A/N: Many thanks to the reviewers of the last chapter. I appreciate it very much!
Disclaimer: There are references to Star Wars in this chapter and the series is obviously not
mine. It belongs to George Lucas (duh!) and any and all characters/dialogue/etc. pertaining to that series are his.
Also, the poem "Jabberwocky" is property of Lewis Carroll and its other owners, which isn't me.
Thanks.
Chapter Thirteen - A Time to Live
If Hermione ever wanted to highlight the differences between various stages in her life, an excellent means of doing so
would be by examining her Hallowe'ens.
As a little girl growing up with two dentist parents, Hallowe'en hadn't really been that big of an occasion for her. Certainly nowhere near the caliber of materialism that the holiday generated in the States. Really, in the Muggle world, the celebration of Hallowe'en was more of an American thing.
Upon entering Hogwarts, and thus the wizarding world, however, Hallowe'en began making huge impacts on her life. Her first Hallowe'en at Hogwarts had been the day she truly became friends with Harry and Ron and she would not be the person she was today were not for the events of that evening. Subsequent Hallowe'ens consisted of Hagrid's gigantic pumpkins, huge feasts in the Great Hall, wizarding crackers and other such amusements, truly some of her fondest Hogwarts memories.
These days, her Hallowe'ens were busy with planning the means for the making of memories for her children and those of her friends. All the mothers typically got together to plan the day's events and this year, the celebration was held at the Burrow. Basically, all the kids from the Back to School bash were present and a jolly time was being had by all.
The chilly weather did absolutely nothing to repress the high spirits of the youngsters. Their mothers just had to make sure that they were all adequately bundled up and Charmed before turning them loose to go nuts in the Burrow's grassy backyard.
Dusk was beginning to fall and Hermione was sitting on the porch with Ginny and Luna, watching the children burn off some of that excess sugar from dinner. The mothers had put together a scrumptious feast, reminiscent of Hogwarts - or so the men said - and everyone had eaten their fill. Especially of the desserts: apple and pumpkin pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts; it was a wonder anybody could even move afterwards, much less the running and leaping happening outside.
Ben came zooming up to the porch, sporting a lurid red and gold party hat. "Mum, d'you know that tonight you can see Ve-" he began, but suddenly broke into a string of gibberish punctuated by shouts of "Rumpelstiltskin!", of all things. After a few seconds, he gave up trying to talk and burst out laughing instead; Hermione rolled her eyes.
Fred and George's Rumpelstiltskin Hats were a huge hit with their test subjects. As far as the kids were concerned, it definitely paid to be related to the founders and chief product developers of 3W. They got to sample new products before the general public even knew the items existed. Tonight, it was the Rumpelstiltskin Hats that were the main draw. The seemingly innocuous party hats made you unexpectedly start sprouting nonsense in the middle of perfectly normal speech, as evidenced by Ben's outburst.
The night air was filled with the startled fluttering of live bats and the yells of children, chasing each other around the backyard. There were the occasional booms, wheeeeees and other loud noises from the Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs like the ones Fred and George had let loose on Umbridge in Hermione's fifth year, and the conversation turned to that subject.
"That was definitely one for the record books," Ginny said, chuckling. "For once, I was proud to admit that I was related to those goofballs."
Hermione nodded. "That was exactly what we all needed. That woman needed to learn that she couldn't oppress us like that. What, did she think we would just sit back and take it? Not for long, no."
"Well, at least these are the G-rated versions," Luna murmured, taking a sip of her hot apple cider. "The ones at Hogwarts taught me swearwords I'd never heard before."
The three women laughed companionably, reminiscing on one of the few happy periods of that time. The Second War had begun not too long afterwards and such carefree times were few and far in between after that.
Hermione sobered first as she watched Ben chatting animatedly with his friend, Arnie Shriver. She was incredibly curious about Arnie's family. She knew his mother had entered Hogwarts the year before Umbridge had had that brief, tyrannical reign but somehow, Hermione couldn't remember her. She wasn't in Gryffindor, of that much Hermione was certain. The owl she'd sent asking permission for Arnie to spend Hallowe'en with Ben had come back with approval and profuse thanks, signed by a Margaret Shriver, which told Hermione exactly nothing. 'Shriver' was obviously the woman's married name.
'Maybe I'll invite them over for dinner some time,' she thought to herself. 'Ben does seem really attached to Arnie, for some reason.'
