Potter continues not to be mine, and it is highly doubtful this will ever change.
Chapter 4
They ate lunch in Harry's sparsely decorated quarters the evening. It wasn't that they didn't want to face their co-workers and friends, it was more that they preferred to just spend some time together; some time that did not involve a bed that is. So they talked. As friends who had been out of contact for many years, the stories and questions burst forth. She told him about teaching: how she had come to be offered the job, memorable students and the like. He told her about life in Canada, some of the friends he had made in the small-town setting, climbing the ranks in the Ontario Provincial Police. Finally, the topic of discussion turned to romance.
"So," Hermione began, somewhat awkwardly, after swallowing a spoonful of soup. "Any special ladies in Ontario?" her tone was nonchalant, but Harry knew better. He knew that she was really dying to find out, even though she wasn't sure if she wanted to know, so that she could be ready for any potential retribution.
Harry didn't answer immediately. He had been wondering for a while now how he was going to tell her about Sarah. In a split-second, he decided that being forthright was the best policy. "Just one, the former Mrs Sarah Potter." He deadpanned. His time with her had been happy, but only at first. He didn't like to be reminded of it.
He wasn't looking at her, but he knew her eyes would be wide as saucers. "How long?" she asked in a quiet voice. He told her six years. She was silent for another stretch. "Any kids?" she was gaining confidence. He told her no. He realized that she was taking this news exceedingly well.
"Out of curiosity, why are you not hitting me for getting married and not telling you?" he asked her, unable to keep the hint of amusement out of his voice.
She smirked at him, and stuck out her hand. "Ms Hermione Granger Boot Seino Gough Bouvier Coombes Brown Terwilliger Hutz McClure Weasley Weasley Weasley Granger, at your service." She recited, chuckling slightly.
His eyebrows were, at this point, full indistinguishable from his hair. "You're joking right?" She shook her head slowly. He rubbed his chin for a moment. "You do realize you said 'Weasley' twice, right?" She nodded, a meditative smile on her face.
"Ah yes, that was an interesting weekend." Harry could actually hear the bottom of his jaw hitting the floor. She cast him a look. "Don't look at me like that. We were in Las Vegas and we got very, very drunk." She explained. Harry decided he didn't really want to know, and told her that. Hermione chuckled to herself. "Sure you do." She told him. However she did not push to point, something for which Harry was indescribably grateful. The conversation turned to lighter topics, and they finished their meal in relative peace. Hermione begged leave, saying she had some paperwork to finish up. Harry didn't mind, still having to put the finishing touches on his lesson plan, and they parted on good terms for the first time in almost ten years.
***
Later on in the afternoon, Harry found himself on the receiving end of a note instructing him to visit Iain's office. Having little else to do, he accepted the not-so-subtly worded command. The office was just as cluttered as it ever was. Books still crammed into bookshelves innumerable, and it looked like the ceiling had been extended to accommodate even higher stacks. Harpsichord music still wafted from the floating record in the corner, select books continued to earn their places of honour on the Scot's desk, and the black-and-white photos of North American sports stars still adorned the wall. The only significant change, which wasn't really saying much, was an increase of photographs on the desk.
Iain himself was seated behind the desk, fingers tented, eyes closed comfortably. When Harry sat, the older man immediately roused himself. "Well?" he asked the new professor with a smile. "Any progress so far?"
Harry matched the grin. "Against all the odds, she doesn't hate me anymore. Why do I get the feeling you had something to do with it?" he responded to the man's expression, which was not at all surprised.
Iain shrugged innocently. "I may have suggested to the staff that we should grease the wheels a bit, but it was entirely up to them. I didn't expect it to work so well, however." He looked thoughtful. The room descended into silence, even the music volume turned down to a low hum. Finally he turned down to his desk, opening drawers in search of something. "I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows several guys, one of whom is married to a woman whose brother happens to be a wizarding jeweller." The Scotsman explained during his search. He straightened, holding a small black box. "At my request, this was made."
Inside the box was a thin golden band. The metal was adorned the likeness of a forget-me-not, formed from sapphire and cat's eye, intertwined with a larkspur of ruby and emerald. It may have been his imagination, but he was sure he saw the design reflect the letters 'HHR' as well. Harry took the box reverently. "I am told that it is identical, in concept, to the ring that once adorned the finger of Lillian Evans Potter." Harry looked up in surprise, and discovered that he was no longer in Iain's office. He was sitting in his great room, on the incredibly comfortable couch in the middle. Not bothering to comprehend the enigmatic doctor, Harry slipped the box into his pocket. Soon, he would give it to her.
