Harry stepped into his living room and sighed; his little boy, his pride and joy, his everything, had finally managed to fall into a fitful sleep. He knew, deep down, that it wouldn't last long, oh no, as the little one seemed to be determined never to miss a thing. Harry found himself wondering, not for the first time since he'd brought Liam into his life, at what age a child could first have tangible nightmares.

Harry had always wanted a family, especially considering he hadn't had any direct relations, barring that of the Dursleys, who had since come out of hiding since the war had ended. He had also managed to consider what he wanted, once he realized he was well and truly alive once he had bested Voldemort once and for all, and that was this: he didn't want Ginny Weasley in a romantic sense, or any woman, really. Ginny seemed at ease with the decision, and, although she said she would always love Harry, it was all right with her, for now she would love him as a brother, leading Harry to count her as one as his closest friends.

However, in the weeks and months that followed the Battle of Hogwarts, in which Harry thanked Kingsley Shacklebolt for the opportunity to join the Auror Office and declined, and instead took his NEWTs with Hermione at Hogwarts, many Death Eaters still had yet to be discovered. Ron had jumped at the opportunity to join the Aurors, going through the training exceptionally well, and proving himself a worthy asset to the team, hunting down Death Eaters like they were his next meal. Harry and Hermione completed their NEWTs, and Hermione accepted a position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as a Barrister for Magical Beings. Meanwhile, Neville began to apprentice with Professor Sprout, a reformed Draco took his father's seat on the Board of Governors to continue the reforms within Hogwarts, and Ginny returned to Hogwarts for her final year.

Harry took the opportunity, once his NEWTs were completed with Os in every subject, to give Hermione money to travel to Australia to find her parents and reverse the Memory Charm, while he himself decided to see more of the world. He had given statements to the Wizengamot before his departure, ensuring that Draco was exonerated, and Narcissa was given house arrest, while Lucius had been murdered in Azkaban. He had also given Kingsley and Minerva permission to view Severus Snape's memories, and the man had been declared innocent, but had seemingly disappeared from the Wizarding World, once being tended to by Madam Pomfrey.

"No, I don't know where he is, Harry," Hermione had informed him for the umpteenth time, in one of their weekly meetings for tea. Despite everything, her tone was patient as she doctored her cup, Harry's, and Ron's to their liking—just lemon for her, a dash of milk and two sugars for Harry, and heavy on the milk with three sugars for Ron.

Harry nibbled at his lower lip, watching as Ron merrily munched on his biscuits. They were sat in the seldom-used parlor of the Burrow, and Molly, plus Ginny and Arthur, always knew to leave them alone during these few precious hours. "Sorry I keep asking," he said lamely, focusing on a hand-knit throw pillow as he shrugged his shoulders.

Ron grinned at him, his mouth full of his biscuits, courtesy of his mother. "It's all right, mate," he assured him.

Harry sighed; some things truly never changed. It was only their third tea since Hermione's triumphant return from Australia, and her parents were still re-settling in their home in Hampshire. "How are your mum and dad, then?" he asked instead. "Any idea if and when they'll open their practice back up?"

"Next week, actually," Hermione said, staring down into her steaming mug; she always seemed to avoid the subject, if she could, and only went over to her childhood home these days if her parents sent her a direct invitation.

Harry immediately knew that Hermione still felt guilty about how she had handled her parents, although even he knew that she had to get them out of England, given that the Death Eaters would have used anything to lure Hermione to the ministry for questioning. "You really need to stop the guilt, Hermione," he told her gently. "You saved their lives..."

Hermione trembled; she had had dark circles under her eyes for months and, even though the war was over and her parents were home safe, the residual guilt never seemed to leave her. "I just can't," she whispered. "Not yet, anyway. I need some time..."

Ron put his arm around Hermione in a rare moment of maturity, and squeezed her shoulder. "I know you do, love," he replied, his tone gentle. "But we're all here for you if you need us, aren't we, Harry?" he asked, his eyes pleading for Harry not to upset her.

Harry swallowed; naturally, the last thing he wanted to do was upset Hermione, when she literally seemed to be hanging on by a thread. "Of course," he assured her. "We'll always be here for you, 'Mione, in any capacity you need."

Hermione nodded, forcing a smile onto her lips. "Change of subject, then," she said, her tone rather breathless, as she forced herself to sip her tea. "Now, then, you've got a consultation at Gringotts today, don't you, Harry?"

Harry booked a consultation with the goblin in charge of the Potter vaults, asking politely for the creature to plan a trip for him, as well as sell off Grimmauld Place. The sale was over and done with rather quickly, and Harry decided to look over his properties once he had returned to British soil, after his trip abroad. Kreacher had agreed to stay at Hogwarts for the interim, until Harry had returned and selected a property to live in, and had asked if Harry wouldn't mind taking Winky into his service as well, which Harry accepted.

Harry's trip abroad included a Portkey, thank Merlin, as he didn't particularly want to spend a bunch of money on an airline ticket. He arrived in Trier, the oldest recorded town in Germany, dating from the Roman times, and spent a week exploring it, delighting in the food, architecture, and shopping, all things never afforded to him before. His hotel was just as lovely and quite old as well, and he absolutely adored how no one knew who he was, and yet were sincerely polite to him during his trip.

He next did a tour of castles in Sweden, a medieval town in Norway, some cathedrals in Finland, and, finally, museums and gardens in Denmark. After seeing Scandinavia, and making tentative plans to see more of Eastern Europe the following summer, he returned to Britain at the end of August, pleased to have seen so many things and had new experiences. He set up some charitable causes in the meantime to assist in the reassembly of the Wizarding World post-war, and found that there were some last-minute building projects to complete at Hogwarts, so he assisted with that as well.

