Author's note: Wallow in this fluff! I command thee!
Standard disclaimers apply.
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Epilogue - Life Full of Grace
In which this is only the beginning.
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Thirty two year old Hermione Potter twirled her wand in time to the spatula mixing the brownie batter in the bowl.
Two pairs of green eyes blinked at her in anticipation while their short, bushy brown hair fell in angelic ringlets around their blushing faces.
The elder of the two, Veronica Rose, was seven years old and she held a cup of sugar in her hands. "May I put it in now, mum?"
Hermione's resolve did not waver in the least. "You may, but you must do it slowly, or it will spill."
Veronica happily began to pour in the granules.
"I wanna taste, mum," said Angel in her sweet, unimposing manner. She had her finger stuck in her mouth, and she turned wistful eyes to the bowl of chocolate. "Please?"
It was beyond her to refuse the little girl that was their youngest daughter. Angel had been born much earlier than her due date, and because of that, they had almost lost her. It broke Hermione's heart whenever she remembered that fateful morning and the look on Harry's face when she went into premature labor. It was another two weeks after delivery before the healers at St. Mungo's declared the baby healthy enough to be freed from the incubation enchantments, and when finally, they were able to hold their baby girl in their arms, Hermione swore she'd never seen a grown man cry until then. So there was no doubt to her name when it came time to choose. Angelica Dawn Potter, their miracle in a tiny bundle.
It was funny how Harry tended to scold Hermione for spoiling ten year old James. And in turn, Hermione scolded him for spoiling Veronica. But when it came to spoiling Angel, there was absolutely no contention from both of them. It didn't seem like it did much harm, anyway. Five years into her life, Angel had to be the sweetest little sugar drop in all of Wizarding Britain. True to her name, she seemed to have united the most blessed of her parents' disposition and physical traits: thoughtful, selfless, kind and unspeakably beautiful, even for someone so young. Honestly, all she needed was a halo and wings to complete the effect.
James, ever analyzing things, places, books and his sisters, grumbled that Angel would grow up to be a pushover. Of course, it was entirely lost on him that her eventual gorgeousness would have everyone, young and old, prostrating themselves at her feet… but he was her big brother, after all.
Veronica, the blazing spitfire who had been eyeing her father's Firebolt ever since she found out what it could do, declared that she would sock anyone who tried to bully her little sister. True to her parents' convictions, Veronica would grow up to be passionate, a tad uncompromising and with a rather comical penchant for drama-queenishness. (e.g. "Daddy, I have a bond with that cat! If you don't buy him for me, I just know that there will always be a piece of my soul missing!" This speech, of course, prompted Harry to roll his eyes and buy the animal that would eventually be named Chairman Meow.)
Hermione bent over to place a kiss on Angel's nose. "Of course you may taste! But you have to pour that cup of walnuts for me, yes?"
Angel giggled and nodded, taking the bowl of chopped nuts before dipping her tiny finger into the mixture.
The girls giggled as bits of batter dripped to the table and smeared on their faces.
"Well!" said Hermione in affected haughtiness. "My table is a mess! Whatever am I going to do?"
"Call Crookshanks," suggested Angel, eyes atwinkle.
Veronica pouted. "Don't forget Chairman Meow! You always do!" She was, of course, talking about the aforementioned cat-horcrux.
"Darling, Chairman Meow comes as he pleases. He couldn't be reasoned with like Crookshanks," said Hermione, already sending out a line to summon Crookshanks to the kitchen with promises of chocolate.
Chairman Meow was a brown point Balinese beastie who was probably just as intelligent as Crookshanks but was twice as haughty. Chairman Meow only listened to Veronica and grudgingly gave in to Harry on occasion because he was, after all, the poor sucker who forked the galleons to buy the little prima dona.
The name they gave him just seemed to fit so well. His namesake, Chairman Mao Tse Tung, reigned over his Communist Republic and made his own laws when they didn't fit his purposes. That about fit Chairman Meow's disposition.
When James asked his father why he bought such a disagreeable feline, Harry said, "Well, son, it's to teach you a lesson."
"What lesson?"
"That women and cats do as they damn well please, and men and dogs had best learn to live with it."
Hermione decked him for that, of course, but she had to admit, it was one of Harry's more stellar father-son moments.
Crookshanks soon came padding into the kitchen followed by Harry whose hair stuck out worse than ever. He looked drowsy, and he had pillow marks on his face.