Actually, Hermione was pretty sure she knew what the reason was. She would bet almost anything that Arnie was the one Ben had been trying to protect when he'd gotten into that fight with Paddy McPherson. She was also sure Arnie was where Ben's extra lunch was going, though her son had never said. The obviously hard times that the Shrivers appeared to be going through made Hermione all the more determined to find out more about them.
And she was so proud of Ben! This was exactly something Harry would do, right down to not advertising the good he was doing.
"What's that Luke is carrying?" Ginny asked suddenly, jolting Hermione from her musings.
Hermione searched around for her youngest son and giggled when she found him. "It's a lightsaber."
"A what?"
"A Muggle toy," Hermione explained, her eyes twinkling. "It's like a sword but according to the story is much more powerful than that. It's from this hugely popular film series called Star Wars."
"I think I've heard of it. At first I thought it meant the stars in the sky were at war," Luna said serenely, rubbing her slightly rounded stomach. Luna was almost four months pregnant with her and Ron's third child. "Isn't there a Luke in it?"
Hermione smiled. "Yeah, Luke Skywalker. My father is rabid about the series; he gave Ben and Luke the sabers and has watched it so many times with them that they can probably recite dialogue from it by now. Sometimes he actually tells people that Luke is named for the one in the movies."
Ginny giggled. "Is he?"
"Please!" Hermione laughed, watching her son chase Tristan and Alex with the saber, which was glowing a brighter green as the night got darker. "His name is Lukas, remember? Spelled with a 'k'."
"Oh yeah. Why'd you spell it with a 'k'? Did you ever tell us?" Ginny asked as she swirled her gillywater with a swivel stick.
"It has to do with Malfoy, actually."
The other woman seemed to perk up and Hermione suppressed a smile. Malfoy and Ginny were mad about each other and everything about them just seemed so intense. She knew for a fact that they did some pretty wild things in private, so it really said a lot that Harry and Hermione were actually the ones voted "Randiest Couple". If the title was "Craziest in Bed", Malfoy and Ginny would probably win hands down. Though surely Ron and Luna wouldn't be far behind - what with Luna practically being the living epitome of the word 'crazy'.
"Well, Harry and I both really liked the name 'Lucas'," Hermione explained. "We thought it sounds so strong. Not too adult for a little boy, yet it won't sound childish on a grown man, you know?"
"Yes," Luna replied dreamily. "That's why there's our Alex."
Hermione and Ginny caught each other's eye and looked away quickly to avoid bursting out laughing. Because there was a lot more to Alex's name than first glance provided, and not the way one would expect either.
"So yeah," Hermione continued when she felt she could without going into hysterics. Ginny was making it a bit hard by giggling into her glass. "Anyway, we both thought 'Lucas', with the usual spelling seemed too much like-"
"Lucius," Ginny supplied, the laughter abruptly vanishing from her eyes. Lucius Malfoy had been dead almost twenty years but his dark influence still had faint twinges in the land of the living, particularly in his son. Draco Malfoy had come very far but Hermione knew he still had his demons. He still wrestled with the legacy his father had left him, fighting to be better for his own children. For his wife. For himself.
"Yeah. Only the spelling bothered us - the two names don't really sound that much alike. And we both liked it too much to scratch it off the list. So we decided to change that one letter." She shrugged. "And it works."
'Though now he only gets called 'Lukas' when he's been or was being particularly naughty. Which is every few hours, it seems,' she thought, smiling at her son who was jabbing the sword at a laughing Tristan.
"What's that he's yelling?" Ginny was wondering aloud now. She pulled her wand and muttered a partial Sonorus charm at Luke so that the sound was amplified only to the three of them and Hermione found herself suddenly on the verge of tears.
Because Luke was reciting something that she knew he'd picked up from her father. Just like the yo-yo. Just like the lightsaber.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
(Though Luke said the last line as "The furious Balderdash!")
Ginny looked puzzled. "Is that some kind of poem? Where'd he learn that?"
"It's a poem," Hermione affirmed, wiping her eyes. "He learned it from my Dad. Dad used to recite it to me all the time when I was little too, even after I memorized it myself. Mum would roll her eyes but even I could tell she was trying not to smile. It's really famous in the Muggle world, which is strange, isn't it?"
"I've seen a Jabberwock once," Luna murmured with a slight shiver. "Gave me nightmares for weeks."