Luna was a frequent guest during Harry's stay at the Burrow upon his return home, and it was always a full house, given that Ron and Hermione would frequently stay over as well. "Dad's just over the moon about Neville's proposal," she said rather lyrically over brunch one morning, Ginny looking on with excitement, for she'd been given the role of Maid of Honor. "You would think that Neville had asked him..."

"Where are you having the celebration then, Luna dear?" Molly asked, serving Luna some French toast with an assortment of berries and powdered sugar on top.

"It's Pureblood tradition to have a formal engagement celebration," Ginny explained in a considerate manner, once she caught sight of Harry's confusion. "Typically, it's one of the mothers who plans it, but..." Ginny fell silent and looked over at Luna, hoping she hadn't put her wand in it.

Luna smiled at Ginny, reaching over and patting her hand. "It's all right," she told Ginny softly, knowing entirely well that her closest friend didn't mean anything by it. "To be honest, Neville doesn't want his gran to plan it. She's far too traditional, and I'm not even sure if she even approves of me..."

"What nonsense," Molly said, shaking her head. "Luna, if you and Neville are amenable, and if your father doesn't mind, Arthur and I would be more than happy to host, wouldn't we?" she asked, looking down to the head of the table at her husband.

Arthur smiled, lowering the Sunday Edition of The Quibbler. "Absolutely, Luna," he said, and nodded his head. "We always like a party here, and the last one..." He shook his head. "Well, it's high time to make some new memories, isn't it?"

The Burrow set up a marquee tent to celebrate the engagement on the selected day, except, this time, the chosen colors were periwinkle and gold, which were to be Luna and Neville's wedding colors. There was a wide array of food, with plenty of vegetarian and vegan options, per Luna's request. Molly always liked a challenge, and was more than willing to accommodate everyone's palates. Harry had already been asked, alongside Ron, to be Best Man, and he had accepted, so his presence was required at the party that afternoon.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" Hermione asked; she had somehow managed to calm Harry's hair into submission, with Sleekeazy's, and looked very proud of herself.

"All right," he responded. "No speeches today, thank Merlin."

Hermione's lips pressed into a thin line. "No, not that," she replied, shaking her head. "This is the first time we'll be seeing Mr. Lovegood since..."

"Since he tried to sell us out to the Death Eaters," Ron said shortly from the other side of the room, where he was standing before a floor-length mirror, doing his best to look good in the new party robes Harry had purchased for him.

"Oh, Ron, you've done the tie all wrong," Hermione said, squeezing Harry's shoulders before walking towards him, turning him around, and setting the patterned silk to rights. "But yes, that was what I was referring to, Harry," she continued, catching Harry's eyes briefly around Ron's sizeable shoulder, before returning her focus to Ron's tie. "How are you feeling?"

Harry shrugged. "Desperate times, Hermione," he answered, fixing Ron with a momentary glare as his friend snorted.

"That's not funny, Ron," Hermione said quickly. "Harry's ability to see the big picture is connected to his ability to love. It's very mature of him not to dwell upon what could have happened to us—"

"And what did," Ron muttered. "Seriously, 'Mione, think of the Snatchers coming after us right after that—"

"Yes, and then Draco covered for us," Hermione responded smartly. "There were Galleon prices on Harry's and my heads, Ron, not to mention the Muggle Registration Commission that the pink toad decided to put in place. Think of that poor lady, Mrs. Cattermole, and what happened to her. Think about what would have happened, had we not stepped in, and that was someone Umbitch didn't know, let alone had history with. She would have likely reserved the worst treatment for me, just because I'm a Muggleborn, and connected to Harry."

"She's right, Ron," Harry said softly. "I don't think we would've done well in the cells at the Ministry of Magic. They would have... I don't know..."

Hermione lowered her eyes. "I heard Arthur talking about it, from the whispers he heard at the ministry, and what Percy said they actually did to the Muggleborns that weren't deemed to be so threatening," she whispered. "They would give them a form of wixen lobotomy."

Ron stiffened as Hermione finally completed his tie. "That... That's the surgery with the ice pick that quack doctors did, right?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, Ron," she whispered, her voice low and her face pale.

"Merlin," Harry breathed. "I don't even want to think about what they did to the Muggleborns that they did think were dangerous," he said quietly, the unspoken sentence of "what they would've done to you, Hermione" hanging in the air.

Hermione, meanwhile, shook her head, as an elegant sparrow might do, and straightened her shoulders. "Perhaps we should present an armed and united front, just to be safe once we go downstairs," she suggested in a quiet voice. "I understand that Mr. Lovegood wanted Luna back, and I sympathize. However, he was clearly so broken that he wasn't in his right mind that day, so, perhaps, we can ignore him," she suggested.

"He might've not known," Harry said quietly as they trooped down the stairs. "Sure, he was a Pureblood, but he hated the ministry, and certainly didn't subscribe to The Daily Prophet, it being a conflict of interest and all..."

Hermione sighed. "We can't know unless we ask him," she said quietly.

Harry kept an eye out for Xenophilius Lovegood at the party, and he was indeed there, deep in conversation with Augusta Longbottom. He decided not to approach the man directly, and would only speak to him if the older wizard did so first. He took a glass of pumpkin fizz from the table within the confines of the marquee tent and surveyed the scene.