"Cat practically shredded my pants scurrying to get off me and rush to the kitchen," Harry muttered and wrapped his arms around Hermione from behind.
Hermione bit her lip to keep from laughing.
"We're making brownies for you," said Angel, wiggling a chocolate covered finger.
Harry yawned. "That's terrific, sweatheart… Veronica, love, fancy some pumpkin juice?"
"Okay, daddy!" Veronica cried, hopping off the table just as Crookshanks jumped on it.
Angel threw her arms upward and Harry took this as a signal to scoop her into his arms, which he promptly did. Veronica was at her father's beck and call, but Harry was at the beck and call of Angel.
"Good lord, what has your mother been feeding you?" he asked, grunting.
"Oy! She isn't fat!" Hermione protested as Veronica skittered around her to give Harry his pumpkin juice.
Harry bent over and thanked Veronica with a kiss. He sat himself on a stool and had Angel sit on his lap. "Of course she's not fat! Just growing faster than dad would like, aren't ya, baby girl?"
"James said I have to grow big and strong," Angel whispered.
"Well, James does know a thing or two after all," he replied, pinching her nose delicately.
There was a crack in the receiving room and Veronica's eyes lit up. "Uncle Ron!"
She shot out of the kitchen quicker than Ron can say "Wingardium leviosa."
Angel wiggled to be let down and Harry helped her. She followed after her sister without a backward glance.
"I swear Ron's feeding my sprogs some kind of bespelled chocolate, the way they carry on whenever he comes round," Harry grumbled.
Hermione laughed, taking the place Angel left vacant. "They think he's hilarious. It's all those joke things he brings over from Fred and George."
"And isn't it terribly ironic that half the pranks they play in this house has your name on its patent?"
"That's why they never work on me!"
"Yes, but they always work on me. D'you want your children growing up thinking that they can prank their father?"
"But they love you to distraction anyway! Veronica especially. She knitted you a scarf. Did you know?"
"I saw a sorry tangle of yarn on her dresser the other day… purple and yellow?"
"That's it."
"Shite. I'm going to have to wear it, aren't I?"
"Only if you don't want to break her sweet little heart."
He groaned, burying his face on her shoulder.
Crookshanks gave a yeowl after having finished cleaning up the chocolate spilled on the table. He hopped back to the floor.
Must find lazy Chairman Meow.
Hermione let him go to annoy the other cat.
"She'll knit you a sweater one of these days," she said to torment him.
He looked up, glaring at her in mock resentment. "This is your fault you evil witch. You taught her to knit to punish me for those years I laughed at S.P.E.W."
"Me? Evil?" She grinned.
"At least!" Ron cried as he came stomping in, dragging two girls who had him by his long legs. Behind him emerged a young boy who was almost the exact replica of Harry but for the lack of glasses. He had a book under his arm and it wiggled impatiently, sputtering little post-it notes along the way.
James went immediately for the brownie batter. He took one finger helping then attempted to go it again.
"Desist!" Hermione cried. "No double dipping!"
James shrugged, used to her obsessive tendencies. "Uncle Ron brought tickets."
"He always brings tickets," said Harry.
"To the annual ball, this time," Ron said, never minding in the least that Veronica and Angel were rifling through his coat pockets for joke items and candy.
Hermione gasped in delight. "Ooh! Splendid!"
The annual Chudley Cannons Ball was always a welcome event, as it was a glamorous gala filled with interesting people and old friends. It was also an opportunity to wear elegant evening gowns and see her husband in a tux. It was certainly something to look forward to.
"Luna said the same thing," Ron muttered. "Arranged to have the twins sleep over at mum's as if her life depended on it."
"How are Felix and Felicity?" she asked of Ron's six year olds. "You should've brought them along."
Ron's gaze shifted to disbelief. "They're being punished. They set fire to Luna's Whiling Delilahs out back. It's like they're possessed by poltergeist, I swear it! They're like Fred and George, mutated. I'm still trying to pinpoint the date and time they woke up and became these little devils. I promise you they weren't always like that!"
"Ginny says it's the Weasley gene kicking in. Finn and Adrian turned wild when they were only five." Hermione took a drink from Harry's pumpkin juice. Finn and Adrian were Ginny's twins with her Romanian husband, Ithal Teodorini.
