Simply Nine Days: the Epiloge

Summary: Sequel to “Simply Nine Days.” Mister and Missus Potter finally welcome Jacob Potter back. H/Hr, officially AU.

Warnings: Fluff attack. I suggest you call the cops (or Bobbies, if you British) right now. Perhaps the Army, too, just for safety measures. And, some naughty innuendo. Oh yeah, naughty indeed. And a horrible attempt at the British vocabulary/language.

Spoilers: Book seven and a half, Swish's style. Ooh yeah… Haha, sike. Nothing too much for spoilers, because everyone has already read book seven, and the epilogue is quiet different from mine. Honestly, H/G? Ugh, if only it meant Harry/Granger.

Author's Note: Yep, some of you have been asking, and I've been so bored that I just had to write this.

I won't be giving up on typing Harry Potter fanfiction, as some have questioned. I love my ship(s) way too much and I feel the need to root for my delusional team! Book seven was wonderful, yet horrible, but I still feel there is room for out imaginations to run wild.

Hope you enjoy.

---------

June 14^th, 2000…

---------

“If you think I enjoy one minute of this,” muttered Hermione, “then you are sorely mistaken.”

Harry grinned, rubbing her swollen belly. “Love, you're due any day now. You think I'm not going to take care of you?” he asked, referring to the mild quarrel they had earlier in the morning.

They'd been fighting over Harry's refusal to play Professional Quidditch. While Harry had been adamant about refusing their offer, Hermione tried to persuade him into taking a job—even if it involved risking his life every weekend. (Even after ten years, Harry was still prone to injury while playing Seeker for Quidditch.) He kept on saying that he wasn't good enough, that the last time he had played was in Hogwarts, and he wasn't even that good; Hermione's response was stale food for dinner.

Though they had been married for nearly two years already, he still hadn't gotten a job. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do; after Voldemort (who he defeated merely a week after he proposed), he just wasn't passionate about hunting dark wizards anymore. He wanted something better, something that wouldn't require risking his family's life every minute of every living day.

Hermione, meanwhile, with her `Outstanding' marks in school, had decided against an extremely demanding job; instead, surprising everyone (including herself, at times), she'd become a writer for The Quibbler. Now, though, she wasn't able to since she was nine months pregnant she wasn't able to write. Mood swings, frequent loo visits, and swollen ankles might've played a role in that, too, but no one was willing to admit it.

“It's not about that, Harry,” she pursued, despite her young husband's wide grin. “It's just that… I don't want to live off of your parents and Sirius' gold forever.”

He rolled his eyes, laying his head on the back of the settee. “I'll get one… just as soon as our baby is born.” At her sceptical look, he added, “I promise.”

She nodded, doubtful. “Sure you will, and I'm going to give birth tomorrow.”

“Watch what you say, dear, or it might just come true,” he muttered, slowly drifting off to sleep.

“And he says I sleep too much,” she muttered, getting up (with a bit difficulty). Heading towards the kitchen, she absently thought, I hope we're not out of pickles!

---------

There was a knock on the door, and Hermione answered it, offering each person a radiant smile. The two sibling Weasleys, each accompanied with their respective dates, both greeted Hermione with a large hug.

“Hello, Hermione,” greeted Ginny, giving Hermione a hug and a kiss to her cheek.

“Hey,” smiled Ron, giving Hermione a one armed hug and a kiss on the forehead. “Baby's getting big, I see.”

“Shut up,” muttered Hermione playfully and turned to the two blonde-haired people.

“Granger,” greeted Draco, giving her a small smile. (Although Hermione thought it was more of a smirk.)

“I thought it was Potter?” questioned Luna, gazing at Draco with an air of question (or was it awe?). She slapped her hip, concentrating on the ceiling. “The Bluffing Bangos must be getting to me.” She shrugged, fixing her baggy rainbow trousers.

Hermione blinked, raising an eyebrow at Luna. Should I even question her? she pondered, shaking her head and moving away from the door.

They came in, each sitting on a settee or a cushioned armchair. “Where's Harry?” Ron asked, looking around the Lounge.

