here's the pic that inspired Ballynore: www.siderow.com/pages/76.html
Nice place, no? I see Ballynore has having a more wide open space of a backyard, though. Not so
many trees so close to the house.



11. Chapter 11
--------------

**A/N:** Once again, thank you, merci, gracias, grazie, obrigado, xie xie for all the
reviews! Holy sheeet, you guys are so kind; am in severe danger of getting a big head! Ok, I'll
shut up now and here is the long-awaited.. um.. well, here it is! Hope you likes!


**Chapter Eleven**


You know how they say you don't appreciate what you have until you don't have it anymore?
That was the prevailing thought in Harry's mind for the whole two weeks since his and
Hermione's falling out.

To say he had been buffaloed by Hermione's outburst would be the understatement of the century.
He was very angry with her for what she'd said. There was a grain of truth in her blowup, sure,
but that was beside the point. Even though he was sure that she hadn't meant what she'd
said, the way Harry saw it, she had to have at least thought it unconsciously for it to come out
that way.

Harry missed her so much, even as he stubbornly avoided contacting her or talking to or about
her.

But try as he might, he couldn't turn off his mind. He couldn't stop thinking about her.
Her words had really hurt him, because she was the one person whose opinion mattered most to him.
She was the woman he loved. Yes, he still loved her. He would always love her and that was why it
hurt so much.

When Harry wanted to wax philosophical, he would wonder why what happened had happened on the very
day he'd decided to tell her how he felt. It was as if fate was punishing him for being
presumptuous. Look at all the crap that had happened in his life so far. You'd think he would
have learned. Who the hell was he to think he had a right to happiness?

Wait. There's Emerson. She makes him happy. Right? Sure, when she wasn't screaming nonstop
for seemingly no reason. Which she had being doing a lot lately. If he didn't know better,
Harry would have thought Emerson was merely manifesting how he felt about what had happened with
Hermione. God knew he wanted to scream like that sometimes too.

But as it was, Harry was being run ragged by his daughter. Something was wrong with her but
everybody he talked to said she was fine. "Oh, just normal growing pains. How old's she
again? Seven months? Yeah, just normal growing pains." Dismissive hand motions.

Maybe so, but without Hermione to help him anymore, Harry was really feeling the pressure. He was
at his wit's end. And miserable, to boot.

************

Hermione was hardly having a better time of it. She was having trouble sleeping, worrying about
Harry and Emerson. She missed him so much, missed their laughter and friendship. She missed
Emerson, whom she had come to regard almost as her own child. She missed just being in Harry's
presence and when she thought about how she had let her emotions run away with her, she wanted to
weep with embarrassment.

She felt so guilty and was terrified that she had ruined their friendship; Harry hadn't said a
peep to her in two weeks. Ron had been sending his regular owls from the road, but she couldn't
bear to tell him what had happened and just let Ron go on thinking that everything was the
same.

It was, without a doubt, the worst two weeks of Hermione's life.

************

"Come on, Em. Please stop crying," Harry pleaded as he walked his daughter back and forth
across his living room a few nights later. The baby had been wailing almost incessantly all day and
had woken him up three times the night before. That was three steps back, as far as Harry was
concerned, because she'd already been sleeping through the night. And now this.

But nothing he tried seemed to work and he was tired and irritated. He wanted badly to get someone,
but it was now after 10 o'clock and he didn't want to bother anyone. He wished
Hermione-

"No, I don't," he said aloud, juggling Emerson who started struggling to be put down.
He acquiesced only to have her immediately wanting to be picked up again. "Oh God. Who am I
kidding? I need Hermione."

If Voldemort could see him now! The great Harry Potter browbeatened by a seven month old.

'What a missed opportunity, ole Tommy. All you had to do was stick me with a cranky baby and
you'd have won,' Harry thought sardonically.

Frustrated, he picked her up and carried her upstairs to her room. Harry placed her in her crib and
walked out of the room. Emerson started crying louder and something inside Harry snapped. He spun
around in the doorway and glared at his daughter who was standing up holding onto the bars of the
crib, looking utterly miserable.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" he yelled, gripping his hair. "CAN'T YOU SHUT
UP FOR ONE MINUTE?!"

The baby's mouth fell open in shock and for a long ominously silent moment, Harry and his
daughter stared at each other. So intent were they that they didn't notice a startled Hedwig
taking flight out the open window.

Emerson plopped down onto her rump, drew in a deep breath and let out an utterly glass-shattering
scream.

"Oh God. Oh shit," Harry moaned as he hurried to her. "Em, I'm sorry. I'm so
sorry." He reached into the crib to pick her up but the baby went rigid and turned away from
him. Mortified, he drew his hand away and sank down to the floor. Emerson was crying as if her
little heart was breaking and defeated, Harry leaned his head against the crib and cried too.


************

Hermione apparated into her living room, glad to finally be home. She had been her father's
"date" to the Greater London Dentist's Association Awards dinner and while it had
been great seeing her dad pick up an award, she was a bit too caught up in her personal misery to
really be a good companion. At least she had looked the part of the doting daughter - short, black
strapless cocktail dress, heels and her hair up in a nice updo. Minimal makeup. More than a few
young bachelors had approached her but she'd politely declined them all.

She sighed, dropped her bag and made her way to the kitchen for a quick cup of tea before bed. She
had just summoned her favorite cup when Hedwig swooped through her window like a large white
bat.

Hermione's heart leapt. Had Harry sent her a message? Was he finally ready to talk to her
again?

"Hedwig! Do you have a letter? Is Harry writing to me again?"

Hedwig clattered her beak as if trying to say something and Hermione frowned. There wasn't
anything tied to the owl's leg. Had she lost it? "Hedwig. Where's- Is something- Oh my
God! Is something wrong with Harry? Emerson?"

The bird squawked louder and swooped back out the window, obviously telling her to follow, and
feeling frantic, Hermione gathered herself, concentrated and disapparated.

She arrived in Harry's living room to the sound of a baby crying above her. Her heart in her
throat, Hermione ran up the stairs and burst through Emerson's open doorway. The sight before
her made her stop and stare. Emerson was sitting in her crib sobbing heartbreakingly while Harry
sat on the floor with his head in his hands.

"Oh my God, Harry! What happened?" Hermione exclaimed, hurrying to the baby.

He gestured miserably, his face streaked with tears and a look of utmost self-loathing on his
features.

Hermione picked the baby up. "Oh, sweetheart. It's ok. It's ok. Harry, go downstairs
and make some tea. I'll be right down, ok?"