When Hermione first saw Ithal, she thought maybe her eyes would pop out of their sockets. The man was drop dead, dark and dreamy gorgeous. He was like a wild, free-spirited gypsy who showed up in steamy romance novels, but after Hermione picked her chin from the floor, she took one look at her darling Harry and realized that the only romance book hero for her was the one she was married to.
Not that Ithal wasn't good for Ginny. Ginny was mad for her Romanian lover, which was why she married him eight years ago, three months pregnant with her twins. The two boys were already showing promise of their spectacularly good genes.
Ron frowned. "So what you're telling me is that I should be thankful I had a one year grace period."
Hermione shrugged. "Just saying… Ron, has Luna picked a dress yet-"
Ron put his hands up. "I plead No Comment on the matter of dresses. I have no opinion and I don't exist."
Harry laughed, probably remembering the time Hermione and Luna trusted him to buy Felicity something nice to wear for Christmas dinner at the Burrow. The poor child had ended up looking like a cheaply decorated cake with a head sitting atop it. The ruffles were so thick that they couldn't even see her arms and legs. Luna has never forgiven him for it.
Hermione arched a superior eyebrow. "Well, she wanted to know what color mine was so that we don't have a repeat of 2003. If we end up with the same colored dress again, Fred and George will never let us live it down. Tell Luna my dress is pink and lacey."
Harry nudged her and wiggled his eyebrows. "Are you sure that dress is appropriate to wear in public?"
She grinned, eyes dancing. She leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Of course it is. It's what I'll be wearing under it that's reserved for private viewing."
He gave a soft growl. "Do I have to make an appointment for this or do I just have to show up?"
James looked up from the chiller as he grabbed a bag of crisps. "Mum, dads, are you talking about shagging again?"
Hermione felt a stroke coming on. James had an inherent talent for dropping such bombs on them. He was, by nature, a very inquisitive lad, and most times, he turned to the library for his answers, just like his mother, but there were times when he turned to them for answers, and she swore he was having them on when he asked them. He would ask impossible questions like, "What does Geronimo say when he jumps out of the plane?" or "Mum, if those 3-6-5 convenience stores are open twenty four hours a day, three hundred sixty-five days a year, what happens on that extra day of the leap year? Is that the only day they go on vacation?" and Harry's favorite, "Dads, what happens if you get scared half to death… twice?"
She can never tell if he was joking or if he was serious. Harry loves it.
"Oy!" cried Harry. "Don't scandalize your mother, sprog!"
"James Ronald Potter!" she shrieked. "Where did you learn that word?"
James paled at his mother's shrill tone. "I… umm…"
Harry's and Ron's eyes widened at the same time.
Hermione was beginning to get an idea, but she wanted to hear her son say it. "Where, James? Don't lie to your mother, now."
"Heard it from dad and Uncle Ron last rugby weekend," he muttered. "They said that the reason why the Australian Kangaroos are so good at scoring is because when they miss a goal, their coach punishes them with wallabies who shag them from behind. I had to look up what shag meant."
Hermione felt the blood rushing to her temples. She was going to kill them.
"Dad, what does shag mean?" Veronica asked.
Angel jumped to her feet. "Shaaaaaaag!"
Hermione stared at her youngest daughter, horrified.
"It means to call the Queen of England hideously rude names!" squeaked Harry.
"Harry!" Hermione cried, rounding on him. "W-We talked about this, remember?"
"If you think I'm ready to talk about the birds and the bees with my baby girls, then you're bleeding delusional!"
Somehow, Hermione found it in herself not to blame him.
Ron doubled over, laughing.
Harry glared at him. "Oh, that's right, then! Laugh it up! See how you'd feel when your turn comes!"
James frowned. "Honestly, what's so bad about shagging, anyway?"
Oh, the wrongness of it all! thought Hermione. She shot Harry a menacing look. He was so not going to get any tonight (if she could help it, which she usually couldn't anyway).
"James," said Ron. "Let your godfather educate you on the finer points of calling the Queen of England hideously rude names. It's not a bad, thing, really. It only became naughty when our puritan forefathers-"
Hermione pointed a finger at Ron. "If you think I'd ever trust my baby's sensibilities to your twisted history lesson-"
James's eyes widened and he turned beet red. "Mum! I'm not a baby!"
Hermione sighed, momentarily sidetracked. "Oh, but of course you are! You'll always be my baby. Come here and give your mum a kiss."
Veronica and Angel dissolved into vicious giggles.
James looked terribly mortified and turned to Harry for aid. "Daaaads! Tell mum! You're the only one she listens to!"