How things could change! Hermione knew that once upon a time, she would have been gaping at Luna in bewilderment and disdain over such an utterance. But she was wiser now - knowing that there really were Jabberwocks. Apparently, Lewis Carroll had been a wizard, who cleverly camouflaged real creatures in nonsense poems. Muggles obviously thought he'd invented "Jubjub birds" and "Bandersnatch"es, just as he had "gimber" and "outgrabe". Hermione's father hadn't known whether to be delighted or offended when she'd shown him pictures of those supposedly made-up creatures.
"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?" Luke yelled, raising the saber while the other kids regarded him with amusement. Tristan was really laughing now.
"Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
Oh fabjous day! Callooh! Callay!
He chortled in his joy."
Ginny laughed and ended the Sonorus charm, leaning back in her chair, just as a drowsy Abigail and Davina climbed hand in hand up the porch and onto their respective mothers' laps.
"I'm very tired now," Davina told her mother sleepily and Hermione smiled and dropped a kiss on the curly, russet head.
The voices and laughter of the men drifted out from inside to intermingle with the sounds of their children and the industrial noise of the Whiz-bangs. Hermione leaned back in her chair too and blew out a deep breath of the chilly air as Hallowe'en entered its last stages.
They would need to go inside soon; the day was almost done. But it had been filled with family, friends, food and frolicking. It had been filled with laughter, and some good memories had surely been made.
Oh fabjous day, indeed.
*****
"So this tip came in about suspicious activity in this house up in Bethnal Green," Draco Malfoy was drawling, his glass of Firewhiskey listing dangerously in his hand. "Any idiot could tell you this wasn't anything serious but you know how it is these days." He shook his head and took a big gulp.
The men were sitting around the Burrow's ramshackle living room, nursing various alcoholic drinks, shooting the breeze and discussing things that the women would likely be rolling their eyes about if they had been present. Harry could hear the shouts of the children wafting in from outside, as well as the chinkle of dishes being washed in the kitchen by Mrs. Weasley, Angelina and Nina. "Helped" by Meghan and Nicole, of course - who were never far from their mothers. Seven years old, inseparable, born twelve hours apart and no, they weren't twins, though they were referred to as that sometimes. Meghan, the eldest, was the daughter of Fred and Angelina, while Nicole was George and Nina's.
Under the pretense of needing a glass of water to go along with his Firewhiskey, Harry had gone into the kitchen to see if his wife was in there too, but she wasn't. He'd glimpsed her through the windows, though, chattering merrily with Ginny and Luna, and after feasting his eyes on her for a few seconds, he'd been chased out of the kitchen by the little Weasley girls to the amusement of their elders.
"Ah, an uneasy peace. The calm before the storm," Fred Weasley was declaring sarcastically. "Seriously, the Powers That Be are being ridiculously paranoid these days. They can't seem to accept the fact that there actually are no big evil plans underway for the wizarding world."
"We don't know that, do we?" Harry said from his perch near the fireplace. "Frankly, I like the fact that they're still on their toes. This is definitely better than the heads-up-their-arses attitude of my fifth year at Hogwarts. Nobody wanted to believe that Voldemort was back."
There were a few sharp intakes of breath and Harry made an exasperated sound. "Aren't you lot over that by now? The bastard has been dead some twenty-odd years!"
"You've got to understand, Harry, superstition never quite goes away," Bill Weasley said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"Well, it should," Harry replied somewhat irritably. To be honest, he hated the fact that some people still allowed themselves to be held under Voldemort's power, even this many years after his demise. It made Harry uneasy, as if he hadn't actually vanquished that evil scum once and for all. Like he was merely pretending and would one day wake up to a horrible reality.
"Anyway," Malfoy said loudly, turning the conversation back to the original topic. "I swear, Shacklebolt has it in for me; he's always giving me useless assignments. He sent me and Haskings over to check it out, right? Bloody house looked like it hadn't been inhabited in more than a decade, much less had had people coming and going at all hours like the report said. The place was dusty like you wouldn't believe and littered with dead puffskeins the size of my dick."
Harry snickered. "Very tiny puffskeins, then."
"Fuck off, Potter," Malfoy drawled as the other men roared with laughter. "I have assets you can only dream about."
"Ooh, kinky!" George exclaimed with a grin. "You want Harry to dream about your assets, Malfoy? Tsk, tsk." His grin morphed into an evil look. "That would be cheating on our beloved Ginny. I do believe we promised to beat the ever-loving- what was it, Fred?"
