Sink or Swim

A/N: This first chapter's meant to be short! Honest. Thanks to my betas and thanks to Douglas Adams for the pop-culture reference. And of course thanks to all reviewers and readers.

“Harry! We're going to be late!” Hermione called out to the bedroom from the kitchen as she scrambled about gathering up her wand and whisking away the dishes from breakfast into the sink to be cleaned.

“Coming, coming!” he called back running and hopping into a trainer. He knelt and tied the laces. “And you're sure Apparition's all right?”

“All the books I've read said it's fine up until the end of my second trimester and I'm barely through my first. I'll be fine,” she said for what seemed like the hundredth time, but she didn't mind. She found his concern sweet, for now at least. Luna, who was about six months along, had warned her that the doting got annoying after a while, no matter how sweet it was. Ron had gotten to the point where he would barely let Luna move without running about to anticipate her every need.

“Can you carry this for me until I get the zip on this jacket?” Harry asked handing her a heavy book bag filled with reading material in case there was a long wait.

Or maybe not.

“Yeah,” Hermione grunted under the weight.

Harry struggled with the zipper for a minute or so before resorting to cursing at it, yanking up on it harder and harder before finally jerking the offending piece of clothing off his head and tossing it on the couch.

“Are you all right?” Hermione murmured, taking his hand.

“Yeah, just a little nervous,” he replied with a sheepish apologetic grin, taking the book bag from her again.

“About a healer's appointment?” she asked softly with concern. She placed her fingers under his chin and gently tilted his face up to meet hers.

Harry sighed. “About the whole thing I think. I mean, it wasn't real until now. Now it's real. And that's good!” he added swiftly to allay the doubtful, scared expression seeping into her eyes. “It just hadn't sunk in, really, until now.”

“I know.” She tugged his chin down for a soft loving kiss. “I don't think it's quite sunk in for me either.”

Harry kissed her forehead and wrapped her in his arms, holding her and rubbing her back. “And you're sure that you can Apparate - “

“Yes, for the mil -“ she pulled away to look up at his teasing grin. “Oh you git! Honestly. We're going to be late as it is.”

“As if they're ever on time at St. Mungo's,” Harry replied just before they Apparated to the front lobby.

And they weren't. Harry glanced at the clock that mocked him by blinking Are you bored yet? They'd been sitting in the lobby for almost an hour. Hermione was happily ensconced in Mum's the Word: A Practical Approach to Pregnancy while Harry read A Father's Guide to Babies. On the first page, in large comforting letters were the words “Don't Panic.” It was because of those two words that Harry had picked out the book and it was because of those two words that the book had spent years on the top ten best selling book list.

Eventually they were called and Hermione was told to change into a dressing gown. “Nice bum,” Harry grinned as he tied the strings in the back.

“Shut it you,” Hermione grinned hopping up on the examination table. “You'd think hospital gowns would be different in the wizarding world.”

“Just goes to show that wizards and Muggles really aren't all that different.”

“I already knew that,” Hermione rolled her eyes with a grin.

There was a polite knock moments before a healer walked in with a comforting smile. He was a gentle looking older man with an easy grin and a calm demeanor that made him ideal for his job. “Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, I am Healer Jespers. I'll be your obstetrician for the next few months,” he said with a smile and a firm hand shake. “Now according to your chart it says that you're almost into your second trimester, so we'll do a quick check up and a quick scan and you can be on your way until next month.”

Hermione scooted back and lay down on the reclining table. The healer passed his wand over her from head to toe a few times then concentrated a complex pattern of wand movements over her lower abdomen. A mist coalesced above her abdomen, floated upright and formed what looked like a solid screen. The image was fuzzy for a while before it sharpened into focus on a small misshapen little lump about the size of Harry's pointer finger. It looked like a giant funny looking jelly bean.

“Harry, that's our baby,” Hermione whispered excitedly grabbing his hand. “See the arm, there's the head,” she continued pointing to the blobs.

Harry squinted and cocked his head with a frown. “You're sure that's human right?” he asked doubtfully glancing up at Hermione and Healer Jepsers.

Jespers chuckled and Hermione sighed. “I assure you, it's human,” Jespers said moving forward. “Here's the head,” he circled the spot. “And these dots are the spine and you can even see a bit of the elbow here.”

“Ooooh. I see it now,” Harry whispered in awe.

Hermione took his hand and kissed the back of it adding a squeeze. “I told you.”

“It is human!” he said with relief looking up at Hermione because he didn't know what else to say.

Hermione chuckled, falling in love with Harry all over again and his dopy little grin. “Has it sunk in now?” she murmured.

He looked up at her, his heart in his eyes. He was going to be a father and it was real. “Yeah. It has. You?”

Hermione looked at the image of their baby and nodded, her throat suddenly too constricted for words. Stupid hormones. “Yeah,” she managed to whisper. “Yeah, it's real now.”

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A/N: There's not much to say about this one except thank you to my betas and there's a minor shout out to A Christmas Story and maaaybe a small homage to Ocean's 11 if you squint toward the end.

It'd been two months since Harry proposed, laid out on a pier in Fiji soaking wet in his best dress robes, and Hermione's eye was still drawn to her engagement ring like a magpie. It'd glint in the sunlight or in the candlelight at work and she'd wonder what in the world was causing that before looking down at her ring. It'd done that twice today. If she tried hard enough she could still smell oyster on it.

Hermione took a deep breath and sighed looking around at the chaos surrounding her. The sun was out, the temperature was surprisingly perfect for March, the clouds were big, white and puffy and hung so low in the sky she felt as if she could almost reach out and touch them. It was a perfect day for a party which was in full swing at the Burrow. Everyone had come out to celebrate Luna's impending birth, but it had turned out to be a celebration for not only for Luna, but Hermione, Tonks, who found out she was three months pregnant with twins and looking about five months along, and Ginny, who was the most recent at just six weeks. All four women along with Fleur, who was finished, having children at only two, were sitting at what Luna had dubbed the “Preggers Picnic Bench.”

“John's driving me insane,” Tonks said with an exhausted affection born out of having a toddler. “He keeps -“

Said boy interrupted their chat by running up to them on his stubby little legs and patting Tonks's belly. “Baby!” he chirped happily.

“That's right, love,” Tonks grinned down at her son, running an affectionate hand over his black hair.

“Baby!” John ran to Hermione next to Tonks and patted her belly.

“How did -“

“Watch,” Tonks murmured with a grin as John toddled off to a group of men consisting of Draco, Ron, Harry, Remus, and Charlie standing about twenty feet away.

“Baby!” John exclaimed happily patting Draco's belly. He went around to all the men in the circle and patted their bellies chirping, “Baby!” before running off and intercepting Molly coming out the back door with a plate full of food. “Baby!”

“We told him mummy has a baby in her belly and since then he's been going around to everyone, especially complete strangers, patting their bellies and saying `Baby!'. He did that to a particularly rotund woman with a wicked mustache the other day and I nearly died of embarrassment. Thankfully she was very understanding when I explained, but I swear I thought she was going to incendio me with her eyes,” Tonks explained. “Or strangle me with her mustache. The thing had to be living with the way it was twitching on her face.”

The women laughed softly. “Zat iz notsing compared to what Etienne did to my muzer,” Fleur spoke up with a resigned yet still Gallic wave of her hand. “Bill sometimes callz me `petite chou' which iz a term of affection in France, but Etienne was still learning to speak and `e was a bit confuzed between French words et Anglais. So when we went to go vizit her when he was about two, `e went up to my muzer and said `Bonjour, mon petite chien.' He told `er, `Good morning, my little dog.' I do not zink I `ave ever been so embarrassed my entire life.”

Ginny was the only one who could control herself enough to gasp out between her giggles, “What did your mother say?”

“She iz French. She smiled graciously and said, `I love you too little one, but per'aps you should learn Eenglish before you learn French.' I zink Etienne has `ad my muzer wrapped around her finger ever since,” Fleur smiled.

“Ah the joys of parenting,” Ginny sighed. “Have fun while you two still can,” she grinned over at Luna and Hermione.

“I've already had a taste of parenting,” Hermione grinned. “Remember when Harry and I babysat Alaric? He had the grace to pee all over me. Harry was conveniently on the other side of the room when it happened, but I think he got it worse later. The next day he was burping Alaric after his breakfast and Alaric vomited all over Harry's back. A little secret ladies,” she leaned in conspiratorially. The women leaned forward as well. “Harry can handle blood, broken bones, burst boils and every other bodily secretion known to wizard kind, but he cannot handle vomit. I don't believe I've ever seen that shade of green before.”

“This green?” Tonks asked before changing her skin tone to a sickly light shade.

“That's the one.”

“Remus used to turn -“

“Bloody fu-uuuddge.” Ron caught himself just in time and glanced over at the glowers of most of the women not too far from where he stood. “Ginerva, your offspring just chucked up all over me!” he growled, angrily stomping over to her with his nephew held out in front of him. A mass of white dripped thickly down his shirt front.

Alaric giggled happily and Draco smirked behind Ron's back. “Come to mummy,” Ginny cooed softly taking her son from her brother and wiping Alaric's chin while nuzzling him. Ron stomped off grumbling under his breath. “I hope this next one's a bit more Weasley than Malfoy,” Ginny confessed holding her son who stared adoringly up at his mother. “Alaric's not even walking and barely teething and already he has it in for Ron.”

“And he's utterly besotted with you, just like Malfoy,” Hermione grinned nodding at Alaric's rapt attention and wide eyes.

“You might want to be careful. Crispy Catons have been known to infect infants and one of the side affects is that wide eyed look. Mothers get too close to their babies and that's how they spread,” Luna piped up.

Hermione rolled her eyes when Luna wasn't looking, Tonks looked utterly bewildered, Fleur merely tossed her hair and sighed while Ginny smiled graciously. “Thank you Luna, I'll keep my eye out for them,” she replied sincerely.

“I swear you've got your son trained, Malfoy,” Harry spoke up softly. “He's puked on me, peed on Hermione -“

“And that's the second time he's puked on me,” Ron cut in rejoining the men, waving his wand over the mess on his shirt.

Draco smirked again and sipped his beer. “He does seem to have it out for Gryffindors,” he agreed with a Gallic shrug and a smug grin.

“That's good to know,” Remus murmured glancing over at the women. “I wonder if any of you realize that all of us, except you Charlie, will be fathers at the same time. With the twins that will be five mouths to feed, five toddlers to wrangle, five `terrible two's'.”

The men looked at each other and Charlie grinned. “Somehow I'm a little glad I'm still a bachelor.”

“What're you suggesting Remus?” Harry asked softly, glancing warily at the group of women who had their heads bent together and seemed to be deep in discussion.

“I'm suggesting that we take a page from the Greeks. If any of our spouses or soon to be spouses goes conveniently missing while there's a screaming mouth to be fed or a misbehaving toddler to punish, we pool together our resources and help each other find that missing spouse. We should know where the women like to hide out so that we can bring them back.”

“Yeah! If we're stuck with the sprogs, they need to be stuck with them too!” Ron agreed enthusiastically.

