Author's Note: I've got to stop posting at such a late hour, I know. But I'm prone to such unmerciful writer's block, and so I'm constantly afraid that if I don't write it now, I'll never be able to. And I always want to post as soon as I've finished writing. Hee.
So here is the epilogue. It contains several lovely, mushy scenes that I've just been dying to write since this whole thing started. And you're going to see a few little setups for the sequel. Nothing too cliffhangerish, I hope, just enough to keep your interest piqued.
On a more serious note: I need a beta. A smart, thoughtful person who adores Harry/Hermione and doesn't care for fan fiction cliches and ideally is something of a writer themselves, i.e. knows grammar and spelling and punctuation and how to put a nice-looking sentence together. I'll be ten times more likely to get a sequel off the ground if I have a trusted consultant, who can both brainstorm with me and tell me when my writing sucks (and just generally goof around with me, because that's most of what I do anyway).
So if you think that sounds like you, and you're interested, please leave a review with your email address and a few reasons why you'd like the job or why you think you'd be the perfect person.
Thanks so much, everyone. I've almost got this one put away - now let's get to it! :D
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EPILOGUE
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Spring had turned into summer, deep greens and bright sun-drenched flowers and long, lazy weekends. They didn't have a backyard but they did have a private roof garden, and it was very nearly as good. It got lots of sun, anyhow, and the views of the surrounding neighborhoods were very picturesque.
Hermione was bent over a potted tree, examining one of the many delicate white flowers that had sprung from its branches. "Figure it out yet?" Harry asked idly, from where he lay in the warm shade with Dot.
"Not yet." She made a little humming noise of frustration. "Herbology was never my subject, unfortunately."
"Nor mine," Harry sighed. "But I bet little Miss Dotty here will turn out to be a sight better at it."
"What's Herbology?" Dotty asked him.
"It's where you learn about plants and flowers."
She perked up. "I like flowers!"
Harry just smiled at her. He was lying on his back and she on her stomach, her little arms folded on top of his chest, playing with a leaf she'd picked from a nearby bush. They'd brought a stack of books up to the roof but had already gone through them all - when it came to books, Dotty's appetite was as bottomless as her mother's.
As he looked at his daughter in the shade, Harry's heart melted for what seemed like the thousandth time since he'd first laid eyes on her. He could scarcely believe how beautiful she was, and how smart. That's the wizarding blood in her, Harry, Hermione had explained when he first commented on Dotty's cleverness. Magical children develop much faster than Muggles, speech and cognitive processing and all that.
Even with the wizarding blood taken into account, Harry privately thought she had inherited a little something extra from her mother. Certainly they had the same devastatingly beautiful smile - with just the faintest traces of dimples, like little dents in cream. But Dotty's real beauty, like Hermione's, was the bright intelligence that showed through her eyes. He'd never get tired of seeing it, not if he lived ten thousand years.
Harry stroked Dotty's hair gently as she chatted to him about the leaf - for of course she'd assigned it a name and personality and a life history all its own. Midway through her lengthy story, Harry glanced up to see Hermione watching them.
He'd caught her doing this frequently over the last few months, looking at them together with an awed expression in her eyes like she could barely believe it. Each time before he'd given her a reassuring little smile; and he did so again now. She walked over and sat down beside them, running her fingers through Harry's black hair just as he was doing to Dotty.
Their eyes met as Dotty went on talking, her voice full of childlike sweetness. They communicated wordlessly, tender
looks on both their faces.
I'm so happy.
Me too.
Can you believe this?
No. Can you?
No. But I'm so glad.
"Well," came an amused voice, interrupting their deep reverie, "don't you three make a sickeningly sweet picture."
Harry recognized the voice before he even looked up; nonplussed, he raised his head to see Draco Malfoy standing there on his roof. Even more surprisingly, Ginny Weasley stood beside him, her shoulder touching his.
"Hello, Malfoy," he said slowly, as Hermione jumped to her feet.
Harry knew Malfoy was no threat to them. Very near the end of the war, both he and Snape had pulled off a brilliant last minute switching of sides - in fact, it had been thanks to Draco that Harry had tracked Voldemort down and achieved the element of surprise that was so critical to his victory. Malfoy had done them a great service.