"Shit," Fred supplied with an identically evil look. "We promised to beat the ever-loving shit out of him if he ever hurt our sister. Think this warrants a beating, dear brothers?"
Ron grinned. "Nah. He wouldn't dare. Ginny has him thoroughly whipped all by herself."
The other men chuckled while Malfoy scowled at Ron. "You're one to talk. Didn't your woman get you to name your son Trafalgar?"
Ron went crimson as even Harry burst out laughing. Poor Ron would surely never live that one down. Harry remembered how shell-shocked Ron had been when Joey was born, even though he'd had nine months to get used to the idea. Luna had gotten pregnant on their wedding night and maybe the suddenness of it, no real 'newlywed couple' time, was what had caused Ron to go catatonic like that.
Whatever the reason, Ron had emerged from his "Ohmigod - I'm a dad!" coma to discover that he'd somehow agreed to name his newborn son Trafalgar Joseph Weasley.
"I mean, I knew she wanted that name," Ron had moaned to Harry later on that momentous night. "But I thought we agreed not to use that one! How'd she get me to sign the parchment finalizing that name for the poor kid?"
Harry had assured him that women could get men to do anything they wanted, especially after going through something as arduous as labor. They had absolutely no qualms about playing the guilt card - they had, after all, been the ones to push the equivalent of a pumpkin through their privates, as Hermione had once eloquently put it, while the men stood around feeling and being useless. And it was all the man's fault too, of course.
Thankfully, since his middle name was 'Joseph', Harry's godson was called Joey and thus managed to escape too much teasing. But surely that luck would eventually run out when his peers discovered his real moniker. And Harry knew from experience that kids could be incredibly cruel.
Now, even as adults, the twins never wasted an opportunity to take the mickey out of their younger brother. "Luckily, for poor Trafalgar anyway," Fred was saying, his eyes watering with mirth, "his little brother also got afflicted by the 'Dumb and Whipped Daddy Syndrome'."
George laughed. "It actually started pretty normal - 'Alex'. But then Luna said the last part. The kid's name is Alexalorden Weasley!"
The majority of the men howled with laughter, Malfoy slapping his leg. "And there you kept saying it was just a one-time thing. It was just the shock of being a first time Daddy!"
"Well, to his credit, he recovered quicker the second time," Harry said, taking off his glasses to wipe his eyes so that he missed the "Et tu, Brute?" glare Ron sent him. "Except he was still a bit too late and his son had officially been christened Alexalorden Ronald Weasley. Trust Luna to come up with something like that."
"Well, I happen to think it's very creative," came a voice from the kitchen doorway and they all turned to see Molly Weasley frowning out at them while she wiped her hands in her apron. "I also like the name for the little girl you and Luna are expecting. 'Esperanzita', isn't it?"
If she'd thought that would help matters, she was mistaken. The twins and Malfoy went into near-hysterics, and Ron turned such a searing red that Harry thought they could've doused the cheerfully blazing fire in the fireplace and the comfortable temperature in the room wouldn't have dropped a single degree.
"It's Esperanza, Mum, not Esperanzita. And for your information, gits, I've gotten Luna to agree to use that as the baby's middle name. Her first name will be 'April'. A perfectly nice, normal name."
Malfoy calmed down enough to smirk over at Ron. "Yeah, but only if you manage to keep your wits about you this time around. We'll remember you in prayer."
"Oh sod off, Ferret," Ron shot back wearily, but Harry could see he was fighting a smile.
"Fred, George, your wives need some help in here!" Molly called as she turned to go back into the kitchen and it was almost comical how quickly the twins leapt up and hurried away.
Harry grinned at Ron, knowing that his best friend was thinking the same thing. For all the ribbing that they gave each other, they knew they were all whipped. And loving it tremendously.
The door to the backyard opened, letting in a chill wind, and Harry turned. He smiled when he saw the unruly ebony head of his eldest son coming in backwards, red lightsaber flashing as he "dueled" with his little brother.
'Ah, Star Wars,' Harry thought, watching his boys. He'd heard a bit about it as a child, as it was surprisingly a series that his tight-arsed Uncle Vernon actually enjoyed. It wasn't until David Granger, though, that Harry'd had a chance to really discover what all the fuss was about and it seemed his boys liked the series almost as much as their grandfather did.
"You have learned much, young one," Ben said in as deep a voice as he could manage, jumping to parry Luke's thrust of the green saber.