“How very articulate of you, Weasley,” Draco muttered with a sardonic eye roll.

“Shove off, Malfoy.”

“Children,” Remus murmured, “we have work to do.”

_______________

“Honestly, I still don't think that Harry would do that to me,” Hermione huffed softly in protest.

Tonks, Fleur and Ginny lifted their heads from where they were gathered around the parchment and lifted disbelieving eyebrows. “Hermione, Remus is the most patient, soft spoken, wonderful man I've ever known and I love him very very much,” Tonks spoke up. “But when John has been screaming his head off all day for no bloody reason even he disappears. Now Harry will be the first to admit he's no saint, so cough up the locations.”

Hermione sighed and lifted her eyes to the bright blue sky. “There's a pub not far from our flat called Hoops n' Hoots that he likes to go to sometimes,” she started, “along with the traditional haunts like The Three Broomsticks, The Leaky, Weasley's Wheeze's, etcetera. Basically wherever Ron is Harry will be and vice versa.”

“Ronald is a bit predictable like that,” Luna spoke up dreamily, her attention seemingly focused on the garden wall and the bushes lining it.

The women paused and looked over at the bushes a bit warily. “Something the matter Luna?” Tonks asked quietly, easing into Auror mode.

“Yes.” But Luna refused to elaborate and eventually the women resumed their conversation with wary looks at the bush and Luna.

“Hello ladies,” Harry smiled coming up behind Hermione, leaning down and wrapping his arms around her. He noticed how quickly Ginny hid the piece of parchment they'd been gathered around. “Getting into trouble?”

“Honestly Harry, do we look the type to get into trouble?” Hermione teased with turning to look up at him with a good natured grin.

Harry's only response was a non-committal noise. “Molly's finished fussing, so we'd better hurry up and get some food before the Weasley boys eat all of it or Fred and George slip something into it.”

Hermione stalled until she and Harry were the only ones left at the table. Harry sat next to her facing out, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “How're you feeling?” he murmured.

“Good,” she grinned leaning over to kiss him softly.

“So,” he murmured between kissing her lips, ear and neck, “what was that list about?”

“What list?” Hermione replied softly. Two could play at this game. As good as Harry was at ferreting out information, Hermione was as equally good at keeping her secrets.

“That list on the table.”

“I don't remember seeing any list.”

Harry pulled back and grinned. “Liar.”

“Sneak,” she grinned back.

“C'mon, let's get some food before Ron eats it all.”

Hermione's eye was caught once again by the sparkle on her finger along with a whiff of oyster. Her thoughts drifted to the wedding preparations. The date had been set for a year from their engagement in January and Hermione had her hands full not with preparations but with Molly Weasley and her own mother's kind but often unwanted suggestions. Hermione opened her mouth to bemoan said suggestions if Draco and Bill hadn't just turned bright purple and sprouted monkey tails.

“Gred and Forge strike again,” Harry chuckled taking his place in the food line, watching with amusement as Bill chased the twins around the yard yelling dire threats and retribution when he got his hands on them. Draco, on the other hand, seemed almost too calm about the whole thing. He didn't even seem to be the least bit disturbed by his new coloring and extra appendage; at least it seemed that way until Bill, sweaty and panting, chased the twins back toward the food line. Draco leaned back against table, slumping slightly, his demeanor carefully relaxed. Fred hardly even noticed the quick darting of Draco's foot in his path. Fred landed with a loud “OOF” and George, following closely behind, fell onto Fred, squashing his twin further into the grass. Even Ron had to crack a proud smile at that.

All worry and concerns about the wedding lifted from Hermione's mind as she laughed with the others. Today was a day to relax and Hermione followed the example of her friends, and did just that.

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A/N: Hey all! Here's the third installment. This one's more a drabble than a one-shot. Enjoy!

Hermione bent forward over her slightly protruding stomach and rubbed her temples with the pads of her fingers. Her mother had been talking nonstop for the past half hour on the color of the bridesmaid dresses. They had been planning the wedding for about two months now and Hermione had had to fight against her mother and Mrs. Weasley for what she wanted the entire way. Harry had been there for most of the confront - consultations, but he, unfortunately, had business with Draco and Hermione was left with her mother and Mrs. Weasley alone.

“Mum!” Hermione spoke up cutting the older woman off mid sentence about the color teal. “Mum,” she started again, softer. “Please, no teal.”

“But sweetheart you love teal,” Mrs. Granger replied, obviously befuddled by her daughter's reaction.

“No mum, I don't. I haven't since I was eight,” Hermione replied trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice. She means well, she means well, don't snap, she chanted to herself. “And even if I did like teal, which I don't, it's a horrid color for winter. I'm going with navy.”

“But that's such a dull color,” Mrs. Weasley piped up across from them.

Hermione leveled a very determined glare on the two mothers. “No.”

“Then at least have the poofy sleeves, you've always loved poofy sleeves,” Mrs. Granger said pointing to the flouncy, frilly affront to fashion a woman with a forced smile was modeling in the catalogue on Mrs. Granger's lap.

Hermione looked at the dress with a horrified expression. “Honestly, since when? Mum, I wouldn't put that on Crookshanks let alone my bridesmaids.”

Mrs. Granger sniffed and looked over at Mrs. Weasley for support. “It's a very lovely dress dear,” Mrs. Weasley offered hesitantly.

“No and no. Please, I'm going to have this dress in this color,” Hermione said pointing to the picture in her lap. “It will look good with both Ginny and Luna's coloring and body structures.”

There was a beat of silence as Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger tried to accept losing this battle graciously. The war, however, was far from over. “All right, now that that's settled,” Mrs. Weasley sighed, “on to the flowers! I was thinking this fuchsia snapping gardenia would be perfect for table decorations.”

”Oooo, I agree,” Mrs. Granger sighed.

Hermione groaned and replaced her head in her hands. Harry, where are you? she thought to herself with a sigh.

_______________

“Potter,” Draco greeted warily, stepping aside to let Harry in.

“Malfoy,” Harry greeted with the same wary tone.

The men sized each other up, letting the silence stretch from wary to awkward. Draco made no move to offer Harry a seat and in turn Harry didn't ask for one. “You wanted to talk to me?” Draco finally spoke up when it seemed as though Potter was content to keep his mouth shut.

Harry sighed softly and shifted on his feet, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. “Yeah. I was wondering if you'd be a groomsman in my wedding,” he said softly, the words almost hurting coming out of him.

“Why?” Draco asked suspiciously.

“Your wife and my fiancée feel it'd be a good way to bury the hatchet or some other bollocks like that,” Harry said rolling his eyes.

Draco grimaced and Harry oddly felt a tentative camaraderie form between them, spurred on by their well meaning better halves. “Do I have to?” Draco spoke up with a sigh.

“If you don't, Gin will nag you to death, so you can either say yes and get it over with quickly or hear about it until you say yes which could be days or weeks. You don't have to enjoy it, we don't have to let go of the animosity or rivalry, but for the sake of peace, mattresses and sex, you might want to set aside some pride and accept just as I've set aside some pride and asked,” Harry replied with a challenging air.

Draco looked him over, sizing him up, mulling over Harry's remarks. “You do make a good argument,” he grudgingly admitted. “The couch really is quite comfortable, but not enough to give up sex for.”

Harry grimaced at the thought of Malfoy shagging.

“All right, I'll do it,” Draco spoke up reluctantly.

“Great! Pink will look good on you,” Harry smiled, clapping Draco on the arm.

“What?”

“Didn't Gin tell you? The colors Hermione picked are pink and pastel purple and the cummerbunds are going to be pink. But because you're being such a good sport, I could see if I could get you a pastel purple one if you prefer.”

“What?!”

Harry only grinned mischievously leaving Draco to stew over if he was joking or not.

_______________

“Hello ladies!” Harry called out as he stepped into the Granger household.

“Harry!” Hermione called out launching herself as quickly as she could from the couch and into his arms. “Save me,” she whispered.

Harry chuckled and wrapped his arms around her tightly. “Good thing I have a saving people thing huh?”

“Yes!” Hermione nearly sobbed gratefully.

“Well, I'm sorry to break up the planning, which I'm sure is going smoothly and Hermione's getting everything she wants -“ Harry watched Mrs. Weasley's and Mrs. Granger's cheeks turn pink.

“Real subtle, Potter,” Hermione mumbled against his chest.

“But I'm going to have to take her away,” Harry went on, ignoring his fiancée. “We have plans with Ron and Luna tonight.”

“Of course, Harry,” Mrs. Granger replied.

With his arm firmly around Hermione's shoulders, they turned and made their way outside. “Good evening ladies!” Harry called out shutting the door.

“Thank Merlin. I was going insane in there!” Hermione sighed, taking Harry's hand and holding it tightly.

“I could tell,” he chuckled. “Um, Hermione love. I was wondering . . . is there anyway you could change the colors to pink and pastel purple?”

Hermione grimaced. “No! Why?”

“Well, is there any way you could give just Malfoy a pink cummerbund?”

“Harry,” Hermione scolded lightly, valiantly keeping the grin that threatened at bay.

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A/N: Another drabble for you! To make up for the shortness of this one, I'll post the next one later tonight. Yavin 4, the Rebellion, and the quote “The circle is now complete, etc.” belong to Star Wars and Georgie Lucas. May the Force be with you.

Hermione let out one last shriek of pain and Harry held his breath until the shrill cries of their child cut through the Healer's murmurs.

“It's a . . . well, it's a baby!” the Healer announced happily.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Harry asked, looking over at Hermione who relaxed against the bed with a tired sigh.

The Healer brought over the baby swaddled up in a blanket and placed it in Hermione's arms. “Harry,” Hermione sighed looking up at him nearly in tears. “It's got your eyes.”

Harry leaned over to get a good look at his new baby and drew back horrified. Cradled lovingly in Hermione's arms was a green skinned, green eyed child with a huge head, and a pointy chin. “Isn't it gorgeous? Although I think it looks a little like Ron.”

The alien baby turned its head and blinked up at Harry. “Hello Father,” it said in a deep male voice that Harry knew he'd heard before.

“Well go on, kiss Harry Jr.!” Ron said standing impatiently next to the bed. “It has to be on its way you know.”

“Where?” Harry asked softly, still in shock.

“Yavin Four. Harry Jr.'s very important to the Rebellion,” Ron replied rolling his eyes as if Harry should already know this.

To Harry's horror the alien baby sat up out of Hermione's arms, gave her cheek a kiss and lifted its arms up to him. “The circle is now complete. When I left you I was but a learner, now I am the master,” it said cryptically.

Harry sat straight up drenched in a cold sweat and panting. “Just a dream, just a dream,” he chanted to himself softly. He was in his house, in his room, it was dark, quiet, and cool. He looked over to where Hermione, only six months pregnant and definitely not screaming in child birth, lay sleeping beside him.

“Bad dream?” she asked giving Harry a start hard enough to shake the bed.

“Merlin, don't do that,” he sighed laying back down.