Harry, having his own problems to deal with, crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, gov'ner, who else is she supposed to listen to? You? Now, your mum don't ask for much, does she? Go on then. Be a man and give her that kiss."
Grumbling, James submitted to Hermione's coddling, and seconds later, he was giggling in her arms.
When she was done mothering him, she let him go. "James, my love, take your sisters to the game room. I need to have a talk with your father and uncle."
"I didn't get them in trouble, did I?" His emerald eyes shifting between all of them. His hair trembled in agitation.
"Nooo, they got themselves in trouble. Now move along, my little man."
James made a face as he turned to get his sisters. "Sorry dads… Uncle Ron… I really didn't mean it this time. Honest!"
"It's not your fault, sprog," Harry told him kindly.
The children left, Veronica's "Jamesy, give mummy a kiiiiiiss!" dwindling as they hurried away from the kitchen.
"Now," said Hermione. "What am I going to do with you two blithering idiots?"
"I'm the father of your children. You can't do me in!" Harry cried.
Ron frowned. "Oy! That's not fair!"
"Harry, for your punishment, you have to bring me to the ballet."
Harry groaned. "Anything but that…"
"Ron, I'll let Luna handle your punishment."
"Blimey, how can you be so cruel? You know Luna's just waiting for an excuse!"
"You both deserve what's coming to you," she said. "What a horrible way for James to learn these things! I swear, I'm grateful the boy has the sense to look up what the word means before he went around using it improperly!"
"It's so weird that he looks like Harry but acts like you," said Ron, pointing his finger at her like she was some freak.
"He is not weird. He's intelligent! His grammar school teacher tells me he's smarter than any boy she's taught."
Harry smirked. "You missed the part where she also said he has a bit too much cheek than is good for him."
Hermione sighed. James's smart-arse retorts were almost always impossible to control. She couldn't even count the number of times he got grounded for giving the elders at his school, sass. Her only consolation was that he had excellent marks and he never gave his parents the cheek he was so notorious for with his teachers.
"So long as he doesn't think getting expelled is worse than getting killed…" said Ron with a smirk.
Harry grinned. "I bet Snape'll hate him like the plague! James won't stand for his shite, though. Kid'll sass the oily hair right off him."
Ron laughed. "I'll pay good money to see Snape's face when he sees 'James Potter' on his class list next year!"
Hermione felt a pinch in her heart. "I can't believe my baby's going to Hogwarts next year…"
Harry rubbed her shoulders. "Don't be sad, love… we can always make another baby."
Of all the… "Harry!"
He gave her a sheepish look. "It was a joke. But… we did agree to six kids."
"Well, we certainly won't be working on that tonight," was her shrill reply.
"Ho!" Ron cried, laughing. "No rude names for Queeny."
Hermione shot him an evil glare. "Let's see how King Weasley fares after I tell Luna."
"You have no heart," huffed Ron. "And to think I came here bearing gifts."
"Aye. More pranks from George and Fred," she said. "Like Harry and I ought to be thankful. Veronica almost singed her eyebrows off the last time!"
Ron pouted. "I was talking about the ball! You like going to the annual ball, don't you? Gives you reason to buy ridiculously expensive dresses."
Hermione smirked, cocking her hip and resting her hand on it. "Oh, you know the Broom Club wants Harry and I there and they'd send us tickets if you weren't around to deliver it. It ups the contributions to the Orphan Charity fund."
Harry laughed. "She's right, mate."
"Humph! Ungrateful is what you two are," said Ron, rising from his seat. "I'm going to go see to your children. At least I know they appreciate me."
"You staying for the brownies?" Hermione asked.
"Well, of course! What else are you good for if not to feed me?" He left, calling for James down the hall.
Harry's arms snaked around her and pulled her to his lap, his kisses trailing down her neck. "You're not serious about tonight, now are you?"
She grinned and considered telling him that she was, just to tease, but she never could stand to watch him suffer, even for just a little. Besides, how can she ever stay mad at him? He was a wonderful husband who loved and cared for her all these eleven years. There were the little fights and disagreements that sometimes had him sleeping on the couch of the viewing room, and maybe on one occasion, she retreated to Ron and Luna's, just because she was upset, pregnant and hormonal. But the fact that she could look back on those fights and laugh was testament enough of the kind of disagreements they had. There was no bitterness; no regrets; no resentment. She was, on the whole, deliriously happy with him and he had on innumerable occasions expressed that their years together had been the best in his life. So yes, maybe they were the perfect couple, imperfections and all.