“Right here,” answered Harry, wiping his wet hands on his faded jean trousers.

Although he was wearing a simple long-sleeved blue shirt with faded jeans, Hermione thought he looked gorgeous. With a sudden urge to ravage him, she made her way towards him. With her small frame (only about five five), she made her way towards her husband, grinning wickedly. Harry, the oblivious man he was, simply sat on the floor Indian-style and started talking to the four guests.

She got on her knees, unknown to the stare she was receiving from Luna, and got up behind Harry.

“Not now, sweetheart,” muttered Harry, feeling her protruding belly from behind. He knew that there was no way he'd be able to satisfy his wife if there were people around (even though they very nearly had a year prior). And although he wanted to—very badly—he knew that it would be horrible host manners. Trust Hermione to give me advise me on manners, thought Harry, cracking a smile.

“Please?” she murmured, putting her arms around Harry's neck from behind.

“Looks like Granger wants to ravage Potter right now,” commented Draco, smirking as he saw the two. “Too bad she's got his sprong in her.”

“Draco, shut up,” Ginny said, slapping his arm lightly.

Draco's only response was an eye roll.

“Err… can you two please stop that?” Ron asked, feigning gagging. Even after two years, seeing his best friends being all touchy-feely made Ron queasy (even though he was genuinely happy for them).

“Oh Ronald,” Luna said, pinching his ear lightly. “Don't bother them; they're obviously having some alone time.”

“But they're not alone!” said Ron.

“Aren't we supposed to be talking about something?” Ginny asked, absentmindedly twirling her long ginger hair in her finger.

“Ye-yeah,” murmured Harry, whose head was leaning back on Hermione's shoulder, who was taking her time lavishing Harry's neck. “My wife is having a sudden craving for me,” he muttered.

“You're the only thing I craved,” Hermione pointed out, grinning as she saw Draco's surprised look, Ginny's blank look, Ron's horrified look, and Luna's look of awe (or was it confusion?).

“What about those pickles, then?” questioned Harry.

“Enough!” cried Ron, slapping his hands over his ears. “No pickles, cravings for Harry, no pickles, no cravings for Harry—” he kept muttering shaking his head, much to the amusement of Luna.

“Okay, okay,” Harry said, standing up, much to Hermione's disappointment. He held out his hand and helped her up, whispering in her ear, “Don't worry, love. The second everyone leaves, you'll get your pickle.” She grinned, eyeing them, and Harry knew what she was going to say, “Not right now, though,” he murmured, giving her a chaste kiss.

Turning to the guests, Harry asked cheerfully, “So, anyone up for food?”

Ron's hands instantly fell from his ears and he perked up. “I am!”

Grinning, Harry thought, Thought so.

---------

They sat around the table, each enjoying their vegetables and other assortments of food. Luna was building a castle with her aubergine, while Ron was shovelling food into his awaiting mouth. Draco was cutting his chicken while Ginny was having fun munching on her broccoli. Harry sat around, looking at everyone on the dinner table and wondering if they were always this odd. Hermione, however, was immune to all of her friends' behaviours and was having fun munching on her crisp pickle.

“So, Harry,” conversed Ron, “have you decided on a job yet? Or do you love the life at home?”

Harry grinned, swallowing some of his food and answered, “Dunno yet. I still have no idea what I want to do, actually. I mean, I'm only nineteen, barely an adult in the Muggle world!” he chuckled.

“True… I guess,” said Ron, still new to the Muggle world.

After Harry had defeated Voldemort, the three—Harry, Ron, and Hermione—had decided that getting away from the Wizarding World would be best for a while. But after Ron had started dating Luna, and Hermione met Draco seeing Draco one night, they decided that living near each other—still in the Muggle World—would be a nice change. Even though Ginny and Draco (even Luna, to an extent) hadn't done much for the war, being close to the Trio had changed them, even if it was a small amount.

Still new to it, Draco, Ginny, and Ron hadn't gotten used to it. (They still used Magic for nearly everything.) But, it seemed as though Luna was born to use the Muggle appliances like a pro. (She merely stated, though, that the Knowing Kipples had told her what to do.)