Hermione carefully and laboriously rolled onto her other side and looked at him in the dark. “Was it a bad dream or a Bad Dream?” she asked softly, reaching out and running her hand comfortingly over his chest. For a few years after Harry had defeated Voldemort, he'd been plagued with nightmares and it wasn't until recently that he'd been weeks without having one.

“No, just a very bizarre dream,” he replied, turning his head to look at her. He reached up and took her small hand in his, intertwining their fingers together.

“What happened?” Hermione asked softly, propping her head up on her hand to look down at him.

Harry explained the dream and by the end of it both of them were laughing softly, the fright of the dream dissipating under their mirth. “You do realize that it's a statistical improbability that aliens would even find our backwater planet let alone abduct me and impregnate me with the future leader of a rebellion,” Hermione grinned.

“I dunno, I know if I knew you were here, I'd find this backwater planet, abduct you and impregnate you,” Harry murmured snuggling up to her side. He laid his head on her chest, and slipped his hand up her night shirt to rub her protruding belly.

“Well, I'd say you're ahead of the game, since I am pregnant, you didn't have to abduct me because I went willingly and, well, you're already here, so you didn't exactly have to find the planet,” Hermione grinned against his unruly hair.

“Mission accomplished then . . . so long as you give birth to a human,” he replied softly.

“I give you my word, the baby will be human.”

“That's a relief because I didn't quite believe Healer Jespers. I trust your word more than his.”

Hermione smiled again, holding her best friend close. “I love you too. But Harry?”

“Hmm?” he was already half asleep.

“No more muggle science fiction movies before bed ok?”

“Kay.”

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A/N: For this chapter only, I've upped the rating to PG13 for some, well, questionable terms often found in romance books. Nothing major, just not exactly PG material. So if you're squicked out by that sort of stuff, I'd suggest skipping this one. Er, and apparently my definition of “later tonight” is about half an hour.

Harry leaned against the door jamb and watched his fiancée read. He'd always liked watching Hermione read even when they were just kids because watching the expressions on her face was like watching a Quidditch game. He could practically hear the commentary now: Ooh, that frown means a foul. The ref calls a penalty on that faulty factoid, which calls for a penalty shot. Hermione lines up her notes, she flips, she searches and she scores! Ten points to Gryffindor!

Today she had a small smile on her face as she read curled up on the couch, absent mindedly rubbing her swollen belly. She was seven months along and so far the pregnancy had been a breeze. The only thing she'd had remotely like morning sickness was an inability to brush her back molars. Every time she tried to get her brush anywhere near there she'd get nauseous and it would annoy her to no end. Thankfully that had stopped within the last few days. At the beginning she did have unusual cravings like kippers drenched in chocolate sauce or peanut butter on rye bread and she always felt like a walking stereotype. “Most women don't even get cravings! Or if they do it's for one normal thing like Luna craved chocolate and Ginny craves curry,” she would sigh after swallowing her cream cheese, mustard and rice concoction. “I don't even like mustard!”

Much to her relief those cravings seemed to be petering out and settling on any form of cheese.

“Why don't you take a picture, it lasts longer,” Hermione murmured not looking up from her book.

Startled from his musings he leaned away from the doorjamb a bit guiltily. “Sorry,” he replied walking over to her and sitting next to her. He shifted her around so her legs were draped over his lap. “What're you reading?” he asked, rubbing and massaging her ankles.

She glanced at him with what looked, however briefly, like a guilty expression. “Nothing really,” she replied, returning to her book. “Just some light reading.”

“Mmm,” Harry replied. She had charmed the book cover to look like something else; he knew it even if he couldn't be certain of it. “What's it called? I might want to read it too.”

“I highly doubt that,” she scoffed.

“Does it involve copious amounts of the phrases `turgid length' and `hot sheath'?” he asked with a knowing grin.

Hermione blushed slightly but rolled her eyes. “Honestly. For your information Mr. Potter, it does not,” she sniffed haughtily.

“C'mon Hermione, you know you can tell me all about the heaving bosoms and quivering biceps,” Harry cajoled, reaching to grab at her book. “I can just read it now, `Ramone ran his Quidditch roughened fingers down Philomena's silky thighs. Philomena quivered in response moaning `Oh Ramone! Let me ride your turgid broomstick of love!'” he said in a very high pitched girly voice.

Hermione laughed and held the book away from his grasp. “Nice try, Harry. There's no way I'm going to let you read my book especially after that!”

Harry made another grab for the book being extra careful of the kicking baby beneath them. “You know you want to read to me about how Ramone and Philomena shag in the Quidditch locker room while being hunted by evil pirates who're after them so they can ransom Philomena to her father.”

“What? Why would pirates be at a Quidditch pitch? No, Harry! Stop! I'm too embarrassed!” Harry grabbed onto the book but she wasn't letting go without a fight. He finally swooped in and distracted her with a deep sensual kiss that loosened her grip on the book just enough for him to yank it out of her hands.

Harry sat back with a satisfied smirk and began to read aloud. “Our in situ measurements indicate that alkaline salt condensation of volcanic gases inside those plumes could be the dominant formation process for particles reaching the . . . ionian . . . exosphere -“ Harry trailed off his smile fading into a confused frown. He looked back at the cover titled Astrophysics and the Cassini Project: How Muggle Science Affects Magic and Astronomy. “Light reading?”

Hermione blushed. “I had a craving,” she mumbled.

“I thought you'd charmed the cover!” Harry said in an almost affronted tone.

“Perhaps you shouldn't be questioning my reading materials,” she smirked up at him. “You seemed quite knowledgeable about the inner workings of a romance novel.”

Harry flushed and quickly handed Hermione back her book. “Forget I mentioned it!” he said standing quickly, dumping her feet on the couch.

“Oh c'mon Harry,” she cajoled in the same teasing lilt he used on her. She stood with a bit of a struggle and followed him into the kitchen. “You can't keep me hanging here. Was that really a quote from a book?”

“Yes, I mean no!” he replied indignantly, but the guilt was written all over his face.

“If you don't tell me, I'll tell Malfoy that you read -“

“Ok, ok! Ron and I borrowed some of those books from Lavender -“

“You mean you filched them off her when she left them in the common room.”

“Because we wanted to see what the big deal was,” he went on as if she hadn't spoken. “We had a good laugh then we returned them where we found them.”

“Admit it, you found some of the scenes steamy,” she grinned up at him cornering him in the corner of the kitchen between the sink and the oven.

“They were ridiculous and overblown and no woman would ever react that way to a guy who treated her the way Ramone did,” he replied rolling his eyes. “I do have some taste.”

Hermione continued to stare at him with a small knowing smirk, her hand cocked on her hip.

“Alright, fine! A couple of the books had pretty good tips, but I don't see you complaining about them,” he sighed with a grin. “And that's knowledge that can be applied, unlike your astrophysics back there.”

“Hmm, you do have a point. I might just have to read a few of these books and get some tips myself,” she murmured thoughtfully.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. “Merlin, woman, on top of what you've already learned, you're going to be the death of me.”

“Hooray for pregnancy hormones,” she murmured taking a fistful of his shirt and pulling his lips down for a kiss.

“Hooray for astrophysics,” Harry murmured against her lips.

A/N: I'm down here now, heh. I know, I know, the last chapter was short and so is this one, but I hope the two combined make up for a longer-ish chapter? Yes? *cringe* I just don't do long chapters. Dunno why. Please don't hurt me!

The quote Harry reads from the book is from an actual abstract on the Cassini Project found here: http://adsabs.harvard.edu/abs/2006Icar..183..122P I did ok in science, but not that well to make up something that believable. Oh and once again, the mistakes and Americanisms are all mine. I didn't have this beta'd but I did go through it with a fine tooth comb, so hopefully it's up to par even if lacks a bit of polish.

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A/N: Last one until the birth! After that there're about 3 more chapters, so this is almost over. *sniff* I hope you've enjoyed the one shots and drabbles so far and I hope the next few chapters will be just as enjoyable. As always, my eternal gratitude to my betas Pips and Satch and to you the readers and reviewers.

It was a sad day when Hermione Granger, soon to be Potter in little less than five months, couldn't concentrate on a book. She'd been able to concentrate while being attacked by a three headed dog, Binn's History of Magic class, even Umbridge's awful and awfully long winded speech eight years ago. But today and actually for a week now, her mind was wandering just as far afield as it usually did when Ginny, Harry, Ron and the rest of the Weasley boys started carrying on about Quidditch scores, statistics and analysis of their favorite team's upcoming season.

She would have been having the time of her life if it weren't for her lack of concentration; she had her favorite book clutched in her hands, she was snuggled in her favorite chair, and even Crookshanks, who had been kicked off her lap by her eight month protruding belly, had found a perch on the back of the chair. The house was quiet and cool despite the humidity outside. Harry was out for the afternoon attempting to coax Ron down from the roof of his house. Ronnie Jr., born two months previously, had a bad case of colic that no potion Hermione, Molly, or the healer's of St. Mungo's could cure. The reassurance that he only had about a month longer of the incessant crying was what had sent him to the roof in the first place. In hindsight, Hermione realized that maybe she should've kept her mouth shut. Luna on the other hand took the colic as a good sign that Ronnie would be free of whatever bizarre creature The Quibbler had featured on their front page last month. Hermione couldn't even remember what it'd been called.

She sighed and closed the book. That had been the third time she'd lost her concentration in half an hour so she decided it was a lost cause. The thing that rubbed her wrong was that she knew what was causing her lack of concentration. She couldn't stand, couldn't sit, couldn't sleep without fidgeting, going to the bathroom, getting hungry or just being in plain discomfort. As much as she loved being pregnant, she didn't want to be anymore. She was tired and frustrated and more than anything just wanted to get the baby out and off her kidneys.

Hermione glanced up at the clock and sighed. There was no telling when Harry would be back. Usually, once he'd coaxed Ron off the roof they would forget time existed and spend hours playing chess, listening to Quidditch on the Wireless or making faces at the baby. Grumbling to herself, Hermione eased out of the chair and waddled over to the bookshelves that lined two walls of the flat to replace her book. A whole shelf had been devoted to baby books; How To Care For An Infant; Illnesses Common Amongst Infants; Advice Guides; New Parenting Books; Dos and Don'ts; books of every size and thickness filled that shelf beginning with newborns and ending with toddlers. She'd read every single book at least twice, highlighted, cross referenced and had a thick easy to reference notebook for her efforts. Hermione was nothing if not overly prepared.

And yet . . . and yet she still felt wholly inadequate. What if she forgot to bathe the baby? What if she dropped the baby? What if it got ill? What if she fed it the wrong formula? Or if she didn't breast feed it enough? She and Harry promised never to speak baby talk to the baby, but what if the classic Winnie-the-Pooh theme they'd decorated the nursery was too childish and stunted the baby's higher brain processes?

Hermione scooted into the kitchen groping for a paper bag. She'd taken to leaving them around in case either she or Harry had a panic attack and they'd been ok until now. She found a bag and shoved it over her mouth, taking deep breaths. She had to calm herself down, there was no use panicking when she had three weeks left of pregnancy.