That didn't mean, however, that he was to be trusted implicitly. Hermione would be polite, Harry knew, but she, like him, felt uncomfortable seeing him in their home.
*
"Can I help you?" Hermione asked Malfoy shortly. Next to her, Harry slowly stood as well, holding Dotty in his arms.
"Not really." Malfoy looked composed, she saw, but there was a flicker of anxiety and discomfort lurking in his grey eyes. "But Potter can. I'd like to speak to you privately," he said to Harry.
Hermione and Harry exchanged a glance. "Up here?" he asked.
Malfoy shook his head. "We'd better go inside."
"What's this all about then, Malfoy?"
"As I said," Malfoy repeated slowly, as if speaking to someone rather dim-witted, "it's private."
Harry gave Hermione a shrug. She could tell they were both thinking the very same thing. It was a little suspicious, but if Ginny was there too….
Harry set Dotty down, stepped forward, and he and Malfoy disappeared down the stairs that led back into the flat. Hermione immediately turned to Ginny. "What on earth-"
"It's all right, Hermione," Ginny said quickly. "He's here on some official business that has to do with Harry. I doubt I know any more about it than you do - it's top secret."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. Ginny had been standing rather close to Draco, and she remembered Ginny's words nearly six weeks ago: I've even started seeing someone.
"Ginny," Hermione choked, "is Draco Malfoy your boyfriend?"
Ginny looked thoughtful. "I wouldn't say `boyfriend' exactly, we're not exclusive. But yes, I'm dating him."
Hermione goggled. "And you came here with him because…?"
"He thought Harry would be more inclined to talk if I was here."
"He wasn't wrong," Hermione said faintly. "Ginny, does your family know about this?"
Ginny raised her chin defensively. "Of course they do, Hermione. Why woudn't they?"
Hermione just looked at her, waiting.
"Well, some of them know." Ginny paused. "Actually, just Charlie, really," she amended.
"Ginny…."
"What?" Ginny snapped. "I've got nothing to answer for, Hermione. He's a good man."
Hermione thought of a dozen things to say, but few of them were fair and none of them were kind. "You're right," she said instead, managing a smile. "I'm sorry."
And they sat down together in the shade, where Dotty was still playing happily with her leaf.
*
Later That Evening….
"You haven't told me yet," Hermione gasped, as Harry kissed his way down her throat.
He and Malfoy had holed up in his bedroom for several hours. When they'd finally emerged, Harry looking resolved and Malfoy looking rather tired, Dotty had already gone to sleep. Harry showed him straight to the door, then strode over to where Hermione was sitting on the sofa and looking intensely curious. He'd grabbed her and kissed her - and there they were still, necking on the sofa like the teenagers they so recently had been.
"Told you what?" Harry asked, his breath warm against her neck.
"What you two talked about for so bloody long!" Hermione said impatiently. "Ginny left after a while - I guess she didn't need to wait for him - but you two were in there for almost four hours!"
"And Dotty's asleep, is she?" Harry asked, giving her a mischievous smile that sent a shiver down her spine.
"Yes, she is. But don't try to distract me, I'm curious."
"Curiosity killed the cat," he informed her breasts as he brushed her nipple through her blouse.
"Harry! I'm - oh my - I'm serious."
"And I'm serious too. Serious about getting to the bedroom immediately. Do you want to apparate, or shall I?"
Hermione couldn't restrain a grin. This had become a running joke between them, ever since the first time they made love in their flat. But she was still dying to know.
"Sorry, Love," Harry murmured, seeing her dissatisfied expression. "It's work stuff. If I told you, you'd just forget it anyway."
Hermione sighed and nodded. Harry had been right that first time, when he'd revealed his line of work to her and Ron - strong magic protected the society from anyone revealing its innermost secrets. If he told her something that crossed the line, she'd forget it completely less than two hours later. Several times she'd asked a question of him, only to see him smile and inform her that he'd answered it three times before with no success.
"I understand," Hermione said, and meant it. It gave her a little unease to know there was a part of Harry's life she was cut off from - mostly because she wanted to know for sure that he was safe. "Now, what were you saying about the bedroom?"
Harry smiled widely and stood up, taking her hand.
They undressed together in the dim light of the bedside lamp, watching each other with desire that was barely contained. It wasn't the explosive passion of six weeks ago, but Hermione didn't mind at all. This was more intimate, almost sacred in her view. They trusted each other to go slow, knowing they'd be there the whole way through.