He shot her a look of pure gratitude before he stumbled out of the room and Hermione turned her
attention back to the distressed child.

Fifteen minutes later, Emerson was fast asleep and Hermione shut the door, muttered the appropriate
charms and crept downstairs. What on earth had happened here?


**********

Harry was sitting at his kitchen table staring into his untouched cup of tea when he heard Hermione
come into the room. He looked up at her and she rushed to him.

"Oh, Harry."

He gathered her into his arms, feeling his eyes prickling. "I can't do this, Hermione.
What was I thinking?"

She drew back and sat down in the chair nearest him. "What happened?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. She's been like that for the past two weeks. She
wouldn't stop crying.. and.. I just lost it." He looked up at her, his eyes filled with
anguish. "I yelled at her, Hermione. She's just a baby and I yelled at her. What kind of
horrible person am I? What kind of *father* am I?"

She reached across the table and took his hand. "Harry, it's alright. You're only
human. You had to snap some time. She's teething and it hurts, that's why she's been
cranky."

Harry looked down into his cup. "Teething."

She nodded. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

He looked up at her words and watched her face crumble. "Hermione?"

"I'm so sorry, Harry! I didn't mean those nasty things I said. I don't know what
happened. I'd just been having a really bad day and I took it out on you. I know that's no
excuse-"

God, she was beautiful, even with her wet eyes and her nose turning red. Harry slid off his chair
and knelt beside her. It was his turn to comfort her and she threw her arms around his neck and
clung to him. He could smell her unique scent on her bare shoulders and suddenly he was aware of
how soft her skin was. Suddenly he was aware of the way the small hairs curled at the back of her
neck. Suddenly he was aware of how wonderful she felt in his arms and he wanted never to let her
go.

Harry held her tighter. "Hermione. Please. Please don't leave me."

She pulled away and touched his face. "I won't leave you. I promise. Can you ever forgive
me?"

"There's nothing to forgive," he said, looking into her eyes. And as he said it, he
knew it was true. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her. What did a few words spoken in a
moment of stress matter if he could have her by his side again? "I need you so
much."

She gave him a watery smile and Harry's heart twitched in his chest. *Tell her. Tell her
now.* "I love you," he blurted.

She froze, a look of confusion, surprise - *hope*?- crossing her features. "Harry,
you're tired. You don't know what you're saying," she said shakily.

Harry touched her face. "No, I'm not tired and I do know exactly what I'm saying. I
love you. I've loved you for so long that I can't remember a time when I
didn't."

Her mouth fell open and tears started rolling down her cheeks again. "Harry, what are you
saying?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"I'm saying, Hermione Granger, that I'm so in love with you that I can hardly think
straight. I've been miserable without you these past weeks and not because of Em, either. I
realized how I felt long before Emerson."

Hermione was openly crying now. "Harry-"

"You don't have to return my feelings," he rushed on, desperately. "I know you
don't feel the same way. You love Ian. But I just had to tell you. I couldn't keep it
inside any longer."

She laughed even as the tears flowed faster. "Harry Potter, for all that you're the
greatest wizard of our generation, you can be so unbelievably stupid. But I don't hold it
against you because I've been stupid too."

Harry could scarcely breathe, could scarcely believe what he was hearing. What he hoped he was
hearing. Could she be saying what he thought she was? "What are you saying?"

She reached out and stroked his face. "Oh Harry. I love you too. I've always loved you. I
don't love Ian. I never have. It's always been you."

Harry's heart was suddenly hammering loudly in his ears, almost rendering him deaf. She loved
him! She really loved him. She was still talking but he couldn't hear her anymore; his whole
being was so full of joy. He couldn't wait another second. Fulfilling a fantasy he'd had
since he was 16 years old, Harry leaned forward and kissed her.

They both gasped at the electric current that surged through them when their lips met. Harry's
arms went around her and pulled her off the chair so she was kneeling on the floor with him. His
tongue slipped into her mouth and he nearly swooned. She tasted so good. Her lips were so soft, her
mouth so warm and Harry deepened the kiss, hungrily exploring her mouth.

They broke apart gasping. Hermione's lips were red and slightly swollen and her eyes were
bright. Harry cupped her face and kissed her again and her soft moan when his tongue rubbed lightly
against hers raised the little hairs on the backs of his arms. Oh, Zeus. Merlin. Fate. He loved
this woman. And she loved him! She-

He broke the kiss, and held her at arm's length. "Hermione, are you really here? Please
tell me this isn't just a wonderful dream. Please tell me you're really here and you love
me."

She kissed him softly before pulling back. "I'm really here, Harry. And I really do love
you. I love you so much, that the word "love" is not enough to describe the
feeling."

Harry grabbed her and crushed her to him again, loving her hands in his hair, the sweet scent of
strawberries from hers, the simple fact that she was in his arms.

There was a rustle of wings behind him and he pulled away and turned.

"She came to get me," Hermione said, looking at Hedwig.

"Thanks, Hedwig. You're a lifesaver." Harry told the bird, who hooted softly from her
perch by the fireplace.

He stood up slowly, pulled Hermione up and looking deeply into her eyes. "How could we have
been so blind? So stupid? This whole time we've been feeling the same way about each
other?"

She smiled wryly. "Yeah. Almost 15 years. But we know now, right?"

Harry nodded. "Right. And I'm never letting you go," he told her quite seriously.
"Do you want something to drink?"

She hesitated then nodded and Harry started to lead her into the kitchen. But Hermione didn't
move and Harry turned to look at her. She was biting her lip, and then she looked up at him, her
lovely brown eyes so full of love and lust that for a minute, Harry forgot to breathe.

"No, I don't want a drink, Harry. There's something else I want."

*Hell, yeah!* Harry swallowed. "What do you want?"

Hermione reached up and rubbed her earlobe and the innocent gesture made Harry suddenly
light-headed as the blood in his body sped south. "I want... I want you to make love to
me."

Harry moved to stand in front of her, taking almost painful notice of how her breasts swelled above
her strapless dress. Merlin, she was so hot! "Are you sure?"

In response, she stood up on tiptoe and kissed him. Softly at first, barely there, feather-light
kisses that drove Harry crazy. He groaned and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her body
flush against his. He ran his hands up and down her bare shoulders and Hermione shivered and
clutched at his shirt. Harry deepened the kiss, his tongue hungrily exploring every ridge, every
crevice of her mouth; he wanted to get to know her all at once and as slowly as possible, all at
the same time.