Her panic died down to a manageable level after a few minutes of breathing into the bag. She was going to be an ok mother, maybe not great and maybe not perfect, but until she could become perfect being ok was something she could live with. Motherhood was a whole different level than N.E.W.T's or O.W.L's and perhaps she'd need to change the way she looked at it. After all, whoever developed the first charms, hexes, curses, and potions had to start somewhere and, as loathed as she was to admit it, perhaps trial and error wasn't such a bad thing.

“I hope,” she muttered to herself.

She was fine, really, honestly, she was ok and going to be ok. She just couldn't think much about her impending motherhood, so she marched past the living room with the shelf of baby books, past the nursery and into her bedroom. What she needed was a nap. A nice long, stress free, (albeit uncomfortable) nap. She took one step into her bedroom, spied her wedding notebook which caused a whole host of other fears that threatened to overwhelm her and marched right out. “Malfoy Manor!” she called out tossing a handful of floo powder into the fireplace.

“Ginny!”

“Hermione!” Ginny came bustling into the large entrance hall, glowing and beautiful and thin looking compared to her and Hermione wanted to hate her. Ginny was just nearly six months pregnant and she was barely even showing. “To what do I owe the - are you ok?”

“I'm fine,” Hermione frowned slightly.

“You're also crying so I'm going to ask again, are you ok?” Ginny asked with soft concern, taking Hermione's arm and steering her upstairs. Mafoy Manor was large enough that the downstairs was mainly for guests and meals while upstairs was a series of suites that had been opened up and converted into a spacious yet cozy apartment for the Malfoy family, relatives, and close friends. It was here Ginny steered her. In the background Hermione could hear the faint sounds of Weasley children playing in the playroom.

Hermione tried her hardest to staunch the tears, but no matter how much will she exerted or how great her desire was to stop, she found the tears flowing unabashedly down her face. “I'm sorry to take you away from the kids, Gin, but I can't - “

“Shh, it's ok. They're too busy playing Gobstones and Exploding Snap to even notice I'm gone. Let's sit you down and get you some tea and you can tell me everything ok?”

Hermione nodded and sat on a comfortable couch while Gin spoke to a house elf about tea and biscuits.

“Din will be along shortly,” Gin murmured sitting next to Hermione and wrapping an arm around her as best she could. She silently pressed a handkerchief in Hermione's hands and waited patiently until Hermione could compose herself.

“It's so embarrassing,” Hermione murmured with a sniff. “But I can't keep thinking that I'm going to be a failure of a mother. I don't feel . . . prepared!”

“Every woman who's expecting their first child thinks that way,” Ginny murmured soothingly. “I felt that way, Luna felt that way, even my mother felt that way.”

Hermione looked over at her best friend with a confused frown. She accepted the tea offered to her by Din with a small nod of thanks. “But I don't think I'm cut out to be a mum. I don't feel the least bit maternal and I'm practically about to give birth!”

“Not every -“

“Aunt Ginny!” Fred's little boy Gideon came rushing into the room holding his hand out. As soon as he saw Hermione he changed directions and rushed immediately toward her. “Aunt Hermy!”

Hermione winced at the name, but didn't correct the boy. He was only four after all and still couldn't wrap his mouth around `Hermione.' “What happened Gideon?” she asked leaning down and cupping the little boy's hand.

“I was playing with Etin an' he said somefin' in French an' then he wouldn't let me play with his crayons and then I played with my Qi'ditch toys an' he wanted to play with them, but I wouldn't let him and then I pinched my finger,” he said holding up his tiny index finger. There was a small red mark on the pad.

Hermione stifled a grin over Gideon's rambling story that seemed completely unrelated to how he hurt himself. She set down her untouched tea, picked the toddler up as best she could and snuggled him eliciting a grin. “Let me see the finger.”

Gideon held up his finger with a wobbly lower lip and Hermione kissed it. “Does it still hurt?”

“Yeah,” he sniffed.

Hermione knew Gideon was playing up the injury, but obliged him anyway. She kissed his finger again and gave him a hug. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks Aunt Hermy.” Gideon gave her cheek a kiss in thanks and squirmed off her lap to run back to the play room.

Ginny was smirking when Hermione turned back to her. “What?”

Ginny merely rolled her eyes. “And you say you're afraid of motherhood? What do you call that just then?” When Hermione didn't reply, Ginny smiled. “Trust me; it isn't as bad as your imagination is making it. And speaking of which, it sounds like motherhood's calling me.” Alaric was waking from his nap hungry, and beginning to cry in his room.

Hermione stood to leave Ginny to feed her son. “Thank you. I think I can do this now.”

Ginny smiled and squeezed her hand. “Above all don't forget you're not alone. You have Harry as well as me, Luna, my mum, your mum, Tonks, Angelina, Fleur -“

“Ok, ok,” Hermione laughed softly. “I get it. I won't forget next time.”

“Be sure you don't,” Ginny teased with a grin. “Tell Harry hello for me.”

“I will. See you later.”

The house was quiet when Hermione returned, but it felt fuller than when she'd left. Harry was home.

“In the kitchen!” he called out. “Everything all right?” he asked when she made her way over to him standing in front of the stove.

“Perfect,” she grinned giving him a kiss.

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A/N: This chapter is unbeta'd so any mistakes either grammatically or otherwise are my own. A big thank you to all my reviewers and readers! I love you all whether you're a lurker, a well-wisher or a critic. I don't own any of the characters mentioned within this story as they are the product of various movies, cartoons, and TV shows.

“It's unbelievable! Harry Potter catches the Golden Snitch right out from Draco Malfoy's nose! Literally! In all my years of commentating, I've never seen that caliber of flying before! How humiliating for Malfoy this must be. But don't bother putting this in the history books people! Let's let Harry land and leave him alone to his quite life with his wife and children,” the commentator was talking over the massive crowds via sonorous.

“Harry.”

“Because Harry's been in the spot light enough, I say. A job well done, Potter -“

“Harry!”

Harry woke from his wonderful dream with a start and groaned rolling onto his side facing Hermione. “Yeah, love. Wha' is it?” he asked in a muffled slur.

“I think my water broke,” Hermione whispered looking at him with wide eyes.

Still half asleep Harry frowned in confusion. “How d'you know?”

“Well, unless I've suddenly unlearned my potty training,” she said pulling back the covers to showing a wet puddle growing on the sheets.

“Ew.”

“Harry, I understand that you're not fully awake and the panic hasn't quite set in, but I really think we should floo to St. Mungo's ok?” Hermione whispered.

“M'kay. Lemme get dressed.”

He rolled out of bed and sluggishly pulled on a pair of jeans over his boxers, his favorite comfortable Quidditch jersey from his days as Gryffindor's captain, a pair of socks and his favorite trainers. He moved efficiently, waking with every item of clothing he slipped on until he was fully dressed, awake and borderline panicked. “Are you ok? Are you in pain? Are you going to have the baby now?” he asked, helping Hermione to stand.

“Yes, no and no,” she replied in short order. “Harry. Stop fidgeting. Listen.”

Her calm and confident demeanor jerked his attention from her large swollen belly to her eyes. “The baby's probably not going to come for another few hours. We need to get to St. Mungo's, but there's no sense in panicking or rushing, ok?”

Harry nodded, breathing deeply. “All right. Let's go.”

Upon arriving at the maternity ward, they were ushered into a private room and Hermione was quickly assessed and made comfortable on a bed. “Harry, could you floo everyone and let them know what's going on?” she asked, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand.

“I don't want to leave you,” Harry protested softly.

“I'll be fine, trust me. And you'll only be gone a few minutes. You won't miss a thing, I promise. I barely feel my contractions and the medi-witch said I was only at four centimeters.”

“Ever with the logical arguments,” Harry sighed, but he couldn't quite contain the grin. “All right, I'll be back in a few.”

He leaned over and kissed her forehead and the back of her hand before releasing it and reluctantly leaving her side.

The Grangers were the first to arrive, having had their fireplace connected to the Floo Network for the situation. “How are you, dear?” Mrs. Granger asked Harry after he'd cleaned them of soot.

“Anxious. I'm glad you're here. I was waiting for you since you're the only ones who don't know their way around,” Harry said walking with them into the ward and to Hermione's room.

Harry hung back by the door and let Mr. and Mrs. Granger fuss over Hermione. All Mrs. Granger could say was “My baby's having a baby!” and sob. Mr. Granger couldn't wipe the goofy but proud grin off his face and Hermione's lower lip trembled at the sight of her father's misty faded eyes. For a moment so brief Harry barely had time to feel it let alone acknowledge it, he felt wistful and a bit melancholy that his own parents or even Sirius wouldn't be able to share this event with him the way Hermione's parents were. The feeling of regret might have lingered longer had a storm of Weasley's not descended upon the room testing the medi-witch's patience and the room's maximum occupancy.

An hour and a half later the noise had died down and the Weasleys and Grangers left to take up vigil in the waiting room or go home to wait for the announcement and Harry left Hermione gently napping. He was still too on edge over the past couple of hour's events and found himself unable to sit for more than a few minutes. Partly to wind down and partly out of curiosity Harry took to wondering the halls. Eventually he found himself in front of a window that looked into the nursery where three rows of infants lay sleeping in their little raised cots. In a few hours his newborn would be joining them. That thought both awed and scared the crap out of him.

“Hello there,” a soft voice smiled.

Harry turned to find a grinning Remus approaching him from down the hall. “Couldn't sleep,” Harry grinned in reply, giving the older man a hug. “I tried flooing you but you and Tonks weren't at home.”

“We're picking up the twins today and Tonks couldn't wait, so we got up early and came down,” Remus replied nodding his head toward two cots set slightly apart from the others. The twins had been born six weeks early and had spent the past three weeks at St. Mungo's until they were able to live outside of protective incubation charms. Even if they were healthy enough to go home, they were still tiny at only four pounds each.

“How did you do it?”

Remus looked over at Harry with confusion. “Do what?”

“When they were born so early. They're so tiny and fragile. How did you handle that?”

Remus looked into the nursery and was quiet for so long Harry wasn't sure he was going to respond. “I don't know. I didn't think about it I guess,” Remus finally spoke up softly. “I did a lot of reading,” he added with a wry grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. “But I knew they were going to be ok. They're Tonks's babies and if they're only half as tough as she is, I knew they'd be all right.”

Harry grinned affectionately. “Speaking of which how are Tonks and John?”

“Good. Tonks can't wait to get the twins home of course. She's taken to cleaning every available surface and even gardening to keep her mind occupied.” Remus shook his head wryly. “I think she salted the garden, I'm not sure. I'm a bit afraid to tell you the truth.”

Harry chuckled. “Have you seen Hermione?”

“Sort of. We stopped by the room but she was sleeping, so we thought we'd pick the sprogs up then check to see if she was awake when we were finished.” He checked his watch and frowned a bit. “I should get going. We were headed to the medi-witch station to fill out the paper work when I spotted you. It was good seeing you. We'll stop by in about an hour or so.”

“Thanks, Remus. Hermione should be up by then.”