And even if, in some twisted reality, she didn't appreciate all that about him, all she had to do was watch him with their children. He was a wonderful father. He carried them when they were tired, made them walk when they had to, encouraged them to run when they aspired for better and held them on his lap when all they needed was "dads". The adoration he had for his children was rightfully returned. His ability to inspire was not lost on them at all, because it was always, "Dads, we're making your favorite brownies!" or "Daddy, I'll catch the snitch for you!" or "Mum, you'll tell dads I was good, right?" It made her heart melt each time she saw the look of pure love in Harry's eyes whenever he heard them. And best of all, when they were told of the tales about their father's bravery by Uncle Ron, Uncle Arthur and Uncle Remus, they would say, "That's dads!" As if it was the most natural thing in the world. Sure their father was a hero, but to them, he was their hero because he was dad.
So she supposed he wanted more children because he loved loving them, and because he loved loving her.
"I don't know…" she chimed. "We've been working on that baby for months now. I think we can take a breather..."
"A breather? Don't tell me you're getting bored with trying. You certainly didn't sound bored last night…"
She laughed. Alright, I gave him every right to lord that over me.
"Seriously, Hermione," he whispered. "Angel's five now. She's already abandoning me for Uncle bloody Ron…"
"Oh, so you miss it when all they wanted was daddy, hmm?"
He grinned. "Well, Veronica will always be a daddy's girl. And Angel's coming along nicely. But maybe I want another baby boy."
She arched an eyebrow. "It's not like you can choose that, Harry."
"Oh, but there are certain… positions. There's one more that I haven't tried. It's a bit tricky."
Goodness, this man…
Harry began to get a bit friskier and she giggled as she held his hands still.
"Harry, I'm actually a bit exhausted right now," she said, stifling a grin. "You know I've been feeling a bit peaky lately."
His brows knotted. "Merlin… still? I'm flooing the healer and I'm setting an appointment for you. It's all those cases you're taking on for Thane and Winston. You should really learn to trust your people to take on the smaller cases. That's what assistants are for!"
"You know," she began, keeping her eyes downcast so that he wouldn't see the sparkle in them. "I was going to tell you when the brownies were done… but I have gone to the healer." She hazarded a peek at his face.
It had gone pale, his eyes widening behind glasses (designer ones. After years of his Government Issue specs, he finally decided to get himself a better pair). "Oh God… there's something very wrong with you, isn't there? It's why you haven't told me! I knew you were keeping something from me. Oh, love, please tell me you're going to be alright!" Tears began to pool in his eyes. "I've noticed it, see? This last week I've watched you and you're just-you're just-"
She gasped. She never meant to make him worry that badly! Oh, my poor baby! "Good lord, Harry! Calm down! There's nothing wrong with me! I was just going to say… Harry, listen to me, love! I'm pregnant! That's all! Harry?"
He began to make shocked faces but he suddenly sputtered, doubling over in laughter.
She blinked. "Wha-"
He gasped, pointed and guffawed. "The look on your face! Like you'd spanked a puppy and regretted it horribly!"
"H-Harry!"
"I've known for a couple of days now, silly! I saw the pregnancy kit in the trash! I just wanted you to be the one to tell me!"
She frowned as realization fell on her. She hit him on the shoulder. "Harry Potter, that wasn't funny!"
"Yes, it was! I swear, I didn't plan all that drama, but it just came on me and you were all-" He tried to explain further but got lost in his laughter.
She tried to be angry. She really did, but she couldn't help it. It hurt to stop the smile blooming from her lips. "You're a right bastard, you know that?"
This made him laugh even louder and now all she could do was join him.
They laughed in each other's arms for a while before their merriment subsided into intimate, celebratory kisses.
She smiled, touching foreheads with him. "Are you ready to do this again, Mr. Potter?"
He grinned. "I used to believe I was but now I'm not so sure. You and the baby always manage to surprise me."
"And this from the man who once told me that after Voldemort, he was ready for anything."
"Well, you know… you get called a hero often enough you start to believe the bullcrap…"
She giggled.
"… but I was young and foolish then," he added. "Now I'm not-so-young and I'm still foolish but I've got a beautiful wife and three lovely children to con people into thinking otherwise."
Hermione kissed him passionately, sinking languorously in his embrace.
God, I love this man. I must have done something really good in a past life to deserve all this.