Her fingers tangled in his hair and he lowered his mouth to her neck and nibbled and suckled until
Hermione was breathing in little panting mewls. The sounds she was making sent goosepimples up and
down his spine and Harry was suddenly achingly, insistently aroused. He backed her into the wall
and kissed her with a furious passion while she grinded her hips against his, his hardness pressing
into her belly. She rubbed against him again and Harry hissed, grabbing her hips to still
her.

"Hermione," he groaned.

She pulled away and looked into his eyes, and Harry felt molten lava surge through his veins at the
look in them. Her eyes were black and glittering with desire, and every single shard of
self-control he had promptly turned tail and fled like a whipped dog. He gave a strangled groan and
captured her mouth again, trying through his kiss to make her feel what she was doing to him.
Hermione whimpered and clung to him and Harry stooped to pick her up.

"No," she panted, her hands clutching his hair. "Right here."

Too far gone to argue, Harry roughly hiked her dress up and pushed her knickers aside. He inserted
a finger into her wetness, moving it in and out while his thumb caressed her clitoris and Hermione
whimpered again, fumbling with his button and zipper. Finally, she managed to push his jeans and
boxers down and before Harry could blink, she had dropped to her knees and taken him into her
mouth. He bit back a yell as her head bobbed on his cock, gods, it felt so good and he knew if she
kept doing that he wouldn't last much longer. He pushed her away gently and stood her up
again.

Yanking her dress up, he completely ripped her tiny lace knickers off, lifted her up and pressed
her against the wall. His penis searched, found, and he entered her slowly, gritting his teeth
against the urge to rut into her mindlessly. Hermione wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in
deeper and they both shuddered. She was so hot, so wet, so tight that Harry thought his brain would
melt from sensory overload.

"Fuck me, Harry," she whispered in his ear, her warm breath raising what felt like every
single hair on his body. Nearly blind with desire, he grabbed hold of her hips, pulled out slowly
and slammed into her.

This was not a gentle copulation, they were not 'making love'. This was wild, energetic
sex, tearing at each other, bruising kissing, frantic thrusting. This was the coming together of a
passion too long denied. This was the culmination of almost a decade of classic unresolved sexual
tension, driven by a deep, overwhelming love. For too long, they had drifted - two perfect halves -
searching for that other half that would make them whole. And now they were. At long last, they
were whole. They were one.

And holding back was not an option.

Hermione gripped his butt and tried to move with him but Harry held her in place, pounding her into
the wall and she arched her back instead, changing the angle of his penetration so that he rubbed
against a particularly maddening spot with every thrust. Their breathing was loud and harsh and her
hairstyle was coming undone but they didn't notice. Harry could feel the fire building in his
belly, he felt his balls tightening up and knew he was close, he was going to explode. He buried
his face in her neck, and Hermione grabbed his head. "Look at me. Look at me, Harry." And
he looked. And suddenly he was gone, he was crying out her name helplessly, he was coming so hard
that he felt his knees buckling. And all the while their eyes were locked onto each other's,
tears streaming down Hermione's face as she cried out her ecstacy.

Harry's knees couldn't hold him anymore and he sank slowly to the floor, taking Hermione
with him. They held each other tightly, still joined and Harry felt like he never wanted to get up.
He never wanted to leave her. But slowly, they stopped trembling, their breathing returned to
normal and Harry slipped out of her. Hermione raised her head and smiled at him.

"Hi," she whispered breathlessly.

"Hi, yourself," he said softly, wiping the tears off her face with his thumbs.
"Hermione." Harry was overwhelmed. He was at a loss for words to describe the sheer
measure of emotion that had filled that experience. Never, ever had it been that good for him! He
loved this woman so much and finally, at long last, she was in his arms. She was his. And he
couldn't find the words to tell her what that meant to him, couldn't express..

Hermione looked deeply into his eyes and kissed him. "I know. I feel the same way."

*She knows. Of course; this is Hermione, who knows me better than I know myself*.

Harry blinked back tears and hugged her to him fiercely. She sighed and laid her head on his
shoulder and they sat there for a long while, not speaking, each lost in their own incredulous
thoughts, before she got up slowly. She kicked off her shoes and slipped out of her now wrinkled
dress and Harry felt himself harden again as he saw her breasts for the first time.

"I'm gonna take a bath," she told him then turned and walked up the stairs and Harry
almost came again at the sight of her lovely, round bottom. At the bend, she looked back.
"Feel free to join me." She winked.

Harry grinned stupidly for a second before shedding his clothes and hurrying up the stairs after
her. He entered his bedroom, the master bedroom of Ballynore and crossed quickly to the bathroom,
where Hermione had started the water running.

He nearly choked when he saw her. Hermione was kneeling on the marble floor by the bathtub,
checking the temperature of the water and his eyes were captivated by her shapely bottom in the air
with the soft pink folds of her flower exposed. Harry could not resist. He walked quickly over to
her, dropped to his knees and pushed her forward. Then he lowered his head and took a long, slow
lick.

She gasped in surprise, but was soon moaning, gripping the edge of the tub and opening her legs
wider to give him better access. Harry slipped his tongue inside her, tasted himself in her, but
not caring. He suckled and nibbled and licked, loving the sounds she was making and the taste of
her as she pushed back against his mouth. He inserted two long fingers into her, worked them fast
and furious while sucking on her clit and Hermione wailed as her muscles clamped down on his
fingers, her body convulsing.

Harry slipped his fingers out, grasped her hips and entered her in one fluid motion. The walls of
her sex were swollen and twitching with her release and she was still trembling. He leaned back on
his haunches and pulled her down into his lap and onto his cock. She started to ride him, gripping
the tub and he reached around and filled his hands with her beautiful, bouncing breasts. Her hair
was, by then, completely undone from her elegant updo and she was mumbling incoherently as he
reached down and rubbed her hard nub in tight circles.

Hermione arched her back, throwing her head backwards onto his shoulder and Harry turned his head
to breathe into her ear. "Say my name," he groaned.

"Harry!" she cried ecstatically. "Oh God, Harry!"

Feeling his ardor rising, Harry leaned forward, bending her over, and slammed into her again and
again while placing small kisses all over her sweaty back.

Hermione screamed, his name a breathless litany of sobs falling from her lips and the sensation of
her walls milking him hard was his undoing. Letting loose a hoarse cry, Harry erupted deep inside
her feeling the force of his orgasm shaking him like a ragdoll in the teeth of a mad dog.

They clung together, riding out the storm until she sagged against him, her hair in his mouth,
their breathing ragged. The tub began to overflow and it was only then that they finally
disentangled themselves and got up slowly. Harry shut off the water and pulled Hermione into his
arms. He kissed her gently. "I can't believe you're finally mine. I've wanted this
for so long and I love you so much."