They'd moved in together at first, sharing a large flat. But then Harry and Hermione had gotten married, and Ron had started dating Luna, so he thought it best to move out. (That, and he heard constant moans emitting from the bedroom after they came back from their honeymoon.) Now, he and Luna were living together, recently engaged, living in a flat in Muggle London.

“What about you, Draco? What do you plan to do with your spare time? Get a job, perhaps?” questioned Harry playfully, putting more food in his mouth.

“Ginny's been nagging me to get a job, but I told her that Malfoy's—well, this Malfoy, to be specific—does not work for anyone else but himself. But, obviously, she'd inherited her brothers' traits and is stubborn as can be,” answered Draco, casting a well-practiced smirk towards his girlfriend's direction.

“Shut up,” she merely said, rolling her eyes at him. “You can't live off of your father's gold forever, you know. He's still alive!”

“But in Azkaban,” Draco added, raising a sculpted eyebrow at her. “And for life, too, which makes me head of the Malfoy line.”

“You know, I said the same thing to Harry today,” commented Hermione, now chewing on her aubergine.

“Yes, and I told her that I'll get one the day she gives birth,” Harry added, grinning.

Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to her food.

“You know, I just noticed something,” Ron said suddenly, his eyes lighting up.

Harry and Draco raised an eyebrow at him. Luna was still building her castle, while Ginny opted for watching silently.

“We're really young in the Muggle world.”

Had he just noticed this? Draco pondered, wondering how stupid the ginger haired Weasley could really be. Although, he opted for not voicing his question, for fear of receiving the wrong end of Ginny's wand.

Harry broke out in fits of laughter, half-eaten food showing from his mouth. Draco smirked, knowing that Weasley wasn't the sharpest quill in the box. Actually, I don't think he's even in the box, thought Draco, chuckling silently.

“No, really!” he continued, despite Harry's laughter and Draco's questioning gaze. “We are! I mean, how many blokes do you see around here, only nineteen and having wives, or twenty and having a fiancé?”

Shrugging, Harry answered, “Us?”

“Exactly!” Ron exclaimed, his arms flying to the sides. He accidentally knocked over Luna's aubergine castle, making her squeal and exclaim `Castle walls are falling down, my dear Merlin!' and Ginny's chicken go flying from her plate. “Err… whoops?”

“Yes, `whoops,' Weasley,” said Hermione, now joining the conversation. No one, not even Ron Weasley, messed with her cooking. She'd slaved over the cooker all day, trying to make a perfect dinner while her humongous stomach was in the way, and no one was going to mess it! “Clean it up,” she hissed, her mood turning dangerous.

“Err… Herms calm down,” said Ron, holding his hands up in surrender. “It was just food.”

She huffed, her anger getting the better of her. “I will not calm down! I have been slaving over the cooker, but look at what you've done!” Tears suddenly pooled her eyes, one even falling down her cheek. “You've ruined my dinner,” she sobbed, clutching on to her husband, who instantly held onto her and whispered words of reassurance to her.

“Prat,” Harry mouthed, petting her hair and rocking her, hoping to placate his distraught wife.

“Weasley's done it this time,” Draco muttered, smirking as he ate some vegetables. “Picking on Potter's pregnant princess.”

Luna giggled, and Draco turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “Alliteration,” was all she said before bursting into another fit of giggles.

“Sorry,” Ron mumbled, going around the table and picking up the fallen pieces of food.

“Shut up,” Ginny mumbled, rolling her eyes at her older brother. “I honestly don't know how I share the same DNA as you. I really don't.”

“Am I really that bad?” Ron asked Luna, putting the food onto his empty plate.

Luna giggled and patted her fiancé's arm. “Just go get the pudding, dear. It's the least you could do.”

“No!” Hermione immediately exclaimed, freeing herself from Harry's arms. “I'm going to get it! I don't want more food to make friends with the floor.”

Ron hung his head in shame. “Sorry, Hermione,” he apologized, giving her a pitiful look.