The older man smiled and clapped Harry's shoulder before turning and heading back the way he came.

Hermione was awake by the time Tonks and Remus made it to the maternity suite and she oo'd and aw'd over the preemies for a few minutes. “We'd stay, but all the excitement from this morning is caaa-aatching up to me and we have to pick John up from my parent's,” Tonks said around a huge yawn. “Floo us when you've popped the sprog out.”

“We will,” Harry chuckled.

They said their farewells and left.

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Over the course of fifteen hours, Harry watched as Hermione's contractions became steadily closer together and worse. He hated seeing her in pain despite the numbing charms placed on her, hated the scrunched concentration on her face that meant another contraction was approaching its excruciating zenith, hated the maddening calm Healer Jespers and the medi-witches and wizards projected, and especially hated the long wait.

Hermione groaned after a particularly hard contraction and Harry watched in fascinated horror as a ripple trickled down her stomach. The logical side of his brain knew that was just a muscle spasm brought on by the contraction, but at that moment his imagination went wild.

“Healer Jespers!” Harry ran out into the hallway just as the healer was headed for the suite. “You lied!”

“Mr. Potter, please,” Jespers said around a chuckle. “I'm assuming you saw her stomach move yes? That was perfectly normal.”

“Are you absolutely sure? Because I saw this Muggle movie once where this alien came out of this bloke's chest and it was all bloody and -“

“Mr. Potter - Harry, I assure you with absolute certainty your child will be born the way billions of other children throughout history have been born and not bursting from Ms. Granger's chest. Now please along with the suggestion that you resume your seat next to your fiancée, I would also suggest you stop watching Muggle science fiction movies,” Jespers grinned, sitting on a rolling stool between Hermione's legs.

“But they're so addictive,” Harry muttered in feeble protest sitting next to Hermione.

She shot him a glare worthy of McGonagall and Snape combined. “I would go along with Healer Jesper's suggestion if you wish to live,” she panted.

“Yes dear,” Harry replied even though he knew Hermione was a bigger sci-fi fan than he was and her threat stemmed from the pain of impending birth.

“Harry, sit behind Hermione, prop her up, yes like that. Good.” Jespers waited until Harry was in place before speaking up in his maddeningly calm voice. “Now let's get this baby born. Hermione, you're at ten centimeters so I need you to bear down, don't arch up or else you'll tear -“

“I know what to do! I've done the research!” Hermione snarled between gasps.

Jespers blinked once and nodded, double checking the charms on her and the baby. “All right then. Everything looks good so on the next contraction, push hard.”

They didn't have to wait long. Harry rubbed Hermione's upper arms, murmuring words of encouragement and love while she bore down and pushed.

“Keep going, keep going, go go go go . . . ok. Take a breather.”

Hermione collapsed back in Harry's arms, panting. “That was great, love,” he whispered in her ear, wiping her forehead with a cloth that had been charmed to keep cool.

“It'll be great when the baby's born,” Hermione said wryly, looking up at her fiancé with a tired, but good humored grin.

“Ok, Hermione,” Jespers spoke up too soon. “Ready? And push!”

She took a deep breath and bore down, pushing for all she was worth. She repeated the cycle three more times before Jespers cried out, “The baby's crowning! I see a mass of black hair. One more push and you should be done.”

“Thank Merlin,” Hermione groaned, absolutely exhausted by this point.

Harry craned his neck over her shoulder to get a glimpse, nearly having his eardrums burst when she screamed while pushing out the shoulders. “It's a boy!” Jespers exclaimed placing the squalling, shivering bloody new born on Hermione's stomach. “Care to cut the cord, dad?”

In a daze, Harry cut the umbilical cord with a mild severing charm and returned his attention to his son and the woman he loved. Hermione was laughing and crying at once and all Harry could do was sit there in stunned, awed silence. “Wow,” he finally whispered.

Hermione looked up at him, her face aglow with a joy he was sure he'd never seen before. “Isn't he wonderful?” she whispered.

He nodded mutely, unable to take his eyes off his son even as the medi-witches took him to be weighed, cleaned and wrapped. After a moment he was finally able to tear his eyes away to smile down at Hermione. “Thank you, mum.” He leaned down and kissed her softly, wiping away her tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“You're welcome, dad,” she grinned back, reaching up to cup his cheek and wipe away the tears that had fallen unbidden and unnoticed on his cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The medi-witches returned shortly with their newborn wrapped tightly in a blue blanket. In his initial amazement, Harry hadn't noticed how right Jespers was. The baby had a thick head of black unruly hair. “The Potter curse lives on,” he whispered with a grin, reaching up to run a very gentle hand over the baby fine (and, more importantly, human) hair.

Hermione only kissed his cheek and smiled.

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Ron stopped by early the next morning the way Harry and Hermione had when Ronnie was born. With his help they'd decided to name their newborn Sirius Ronald, but an hour later Harry was still holding out for a different middle name.

“Chewbacca?”

“No,” Hermione sighed from her comfy hospital bed. She had just fed Sirius for the first time and was curled up on her side to watch Harry rock their son gently in a rocking chair.

“Spock.”

“No.”

“Alf.”

“No!”

“Marvin.”

“No, Harry.”

“Barf.”

“Ew, no!”

“Ripley.”

“She was human and no.”

“Kal-el.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly Harry, don't be silly. We're naming him Sirius Ronald. No matter how many names you may come up with nothing will change. Besides, isn't Ron alien enough for you?”

Harry sighed dramatically and leaned back in his chair, gently holding Sirius. “I suppose so,” he replied softly, feeling a sense of déjà vu, but he wasn't entirely certain why. The infant in his arms squirmed slightly and he returned his attention to his son. “No matter what your name is, I still love you Sirius Yoda - I mean Ronald - Potter,” he murmured kissing his son's smooth forehead.

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A/N: We're almost at the end here! I'd say there's one, maybe two at most, chapters left. The final chapter will be the wedding which I'm both looking forward to and dreading since that means it'll be the end. Thank you once again to all those who've reviewed and read this and all my other stories. And thanks to hal for the beta. Also this is the last of the written chapters. The last two are being written, so updates will be a bit longer, but the story will be completed in a week or two.

Starbuck is the first mate aboard the Pequod in Moby-Dick. But since I can't stand Melville, this Starbuck comes from X-Files. It was the nickname Scully's father gave her.

“Bottles?”

“Check.”

“Nappies.”

“Check.”

“Creepy bunny from Tonks.”

“Check.”

“Extra nappy pins.”

“Er . . . check.”

“Formula and baby food.”

“Um, Hermione? You're still breast feeding.”

“Harry.”

“Check,” he sighed.

“Teething ring.”

“Hemione! Sirius is only five weeks old!”

“Ronnie might need it.”

“If Ronnie needs it, Ron and Luna will have one, trust me. It's staying here,” Harry said in a tone that brooked no argument. Hermione watched with pursed lips as he dug out the teething ring and placed it on the coffee table.

“Harry!” But he wasn't backing down. He had that stubborn set to his jaw and Hermione sighed. She'd let him win this once as a morale booster. “Fine. But we're taking dummies and the four extra set of clothes.”

Harry sighed and nodded. “Ok. Now are we set to go?”

Hermione pursed her lips and ran a quick mental check list then nodded. “Yes. Let's go.”

Harry sighed thankfully, picking up the bags of stuff they needed and waddled out of the house. Sirius was too young to floo or Apparate with so they'd bought a Land Rover about a month before Hermione was due. It was a nice car, spacious and drove well, but it could never replace her baby. She cast a longing glance over at her Porsche and sighed softly. She hadn't been able to drive it since she was about five months pregnant and she was itching to open her up on the motorway again.

Harry squeezed her shoulder and kissed her ear. “Tomorrow, why don't you let me keep Sirius for the afternoon and you can go out for a drive,” he murmured in her ear while she strapped the baby carrier into its car seat cradle.

Hermione turned her head and smile up at him. “When I go out for a drive, I want you to come with me. Molly and Arthur or my parents can baby sit, but I want Sirius to be a little older.”

Harry smiled and squeezed her shoulder again before slipping into the driver's seat. He'd finally learned how to drive the Land Rover at least, but no matter how long or how well he'd been able to drive, the Porsche was and probably would remain off limits, much to his dismay and envy.

An hour later they were greeted at the Burrow with smiles and shouts of welcome. “They're here!” Fred, or was it George, called into the house.

Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger stepped outside and bustled over to the Land Rover. Sirius was out and in Mrs. Granger's arms before Harry and Hermione had their seat belts off. “I think your parents are using us for our baby,” Harry teased taking out only one of the bags of supplies from the boot.

Hermione snorted. “I think you're right. I think I actually feel a bit jealous. I guess this is what it feels like to have a sibling.”

Harry chuckled, instinctively placing his hand at the small of her back while they walked around to the back garden where everyone was gathered. “I understand what you're saying, but that sentence sounds so wrong on so many levels.”

She chuckled softly. “Go drink beer, belch and scratch your crotch or whatever else you do when you hang around in a circle with the other men,” she grinned, giving him a quick kiss. “I'll be over there.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest when Ron let out a belch that shook the foundations of the Burrow. He could only sigh and shake his head, his defense shot to hell.

_______________

The naming ceremony was short and simple, presided over a teary eyed Minerva McGonagall. Sirius screamed the entire time. Ron and Ginny were named as his godparents even though Ron looked as though he were rethinking it while he stood beside Harry.

Sirius calmed once he had been fed and changed and he was happiest when he was being passed around being coo'd over.

Hermione watched from the kitchen window over looking the garden, a small smile playing at her lips. She had initially left to sanitize one of the dummies that had fallen out of Sirius's mouth, but had decided to loiter a bit, enjoying the momentary quiet and cool inside.

“Hello, Starbuck.”

Hermione turned her head and smiled. “Hello dad.”

The older man smiled and looked out the way she had been looking. “I'm not interrupting anything am I?”

“Oh, no. I was just cleaning Sirius's dummy and taking a little time out.”

“A bit overwhelming isn't it.”

“A bit. But I love it and Harry loves it too.”

A comfortable silence fell between them before Hermione turned to her father and grinned. “I hope Arthur hasn't scared you off. He can be very enthusiastic.”

Her father chuckled. “Your mother and I are fine. I think Arthur got most of it out of his system when Sirius was born. We had nothing to do but talk while we were waiting.”

There was another momentary silence where Hermione waited, feeling he had something more to say.

“Starbuck,” he finally spoke up and Hermione turned to look at him fully. “I don't think I've ever told you how proud I am of you.”

Hermione blinked in surprise. “I -“

“Wait, let me finish. When you went to Hogwarts and entered this world that your mother and I could never have even conceived of, we were afraid of losing you to it. We . . . I was afraid that you wouldn't want to be around us anymore. After a few years I knew you weren't going to abandon us like that but then the war came and I was afraid of losing you again, except for real this time,” he said softly.

“Daddy -“

“Once you were safe and alive and I learned what you had done, I don't think I'd ever been more proud in my entire life. Now here you are, with a child of your own and getting married, I just -“ he sighed and smiled at her, looking every day of his fifty years. “I just don't think I'd told you how proud I am of you recently and how much I love you, Starbuck.”