***
Two Years Later:
The harsh ringing of the bell interrupted Harry mid-demonstration. "Well, I guess that's it." He told his fourth-year class. "Don't forget to bring your wands on Monday, we're going to do some practical work." Cheers from the fourteen-year-olds. "Class dismissed." Even more cheers as his students hurriedly packed their things and rushed out of the room. He didn't blame them; the last class on Fridays was always a test of patience. He retreated to the desk in his office and began grading the short assignments he had requested for that class. A knock at his door interrupted him quickly.
The wooden structure swung open, revealing his very, very pregnant wife. He immediately found himself on the other side of the desk, arms wrapping her in a tender hug. "How are my girls?" he asked Hermione's hair, where his face was buried.
"Girls and boy." She corrected him sternly.
He quickly agreed, "Girls and boy," still awkwardly holding her.
She chuckled at his attempts to hold her close and not harm the baby. "Honestly Harry, I'm not going to break." She told him irritably. Damn mood swings. "And we're all fine, honestly." She sounded like she was trying to convince herself, but Harry knew this was not the case; she was just going slightly crazy with hormones.
And those hormones were certainly a bitch. He remembered each little fluctuation vividly. In the first three months she had been alternately glowing, because she was going to have Harry's children, and sulking, because her stomach was growing and she though he wouldn't find her attractive anymore. Those first few weeks were the hardest, mostly because her off-again-on-again depression significantly lowered her sex drive. For a healthy male of twenty-seven, this was all but unbearable. Then the cravings had come. Never in his life had Harry been more grateful he had paid attention in Transfiguration class. Every time he went out to get something, she was craving something else by the time he got back. He'd go out to get pizza; he'd come home to requests for pizza-flavoured ice cream. It was enough to drive the average person mad.
The next three months were little better. She had finally overcome her sporadic cravings, but then her libido shot through the roof. The memory of her walking into his class, pushing him over onto the desk, and mounting him, would haunt him to his dying day. Fortunately it had been a class of seventh-years, who at least knew what they were seeing. They still humbly requested to be obliviated, but it could have been much worse.
After that incident, Minerva had practically ordered Hermione to stay at home. Iain would take over her classes, she assured the hormonal witch. Even the healer's orders for bed-rest, even more important now in her third trimester (swollen and brittle ankles, don't you know.), weren't enough to keep her from dropping in on him from time to time.
"I'm sure you are." Harry agreed. He found that, when dealing with a woman who was prone to frequent (and sometimes violent) shifts in mood, it was best just to agree with her. "But I thought the whole reason we put Iain back on teaching duty was so you could get some rest, and not put too much pressure on your ankles."
Hermione smiled to herself, an action her husband shared. Minerva had been treated to a howler from a very irate, and fortunately no-longer-pregnant, Síle Menzies. The entire school heard the headmistress get a very hard, metaphorical, smack on the wrist for 'taking her husband away throughout the day and leaving her with a newborn child for hours on end.' It had been an interesting breakfast that day. "Oh come on, we all know Minerva sent me home was so I wouldn't jump your bones in class again." Her tone was condescending, and just a tad irritated.
Harry treated her to a loving smile. "Never could slip one past you." He commented softly, leaning forward to capture his wife's lips. She stiffened and pushed him away slowly. He gave her an odd look, not failing to notice the expression of pure shock on her face. "What's wrong?"
"Harry, I think my water just broke." She responded, still sounding shocked. A very long, and extremely painful for all parties involved, sixteen hours later, Arthur and Rosemary Potter were born in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Illnesses. As Harry looked down at his newborn children, he was overcome with contentment. Finally, after ten years living the worst mistake he could have possibly made, he had what he had always wanted: a family.
So there we go, that's the end. Hope you all enjoyed this foray into 'what-ifs,' even though it may have progressed too quickly for some of you. On the suggestion of the esteemed cosmopolitan411, I will likely be doing a re-write of this at a later date. I can't put an exact timeframe on it, unfortunately, but look out for it. It will be in addition to this version, not in place of it, if that makes any difference.