She smiled tearily. "I love you too, Harry." She leaned in to kiss him back and they
stood there in the wet bathroom, beside the flooded tub, exploring each other's mouth slowly
and leisurely. They were in no hurry.

They had all night.

Correction: they had the rest of their lives.




12. Chapter 12
--------------

**A/N:** Boy howdy! You people are generous and dirty-minded! (Like me, hehe) Am so glad you
all enjoyed the last chapter; I was determined for them to get together with a bang after all the
shit they went through. Thanks ever so much for the reviews!! Now, I hate to say this, but this is
the last chapter. There will be an epilogue and "Safe in Harbor" will be finis. No sequel
is planned, but I won't say "never".. this story just jumped to mind; who knows?
Maybe a sequel will do the same. And without further ado..


**Chapter Twelve**


If Harry had ever said he'd never been happier, he'd been wrong. Because any other
happiness he'd experienced in his life paled next to how he felt now that he and Hermione were
finally together.

'Joy Unspeakable' was the closest description for how he felt these days. Soon it would be
three months since they'd officially began dating and every morning Harry woke up feeling
happier than the day before. They did have their squabbles, what couple didn't?, but they
always made up before the day was done. And whoever said make up sex was the best sex sure
wasn't kidding.

With Hermione by his side again, Harry weathered Emerson's teething and the spate of ear
infections that left the poor kid miserable for weeks. Emerson was also taking a lot of bumps and
tumbles due to the fact that she was determined to walk, and kept falling. Most of the time she got
right back up but sometimes she hit something as she fell and that, coupled with her frustration,
made for a very cranky baby.

Hermione still had her flat in London but she spent so much time at Ballynore that she had as well
as moved in. She was there most weeknights and every weekend, unless she had to work - which she
was doing more and more as they entered critical stages of the Prolonged Cruciatus Curse
cure.

None of their friends had been the least bit surprised that they'd gotten together.
"It's about time!" was the most frequent sentiment expressed when the news got
out.

"'Bout bloody time, I say," Ron had exclaimed when he came back from the Cannons'
latest world tour to find Harry and Hermione engaged in a passionate liplock. The couple had been
mortified, thinking Ron would be upset.

He laughed. "Why would I be upset? I've known you guys had the hots for each other since
maybe seventh year at Hogwarts. Who better to get together than my best mates, heh?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me that Harry felt that way about me?" Hermione
demanded.

"Yeah, you could have saved us a lot of unnecessary heartache," Harry added.

Ron took a long drink of his butterbeer and burped contentedly. "Ah, but what would be the fun
in that?" He grinned as his friends glared at him. "There were times when I wondered if
I'd have to lock you lot in a room together for a week before you'd come to your senses,
though," he admitted.

"That wasn't the problem," Hermione pointed out. "We both knew how we felt; we
were just convinced that the other didn't feel the same way."

"Besides, seeing as how they can hardly go half a day without shagging, they'd probably
have killed each other in there," Malfoy drawled from the floor where he was rolling a ball
back and forth to Em.

Harry grinned naughtily at Hermione. "Not a bad way to go, if you ask me. Death by Orgasm.
Whaddya think, luv?"

Hermione blushed.

Tired of the ball, Emerson grabbed a keyring toy, climbed over Malfoy and crawled straight to
Hermione. Hermione reached down to pick her up but the baby ignored her and drew herself up without
help.

"Well, excuse me, missus," Hermione said, looking surprised. "Is it me or is she
getting really independent?"

Harry beamed proudly. Emerson did have a mind of her own, even being a mere ten months old.
"What d'you have there?" he asked the baby.

She looked up at him then down at the toy. "Dada," she said, holding it out to him.

Harry picked her up and cuddled her on his lap. He kissed her curly head, tickling her lightly and
she squealed and laughed that deep belly laugh that only babies are capable of.

"Emerson," Hermione said. Em looked up at her. "Come here. Come show me the
toy."

"Chaya?" Emerson asked. Or something that sounded like that. Everybody smiled.

"Yeah, bring it here."

The baby climbed off Harry's lap and crawled to Hermione. This time she let Hermione pick her
up and seat her. Emerson held up the toy and let loose a stream of baby gibberish, obviously trying
to explain about it and everybody gazed at her in adoration. She handed Hermione the toy.
"Mama," she said.

Now everyone froze.

Ron goggled. "Did she just.. did she just call Hermione 'mama'?"

Harry was watching Hermione intently. He wanted to see how she would react. Something had been
weighing on his mind lately and he had been looking for a push in either direction. Perhaps this
was it.

He leaned forward. "Emerson." The baby looked over at him. "Who am I? Who's
this?" He pointed at himself.

Emerson waved the toy. "Dada."

"Good girl. Now who's that?" He pointed at Hermione. "Who's
that?"

She looked up at Hermione and gave her a dazzling smile. "Ma-ma."

Harry returned his gaze to Hermione who seemed to be blinking back tears. She hugged the baby
tightly. "Oh, Sweetheart!"

Emerson tolerated this for a few seconds before she squirmed, wanting to be let down and Hermione
set her onto the floor where she crawled back to Malfoy. Malfoy was wiping his eyes. "Damn
allergies," he said weakly.

But Harry was suddenly lost in nervous and elated thought. Emerson's word and Hermione's
reaction to the word had helped him come to a crucial decision with which he had been grappling. He
loved Hermione so much. He wanted her to be his wife; to be his forever.

Today, in all honesty.

But he worried that it might be too soon to ask her. Even though they'd known each other for
more than a decade, they had still only been romantically involved for three months. Marriage was a
very serious step to consider, much less take, and although she was the only woman he could ever
consider marrying, was three months too soon to ask her?

He knew that she loved him, she showed him everyday in so many ways, and there was nobody else he
would even consider being a mother to his daughter. Or being the mother to the other children he
hoped to have.

And just now, her reaction had made up his mind for him.


************


"That's the ticket, Harry," David Granger said as Harry swung his club awkwardly,
teeing off on the 12th hole.

It was a week after he'd made his decision and Harry was playing his first ever game of golf,
badly, with Hermione's father. David Granger was a quiet and bookish man who only seemed to
come alive when he was talking about dentistry and Hermione. Or lately, golf. In making a choice as
to the setting in which to make his request, Harry had decided that golf was the safer and less -
but only by a little - boring option.

"How's the baby?" David asked suddenly, exchanging clubs.

Harry smiled. "She's good. Jabbering up a storm. She said 'moon' the other
day."