Molly had truly outdone herself, he could see that quite clearly. All the wooden chairs were identical, and were tied with periwinkle bows for the brides' side, and golden bows for the grooms' side. As Harry was a member of the wedding party, but part of Neville's section, he was stationed at a specific table, his chair tied with a gold ribbon. There was a sweetheart table towards the back of the tent, which was reserved for Neville and Luna, while the Maid of Honor and Bridesmaids would sit to the left, at Luna's right, while the Best Men and Groomsmen sat on the other side.

"Harry Potter," came the familiar breathy voice of Mr. Lovegood about a quarter of an hour into the festivities.

Harry turned, doing his best to keep his back and shoulders straight, not wanting to back down or second guess himself for even a moment. "Mr. Lovegood," he said shortly; now that he knew more of the story from Hermione, he wasn't prepared to be all buddy-buddy with the older wizard just yet.

Mr. Lovegood looked a great deal better than he'd done at the Lovegood house; given that on Harry's previous occasion seeing the man, it was the height of the Second Wizarding War, and his last remaining family member had been snatched from him when all he'd been doing was his own livelihood which, unfortunately, was printing what he believed to be the truth. "I wish to impress upon you, Mr. Potter, that I was not fully in my right mind during the time in which we last met," he said softly, his tone gentle, and not nearly as intense as it had been on the previous two occasions Harry had spoken to him.

Harry inclined his head; he could understand that, of course, but actually attempting to hand him over, as well as his two best friends, to Death Eaters was going too far. "Did you know?" he found himself asking, doing his best to keep the tremors out of his voice. "Did you know what they were doing to persecute Muggleborns, Mr. Lovegood?"

Mr. Lovegood's eyes, as wide and blue as his daughter's, immediately shuttered as he seemed to recall the darkness of those harrowing days. "I only recently became aware of the former Ministry of Magic's dark practices during the regime of Lord Voldemort," he declared, and Harry wanted desperately to believe him. "I was a great enemy of them during those days, given my opinions about those toadies at The Daily Prophet, as well as my continued support of Albus Dumbledore, in addition to you, Mr. Potter. When they took my Luna away from me..." His voice broke for a moment, but he powered through as best he could. "I was, as I stated previously, not myself, for I could barely eat or sleep in those days, for my last ounce of joy was stolen from me. When they promised the safe return of my daughter, my angel, my Luna, if only I promised to give them something of more value, I couldn't refuse..."

"Hermione would have been killed," Harry stated, his tone flat. "Ron would have been tortured, likely into insanity, like Neville's parents. I would have been slaughtered and put on public display, for the entirety of the Wizarding World to see. None of what transpired during the war was okay, Mr. Lovegood, but selling the three of us out before we had the opportunity to do anything about it was unacceptable."

"Mr. Potter, I can only apologize profusely for my misgivings—"

"Not just to me," Harry said, his magic crackling just underneath the surface of his skin. "You have to apologize to Ron and Hermione, too. Furthermore, you—"

"Pardon me, please," said a silky, sensual voice, one which Harry hadn't heard in such a long time; it was when a hand was wrapped around his waist that Harry, surprisingly, did not tense, but leaned further into the lean yet muscled body behind him. "Mr. Potter is needed somewhere quite urgently. If you will excuse us."

Harry didn't even bother to look at Mr. Lovegood as he was dragged away from him, his glass of pumpkin fizz being vanished somewhere else, as he was taken towards the orchard, close by the marquee, illuminated by the setting sun. He pulled himself out of the arms of the former Headmaster of Hogwarts, and stared up at him. "Sir... Why did you...?"

Severus Snape stared down at him. "I could hardly have you ruining what is likely to be a lovely, if sanctimonious, evening."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Neville and Luna are two of my closest friends. I really hope that you've spoken to Neville, given that he avenged you in the final battle."

Severus smirked. "Avenged implies that I was killed," he responded, spreading his arms. "And yet, here I stand."

Harry gritted his teeth. "Yes, you may stand here," he shot back, "but you are still as rude as ever when it comes to me and people I care about."

The man narrowed his eyes. "I would advise you to watch your tone, Mr. Potter."

Harry scoffed at that. "You no longer have authority over me," he snapped.

"I am still your elder, and I will command your respect," Severus growled, stepping closer to him, his eyes flashing like flint.

"Respect is earned," Harry countered. "Yes, you may have rescued me from what could have proven to be an awkward conversation, at best. You may have provided me with memories that inadvertently put me on the path to saving the Wizarding World by taking down Voldemort. It does not, however, negate all that you did to me during my years at Hogwarts—"

"I protected you!" Severus said, filled with unrepressed rage. "You know entirely well I was against the headmaster from raising you like a pig for slaughter—!"

"Out of guilt, and a teenage infatuation with my mother!" Harry very nearly shouted back at him, wondering why such a thing hurt him to even consider.

Severus inexplicably stepped closer to him. "I cared for your mother very deeply, Potter, more so than you could ever know—"

"You hated me just because I was James Potter's son!" Harry cried. "I don't condone for a moment what he, Sirius, Remus, and Pettigrew put you through, I really don't. But that doesn't mean you can treat me like utter shite, just because I'm a goddamned Potter!"

"James Potter was cruel, that I'll grant you, but the fact that Lily still married him—"

"She married him because she loved him—get over it!" Harry shouted, getting into the man's face now, hating it when tears entered his eyes. "I don't think you're even capable of such a love, Snape. One where'd you willingly die for them—and Nagini's attack doesn't count, because you lived, you fucking lived, and it was a misguided attempt at martyrdom! So misguided, in fact, because my mother did not love you!"