When they separated they were both breathless and his hands had already roamed to her bum.
"You know," he said hoarsely. "We can always pretend we're still trying-"
"Harry, we've been married for eleven years. Honestly, do we need an excuse to shag each other?"
"Good point, that. Well, then-" He scooped her into his arms and she laughed, arms around his shoulders.
She grinned. "I've brownies to bake, you know. The children are waiting for it."
He pretended to give it some thought. "Oh, then I suppose we'll have to make this quick. How does five minutes sound?"
She arched an eyebrow. "How do you think it sounds?"
"Dreadful. But think of the children."
"We'll continue this later."
He sighed, like it was the biggest disappointment in the world. "Alright. I'll just suffer this semi I have in silence." He set her gently back on her feet.
She kissed his cheek. "Good boy. Now why don't you see to it that Ron isn't corrupting James with Merlin Knows What, and I hope you learned your lesson when it comes to watching your language around the house."
"Yes, dear," he chimed as left to find his best friend and his kids.
She smiled and watched him go. She finished with the brownie batter and popped the trays in the oven before she headed over to the game room where likely everyone was.
Ron and James were facing each other across the chessboard and Ron was deep in thought. Veronica and Angel were both thumb wrestling with their father on the floor.
Hermione looked over the chess board and arched an eyebrow. "Who's winning?"
"Shush," Ron said.
That was a sure sign James was pulling his weight. Harry never held a candle to Ron in chess, but James had certainly proven himself a worthy challenger. He'd already beaten Ron twice, and he certainly showed promise at getting better. At any rate, Ron took him seriously enough.
James looked up. "Mum, dad said you're having a baby."
Hermione pouted mildly, looking over her shoulder at Harry. "You told them while I wasn't here?"
Harry grinned sheepishly and shrugged as he struggled to overcome his daughters' thumbs. "Sorry. I was excited."
She rolled her eyes and looked at James. "How do you feel about that, little man?"
James shrugged. "It's fine. Can I name it?"
"Ha!" Ron cried, making a move.
James looked at the board disinterestedly before making a move that pulverized Ron's bishop.
Ron's eyes bugged out. "Wha-un-fu-"
"Ron!" Hermione cried. "Your language!"
"-ding-believable…" he finished lamely.
She dealt him a warning glare before looking back at James. "And what sort of names would you give it?"
"Oh, if it's a boy, I'd like to name it Curio and if it's a girl, Olivia."
Hermione paused. "You've been reading Shakespeare again, haven't you?"
James reddened. "Well, maybe Hamlet or Ophelia is better?"
"That's still Shakespeare."
James scowled. "What's wrong with Shakespeare, anyway?"
"Nothing, honey, just that I'd prefer other names, is all."
"Sirius if it's a boy and Lily if it's a girl," said Veronica in her childlike, sing-song tone.
Hermione and Ron gaped at her genius. Usually children picked names that caught their fancy, like Ophelia, or Curio, and on one occasion, Peppermerribumble (Angel loves this), but Veronica's flash of brilliance deserved a moment of silence. She'd heard the names mentioned before, of course, but she was too young to understand the importance of these names-or so they thought.
Harry positively looked like he had fathered a messiah. "Isn't that the most brilliant thing you've ever heard?" He magically levitated Veronica and twirled her once in the air while he let fairy dust run circles around her.
Veronica shrieked in delight.
Angel, of course, wanted this treatment too, which she promptly got.
Hermione sat beside Harry and draped her arm over his shoulders as their daughters begged to be twirled again, and again.
"No. You'll be sick," Harry said, eyebrow raised.
Sighing, the girls didn't insist. Daddy knew best, after all.
Veronica settled her head on Harry's knee and Angel curled up in her mother's lap.
Veronica looked up at him. "Daddy, if it's a girl, do Angel and I have to share the room with her?"
"No, sweetheart. While she's a baby, she has to have her own room, and I'll wager that by the time she'd want to share a room with her sisters, you'd want your own room, away from Angel and-well, Lily."
"I don't ever want my own room," said Veronica petulantly.
"I don't want to be alone," said Angel plaintively.
Hermione squeezed her into a hug. "You won't ever be."
Harry pinched Angel's nose. "So long as dad and mum are around, none of you ever have to be alone."
Angel smiled and seemed contented by this promise. She closed her eyes and snuggled against her mother.
Veronica pointed to James. "He'll be alone next year. At Hogwarts. He said so."