Luke's green eyes were laughing. "You'll find I'm full of surprises!"
"Your destiny lies with me, Skywalker. Obi-wan knew this to be true."
"No!"
Harry couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at their reflexes. Ben and Luke met each other's every twist and lunge. Everyone had paused in their conversations to watch the mock battle, which was ended when Ben made a spectacular swipe and Luke's saber clattered to the floor.
Ben advanced on his little brother, his red saber gleaming. "There is no escape. Don't make me destroy you. You do not yet realize your importance. You have only begun to discover your power."
Luke clutched his hand and fought to appear outraged, though Harry could see he was trying not to laugh, his cheeks rosy from innocence and the cold night air that he'd just left. "I will never join you!"
"Obi-wan never told you what happened to your father," Ben murmured deeply, throwing out his chest.
Harry caught Hermione's eye and his wife grinned at him, nodding her head in the direction of their sons. He nodded and turned to watch the boys again.
"He told me enough!" Luke was exclaiming. "He told me you killed him."
Ben's eyes widened with mirth and for a second, Harry thought the gig was up. But then his son recovered. "No. I am your father."
That was it and they both burst out laughing, to the applause of the other occupants of the Burrow.
"May the Force be with you!" cried Luke, raising his saber aloft.
Ben chuckled and walked over to flop down on the chair beside his father. Harry reached out to ruffle the messy head, smiling at his son.
"Had a good Hallowe'en?"
Ben nodded, his hazel eyes alive behind his glasses. "Yeah. It's been great."
"You and Luke seem to be pretty nifty with those swords," Harry commented and watched his son blush at the praise even as he shrugged. Ben was just so much like Hermione. "Even saying the lines and everything."
"It's nothing. These are really light, anyway."
"Ah, light or not, those were some wicked moves. Where'd you pick them up?"
"From their father, didn't they?" said Angelina, coming into the room, the "twins" tagging along behind her. "Weren't you unbelievable with Godric Gryffindor's sword when you were like only twelve?" She turned to address the kids that Hermione, Ginny and Luna were herding inside. "Are you guys all here?"
"Yeah," Hermione said, carrying Davina, who was fast asleep. She caught Harry's eye again and smiled at him and he, as usual, had the sudden desperate urge to snog her senseless.
'Later,' he told himself and settled for sending her a wink and a smile.
"Sit down, you lot!" Angelina said loudly. "Hot chocolate coming out in a minute." Her voice softened as she smiled down at her daughter and niece. "Thanks for the help, girls. You can sit now too."
The kids cheered and began dropping all over the place, giggling and chattering. It seemed so strange to Harry that the Burrow always was capable of holding whatever number of people that happened to get crammed inside. Of course by now it shouldn't surprise him anymore; the very stones of the place seemed to hum with magic.
When Fred and George's 3W had began really taking off, the twins had offered to buy their parents a new dwelling. But Arthur and Molly had politely declined. They didn't want to leave the Burrow, ever. It had been their home for too long and they were loath to abandon it now.
They did allow the twins to pay for numerous renovations, however. So while the Burrow wouldn't win any architectural awards any time soon, a few of its rough edges had been smoothed. For one, the kitchen was now a thing of envy among all Molly's friends and only Ballynore had one that could really compete. Which suited Mrs. Weasley perfectly; there were always hungry mouths to feed, especially with more than a dozen grandchildren, biological or otherwise.
"Tell us about the sword, Dad," Ben was saying, the hero worship gleaming clearly in his eyes.
"Haven't you already heard that one?" Harry asked, not really wanting to repeat that story yet again. The kids always regarded him with stars in their eyes after hearing about his Hogwarts adventures and frankly, that made him slightly uncomfortable. It make him feel like a phony. Hermione had kissed him and told him to stop being silly when he'd told her that but he couldn't help it.
"Yeah, but Arnie hasn't," Ben said, pointing at his blue-eyed friend, who blushed. "Besides, it's a good one and you can never get tired of good stories."
"Yeah," piped up Fred and Angelina's nine-year-old, Matthew. "Like the one about Uncle Draco being turned into a ferret and-"
"Potter, just tell the bleedin' story already," Malfoy interrupted loudly, his cheeks slightly pink and Ron guffawed happily.