"And I didn't love her!" Severus shouted right back, seemingly wishing to drive that point home, as he shook his head. "How can you even think I loved her? How can I...?" Then, as if an idea had come to him, he grabbed ahold of Harry's shoulders roughly, yanking him so that he was pressed lengthwise against him, and slammed his mouth to his.

Harry knew instinctively then that he should have at least attempted to shove the man away from him—they hated each other, had done since the moment they met.

Hadn't they?

But, in that moment, Harry Potter's hands gripped tightly onto Severus Snape's robes as if they were his very lifeline, and pulled him enigmatically closer. He tilted his head a bit to the left, and permitted his lips to part ever so slightly beneath the potion masters, so as to show him that he was, indeed, not furious at the current circumstances. He must've been going mad, however, because the man's tongue licked open his mouth completely, leading Harry's toes to curl, and a moan to escape from between his lips as their tongues met for the very first time. And then, the feeling of joy which had been torn from him was suddenly gone, as Severus yanked himself forcefully away from him, his eyes wide and filled with panic, before he took off in the other direction.

Harry trembled, lifting his fingers cautiously to his lips; they were puffed slightly, to be sure, and he stumbled backwards, shaking his head. He could hear music pouring in from the tent, and he knew, based on the schedule for the evening, that the music precluded the dancing, as well as the sitting in the assigned seats. Swallowing, and remembering that he'd promised Ginny a dance, he staggered back towards the tent, doing his best to clear his head, although he was unsure he'd be able to for a very long time.

. . .

Harry pushed himself out of bed on his last day at the Burrow; the rest of Neville and Luna's engagement party had gone off without a hitch, and he was pleased that the wedding date wasn't set for quite some time. He had received a formal letter of apology from Xenophilius Lovegood, and had had a direct conversation with Luna about his conversation with her father at the engagement party.

"Daddy's very sorry about everything, Harry," Luna informed him gently. "He wants you to know that he'll do anything to make it right."

Harry had merely asked for formal apologies towards Ron and Hermione, and even gave Luna an exclusive interview for The Quibbler, with Kingsley Shacklebolt's blessing, about how Dolores Umbridge should be held fully accountable for her actions against Muggleborns, as well as exposing the dark practices of the Ministry of Magic during wartime. He didn't anticipate seeing Mr. Lovegood until the wedding itself, and, although the air had (somewhat) been cleared between them, as well as Ron and Hermione, it would take more time until they even considered forgiving him for his actions.

Harry did his best to eat the breakfast Molly provided, knowing entirely well that she wouldn't let him go to his appointment at Gringotts without a clean plate. "But, I have to get to my meeting with—"

"Not without eating at least one of everything, dear," Molly reminded him gently. "And drink your pumpkin juice."

Harry was finally permitted out of the Burrow half an hour before his meeting, and Floo'd to The Leaky Cauldron directly, smiling and waving at Tom as he made his way out into the alley with the abundance of rubbish bins. Taking his wand out from his robes, he tapped it in the intricate pattern along the stones of the wall, feeling relieved when they parted for him, and permitted him to walk along the cobblestone street. He smiled and nodded to those he passed, and was pleased that no one seemed keen to stop him that day.

He stepped into the luxurious foyer of the bank, the crystal chandelier reflecting off the immaculately polished floor, and high desks where the various goblins were attending to their tasks. He straightened up considerably as one came towards him from the back, a golden pocket watch suspended from his hip, as well as an immaculately tailored crimson and black suit, which truly distinguished him from the rest of the goblins in the bank. "Er, good afternoon," Harry said awkwardly, hoping that he was being polite.

"Mr. Potter," came the reply, "I am Furnlock, the Gringotts Bank Manager. I'm here to discuss the properties left to you. Will you come to my office, please?"

Harry blinked, surprised that there seemed to be no repercussions following his, Ron, and Hermione's encounter with the dragon. "Yes, of course," he responded, wondering if he was going to be led to a severe tongue-lashing, followed by confiscation of all his money and properties. Nevertheless, he followed the goblin past the row of desks and into a comfortable-looking office, and sat where he'd been directed.

Furnlock meandered back behind his own desk and climbed a set of stairs before he sat behind it, pulling what reminded Harry of file folders from his Muggle school days, towards him. His gnarled hands opened up the book, and Harry peered closer, seeing a moving photograph of what he assumed to be a property left to him. "This is the cottage in Hampshire," the goblin explained in his typical, growly voice. "As you can see," he continued, tapping the photograph, which morphed into an array of what seemed to be pictures of the entire home, "it has all the amenities needed for a small, private family life, including a garden with a pool, and a sizeable library, despite its small size."

Harry smiled at the thought of privacy. "It's lovely," he said, nodding.

"Next we have Potter Castle, which is located in Wales," Furnlock said, turning the page, this time showcasing an ancient, stone-like structure, that Harry had to admit was very impressive. "Muggles are kept out of it by a series of ancient, complex wards, making it appear to be a ruinous property. Muggles come to look at it now and again, due to their supposed belief that all ruinous structures are of historical significance to them. However, if they remain more than ten minutes, they will suddenly remember an urgent appointment and keep away from there for the future." He tapped his claw against the photograph. "The library is considered state-of-the-art, normal for an ancient Pureblood wizarding family, with texts by Merlin himself within the tomes."

Harry raised his eyebrows; of course, he knew castles still existed, given that he'd literally lived in one for six years, and the few Muggle school field trips that he'd been forbidden to attend had featured them. Guildford Castle, Farnham Castle, and Starborough Castle readily came to mind, now that he considered it. "While it is definitely impressive, it's a bit bigger than anything I'd need right now," he told the goblin, hoping that he didn't come off rude.