"Moon?"

"Yeah. I think it's that book Hermione's been reading to her," Harry
replied.

David grinned. "Hermione's going to have her hooked on books, mark my words! Is she
walking yet?"

"No, but not for lack of trying. The other day we caught her dancing though. I can't
believe how fast she's growing," Harry said, shaking his head.

"What a delightful child," Mr. Granger chuckled as he bent to position his next
ball.

Harry gulped and took a deep breath. "Er, David, can I ask you something?"

David straightened and looked at him curiously. He stopped fiddling with the club and observed
Harry. "Sure."

Harry wished Mr. Granger would go back to looking at the clubs. His gaze was making Harry nervous.
Taking another gulp of air, he decided to get right out with it. "Um, sir.. David.. I'd
like to ask for your blessing to ask Hermione to marry me."

David looked at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable before he turned back to the clubs
without answering and now Harry wished he could see the other man's face. The older man seemed
almost to have forgotten that Harry was there and feeling slightly panicked, Harry hurried on.
"I know we haven't been dating for very long, but we've known each other for more than
15 years and I love her-"

"I'd be honored to have you marry Hermione."

"... I can't imagine my life without her. She is the only woman that I-"

"Harry." He looked up into the twinkling brown eyes of Mr. Granger. "Did you hear
what I said?"

Harry shook his head, feeling slightly foolish.

"I said I'd be honored to have you marry Hermione. I couldn't have picked a better man
for my daughter."

Harry heaved a sigh of relief. "So it's ok?" he asked softly.

David smiled and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "It's more than ok. And I know that if my
Elizabeth were alive, she'd say the same thing. You have my blessing. Go with God, young
man."


*********

It took Harry almost two weeks to decide how he was going to propose to Hermione. He wanted it to
be simple yet romantic, something they would always remember fondly. David Granger's response
to his question was a huge positive and the reactions of his friends when he told them of his
intentions further bolstered his spirits and resolve.

Tonks and Angelina helped him pick out a ring for Hermione. Nothing overly fancy or showy; that was
not Hermione's style. But he wanted the ring he chose to have a simple, understated elegance.
Just like his lady. He was satisfied with the one he'd chosen, and he hoped Hermione would like
it too. It was a 1.31 carat 3-stone setting platinium ring, made with a 0.71 carat round center
diamond and a 0.30 carat round diamond on either side of it. Tonks and Angelina had both gotten
teary-eyed and girly and Harry had had to threaten to hex them before they'd calmed down. They
had, of course, promised to keep the secret, though they did urge him to do it ASAP because they
would surely burst if they had to keep it quiet for too long.

Finally, the evening arrived when he would do it and Harry was relieved that everything had gone
off without a hitch or a leak. Higher powers must have been at work there, as far as he was
concerned, because Harry could count on one hand the number of times he'd ever been that lucky.
Even the weather was cooperating. It was a lovely spring day, the proverbial April showers taking a
break as if to cheer him on.

Per the plan, Fred and Angelina would keep Emerson overnight at their house. Harry had done that
twice before, and both times it had been anguish being away from his little girl but he felt it was
necessary for her to develop her own character. Much as he liked being needed, he didn't want
Emerson to grow up to be needy and dependent on anybody but herself. And the books said to start
early. Besides, it was the perfect foil. Hermione was unlikely to get suspicious because he'd
done it before.

He told Hermione that it was so they could celebrate their three-month anniversary without
interruption, to which she'd gotten that certain gleam in her eye that he'd never been able
to resist. Suffice it to say, they had ended up in Fred and Angelina's guest bathroom but
that's a whole other story.

Emerson waved bye-bye as Harry and Hermione prepared to leave and Harry waved back. "Bye baby.
I love you."

But Em's eye had already been caught by the Fred Weasleys' Yorkshire terrier, Angus, and
she squealed and began crawling towards the dog without a backward glance.

Harry sighed. "I think we've been dismissed," he told Hermione, who patted his arm
sympathetically. "Shall we go home then?"

She smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."

After saying their good-byes and thanks-agains to Fred and Angelina (who winked at Harry) and their
three year old twins, Marc and Marissa, he led her outside and checked his watch. If things were
running on time and according to plan, the second phase of Operation Proposal should be completed
by now. He took Hermione's hand and with a brief nod, they apparated to Ballynore.


**********

The first thing he noticed when they arrived at Ballynore was a delicious smell wafting from the
dining room. Harry heaved a mental sigh of relief. *So far, so good.*

Hermione grasped his arm. "Harry. Do you smell something?"

He grinned. "Actually I do. It smells like strawberries. Like woman." He grabbed her
around the waist and buried his nose in her neck. "It smells like Hermione."

She swatted him. "Be serious!" But there was a faint blush on her cheeks so he knew she
was pleased.

Harry took her hand and kissed it. "I ordered us dinner from Fifteen. Jamie owed me a favor
and I told him it was our anniversary and.. well, wanna go see?"

She gave him a beautiful smile, seeming suddenly shy and Harry couldn't resist. He drew her
closer and pressed his lips to hers. She sighed softly, her arms around his neck and Harry slipped
his tongue into her delicious mouth. Hermione moaned and pressed against him and the feel of her
breasts against his chest, even through their clothes, made the heat flicker through his
brain.

He pulled away, breathing hard. *Don't mess up the plan.* Instead he gave her neck a quick
nibble and whispered in a husky voice, "We'll continue this later."

Hermione shivered at his promise, her eyes bright and Harry took her hand and led her to the dining
room. The sun was just beginning to set outside, its dying embers through the large bay windows
enhancing the soft light of the candles scattered around the room. The big oak table, perfect for
seating more than a dozen people without enlargement, had been transfigured into a smaller one just
for two. There were two tall tapered candles in shiny silver sticks on the table with a small bowl
of fresh rose cuttings between them. Their meals were covered by silver domes and a bottle of wine
rested to the side, already uncorked and breathing, waiting for their enjoyment. Everything was, of
course, being magically kept at their optimum temperatures.

"Thank you," Hermione said as Harry pushed her chair in. He sat down across from her,
noting the way her eyes shone and the rosy glow on her cheeks. His heart was in perpetual
hyperactivity mode, both from what he was planning and because he was aware of the fact that
*he* was the one making her look like that. It was the sexiest thing he had ever seen outside
of their bedroom.

"Wine?"

She nodded and he poured them some aromatic Pinot Gris. He handed her the glass and picked up his.
"To us."

Hermione looked into his eyes and Harry felt goosebumps erupt along the back of his arms. "To
us."