Hermione launched herself into her father's arms, holding him tight and crying softly. “I love you too, daddy. And I'll never leave you or mum.”

“Hermione, are you all right?” Harry asked when she walked out a few minutes later. Her eyes were puffy and she looked a bit of a mess, but on the inside she felt buoyant and refreshed. Her father had stayed in the house to compose himself a bit more and splash some cold water on his face.

“Never better,” she replied with a broad smile.

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A/N: Second to the last one! I've been updating fairly regularly, almost every day, but the last chapter hasn't been written so the last update may be a week or more. Thanks to hal for the beta. If you find any mistakes or Americanisms, please let me know. Hal was a bit, um, well drunk when he read this so even though he gave his ok and I've gone through this with a fine tooth comb, there still might be some errors that escaped my eye. Thank you once again to the readers and reviewers!

It was a perfect day for hard labor. The temperature was cool, the breeze was mild, and the sky was clear and blue save for the enormous white clouds left over from the late November storm the day before. It was a good day for Quidditch as Ron had, not so subtly, repeated at least four times in the last half hour alone.

But it was grunt work and torture, well Hermione called it “cleaning,” for Harry, Hermione and their hapless volunteers Ron and Luna.

Ronnie and Sirius were spending the day with their respective grandparents while their parents waded through dust motes the size of small domesticated farm animals, cobwebs that would shame Aragog, and grime that would be the envy of any dungeon.

Yes, the Potters were moving and unexpectedly as well. Two weeks previously Harry happened to be passing by the house on the outskirts of London and was instantly smitten. It was an old moderately large two story stone home with a basement, lots of windows, wood floors and a large over grown garden and yard out back. The property was set off the street by a tall iron and stone fence and so many trees it was almost impossible to see the house. It had lain vacant for so long that even the people who were interested were turned off by the amount of cleaning that needed to be done to make the house habitable. Of course, those people were mostly Muggles and a bit of cleaning was no problem to two witches and two wizards, even if a little elbow grease was involved. With that in mind, Harry had taken Hermione and nine week old Sirius to check out the house and with her approval, bought it on the spot for what seemed like a song.

“I still can't believe this house was vacant for so long,” Hermione said walking up the shady and cool path. “It's beautiful.”

“Why was it vacant for so long?” Ron asked eyeing the house warily.

“Basilisks breed in the basement,” Harry deadpanned. “And it has spiders the size of lorries.”

Harry could practically see Ron flashback to their second year and had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. “You're taking the mick,” Ron said without any conviction.

He finally let out a snort of laughter and fought down a grin in the face of Ron's murderous glare. “Yeah. But really, the realtor said that it was haunted.”

“Is it?” Luna spoke up, looking up at the house with an unfocused gaze.

“I don't know. If it is, the ghosts didn't show themselves when we had our first walk through,” Harry replied walking up the three wide steps that comprised the stoop. He unlocked the door with a key, making a mental note to ward the door and the house so they could Apparate straight in or use their wand to open the locks. “Home sweet home.”

The movement of the door kicked up a cloud of dust obscuring their view into the foyer. “We certainly have our work cut out for us,” Hermione coughed behind her hand.

“And you're positive there are no spiders?” Ron asked squinting warily inside.

“Positive,” Hermione replied, crossing her fingers behind her back.

Luna quirked an eyebrow at Hermione to which Hermione coolly quirked an eyebrow back, daring her to question it. But Luna knew they wouldn't finish without Ron and this was probably the only time she'd ever see her husband clean so she wisely kept her mouth shut.

“Come on people, daylight's wasting,” Harry ordered, ushering the others inside.

Inside they conjured buckets, rubber cleaning gloves, soap and sponges because while magic could take care of the dirt, it couldn't make the walls shine nor give the house a clean smell. “If we split up, we'll get more work finished that way. Boys you take upstairs, Luna and I will take downstairs and we'll leave the basement for later,” Hermione said picking up her bucket of supplies.

Ron grumbled and grumped, but did as he was told, stalking off toward the stairs just off the foyer.

“Good luck,” Harry grinned, thinking he got the better end of the deal. He leaned down and kissed Hermione softly.

“You too,” she replied with a mischievous grin that had Harry on guard. That grin never boded well as the last time he'd seen it, he'd wound up covered in chocolate sauce and whipped cream with a cherry on top. And that had just been the night before.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her and made his way upstairs behind Ron, glancing back at her occasionally. She merely smiled and waved her fingers before disappearing behind Luna into the kitchen at the back of the house.

Upstairs was a complete mess, if not messier than downstairs. The dust was at least an inch thick, the windows so covered with grime that even though it was bright outside, inside it looked like twilight. “Ron,” Harry called out.

He poked his head from one of the rooms. “Yeah mate.”

“Why don't we start on the windows first, that way we can actually see what we're doing before we start cleaning everywhere else.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ron called back before disappearing. A moment later he walked out into the hall with a frown. “Oi. Did you see my bucket out here?”

“No, why?” Harry watched Ron look in all the rooms, in every closet until he found his cleaning supplies in the master bathroom.

“That is the weirdest thing ever. I didn't even know you had a master bath, so why are my supplies in there?” Ron said running a hand through his ginger hair and glancing back at the room behind him.

Harry grinned. “Nice try mate.”

“I'm being serious - oh sod it, you're not going to believe me are you.” Ron knew him well and Harry wasn't going to have one pulled over on him.

“You found the supplies, so let's get this done. I'll take the room across the hall, you can take this one.”

They split up and began working with both wands and sponges. An hour later they had made some good headway having completed all the upstairs windows. They still needed to be washed on the outside, but at least they could see. The added light cast the dust and cobwebs in greater detail. “Not much extra to see,” Ron commented looking around, eyeing the cobwebs suspiciously.

“True, but it needed to be done,” Harry replied with a sigh. “The dust should probably come next.”

“Right.”

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Hermione and Luna stepped back and looked at the kitchen with satisfaction. The counter tops were gleaming, the wood floor was spotless and the cupboards had been cleared of any unwanted residents. “How do you think the boys are doing upstairs?” Hermione asked, a grin quirking her lips.

Luna glanced at her with a similar smirk. “Quite well I believe. If they haven't been beset by nargles, I have a feeling they'll have a different surprise in store for them.”

Hermione smirked, glancing up the hallway to where the stairs lay beyond.

“So when're you going to tell them -“

The sounds of a shrieking male and two sets of pounding feet reached their ears, echoing loudly off the wood floors. The pounding ran over their heads down the hallway and to the stairs, then back toward them. “Get it off me!” Ron screamed, flailing his arms wildly about.

“He saw a spider across the room and when he ran away he ran into some cobwebs. Now he's convinced there's a spider on him,” Harry explained a safe distance behind Ron and his flailing arms.

“Ronald,” Luna spoke up, her voice as cool and calm as a pond. “There is nothing in your hair.”

“Are you sure? Look to be sure,” he said bending at the waist in front of her.

She thoroughly ran her hands through his hair, taking out bits of cobweb, calming her husband down. “Yes, I'm positive,” she finally pronounced.

Ron relaxed slowly from his anxious fidgeting and straightened. “Thanks love,” he said giving her a kiss.

After a bit more reassurance from Luna, the four parted ways again, the boys returning upstairs and the women moving on to the dining room just across from the open kitchen.

“Do you think -?” Hermione asked with a small grin.

Luna grinned back, eyeing the ceiling. “I don't know. Maybe. Although I don't know her very well, I can see how anyone would want to take advantage of Ron's phobia.”

“Are we being a bit mean by not telling them?” Hermione asked having an attack of conscience.

Luna turned away from scrubbing the window and cocked an eyebrow. “After all the pranks we've had to put up with, no,” she replied. “I feel wholly justified,” she added turning back to the window humming a song that sounded a lot like “You're a Mean One Mr. Grinch.”

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Upstairs, Harry was diligently siphoning the dust off the floor with his wand when he heard giggling coming from down the hall. The girls sound like they're having fun, he thought with a grin.

“I SAID knock it off Harry!” Ron bellowed from the direction of the giggling.

Harry stepped out into the hall just as Ron came storming out. “What's going on?”

“What do you mean, what's going on? I should be asking you that,” Ron retorted. “I told you three times to stop moving my bucket but you wouldn't listen.”

“I was in here the entire time,” Harry replied, confused.

“Yeah, right. I'm not going to believe you either,” Ron replied turning and heading back to the room he was cleaning. “Just cut it out.”

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes heading back to his room. Ron was going mental, he had to be. He returned to his cleaning, but didn't get very far when the bucket of suds and dirty water tipped over, splashing all over the wood floor and his shoes. Softly cursing his own clumsiness, he cleaned up the mess, dried his shoes and returned to the bathroom for more water. A bright purple goo instead of clear water oozed out of the tap and Harry frowned. “What the hell is going on?”

There was more giggling coming from downstairs and Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Whatever was going on, the girls were in on it. He shut off the taps and snuck his way down the stairs. “Hello Harry,” Luna called up, catching him as she walked out of the den and past the stairs.

“Oi, Luna. Have you and Hermione been upstairs at all?”

“No, why?”

“Been telling any jokes?”

Luna's forehead crinkled in confusion. “Are you sure the snarkles haven't made you daft, Harry?”

“Er. Probably yeah. Snarkles,” he muttered walking back upstairs.

“You're an odd one,” Luna called up to which Harry only shook his head.

Ron was humming happily when he walked past the room he was working in and the water was running clean and clear when he returned to the bathroom. Chalking up the odd behavior and possible hallucinations to too much dust, Harry filled his bucket and returned to work.

No sooner had he resumed cleaning when someone yelled “SPIDER!” at the end of the hall.

Harry walked into the hall and Ron shrieked again running out of the room and downstairs. Now he knew he was being put on. He walked toward where the voice had come from and jumped into the room on his right. “Ah HA! GOTCHA!”

--------------

“Ron, calm down, there are no spiders here,” Hermione said for the tenth time in about as many minutes.

“But you screamed it! I heard you!” Ron gasped, pasty white and shaking in the corner of the kitchen.

“Ron, I think I found your spider,” Harry said coming into the kitchen. He stepped aside revealing a transparent girl about eight or nine years old wearing a frilly Edwardian style dress, dainty little boots and a large bow tying back her ringlets. She grinned sheepishly and shyly ducked behind Harry

“The house is haunted,” Ron whispered, regaining some of his color. “You knew didn't you,” he said rounding on his wife and best friend.

“Weeeell, yes,” Hermione grinned. “Remember last Halloween? Remember the taffy apples? Well Luna and I figured this would be a good payback and Constance was kind enough to help.”

The little ghost girl giggled. “It was fun,” she admitted in a soft voice.

Ron and Harry cracked grins, enjoying a well done prank even if it had been done on them. “Are there any more ghosts we should know about?” Ron asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“Sir Geoffrey, Constance's father,” Hermione replied, grinning. “They're the only two here.”