The goblin nodded his head and flipped to another page, this time to a much more modern townhouse. "Definitely more suitable to a bachelor lifestyle, and you would readily be able to Apparate or Floo to Hogwarts," he explained. "It's in Inverness, so less than two hours away from the castle itself."

"I think I want to stay in England for a while," Harry told the goblin.

The goblin gave a quick nod and turned the page. "This is a stone house in Ireland, but you've previously stated that England was where you want to be..." He flipped through several more places, showcasing a breathtaking chateau in France, a romantic villa in Italy, a seaside maisonette in Greece, a luxurious hut in the Caribbean, an opulent hacienda in Spain, and a rustic farm in Turkey. "There is, of course, the manor house in Somerset, with the medieval church and barn on its property..."

Harry had to admit that the architecture, Jacobean in nature, of the ancestral manor house was beautiful and well-preserved, but something had awoken in him when he'd laid eyes on the photographs of the cottage for the first time, and he just couldn't shake that. "I think that the cottage will suit me just fine, thank you."

Furnlock nodded his head in understanding. "That sounds quite suitable, Mr. Potter."

"I would like to keep the manor in Somerset as a secondary residence, while I will use the others for various holiday home purposes, if that's all right..."

The goblin smiled. "They are your properties, Mr. Potter, and you may do with them as you wish." He snapped his clawed fingers and an old, brass skeleton key came flying into his hand, which he promptly handed over to Harry. "The wards on your properties have been checked every three months, and the bank is notified if there is any suspicious activities in between those times. I assure you, it's all very safe and up to snuff."

Harry nodded. "Thank you."

"Your house-elves will have no issues acclimating to the property. I hope that you will be very happy there with them."

Harry smiled as he got to his feet, pleased that the meeting seemed to be over, as he tucked the key into the pocket of his robes, and bowed deeply to the goblin. "Thank you. Might I use your Floo to collect my elves?"

"Certainly, Mr. Potter," Furnlock said, bowing back.

Harry collected both Kreacher and Winky from Hogwarts without any fuss after the meeting, and brought them straight to the cottage. He was pleased to discover that, but for needing an airing out, as well as a bit of dust, the cottage seemed to be in tip-top condition. He chuckled as Kreacher set to work with the cleaning, and he inspected the kitchen with Winky. After Harry and Winky prepared a shopping list, the pleased house-elf took off to the shops, while Harry began checking out the bedrooms. He selected the master, knowing that it would upset Kreacher and Winky if he didn't, and expanded the house-elf quarters, also clearing out the abundance of cobwebs that had gathered there. He put sprigs of lavender into their tiny pieces of furniture; he spruced up the ancient, already-hung uniforms, and replaced the thin, moth-eaten mattresses with state-of-the-art ones, complete with soft duvets and lush pillows.

The property around the cottage was massive, with shrubs cut into mythical creatures—a phoenix here, a Hippogriff there—and a pristine-looking white marble fountain featuring a delicate water sprite. There was a greenhouse as well, along with adequate spaces for flowers, herbs, and potions ingredients. There was also a plentiful orchard and kitchen garden, and Harry knew he would have to invite Neville over for tea shortly to inspect it and give him advice. It was also a surprise to Harry to see a bathing pool at the edge of the property, likely a more recent addition, and wondered if his friends would like to come over for a pool party.

Back inside, Harry ventured a glance at the other rooms; there was clearly a nursery through the master bathroom, the latter of which was attached to his bedroom, which Kreacher had already dusted, likely hoping that Harry would have a child or two in the meanwhile. There were four other bedrooms on the second floor, the main guest room also boasting an ensuite, while they all had fireplaces, which Harry was positive connected to the Floo Network. Harry knew entirely well that Ron and Hermione would likely have the main guest room if they ever came to stay overnight, and he was due to have them over at the weekend to inspect the place. They were very pleased for him, and had since taken up residence at a lovely little flat in London, in close proximity to the Ministry of Magic, while they saved up for a home of their own.

Once he returned to the main floor, Harry admired the intimate parlor, the less formal living room, the luxurious library, and the dining room fit for banquets. There was a small nook in the kitchen, for breakfasts and other casual meals, which Harry assumed he would be using more regularly. The kitchen had been very fine, so Harry had assumed that the cottage itself had been more of a summer retreat than a permanent residence, due to the faraway proximity of the village. This, however, suited Harry just fine, as the notion of unwanted guests sniffing around was decidedly not something he wished to contend with, although, perhaps, a certain unwanted guest in particular wouldn't be so unwelcome, or wanted...

. . .

And time, as it always did, went on; Ron and Hermione had come to dinner that first weekend and had praised Harry's choice of home. They spent Friday evening there, and it was even warm enough to spend some time in the bathing pond on Saturday afternoon. Harry had Neville over to tea the following Sunday, and Neville was very pleased to be Harry's official counsel when it came to the garden. He gave Harry advice about what plants to get, which Kreacher dutifully wrote down, before leaving them to purchase everything. Neville explained when to plant everything, and that he would always be available by owl if Harry needed any further advice when it came to Herbology.

By Christmastime, Harry had adopted a little Kneazle, Màiri, who he quickly trained to walk on a lead, and went everywhere he did. There was a little Christmas gathering at the Burrow that December, and Màiri, of course, accompanied him. Crookshanks had taken a shine to her, and it wasn't too terribly long after their arrival that she and Crooks had fallen asleep together in front of the fireplace. Ron and Hermione spoke about their career developments, George talked about the continued success of the joke shop, Bill and Fleur announced their first pregnancy, Charlie was visiting from Romania, and Percy brought his new girlfriend, a pretty young woman named Audrey, who worked at the newly-established Hogsmeade Primary School for Little Wixen, home for the first time.