"I can't believe Dotty's starting preschool in the fall," Harry murmured as he drew her close.
"I know." Hermione sighed as she felt his nude body press against hers, warm and firm and every good thing. "Time passes too quickly."
Looking into Harry's eyes, she saw the now-familiar twinge of regret. "You're right," he whispered, "and I've already lost three years of it. I'm a fool, Hermione."
Hermione put her hand to his cheek; he kissed the inside of her wrist. "Things might not have turned out like this if you'd stayed, Harry," she said softly. "Who knows? You might have taken up with Ginny again, or even Cho Chang, heaven forbid." Harry snorted dubiously. "Then again, maybe not, but I wouldn't like to risk it." She exhaled breathily as his fingers skimmed her bare breast. "Perhaps - perhaps it was for the best after all."
Grinning, he kissed her temple, then her cheek, then her jaw. "That theory of yours rather lets me off the hook, doesn't it?"
"Nope." Hermione brushed a finger down the most sensitive part of his ear, and felt him shiver against her. "You are most assuredly still on the hook."
Harry gave her a look so loving that she felt it right down to her toes. "As long as I don't have to be anywhere but here," he whispered.
"Nope," Hermione said, smiling. "That's the good news. The hook means you never get to be out of my sight again."
Harry smiled too. "Then the hook is where I belong."
Hermione had been running her hands over his back, touching the smooth skin there - now she brought one hand around to grasp his growing erection. Harry sucked in a breath, aroused by more than just the feel of her hand. It had been just six weeks since they'd started sleeping together, but he already knew that when she grabbed him like that, it meant she was ready to get down to business.
They tumbled onto the bed together. A brief but silly fight broke out over who got to be on top. Hermione won, but she suspected it was because he was in the mood for that as well.
Balancing herself above him, Hermione started to sink down on his shaft. The familiar feeling of desperate desire gripped her and she moaned loudly, stretching to fit him, easing lower until he was buried to the hilt. Harry's hands reached up to cup her breasts - his eyes were hooded with lust - and both of them began to move at the same time.
Like always, Hermione felt as if the world was coming down around her. Pulses raced, fingers intertwined, gaps and sighs escaped their mouths like some quiet language more eloquent and refined than words could ever be. Hermione hadn't been a virgin when she and Harry slept together for the first time, and she certainly wasn't for the second time three years later, but something about having him inside her always felt…new. New and amazing and wonderful.
Hermione arched her back, feeling orgasm approaching like a train about to slam into her. When she was with Harry she didn't even have to think about it - it simply came to her, just like loving him did. She gasped, and then she was clenching around him and he was groaning, holding her hips tightly in place, as he reached his peak at the very same time. Hermione's head fell back, her mouth open. Behind her eyelids, she saw stars.
For a long moment they remained still, the pleasure washing over them in waves. Then, having recovered, Hermione leaned down. Harry met her lips with his halfway.
She shifted off him and lay on her side, kissing him leisurely; they had just managed to catch their breath when they heard the faint sound of crying from the other room.
"Dotty," Hermione sighed. "Poor thing. Probably a bad dream."
Harry looked alarmed. "You don't think she heard us, do you?"
"Harry, you daft git, I cast a Silencing Charm on the bedroom weeks ago. Remember? You reminded me to do it about fifty times."
He sank down onto the pillow, relieved. "That's right. Thank God."
Hermione slid out of bed and he followed, both pulling on the nearest pajamas they could find. "I'll get Dotty this time," she said.
"I'll warm some milk on the stove," he murmured back.
"Find her stuffed bunny, will you? He's-"
"On the sofa," Harry finished. "I saw him while we were snogging earlier."
In the hallway now, she grinned. Harry squeezed her hand. "Love you," he whispered.
"I love you too, Harry."
And they went to their separate tasks.
*
END
*
So there you are. A nice bit of epilogue smut to tide you over until we meet our heroes again. I figured I should really make that NC-17 rating count before it was too late, tee hee.
I know I've said it many times, but I find I must say it at least once more: thank you so much for reading my story. I put a lot into it and I truly hoped you enjoyed it.
And don't forget: if you're interested in beta reading, leave me your info!
Love and thanks,
llorin
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