Hermione's mood, changing yet again, let out a chuckle and slapped Ron's arm from across the dinning table. “Honestly Ron! If you wanted to serve the pudding, all you had to do was ask!”

Ron's face paled, “Err… thanks… I think.” Not wanting another `Hermione-Mood-Swinger-Extraordinaire,' he obediently went into the kitchen to retrieve the afters.

Hermione felt something soak her pants, and when she looked down, she saw that it was, indeed, wet. He looked over to Harry; his face was pale, and he was getting up, putting his hands on her shoulder, preparing himself for the oncoming contractions.

“I've got it!” exclaimed Ron happily, holding a cake securely in his hands. “And see, Hermione, I didn't ruin it!”

“My water broke,” was all Hermione could say before screaming in pain.

Ron dropped the cake.

“I'm going in labour, and Ron's ruined the cake?” Hermione cried, clutching her stomach, being led to the door to go to the hospital.

“Prat,” mouthed Harry for the second time, helping his wife into the Muggle car. Ron, Draco, Luna, and Ginny had followed them to the car, and were now wondering what to do.

“Call Hermione's parents, and tell them that the baby is on the way, and that we'll be at the hospital,” Harry commanded, now getting into the driver's seat. “Lock the door—don't forget the keys this time!—and go to the hospital.” Seeing their blank faces, Harry yelled, “Now!”

Hermione moaned in pain, clutching her stomach. “Shh, love, it'll be over soon,” murmured Harry, starting the ignition and driving towards the hospital. He held her hand, hoping to placate her.

“But, the cake,” murmured Hermione before breaking into sobs. “It's ruined!”

---------

Eight hours later, the nineteen-year-old wizard was in the waiting room, nervously pacing around, biting his nails in apprehension. Draco, Ron, Luna, and Ginny had arrived an hour later, ensuring that everything was safe (“No, I didn't forget the keys this time!” Ron exclaimed).

The Grangers arrived a few hours later, both still in their nightwear and tired. They sat on the armchairs, both awaiting the news that the baby had arrived, and both had given Harry a lecture on how to become a parent.

“Now,” Missus Granger started, “I know you two are fairly young—only nineteen—and may be overwhelmed by the thought of being parents, but you've got to understand—” she started, but was interrupted by her husband.

“Now, we've already given this talk to them, dear,” he said to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “The day they came back from their honeymoon (a whole month and a half later, he thought, shuddering), we had already talking about the responsibility they would hold, especially at such a young age.”

“Right, right,” she murmured, going back to the cushioned chair. “It's the lack of sleep, I'm sorry.”

Harry hadn't paid any attention to what the two were saying, but kept pacing around, his body quivering in happiness, excitement, fear, and apprehension.

A nurse came in, just an inch shorter than Harry's five eleven frame, and addressed him. “Mister Potter?”

Harry's pacing immediately seized, and he looked at her. “Yes? Is there something wrong with her? How about the baby? Is it here yet? Is there something wrong with the baby?” he asked in rapid succession.

She smiled, knowing the young man's worries, and answered, “Everything is fine with your wife, Mister Potter. Just a few more hours, and you'll be able to see your baby at last, alright?”

He nodded, excitement overwhelming him for the moment. “Just a few hours? Really?” he grinned, looking at everyone in the waiting room.

“Yes, just a matter of a few hours,” she smiled. “Now, about after the birth—”

“Will she be alright? I mean, I heard that it was harder for younger girls to give birth, but that won't affect Hermione, will it? Oh God, I hope not. This isn't anything—”

“Mister Potter, I assure you that your wife will be alright. Yes, women that are younger and giving birth are more prone to get sick, but that doesn't matter in this case. Though she is young—nineteen, I believe—I assure you that hers and the baby's health will be fine.”

Before Harry could get a word in, another nurse came rushing in, saying, “She's ready to push!”

“Well, you'll be seeing your baby soon,” she smiled. “I'll see you in an hour or so, Mister Potter.” With that, she left.