Grinning to himself, Harry settled Luke on his lap and told them a kid-friendly version of the story of the Chamber of Secrets and Fawkes and the basilisk. And of course, the sword. The kids hung onto his every word, their mugs forgotten in their small hands and when he finished, they erupted into excited chatter, as usual. Really, one would think it was their first time hearing that story, as well as the one about the Hallowe'en troll and the big, black dog that was Sirius Black.
Harry couldn't suppress the feeling of sadness that washed over him as he thought about Sirius; it was times like these that he wished with a vengeance that his godfather was here. What a kick he would get out of Ben, Luke and Davina! Not to mention Emerson - Harry just knew his daughter and Sirius would have gotten along famously. They both had that aliveness that some people seemed to be blessed (or was it cursed?) with.
He hoped Emerson was enjoying her Hallowe'en at Hogwarts. Those were some of the best events of his life so although he and Hermione had debated Em's coming home for the weekend, they'd changed their minds. Let her make some wonderful Hogwarts Hallowe'en memories, just like they had.
"Daddy?"
"Hmm?" he said, looking down into Luke's upturned face.
The green eyes were impish. "What is the difference between a running man and a running dog?"
Harry smiled - riddle time. "Ah. Let's see... the dog has four legs?"
Luke laughed. "Nooo!"
"The man runs faster?" supplied Mr. Weasley, his eyes twinkling for more than one reason as he looked up from examining Ben's lightsaber.
"Nope!"
Harry gave a big sigh. "We give up, Budget. What's the difference between a running man and a running dog?"
"The man wears trousers and the dog pants!" cried Luke triumphantly and Harry squeezed his son while everybody chuckled.
"I know one," said Bill and Fleur's ten-year-old, Amélie. She was the startling physical clone of her mother, with the exception that she had a long, straight sheet of vivid Weasley hair. "What did the fly say when he fell into melted butter?"
"Oh no, I'm dead!" shouted Matthew, making the other little boys - and a few of the big ones - crack up.
Amélie scowled. "No, you dolt! It said, 'Now I'm a butterfly!'"
"Merlin," Matthew whined, rolling his eyes at his cousin. "What a stupid, girly answer!"
Amélie's blue eyes widened and it was clear to everyone that one of the infamous Weasley rages was about to explode from within her. George's wife, Nina, moved quickly to head it off.
"What's yellow, smooth and dangerous?"
And in the clamor that was the kids loudly trying to guess the answer, Amélie seemed to change her mind about being mad and by the time her aunt declared, "Shark-infested custard!", she was laughing right along with Matthew.
'Yep, that's the trick. Nifty diversionary tactics. Too bad it loses its effectiveness the older we get,' Harry thought to himself as he tried and failed to stop ogling Hermione. She was sitting on the other side of the crowded room, laughing with Ginny and Luna and bloody hell, he wanted to kiss her so badly!
"Dad, listen to this one," Ben said loudly. "Tell him, Arnie."
And with that, Harry discovered that there were, in fact, effective distractions from wife-ogling. His children were his world and as he laughed along with everybody else about Arnie's riddle (What did the carpet say to the floor? Don't move - I've got you covered!) he realized that the old saying was true: there was a time for everything.
There would be a time to bid the Burrow and its wonderful, warm inhabitants goodbye and head for his own home, effectively escaping Mr. Weasley and all his enthusiastic Star Wars-related questions.
There would be a time to tuck in his two youngest children, as well as little Arnie Shriver. To chuckle at the way Budget's thumb automatically found its way to his mouth; at the way Davina slept as if kneeling in Muslim prayer.
There would be a time to sit with Ben and watch him fight to stay awake past his bedtime, just so he could have his Dad all to himself. There would be a time to kiss the small forehead that was exactly like his own - with the merciful exception that it was unmarked by any scar, lightning bolt-shaped or otherwise - and feel his heart swell at the sleepily mumbled words of his son, "I love you, Dad."
"I love you, too. And I'm so proud of you." Words he could not recall ever hearing before his eleventh birthday.
There would be a time to smile at fond thoughts of his daughter away at Hogwarts and to hope that her sleep was deep and peaceful this night. And only six more weeks till Christmas and she would be home! Hopefully in a better temperament than her last visit had found her in...
There would be a time tonight to kiss Hermione, to make love to her. To tell her how much he adored her and hear those sentiments breathlessly expressed back to him.
And when, sated and exhausted, their eyes closed at last, there would be a time to sleep, perchance to dream of many more times like those.
Time to laugh, time to love. Time to live.