Harry quickly noticed, after he had filled everyone in on the cottage and the health of both Kreacher and Winky, that Ginny was more withdrawn that usual. "Is Ginny all right?" he asked softly to Ron and Hermione, before supper.

Ron shook his head. "Dunno, mate. She hasn't told me anything."

Hermione sighed, her brow puckering. "She told me that she hasn't been sleeping well," she admitted in the few moments of silence that followed. "I think something happened, and recently, because it's such a new change in her. Whenever I've tried to ask her about it, though, she won't tell me anything, and will either burst into tears or just stare endlessly..."

"Her letters have gotten shorter, too," Ron admitted. "I thought it was just because it was her NEWT year, and she was studying more..."

"Well, now that the holidays are here, perhaps she'll tell us what's really bothering her, or, if it's merely a need for sleep, she'll get it here," Hermione said, although she appeared unconvinced as she peered over at Ginny, whose arms were wrapped around herself, and she had put herself into the corner of the room closest to the door.

"Suppertime!" Molly called out, dashing into the parlor. "Come and eat!"

Everyone hurried to the table; Arthur and Molly were stationed at its head and the foot respectively, while Bill and Fleur sat to Arthur's right, and Charlie to his left. Percy and Audrey sat beside Charlie, while George took the chair beside Fleur, Ron and Hermione beside George, with Harry beside Hermione, and Ginny opposite him, on Molly's other side. Molly made sure that everyone had something on their plates, as she was the typical mother hen during the holidays, more so with Fleur, given the announcement.

"Is everything all right, Fleur dear?" Molly asked, looking hopeful.

"Everything looks delicious," Fleur assured her with a quick smile. "Thank you, Molly."

Molly beamed at the compliment, before she turned to Ginny, who looked pale. "Darling, you need to eat," she said gently, and placed a good helping of the roast goose on her plate.

Ginny's eyes widened as the scent wafted into her nose, before she bolted to her feet and hurried out of the dining room.

Harry, along with everyone else, looked in the direction she had gone, and tensed slightly when a door slammed, too far away to be her bedroom. "I'll go," he said gently, squeezing Molly's hand with a small smile. "You keep hosting. I'll check on Gin."

"Oh, Harry, you're wonderful," Molly said, squeezing his hand back as Harry got to his feet and left the dining room.

Harry followed the path Ginny had gone, going up the first set of stairs and it was then that he heard someone, likely Ginny, being violently sick in the bathroom. He tapped at the door and, when he heard a half-hearted reply, slowly turned the knob and let himself in. His eyes widened at the scene of Ginny, gripping the sides of the porcelain bowl, before he shook his head and promptly got to work. "Gin?" he asked, wetting a warm rag for her, which he immediately handed over and proceeded to and rub at her shoulder, in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "You all right?"

Ginny swallowed, her eyes red as she tentatively took the rag from Harry. "No," she answered, as she nodded at the door, which Harry quickly moved to close, and shook her head at him. "No, I'm not all right, Harry."

"I thought as much," Harry said gently, easing Ginny to her feet and having her sit upon the edge of the bath, and tentatively moved beside her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Ginny finished cleaning her face with a small sigh. "Not particularly, because talking about it will make it more... More real, somehow," she said, her red brows furrowing. She allowed the rag to hang suspended from her fingers as she contemplated how to continue. "But... Well, I suppose you're as good a person as any to talk to."

Harry gave a slight nod, knowing that he had to tread carefully. "Whatever you want to tell me, Ginny, I promise, I won't say anything to anyone, until or unless you give permission."

"It'll get out eventually, but, at least, on my terms," she whispered. She dropped the rag and gripped upon the edge of the tub, her knuckles turning white as memories swelled from within her. "I... I went to do the last of my shopping in Hogsmeade the day before term broke up," she said quietly, trembling, staring at the tiled floor of the lavatory. "Everything was going fine, until he... He got hold of me, and now... and now..."

Harry blinked, a sick feeling suddenly coming on to him. "He?" he asked, shaking his head. "I don't... Ginny, were you attacked?"

Ginny laughed bitterly. "Raped is more like it," she said darkly, "with a dark curse placed upon me to boot."

"Curse?" Harry breathed. "What curse?"

"Numquam Cum Alio Generabis," she whispered, as if it was a foul name, her nose wrinkling with disgust. "It's also known as Never Shall You Breed With Another. It was a sickening, Harry; a sickening Pureblood thing. Basically, it bound witches to wizards in centuries past to ensure that betrothals would go through. They rape you while they cast it, so that you can only have children with them. Lots of witches died by suicide, or from their magical cores just giving out, throughout the years because they couldn't stand to have children with the person who literally assaulted them..."

Harry found himself embracing Ginny. "Who was it?" he growled; he may not be in love with Ginny, but she was, for all intents and purposes, his little sister, and he didn't want any harm to come to her.

Ginny swallowed, slowly easing herself out of Harry's arms. "Marcus Flint," she said softly with a shudder.

Harry's mind when blank as he considered the malicious malocclusion maggot on the Quidditch pitch, who seemed to delight whenever someone from another team fell off their brooms. He swallowed, knowing entirely well that Ginny needed him right now, so he mentally calmed himself down to continue their conversation. "Do... Does anyone...?"

"No one in the family," she admitted, wrapping her arms around herself, still shaking terribly. "I was going to tell everyone before I go to bed tonight... Well, at least Mum and Dad, and I know that Ron and Hermione will figure it out eventually, but I'm going to ask Mum and Dad to tell everyone else without me there. I... I just... I just didn't want to be in the room for that, you know?"