“Papa's down in the basement sulking,” Constance spoke up, peeking around Harry to look up at him. “He liked the dust.”

“He doesn't mind that we're moving in, does he?” Harry asked with a bit of concern.

“No, he doesn't mind. He'll come around once he sees what a wonderful job you're doing to the house. He really loved this place and once he sees that you do too, he'll warm up,” Constance reassured them with a gap toothed grin.

“And how did you know about them but we didn't?” Ron asked, crossing his arms on his chest and leaning back against the countertops.

“I happened to meet Constance when we split up,” Hermione said, nodding to Harry. “He wanted to see the backyard again and I stayed in the den and that's when Constance decided to prank the poor realtor. I don't think I'd ever seen that shade of white before.”

“I was wondering why the realtor wouldn't come back inside when I came back to the den,” Harry murmured thoughtfully.

“Anyway,” Hermione went on with a grin, “Constance saw that I could see her and had she been alive she probably would've bowled me over when she found out I was a witch. I honestly meant to tell you, but then I remembered Halloween and I couldn't find it within me to say anything.”

“You are a wicked woman,” Harry grinned walking over to her, trapping her against the counter. “I knew there was a reason I was marrying you.”

Hermione grinned back and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh really. And it had nothing to do with love or the fact that I'm the mother of your child.”

“Nope, it had everything to do with your deviousness and wickedly evil mind,” Harry murmured back. Vaguely he sensed Luna dragging Ron out of the kitchen so they could be alone and Constance sinking through the floor with a disgusted look on her face. “So when can we go home?” he murmured against her throat.

He could tell she was tempted to tell him now, but he knew that she wouldn't let them skive off. “I know, I know, not until we're finished,” he answered for her with a sigh, reluctantly stepping away from her.

“Later,” Hermione murmured, kissing Harry's chin in apology and promise.

“So why was the reason you married me?” Ron asked, bracing his arms on either side of Luna, effectively cornering her by the stairs. He had a smug grin on his face, thinking he was so suave.

“Well Ronald,” Luna began with a low seductive rasp to her voice, “I've always been highly turned on by,” she pressed herself against him, her lips millimeters from his wildly beating pulse, “you're ability to clean.”

Ron groaned dropping his head against the wall behind Luna, feeling a pair of rubber cleaning gloves pushed into his stomach as she ducked out of his arms. “Woman, you're bloody unfair.”

Luna merely smiled distractedly. “It's true; I'm very turned on by you cleaning. You have no idea how much I've wanted to run up there and jump you.”

Ron looked at his wife with a bit of suspicion. “You're not just saying that so I'll help you clean at home are you?”

She merely smiled distantly and wandered away, humming something that sounded a lot like “Witchy Woman.”

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A/N: And this is the end of the line folks. I might have a cookie for this story, depends. Also, I'm trying to come up with something to follow up this one like an actual story instead of a bunch of little stories grouped together, but again, it depends solely on inspiration. At any rate, I hope you've enjoyed my meager offerings and I've made you laugh or at the very least grin. Once again, thank you for the reviews, they never fail to give me a grin and thank you to hal for the beta. If there're any Americanisms, please let me know as this was written by an American and beta'd by one too.

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Excerpts were taken from chapter two titled “A Crash Course in Traditions” in Kicking and Screaming: A Guide Down the Aisle by Claire Highnower.

Weddings are a cause for celebration and joy. It is the coming together and binding of two souls and two families but it is also a perfect occasion to reinforce and pass down traditions. Such customs can be couched within elaborate ceremonies or simple oaths stated in front of an officiant, but despite the elaborateness of the ceremony, the size of the wedding party, or length of the guest list a few traditions are often observed in all weddings.

Unlike Muggles, it is not bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other before the ceremony.

“Hermione, did you see my - er, thanks,” Harry grinned taking the toothbrush she was holding out. “Where was it?”

“In the kitchen,” she replied wrapping her arms around his waist.

“I guess I've been a bit distracted,” he admitted, placing the toothbrush on the bathroom sink and wrapping his arms around her.

“We're getting married today,” she whispered against his shoulder.

They had first considered having the wedding at the Burrow, but realized the logistics of trying to get Hermione's family there and even though Mrs. Weasley was most insistent that she share her house with them, Harry and Hermione decided that they wanted a bit of a change. So with a lot of scouting and growing frustration it was Seamus who suggested his home country. The words had barely been spoken when the couple looked at each other and instantly knew they wanted to be wed among the green hills of the Emerald Isle.

When they announced their plans to rent a castle for a week preceding the ceremony for the bridal party and immediate family everyone loved the idea. So it was on the east coast of Ireland about fifty miles south west of Dublin where the bridal party and their families found themselves nestled among the vivid green hills in a large yet cozy castle rented from a wealthy Irish family.

“It seems like just yesterday when I fell head over heels for you,” he grinned against her hair.

Hermione groaned but couldn't help but chuckle. “Honestly. That was bad even for you.”

Harry lifted her chin and took in her beautiful face. For all her seemingly calm demeanor he knew her well enough to recognize the tension lines around her mouth and the small frown between her eyes. He wasn't sure if it was from the uphill battle with her mother and Mrs. Weasley or from their impending nuptials. “Everything will be perfect,” he murmured. “We worked so hard, I don't see how it couldn't be.”

“I know,” she sighed. “But my brain just won't shut down. I keep going over the list in my head and I had to charm the floo to receive calls only so I'd keep from making any floo calls to the caterer or the florist.”

Harry grinned over her head, careful she wouldn't see it. “Come on. We need to get going,” he murmured kissing her forehead.

Upon arriving at the location of the ceremony the bride and groom, if they have arrived together, are promptly separated to prepare.

“Hermione!” Ginny yelped, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from Harry and down the hall. “Thank Merlin! You only have three hours to get your hair and makeup done!”

Hermione turned her head and mouthed, Help me! to Harry. All he could do was lift Sirius's little hand and wave bye-bye before she disappeared around a corner leaving father and son to find the room the groomsmen were going to use.

“There he is!” Ron bellowed bounding over to his best friend when Harry arrived. He made a move to give Harry a hearty hug, but noticed the wide eyed and curious baby in his arms. “I'm surprised Hermione let Sirius out of her sight,” he grinned down at his godson, running a tender finger down his soft cheek.

“I don't think she had time to comprehend that she was being separated from him when Ginny abducted her,” Harry replied with a grin.

“Let me take him, you need to get ready,” Arthur said stepping forward and nodding toward the suit that was hung up on the back of the door.

“Morning Malfoy,” Harry chirped as he turned and released the protection charms on the dress robes and Muggle tuxedo combination tailor-made for him.

Draco smirked from where he lounged in a chair across the room. “This is a favor. We're still not friends.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Harry replied over his shoulder hiding his grin.

It is typically the job of the father of the groom to set his son aside to explain what the groom would be expected to do that night, but lately it has become popular for the groom's godfather, brothers, friends, nephews, uncles, and cousins to join in on this conversation to provide reassurance and tips as the groom often lacks experience.

Harry adjusted his bowtie to make sure it sat straight for the third time before dropping his hands to his side and rubbing the clamminess away on his thighs. “You love her. You can do this,” he whispered, trying to rub away the trembling in his hands as well.

“You look so much like your father, it's a bit . . . eerie,” Remus said softly from behind.

Harry turned and smiled, accepting a hug from his surrogate godfather. “Even though he can't make it, I'm glad you could.”

Remus smiled and used his arm around the younger man's shoulders to guide Harry over to a pair of chairs. “Do you have time for a quick talk?”

“Of course.”

They sat and Remus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Even though you're a grown man, I still feel a responsibility to you. So. Tonight you're about to become a man and I feel it is my duty to explain the logistics of the physical aspect of a male/female union,” he explained in his best professor voice.

Harry's jaw dropped and he couldn't help the blush that flamed his cheeks. He looked disbelievingly over at where Ron, Arthur, Fred and George were making faces at Sirius across the room. “You're taking the mick; please tell me you're taking the mick,” Harry moaned in mortification.

Remus settled back in the chair, crossing his legs, propping his elbows up on the arm rests and tenting his fingers in front of his pursed lips. “When a man and a woman love each other very much, they often wish to express that love physically.”

“Remus!”

“You have a question already?”

“No! Remus, look, I'm perfectly aware of the, er, logistics of the . . . physical aspect of a male/female . . . union,” Harry replied albeit very reluctantly, his face taking on a slightly green tint. “So you can spare both of us the uncomfortable conversation. Not that I don't appreciate the thought, but I think - I think I'm good on that subject. No need for The Talk here.”

Remus grinned. “Your father didn't need one either.”

“Oh Merlin!” Harry exclaimed with a combination of horror and revulsion. “Remus, you're a sick, sad puppy.”

The older man shrugged unrepentantly with a grin that could almost be called evil. “Just doing my duty to uphold tradition.”

“Or torture me.”

“Or torture you,” Remus agreed with an unapologetic smile despite his shrug. “Did it work?”

Harry grumbled and stood walking away to Remus's laugh.

“It's toast time! Break out the Firewhisky and shot glasses!” Ron called out brandishing an unopened bottle of Olde Ogden's to the cheers of his brothers.

While the groom, his groomsmen and his male family and friends quietly bond with a congratulatory cordial glass of liqueur, the bride and her bridesmaids prepare, reverently helping the bride into her gown and veil. Tears are often shed as the mother bids farewell to her daughter and last minute advice is given by the bride's sisters, cousins, aunts, nieces, and friends.

“Ginny, have you seen my other shoe?” Hermione called above the chaos in the changing room.

“Mum, where's my lipstick?!” Ginny called out, crouching to look under the couch for Hermione's shoe. She hid a wince from her mother's eagle eye, pausing a moment for the dull pain to subside. The birth of her second child Narcissa, Cissy for short, three weeks previous had been rough and technically she should still be in bed, but she had sworn that a little pain wasn't going to make her miss Hermione's wedding.

“Maman! Maman! Maman!” a half dressed Etienne screamed while running after Fleur who, with Luna, were trying to round up the flower girls, Hermione's little cousins.

“Hermione, you need to sit still!” her mother had to practically shout above the noise. She grappled with her daughter's unruly hair while Hermione made pained grimaces into the mirror.

“Mum, that really hurts!” Hermione winced, reflexively touching her tender scalp.

“Sorry, love. But you need to sit still. I'm almost finished, so please just two more minutes,” her mother replied, her mouth full of bobby pins.

“You know, there're spells for this.”

“Yes, but I don't know them, so you're just going to have to live with the hairspray, pins and hair gel.”

“Mum, did you get the spare room set up for Sirius?”

“Of course dear.”

“And you got the cloth nappies? The plastic ones chafe.”

“Yes love, I know.”

“And he hates to be faced forward when you burp him, so prop him up on your shoulder. And don't feed him after nine; he gets cranky in the morning. And don't be alarmed if the cot starts rocking, it's been spelled to do that. Oh and -“

“Hermione,” her mum interrupted her taking the pins out of her mouth and placing gentle calming hands on her shoulders. She caught her eye in the mirror, whose compliments and comments were lost in the general ruckus and chaos surrounding them. “Sirius will be fine. He's my only grandbaby and your father and I will treat him with nothing but love. You may be twenty four, but it wasn't so long ago that you were in nappies too.”