The second she left, Harry started pacing again. He so happy, he was going to see his baby soon. He grinned, I wonder what it's going to be? I hope it's a boy, he thought, nearly running into the wall this time. But then again, a girl that looks like Hermione would be wonderful, too. He grinned, Oh, it doesn't matter! I'll be happy either way! This time, however, he did run into the wall.

“Ouch,” Harry muttered, rubbing his forehead and nose.

“That's what you get, Potter,” drawled Draco, smirking at Harry's stature.

Harry looked down. Sure, his trainers were burning a whole in the floor, but that didn't mean a thing. He was going to become a father, Dammit!

They don't understand, Harry thought, resuming his pacing, much to the amusement of the occupants in the room. They're not going to become parents! Well, the Grangers don't count, he thought, making a mental note to never think while he was near a wall. This is bloody nerve racking!

“Harry, sit down! You've been pacing for hours,” exclaimed Ron, pushing Harry onto a seat. “You've probably already lost three kilos just pacing!”

“I don't care,” Harry mumbled, now wringing his fingers together. “I'm going to be a father, and I'm bloody nervous!”

Ron sighed. It was going to be a long hour.

After a while, Ron decided that it was time to bring up school memories. “Hey Harry, remember that one class we had with Hagrid? The one where we had to take care of those babies?”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

“Do you think this is your kid coming back?” he asked.

Harry shrugged. “Maybe, I mean…” he lost his trail of thought for a moment as he saw a nurse approach the door, but then moved away. Harry blinked. “Oh, err, there's a chance, I guess. I mean, Hermione and I haven't checked what the baby's gender is, so we've just been guessing.”

“You know, if this is the case, Malfoy and Ginny are going to have a girl in two years,” commented Ron, glaring at Draco.

Draco smirked. “And that means you and Loony—” Ginny elbowed him in the stomach, “—I mean Luna, will have a girl in two years, too.”

Ron cast a sideways look at Luna, who was quiet content curling her hair with her wand. Oh, right.

Harry looked around the room, noticing Mister and Missus Granger were asleep, and that Luna was now humming a children's tune. Ron and Ginny looked as if they were ready to sleep, and Draco simply crossed his legs and waited.

Odd, I hadn't thought of Malfoy to be the waiting type, thought Harry.

For forty-five minutes, Harry stared at the door, willing someone to come in. During those minutes, Harry thought of what Ron had said. Was it true? Would their child be a boy, and would it be the young Jacob they had two years ago? Grinning happily, he made up his mind. If the baby was a boy, he'd name him Jacob. And if the baby was a girl, well… he hadn't thought of that part yet.

A nurse came in, beaming at Harry. “Congratulations, Papa. You're a proud father of a healthy baby boy!”

Harry let out a loud `Whoop!' and punched the air, waking everyone up. Grinning from ear to ear, he asked, “Can I see them? Please?”

She nodded, holding the door open. “Sure.”

Once he got to Hermione's room, he saw that she was holding a small baby, who was being nursed at her breast. Once Hermione had seen him, she gave Harry a beaming smile.

She was sweaty, had bags under her eyes, and had an odd hospital gown on, but Harry thought she looked amazing. Walking up to her, he looked at the small bundle in her arms. His face was obscured, but Harry noticed a small mop of hair on his head. He was wrapped in blue blankets, and he soon released his mother.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered, “we have a baby.”

Harry nodded, looking at the baby. He looked just like Jacob when he was `born.' Giving a soft smile, he asked, “Can I hold him?”

She nodded. “Of course. You're his father, after all.”

Carefully handing the infant over, Harry held his son. Since he had a bit of experience holding a baby, he could now hold his son a lot easier than before.

For minutes, the two simply gazed at the small, sleeping boy.

“What are we going to name him?” she asked, laying her head on Harry's shoulder.

Harry smiled, kissing the top of her head. “Jacob… Jacob Harry Potter.”

Now, the only thought floating around in Harry's head was, Now I have to find a job, don't I?

---------

Author's Notes: Well, how was that for a sequel? I know that part—actually, like, most—of the story had nothing to do with the Simply Nine Days, but whatever, right?

-->