Dinner went by leisurely. The food was delicious, as usual; Jamie had really outdone himself once
again. They both feasted on English pea carnaroli risotto with garden sorrel and ricotta, but not
even the good food could make them keep their eyes off each other.

They talked about everything - about Hermione's job, where things were falling into place for
the cure. About Emerson - laughing about things the baby had done and discussing her development.
They talked about when Harry would go back to Quidditch - he would have to give Oliver a definite
answer soon. Harry was leaning heavily towards going back; the next couple months for Puddlemere
were entirely composed of training sessions and a few at-home games, so he wouldn't have to be
away overnight. Molly Weasley was already watching a few kids during the daytime and had said she
would love to have Emerson too.

Of course Harry was hoping that that wouldn't be necessary, if Hermione said 'yes'
tonight. She still had every intention of taking an extended leave of absence from her job once the
cure was finally implemented and Harry would much rather Emerson were with Hermione.

When the last morsel of their dessert, a delicious apricot and frangipane tart with mascarpone
cheese, had been savored and their glasses drained, Harry stood up and went around to her
side.

"Would you like to go for a walk?"

She took his proffered hand. "As long as I'm with you."

They stepped out into the cool darkness of the early evening. It was a full moon tonight, so there
was no need for any other source of light. Harry made sure that the little velvet box was in his
pocket, then he and Hermione strolled hand in hand slowly across the Ballynore grounds. They walked
in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying each other's company and the loveliness of the
night.

"Mmmm," Hermione said, breathing deeply. "It smells so good out here."

Harry gulped nervously. "Uh, yeah. There's a.. there's a wild rosebush around here
somewhere. Em and I found it the other day."

"Are you alright?" she asked him curiously.

"Sure. I've never been better." He put his arms around her waist. "Happy
Anniversary, Hermione. These past months we've been together have been, without a doubt, the
happiest of my life."

She touched his cheek lightly. "And mine too. I love you, Harry."

"I love you, too," he said, bending his head to receive her kiss and for a long moment
they just slowly explored each other's mouth. Hermione broke the kiss, hugging him tightly and
Harry buried his nose in her hair, taking big gulps of air, plucking up his courage.

She gasped suddenly. "Harry, look!" She pointed to the sky and after a few seconds, he
saw them: shooting stars. Perfect.

Her mouth was open in delight and seeing that her attention was otherwise engaged he dropped onto
one knee, still holding her hand. The movement made him tug on her arm and she looked down at him
in bewilderment.

Then her eyes widened and her other hand went to her mouth.

*Ok, here it goes.* Harry's heart was hammering so loudly he was sure she could hear it.
"I.. I'm not really good at this, at using big eloquent words. Not that there are any
words to adequately describe how I feel about you, how much you mean to me. How much I love
you."

He realized that he was talking almost torrentially and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself
down. Hermione was still staring at him in wonder. "But I can say this, Hermione, I love you
so much that when I'm with you I feel like I'm walking on air. You are my best friend, my
rock, my lover. And I can honestly say that if you were just one thing more, I could conquer the
world." He paused. "Well actually two things," he grinned.

Hermione laughed softly. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and her eyes were eloquent with
feeling.

"I want you to be the mother of my children. I want you to-" Harry had to stop and
swallow the huge lump in his throat. He looked up at her again, his eyes caressing hers.
"Hermione.. Hermione, will you do me this honor? Will you marry me?"

Hermione let out a sob, dropped to her knees and threw her arms around him. "Yes. Yes, Harry,
I'll marry you! I'll-" She broke off and kissed him and it was a sweet kiss, full of
passion and joy. Their tears mingled as they clutched each other under the wild rose-scented
moonlight. The love between them was almost palpable; surely, somewhere, the gods smiled.

They broke apart, both grinning like idiots.

Then Harry slapped his forehead. "Dammit! I forgot the ring." He fumbled in his pocket
and brought out the little velvet box and handed it to Hermione. "I'm sorry," he said
sheepishly. "I was supposed to have that in hand when I actually asked you, like all the big
romantic heroes do."

She laughed and kissed him softly. "You're more than enough hero for me, Harry Potter. If
you were any more, why, how could my poor heart take it?" She opened the box and gasped.
"Oh my God, Harry! This-"

He frowned worriedly. "You don't like it? I thought, um... we can take it back and get
anoth-" His words were cut off when Hermione kissed him again, sucking lightly on his bottom
lip and Harry groaned.

She pulled away. "I love it. But Harry, this must have cost a fortune!"

He smiled dazedly. "I would gladly give up my fortune if it meant you'd kiss me like that
again."

She smiled again and Harry's heart rate sped up. God, she was beautiful with the moonlight
glinting off her hair. Her eyes were shining with happiness and he took the ring from her and
slipped it onto her finger. It looked like it belonged there, like it had been made for her.
Perhaps it had.

Harry drew her close. "Hold on," he said before he disapparated them to his
bedroom.

He wanted her.

He wanted to show her just how happy she had made him tonight. He wanted to make her feel as good
as he felt. He wanted to love her, with every part of his being, his body and soul.

Hermione shivered under his heated gaze and Harry brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. He bent
his head and suckled at the pulsepoint on her neck and her breath hitched. He trailed his hands up
and down her arms, her back, down to her butt, around to her front, up her legs, her belly, her
breasts before cupping her face. Hermione's eyes were closed, her moistened lips glistening and
slightly parted. She accepted his lips hungrily, her hands snaking under his shirt to lightly play
across his lower back.

Still kissing her, Harry began unbuttoning her shirt, then his lips left hers to kiss every inch of
skin as it emerged from the shirt he was slowly pushing off her shoulders. He cupped her breasts,
weighing their soft mass in his hands as his thumbs brushed lightly across their hardened peaks
through her lacy bra. Hermione gripped his arms and moaned as he continued his squeezing and
caressing and suddenly the slow pace wasn't enough for him.

He kissed her again, hard, as his fingers fought with the hooks of her bra and when it had joined
her shirt on the floor, he dipped his head and suckled one firm pink nipple into his mouth.
Hermione cried out, her hands now in his hair, and the sound of her voice sent shock waves rippling
through his body, fueling his urgency.

His lips moved to lavish attention on the other nipple as he unzipped her skirt and slid it down
her hips, leaving her now only in her knickers. He slipped those off her too and as she stepped out
of them, Harry's breath caught in his throat.

"My Hermione. You are so beautiful," he said almost reverently, gazing deeply into her
eyes.