Harry nodded. "Of course," he said, knowing that she had to be comfortable at all costs.

"Madam Pomfrey knows, of course, and so does Kingsley," she continued. "He came to the school and put Aurors on the case, very discreet. They've arrested Flint, and I gave a memory of the attack to the Aurors. That way, I won't have to testify before the Wizengamot. The Aurors got him just today; he was hiding out at the old Flint estate in Wales. If Flint fails to cooperate, they'll give him the Kiss. If he does cooperate with them, he'll get life in Azkaban, due to the darkness of the curse alone, not to mention that he has to sign away all parental rights to the baby, including to the rest Flint family as well, so they can't have it either..."

"The baby?" Harry demanded, disgusted that Flint had been successful.

"A boy," Ginny said softly, "so the Flint family will likely stop at nothing to circumvent the proposed custody agreement. At the end of the day, even if the Flints do consider me to be a Blood Traitor, the baby boy will still be a Pureblood and, if they do get him, the line will still continue, even if that blaggard is locked up..."

"Is... Is he...?" Harry asked, hoping that Ginny would know that he wasn't asking her about Marcus Flint.

Ginny laid her head into her hands with a little sigh; she looked utterly exhausted, and Harry didn't blame her. "Madam Pomfrey says he's healthy and everything, but that my core will give out once I deliver him. There's no preventing it, since I rejected Flint's advances. My only hope, really, is finding a wizard to engage in a Blood Adoption with me, to ensure that the child is theirs and they can raise the baby as their own to make sure that the Flint family doesn't..." She lowered her eyes and shook her head. "That's why I was so devastated earlier. I was going to ask Bill and Fleur if they could do it, but then Fleur announced her pregnancy, and the last thing they'd want is two screaming infants, plus Fleur would have to immediately Blood Adopt the baby after it's born, to ensure it's healthy, and—"

"I'll do it," Harry interrupted.

Ginny's eyes snapped to his, looking a great deal older than her seventeen years, as her mind attempted to continue with the conversation. "What?"

"I'll Blood Adopt the baby," Harry continued quickly.

Ginny gave Harry a small smile and shook her head. "Oh, Harry. That's very sweet, but I can't ask you to—"

"Will it hurt the baby if a wizard of different Blood Status adopts it?"

Ginny blinked. "No. No, of course not. The person in question just has to be biologically male, and a wizard. No Muggles..."

Harry reached outwards, taking Ginny's hand. "Is... Do the two of us have to get married?" he asked, knowing entirely well that he wouldn't mind, if that's what it took, given that Ginny had understood that there would never be anything romantic between them.

"No, not since the National Equality of Wixen Act was passed in 1948," Ginny said, and Harry was amazed that it had happened that late, "wherein single witches or wizards were officially put on the books to be less stigmatized..." She gave him a small smile; she was truly resigned to her fate, it seemed, when it came to her imminent death. "Anyhow, Harry, you don't have to marry me to do this, or actually do this, at all, given what happened at the engagement party—"

"Hang on," Harry said. "What are you talking about?"

Ginny gave Harry another small smile. "I saw you and Professor Snape kiss in the orchard," she admitted with a small giggle. "I thought you liked him, ever since you got your hands on the Half-Blood Princes' book."

"I didn't even know it was him then, Gin—"

"None of us did, but we do now, and it all makes sense," she replied with a shrug. "So, are you seeing him now?"

"No," Harry said with a huff. "He ran off, and he hasn't been replying to my owls. Maybe it was a fluke or something..."

"Don't say that, Harry," Ginny told him. "You're wonderful, and Snape needs to see that." She smoothed down her green holiday dress. "Well, the fact remains that I'm pregnant with a bloody Death Eater's baby, and you're, clearly, mad for a former one." She shrugged. "What a pair we are, eh? It still doesn't mean you have to help me out, here. I know you'd just be doing this because you feel sorry for me—"

"Ginny," Harry said firmly, squeezing her hands, "I wouldn't offer to do this if I didn't want to. I want to be a father, I really do, and I certainly don't... No, that's wrong. I've always hated the automatic negative connotation that feeling sorry for someone has. I do feel sorry for you, Gin, because what happened is the very thing to be sorry about. You were raped, Ginny, and I would kill Flint myself if I could, but I won't, because I want to be a father, a father to your baby, because he deserves a hell of a lot better than what he's got now."

Ginny nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "Damned hormones," she muttered, dashing her tears away. "All right, Harry, thank you. Well, Madam Pomfrey said I'm due around the third Saturday in September. She's given me pregnancy potions, as well as pregnancy-safe ones to keep people from seeing its development who don't know about it. I can still take my NEWTs on time, and then I'll just stay at the Burrow. The last thing I want is to be in your way—"

"You can come to the cottage," Harry said quickly. "Kreacher and Winky will positively dote on you, once they realize it's my baby in there."

Ginny smiled. "Snape will be making the potion, but has agreed not to ask the identity of the birth mother, as the case is considered sensitive, and, therefore, confidential," she continued. "I can safely take it between February and April, so I'll be doing it during the Easter holidays. If it's not too much to ask, may I stay at the cottage then as well?"

Harry nodded. "Of course you can, Ginny. Erm, and what exactly will I need to provide for the potion?" he asked, slightly uncomfortably.

Ginny flushed at that. "Well, yes, the potion, um... Your blood, to overtake Flint's, as well as your semen, but, thankfully, I won't taste either of them," she answered quickly, an awkward smile enveloping her pretty face, though there was still a sadness in her eyes, as if she was resigning herself to her upcoming death. "Happy Christmas, eh?"