Hermione smiled. "He won't be. Uncle Remus will be there with him. Remember? He left his job at the Ministry so he can be a professor. And later on, you and Angel will keep Jamesy and Remus company."
This seemed to reassure Veronica.
"Dads, can I be a Marauder?" James asked.
Harry and Ron said, "Yes," while Hermione said "No."
Hermione glared.
"It's tradition!" Ron insisted. "And who else is going to get the-you know…"
The map, Hermione thought in resignation. And probably even the cloak.
Many of the tales they've told the children were strictly bereft of mention concerning these two items. Somehow, by some unspoken rule, Hermione, Harry and Ron agreed that it was a secret that would only be revealed when the time was right. All James and Veronica knew was that their mum, dad and Uncle Ron had managed to go places and do things without getting into too much trouble with the school staff. This was not something Hermione wanted her children to look forward to when they went to Hogwarts, but so many of those adventures had shaped her two best friends and herself. At this point, James still believed that it was dangerous and prohibited: Things he must never do. But he was going to Hogwarts soon. His genes were bound to kick in, in spite of all the grave warnings.
"Get what?" James said, his eyes sparkling at this new bit of secret.
Harry waved his hand dismissively. "We'll tell you when we think you're ready. How's that chess game coming along? Have you beaten Ron?"
"Not yet," said James, easily accepting his father's change of topic. The little man knew how to take a hint, something Hermione was immensely proud about.
"Yet!" Ron cried, outraged. "Sprog thinks he knows everything! And I taught him this game, too."
Harry grinned. "That's it, James. Your uncle has made a tradition of vanquishing your old man in chess. 'Bout time you avenged me."
Ron narrowed his eyes at James. "So you've beaten me once or twice. You got lucky."
"Mum says luck is when preparation meets opportunity, and that chance favors the prepared mind."
"Maybe if you're smart like her, but for us average folk-"
"But I am smart like her."
Ron scowled. "Boy, just play the game."
"But I-"
Hermione giggled as Angel crawled up beside her brother. "Hush now. Just do as he says."
James sighed, cocking a smile at his mother.
Veronica bounded off Harry and popped up beside James. She and Angel began to giggle at the raging chess pieces.
Hermione separated herself from the group to curl up on the couch and Harry joined her. They watched their children with Ron in contented silence and Harry idly began to rub her tummy.
"Isn't my baby girl brilliant?" said Harry. "Lovely names she got up, eh?"
Hermione smiled. "Yes. She has a flair for these things, after all. She was the one who gave me the idea for Chairman Meow."
Harry sighed and pulled her in a tight embrace.
She craned her neck to look at him. "What was that sigh for?"
"For being deliriously happy."
"Oh, is that why you sound so depressed?"
He smiled. "That wasn't my intention. I am absolutely, deliriously, out of my mind happy. When did I deserve all this?"
It was almost creepy that she had been thinking the same thoughts earlier. "You always deserved this, Harry. And I know at least four more people in this room who would agree with me."
Angel and Veronica dropped to the floor, giggling when James's pawn demolished Uncle Ron's knight. The two little witches had taken giggling to a whole new vicious level.
Harry smiled, running his fingers through her hair. "You know, those years ago, when you woke up from your coma, I was thinking that the three of us-you, Ron and I, completed each other. That we were it. Back then, it was more than I could've ever asked for. But now I look at this and I almost want to hit myself for leaving out James, and Veronica and Angel."
"But you didn't know them, then. You couldn't have known, eh?"
He pinched her nose. "I could have. If I thought hard enough. Because I knew them the moment I saw them. Just like I knew you first time I laid eyes on you."
"You're being fanciful," she said, but loved it about him, anyway.
He grinned. "You make me feel like I can be anything I want, but right now I just want to be with you, and the kids, and maybe even that prat over there who doesn't want to lose a chess game to a ten year old."
It was a beautiful day when Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the Man Who Conquered can sit in a room with his wife, children and best friend and say that he was exactly where he wanted to be.
She kissed him, arms wrapped around him to hold him close.
A beautiful day, indeed.
THE END
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A/N: Done! I couldn't get any fluffier than that! And so I put it all here so that when I concentrate on "Forever Knight", it will be full of angst, depression and pain. Lol. I'm looking forward to it already.
Thank you so much for reading. And for reviewing. You guys are the best. Aurabolt rules! And finally, Power to the Pumpkin!