She blushed. "But you're still dressed. Now why is that?" She began pushing up his
shirt and Harry helped her, quickly slipping out of his clothes leaving him standing just as naked
before her. She reached down and stroked his hard length and Harry closed his eyes and hissed in
pleasure.

"No, this is your night." He took her hand and led her to the bed, kissing her all over
her face as they scooted to the middle of the mattress. He stretched out full-length on top of her
so that his body was touching hers everywhere, resting his weight on his elbow. Again his lips
captured hers and he kissed her until Hermione was panting while his hand played lightly across her
flat stomach.

His fingers tickled the soft hair of her mound and her legs fell apart in silent invitation, which
Harry chose to ignore for now. His lips wandered to her breasts again and still his fingers brushed
lightly over her inner thighs, never quite going where she so obviously wanted them to.

"Please. Harry, touch me," she whimpered finally, trying to move his hand and Harry
smiled around her right nipple before obliging and stroking her lightly. She moaned deep in her
throat, arching her body to his touch and Harry slipped a finger inside her wetness, slowly moving
it in and out.

Wanting suddenly to taste her, he slid slowly down her body, slipping his finger out of her as he
went, to Hermione's disappointed cry. Harry parted her outer lips and looked at her soft wet
folds for a second before he dipped his head and took a long taste of her honey. She tasted so
good. She tasted like Hermione and Harry thought if he never had to get up from where he was,
feasting at her most intimate spot, he would be more than fine.

Hermione was making the most delicious sounds, writhing beneath him. He slipped first one finger
and then another inside her velvety softness and she made an odd gurgling sound while grabbing at
his hair. Harry could tell she was getting close by the way her voice was rising and the way her
thighs shook and he quickened the movements of his fingers and tongue.

"Harry!" she gasped as she tried to push his head away, obviously not wanting to come
just yet but Harry pushed his fingers in deeper, applying pressure upward and she screamed. He
stabbed at her clit with his tongue and felt Hermione shatter beneath him as her juices pooled
around his fingers.

Unable to wait another second, convinced that he would surely die if he wasn't inside her at
once, Harry slid back up her body, holding her close as she shuddered.

"Harry, Harry," she moaned, her body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He kissed her
fiercely, plundering her mouth and she opened her legs wantonly, reaching down to guide him to her
wetness. He slipped in effortlessly and they both cried out at the sensation of being one. They fit
together so well, as if they had been made to match.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, fighting not to explode yet, gripping her hips so she wouldn't
move. Once he'd managed a measure of control, he raised his head and smiled at her. "You
are so fucking sexy," he growled, watching the way her eyes rolled back in her head at his
words. "And you're gonna be my wife."

She nodded, her breath coming in panting gasps. "Your.. wife.. oh Circe, Harry!"

Because Harry had started to move, sliding in and out of her slowly. He laced his fingers through
hers and raised their hands above her head. She wrapped her legs around his hips, giving him better
leverage to go deeper and the pace quickly sped up as they gave their everything to each other.
Harry let go of her hands to fondle and squeeze her nipples while Hermione arched her hips, meeting
him thrust for thrust.

"Oh Merlin, Hermione," he gasped as her walls began to tighten around him. He kept saying
her name over and over again as his control slipped away from him and his movements became more
frantic and unrestrained.

Her nails raked his back as she arched almost halfway off the bed, her face suffused with ecstasy.
"Harry! Harry!"

The burning began simultaneously at the ends of his hair and the tips of his toes. He could almost
track the sensation picking up speed as it rolled towards his gut from two different directions. He
plunged into her harder, faster, sweat trickling down his back, and the two balls of flame met,
merged and exploded into a raging inferno that had them both screaming to the ceiling of
Ballynore.

They were consumed; he might have passed out, he would never be sure but it took them a long time
to get down from the euphoric high. Afterwards they lay trembling in each other's arms, the
blood pounding in their ears as their lungs worked frantically to get their breathing back to
normal.

A while later, they were cuddled side by side gazing adoringly into each other's eyes.

"We've come a long way, haven't we?" Hermione said softly, trailing her hand
along his arm.

"A very long way," he agreed. "I mean, I never dreamed that the bossy little girl on
the Hogwarts Express that first September 1st would end up consenting to be my wife. She was such a
little know-it-OW!"

"Oh, you!" Hermione said, trying to look stern but failing by and large.

"So it's like that now, heh? Abusing me already. You're gonna pay for that, Miss
Granger," Harry growled, rolling onto her and pinning her arms at her sides.

She smirked. "That's Mrs. Potter to you. And I'd like to see you try,
hotshot."

Harry grinned and lowered his head to kiss her again. A profound sense of peace swept over him and
as he slipped into her body again, he knew he was finally where he belonged.

He was home.




13. Epilogue
------------

**Epilogue**

*Two years later*


Benjamin Albus Potter was born the week before Christmas and it was difficult to ascertain who was
most ecstatic at his arrival - his parents or his big sister.

As soon as they had found out the gender and thought she could understand, Harry and Hermione had
told Emerson about the baby. From that moment on, Emerson told anybody who would listen that she
was going to have a baby brother. She loved to lie down with her face pressed to Hermione's
swollen belly and "tell the baby secrets."

"I'm going to teach him all kinds of stuff," she declared to her moist-eyed
parents.

Harry could scarcely believe how wonderful his life had become. He and Hermione had been married
six weeks after he proposed. They just couldn't see any reason to wait. They'd already
wasted too much time being blind! They had put together a quick wedding, only family and closest
friends, with a larger reception for anyone who wanted to attend. There had been more than 500
people at the reception and thousands more sent good wishes. Harry was the Boy-Who-Lived, afterall,
and Hermione was famous in her own right as one of the developers of the cure for Prolonged
Cruciatus Curse victims.

They had postponed their honeymoon for a week so they could celebrate Emerson's first birthday.
Then the newlyweds had spent a blissful three weeks in the South Pacific, island-hopping between
Fiji, Tahiti, the Solomon Islands and Tonga. They had actually been supposed to stay a month but
they were both worried that Emerson would miss them too much. Or so they said. Actually it was the
other way around and Em had barely batted an eyelash when they breezed back into the Burrow a week
early.

His relationship with Hermione was incredible. Even after more than seventeen years of friendship,
he was still getting to know her better and every time he thought he couldn't love her more, he
would wake up the next morning having proven himself wrong. They were so attracted to each other,
it wasn't even funny but they already had a solid foundation of friendship to build on. They
had been through so much and taken so long to get where they were that they were cautious to
treasure every moment they had together.