Hermione relaxed by degrees, loosening the tension in her shoulders. “I know mum, but he's only three months old and we've never been without him for longer than a couple of hours. We'll be gone for two weeks now and I just - I worry.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. I felt the same way. You can call as often as you like, but you cannot come home. Understood?” her mother asked sternly.

“Understood.”

“Good. Now could you hand me that comb please?”

It is a tradition, though not often required, that the groom gives his groomsmen a gift. This is a well thought out, meaningful token of thanks as most groomsmen will have had traveled a goodly distance to participate in the wedding.

“Harry, I really love the cufflinks,” Ron murmured, glancing over his shoulder at the group of loud talking and semi rowdy wizards and Mr. Granger, behind them. Mrs. Weasley had taken Sirius about an hour before while muttering under her breath. Harry figured his son was only three months old so any negative influence the boys might've had on him would probably be forgotten by the time he was old enough to do anything about it.

“Just don't tell Malfoy I got them for you,” Harry whispered back, reaching into his luggage and pulling out a small wrapped gift. He enlarged it and turned with a smirk.

Draco watched Harry and Ron warily as they crossed the room with innocent eyes and evil smirks. “I know it's tradition to give a gift,” Harry said presenting the long, yet thin box to Draco. “I didn't want you to think that I was not being a gracious host.”

“Er. Thanks. I think,” Draco replied accepting the gift as gingerly as he would've handled a ticking bomb.

“Go on. Open it. I promise, the twins haven't touched it,” Harry said, his grin widening.

Draco looked over at the gathering crowd and noticed the genuinely curious stares of the twins. Even if they hadn't put any traps on the box, he didn't trust that evil grin for a second. Reluctantly, he ripped the wrapping off and lifted the lid. Everything seemed ok unless his face had suddenly turned a different color, but no one seemed to be laughing, so Draco had to assume it hadn't.

Inside, under two sheets of tissue was a bright bubble gum pink cummerbund. A grin quirked at Draco's lips and even he had to admit it was a funny joke. “Har har Potter. Good one.”

“You're wearing it.”

Draco snorted a laugh before his face slowly dropped at the expectant look on Harry's face. “You're having me on.”

“No. I assure you, I'm dead serious,” Harry replied, but behind that amiable grin was a steal core.

Draco glanced at the laughing Weasleys, grinning Lupin and perplexed Mr. Granger and sighed. What I do for Gin, he thought. “You do realize this war isn't over,” he said taking off his navy blue cummerbund and replacing it with the bubble gum pink one.

Harry's smirk turned warm and grew. “I would be sorely disappointed if it was.”

After several calming draughts and/or cheering charms, the groom makes his way to the hall where the ceremony is to take place followed by the bride who waits patiently outside the hall to be called. Originally bridesmaids in Wizarding society were loyal to the groom and the groomsmen loyal to the bride. That is why the bridesmaids and groomsmen followed the bride and groom so as to effectively block all exits. Needless to say, many weddings in the past were accomplished at wand point. Gradually as weddings shifted from unions born of necessity or contracts to unions born of love, so too shifted the choice of bridesmaid and groomsman.

Harry followed by Ron and Draco walked into the large main hall about three quarters of the size of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. On either side forming an aisle stood ten benches on both sides; he could only guess they had been transfigured from chairs. The benches were packed with expectant people leaving Harry to marvel that both he and Hermione had so many friends and for her, family.

Wildflowers, roses, ribbons and candles filled every available nook and cranny adding a light relief to the otherwise dreary flagstone and gray stone of the hall and the steel gray clouds outside the tall windows. He had to give credit to everyone who had helped set up and decorate the hall.

“D'you remember what to do?” Ron whispered in his ear.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, glad to have a distraction from the butterflies in his stomach.

“I understand that you only had a crash course -“

“Ron, I've been doing some reading for a couple months now about wizard weddings. I think I've got it down.”

“Sorry mate, don't mean to add onto your nervousness.”

“It's ok.”

Hermione walked down the main stairs and turned toward the heavy wood doors that opened into the main hall. Beyond those doors were about a hundred of her closest family and friends and most importantly, Harry.

She stood in a daze while Ginny and Luna straightened out her train and her mother fussed over her bouquet. She had no doubts and no reservations about marrying Harry, so why was she so nervous? She'd never been afraid of crowds before so it wasn't that. “Mum -“

“The music's starting,” Ginny announced lining up her nephew and Hermione's cousins in front of Hermione while Mrs. Granger gave her daughter one last kiss and slipped off to a side entrance to join her husband.

“Are you ready?” Luna asked with a gentle smile.

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded, watching Etienne walk carefully down the aisle holding a small pillow with two rings nestled on top. The two little girls followed, tossing flowers as they went. Hermione waited a moment then stepped forward into the main hall, Luna and Ginny following a short distance behind.

The guests respectfully stood and before her attention focused solely on Harry, Hermione had time to check to see that Sirius was asleep, safely snuggled in his grandmother's arms. She could vaguely see Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, Remus, Tonks, her aunt Milly, her grandpa Granger, Neville, and various Weasleys and Grangers. She knew other people she and Harry were close to were there, but it was like she was in a tunnel and it all blurred together except for Harry. He was extremely dashing and handsome in his dress robes/tuxedo, his hair still a mess, but that seemed to be the fashion among Muggles now anyway.

Harry felt as though he'd been punched in the gut. All the air left him in a soft whoosh when he caught sight of Hermione. She positively glowed in her stunningly white gown. Her hair was pulled away from her face and tamed into ringlets that tumbled down her back. Interspersed in her hair were bits of baby's breath that made her look like a forest nymph.

Then she smiled at him.

And that was it. He was done for.

Arthur Weasley stepped forward nervously smoothing out his dress robes. He had become licensed at the Ministry to perform weddings for this one occasion and perhaps for any of his sons who decided to get married later.

The vows can vary from the Ministry approved text to poems, monologues, drunken ramblings and owl eyed blinking. It truly does not matter what is said so long as the emotion is there behind it. After the vows are exchanged, four short lengths of ribbon or rope symbolizing love, prosperity, fertility, and unity are tied about the couple's hands by the bridesmaids and groomsmen. The ropes or ribbons are usually cut or untied shortly before the reception. Afterward the rings are placed on the ring fingers, a kiss is exchanged and the bride and groom face the audience as husband and wife.

“That wasn't so bad,” Harry whispered in Hermione's ear as they made their way down the aisle to the applause of the audience.

“No, but I'm glad it's over.” She turned her head and smiled up at him. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, kissing her lips softly.

“I think someone wants his mum,” Ginny said handing Hermione a softly whimpering Sirius once they reached the main foyer. A tent had been erected just beyond the front doors where the guests would be able to mingle, eat hor d'urves, and drink champaign while pictures were taken in the hall and the benches were retransfigured into chairs and tables for the reception. “And here's his bottle,” Ginny added. “My mum had it.”

“Thank goodness, because this dress doesn't have room for a bottle,” Hermione grinned down at her son who was eagerly drinking the milk.

“Do you want me to take him while you greet everyone?” Ginny asked.

“No, that's all right. Some of my family hasn't seen Sirius yet and I'm sure you want to hold Cissy for a while.”

Bench by bench the well wishers emptied out of the hall and filed past the bridal party. They bestowed hugs, kisses, handshakes, pats on the back and coo's over Sirius who had inherited his father's green eyes and black hair and his mother's curls.

The reception is often used as an excuse, if one is needed, to become thoroughly drunk. Such behavior is usually frowned upon, but often indiscretions, if they are mild, are glossed over and forgotten unless evidence can be sought to keep as blackmail. It is also the time when the bride and groom share their first meal, first drink, and first dance together. It is the true start of their life together.

“You know, I never realized how cute a couple they made,” Hermione said sitting back on her chair and propping up her tired feet. She'd ditched her heels hours ago, but they were still achy from all the dancing she'd done in the past few hours.

It was approaching two in the morning and all the children had long since been put to bed. Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger had volunteered to watch over the nursery while the rest of the adults continued to party in the hall. Meanwhile everyone proceeded to get drunk except for Hermione, Ginny and a reluctant Tonks who were still nursing.

“It's the contrast, black and white, green and grey, navy and pink,” Ginny agreed watching her husband drunkenly slow dance with Hermione's husband out on the empty dance floor with Luna and Ron. Just about everyone had gone to bed except the bridal party. Around noon the next day everyone was going to send off the bride and groom to their honeymoon since Harry and Hermione had chosen to stay and participate in the festivities for as long as everyone else.

“If I hadn't just gotten married and if Colin hadn't just taken about ten incriminating pictures, I think I would be jealous of Draco right now,” Hermione grinned taking a sip of sparkling grape juice. When she finally noticed Draco's cummerbund and the matching bowtie Harry had charmed pink, she really did want to be angry, but she was too giddy after her marriage and having too much fun to do much about it. So she did the only thing she could do: laugh.

“Uh, help! A little help please?” Harry called out. They looked over to see Harry struggling with the dead weight of a passed out Draco. Slowly, they sank to the floor, Harry trapped underneath. “This is not how I want to spend my wedding night.”

“Looks like bed time for us,” Ginny giggled as she stood. “Congratulations and good night.”

“Thanks, you too,” Hermione smiled, squeezing Ginny's hand.

“Ok, Prince of Slytherin, time to go to bed,” Ginny said walking over to Draco and casting a mild enervate. “No hangover potion for you tomorrow.”

“You're a mean witch,” Draco groaned. He stood with a bit of support from Ginny and teetered where he stood. “Potter, you may be a git, but you sure are soft. I need a pillow.”

“What you need is a sobering charm, but I'm not going to let you off that easy,” Ginny replied, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and her arm around his waist and leading him off toward the bedrooms upstairs.

“And how drunk are you?” Hermione asked kneeling down next to Harry.

“Purty drunk,” he replied with a dopy grin up at her. “Didja hear? I got married t'day.”

“Yes, I know. It was a beautiful ceremony too.”

“Yeah, purty. But not as purty as my wife.”

Hermione smiled and brushed a lock of hair from his eyes. “Sweet talker.”

He smiled up at her again before looking around him curiously. “Why does this look familililiar? You're not gonna tell me you're pregnant again are you?”

Hermione tilted back her head and laughed, startling Ron and Luna out of their half drunken, half sleepy dancing to softly bid their good nights. “No, you're safe.”

“Are ya gonna pr'pose?”

“The only thing I'm going to propose is that we go to bed,” she giggled.

“Tha' sounds like a wonderful plan,” he said standing with her help. He was a bit wobbly, but could manage if he braced his feet far enough apart. “You're smart, so smart, smart, but I love you, didja know that?”

Hermione smiled up at him and kissed him softly. “Actually, I did know. Did you know I love you?”

“Hmm . . . yep! I'm smart too!”

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