It was a running joke among their circle of friends about how incredibly randy they both were.
Their friends marvelled that Harry and Hermione had managed to get to almost two years before Ben
was conceived, what with all the explosive sex they were having. Ron had even joked at the
beginning of their marriage that he would kiss Malfoy if Harry didn't knock Hermione up within
the first 12 months.

Needless to say, when Ron kissed Malfoy it was the first time in the history of the world that a
second Weasley had ever kissed a Malfoy (the first one being Ginny Weasley, of course. Malfoy and
Ginny had been dating almost a year now. Harry was quite proud of his matchmaking success. Now if
they could only get Ron with Luna Lovegood).

Ignoring their doctor's warnings, Harry and Hermione had even made love the day before Hermione
went into labor, which was three days overdue anyway. And now Ben was here, perfectly healthy and
beautiful and already had Harry, Hermione and Emerson wrapped around his tiny fingers. Ben was so
*wanted*. Harry loved being a father, Emerson was such a blessing in his life, and he adored
Hermione so much that he couldn't wait to make a baby with her. A tangible product of their
love. If he had had his way, they would have expanded their family the night of the wedding, but
Hermione convinced him that they should let Emerson get a little bit older. As it was, Em was
convinced that Ben was *her* baby.

Harry and Hermione were fiercely proud and protective of their daughter. She was a lovely child
with her green eyes, permanently tanned skin (due to her mixed heritage) and ebony hair which was a
jumble of curls and waves tumbling almost to her waist. Emerson was intelligent and energetic,
prone to bursting into paroxysms of song and dance. Harry and Hermione had already agreed to enroll
her in dance lessons when she turned four - no reason to let all that natural enthusiasm go to
waste. She was friendly and affectionate and was already displaying a love of books, to
Hermione's great delight. Nothing soothed Emerson more than to curl up with Mummy or Daddy or
both and be read to. Her favorite book was "*Goodnight, Moon*", though
"*David and Goliath*" was a close second.

Not that she was all roses and light. Emerson had an exasperating stubbon streak and a temper to
rival any redhead's. Fortunately though, she also had a high tolerance threshold but once it
had been breached - watch out.

"Rockabye baby on the treetop," Emerson sang in her high little girl voice as she held
her brother with Hermione's help.

Harry watched the scene from his chair beside Hermione's bed. He caught his wife's eye and
smiled. Her hair was a tangled mess and she looked tired, but Harry thought he had never seen her
more beautiful. She had just given him a son and he loved her so much, he thought his heart would
burst.

"Mummy, look!"

Little Ben was yawning and blinking his eyes, his sparse black hair as messy as his
father's.

"Oh, aren't you precious!" Emerson cooed, causing Harry and Hermione to grin as they
blinked back tears.

That was another thing about Emerson. She had an incredible knack for repeating grown-ups. Molly
Weasley had a habit of saying those very words to her various grandkids, biological or
surrogate.

Harry and Hermione had been made aware of Emerson's talent after Hermione's dad had come
over one evening. David Granger was thinking of scaling back his dentistry practice per
Hermione's urgings ("You need to slow down, Dad!") but was lamenting the lack of
common sense among today's young parents. Why, just the other day he'd seen to a little boy
barely older than Emerson whose enamel was already coming off his teeth almost completely!

A week later, the Potters hosted Annamaria Lupin's 5th birthday party at Ballynore. Annamaria
was Remus and Tonks' eldest daughter. Harry and Hermione had overheard Emerson telling
Annamaria that her Grandpa Granger knew a little boy who had cows coming out of his mouth.

Annamaria scoffed, putting on I'm-older-than-you airs, as all kids are wont to do. "That
is complete nonsense."

"It's true!" insisted Emerson, undeterred. "I heard Grandpa Granger telling
Mummy that the little boy had animals coming off his teeth!"

Harry and Hermione had laughed so hard, they'd cried even as they reminded themselves to watch
what they said in Emerson's earshot. Little pitchers, indeed.

"Why are you crying, Daddy?" Emerson asked suddenly.

For indeed tears were streaming down Harry's face. He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes
before putting them back on. Emerson got up and climbed into his lap. She put her little arms
around his neck and kissed his cheek, looking worried.

Harry smiled. "I'm fine. I'm just so happy."

Emerson frowned. "I'm sorry but that doesn't make any sense. You're suppose to cry
when you're sad and laugh when you're happy," she pointed out in all her three year
old wisdom.

"That's true," Harry conceded. "But you know how when you pour too much milk in
your cup, it spills and overflows?"

Em nodded.

"Well, sometimes you can get so filled up with happiness that it spills and overflows through
your eyes. But they're happy tears," he said, locking eyes with his wife who tearily
mouthed "I love you".

"I love you too," he mouthed back, wanting badly to kiss her.

Emerson seemed to think hard for a minute before she nodded. "I see," she said sagely
before she scrambled off his lap and returned her attention to her brother.

Harry moved to sit on the bed beside his wife and gathered her into his arms, before kissing her
softly. He cradled their son as Emerson leaned her head against his arm, Hermione on his other side
and heaved a great sigh of blessed contentment.

For most of his life, he had felt adrift; had felt himself being tossed and blown all over the
place like so much flotsam and jetsam on the sea of circumstances beyond his control. Many things
and many persons had provided him glimpses, nudges and winks of a safe place. But none of them have
been *the* right person or place and he had been cut afloat time and time again.

Today, though, his vessel would never again need be as battered and beatened by those harsh waves.
He was not so naive as to think that they would live happily ever after, but he was nevertheless
quite content. At long last, things were right.

And as Harry Potter watched the two women he loved most in all the world giggle and coo at his new
son, he knew he had arrived.

His ship was finally safe in harbor.


*************
*The sense of the world is short,
Long and various the report-
To love and be beloved;
Men and gods have not outlearned it,
And how oft soe'er they've turned it,
'Tis not to be improved.*

*"Eros"* Ralph Waldo Emerson


**********
**End Notes:** Well, that's it. My first fully-completed fanfic *sniffles* And what a fun
ride it was too! Thank you guys so much for all the support and inspiration you all provided. It
was truly invaluable, and hopefully I'll be able to write other stuff to share with y'all.
Rock on and on and on...

1. The enamel/animal joke is from a novel called "The Most Wanted" by Jacqueline
Mitchard, the same author of "Deep End of the Ocean", an Oprah's Book club selection
and a big-budget movie.

2. I forgot to post this with the last chapter, but here's a picture of Hermione's
engagement ring:
http://www.bluenile.com/design.asp?add=1&filter_id=1&set_shape=&ring_size=&piderror=

My husband bought my rings from this company and they are wonderful.