Arthur and Molly were overjoyed that Harry had consented to Blood Adopting their grandchild, once Ginny had told them everything, and were always on hand for any advice, as well as offers for babysitting down the line. Harry, meanwhile, prepared the nursery at the cottage in preparation for the arrival of his son, and gave the necessary biological samples to Madam Pomfrey to keep under stasis when the time came for Ginny to take the potion. Ginny returned to Hogwarts in January, relieved that she didn't have to deal with morning sickness or the visual stigma of being pregnant, and kept her head down, which was quite simple, due to her status as Head Girl, and having her own quarters to return to at the end of each day.

When the Easter holidays arrived, it came with the owl that the Blood Adoption potion was finally ready to consume. Ginny Floo'd directly to the cottage to stay in the official guest room during the week, while Harry watched with baited breath as she drank the potion. Her cheeks bloomed suddenly, and she looked far healthier than she had during the course of the entirety of her pregnancy.

"That'll be my magic accepting yours on behalf of the baby," Ginny explained, looking very pleased with the development as Màiri, who had quickly taken a shine to her, stood beside her. "It won't be so difficult now..."

Harry sighed, shaking his head as he helped Ginny upstairs and into her bedroom, Màiri never far behind, where she would stay permanently once she'd left school. "Even with the potion, there's no way that you'd be able to...?"

"No, Harry," Ginny said gently, as if she knew quite clearly that he was asking if she'd be able to live a long life. "It's one thing to alter the baby's DNA, but there's still the curse Flint bestowed upon me to contend with. I am dying, and all my strength is going to the baby, although the Pregnancy Pepper-Ups do help," she amended quickly.

Harry led her to the pale blue guest bedroom with white stone fireplace and white lace curtains, watching as she set her belongings down and began filling the rosewood wardrobe with them, while Màiri perched upon the bed, watching. "I just wish that there was something... Maybe if I got the Elder Wand back—"

"You know entirely well that Hermione would quite literally bite your head off if you even thought about doing that, let alone attempted to get your hands on a ruddy Time-Turner," Ginny tossed over her shoulder, placing her carefully-folded clothes into the wardrobe. "Bad things happen to wixen who meddle with time, Harry, or ones that try to mess with Lady Magic."

"But... But what will you do?" Harry cried out. "None of us want you to..."

Ginny turned to Harry with a small smile. "Well, Headmistress McGonagall and Deputy Headmaster Flitwick are already on the case," she said softly, reaching outwards and scratching Màiri behind the ear. "They've arranged a rite where I'll come back as a ghost. Hogwarts will have to be my home base, but they'll ensure that I can travel to the Burrow to see Mum and Dad whenever I like."

Harry bit his lip; it wasn't the same, and Ginny hardly deserved this, but it was certainly better than doing nothing at all, he reasoned. "What shall I ask Kreacher to make for dinner?" he asked at last. "I mean, are you craving anything these days?"

Ginny stayed for the week, and, once she returned to Hogwarts, was ordered by Madam Pomfrey to stop by the hospital wing once a week to monitor her pregnancy, which she agreed to. She would owl Harry any sonograms she received, but, as a part of their agreement, he promised to stay away from any and all healing appointments she had. He hadn't even seen her baby bump without clothing, as she was so ashamed of what had happened, but he'd spoken to the mediwitch and Molly about it, who assured him that anything and everything was progressing just right.

Molly was the only other person permitted at the appointments, which Harry understood, although he wanted more than anything for Ginny to be all right, plus hold his son, as well as Màiri, in his arms. His little familiar was his constant companion from the Easter holidays onward and, but for the visits from Ron and Hermione, as well as Neville and Luna, the cottage was a quiet place to be. He went to go and see Hagrid at Hogwarts, as the half-giant expressed a wish in having Màiri meet Fang, but he didn't want to bother Ginny, so he stayed away from the castle during that time.

Once term broke for the summer, and Ginny had achieved high marks on her NEWTs despite everything, she returned to the cottage, where Kreacher and Winky doted on her, and Màiri never left her side. Harry ensured that Ginny had everything she needed, though Ginny herself was content to read in the library with Màiri, float on a pregnancy-safe floatie in the bathing pool, or satisfy her cravings, which, Harry was perplexed to find, were few and far between. She seemed keen on many forms of protein and leafy greens, or the occasional fruit smoothie, but turned up her nose at things like ice cream or gherkins.

"Just not keen on it, really," Ginny would inform Harry patiently, over and over again.

Finally, the day had come, and Ginny went into labor on schedule, just before lunchtime. Harry quickly summoned Madam Pomfrey and Molly, who came at the rush; Arthur was made aware of the goings-on, but promised to wait for Harry for further instructions. Harry warded the property, to make sure that no unexpected arrivals happened; Ginny would have plenty of opportunity to say goodbye, and Headmistress McGonagall and Deputy Headmaster Flitwick would be informed by Arthur of what was happening, and would be on call to perform the rite before Ginny died.

Harry, meanwhile, was quick to discover that Ginny didn't want him in the guest bedroom while she was giving birth, which a reluctant Harry managed to understand. He ventured into the small parlor he had discovered on his first day of touring the cottage, placing Màiri on the window sill, and unblocked that Floo, begging for Ron and Hermione to come and join him. He was pleased, given that it was mid-afternoon already, that it was all right for them to finish out their shifts at the Ministry of Magic for the day, and the pair of them quickly joined him.

"How is Ginny doing?" Hermione asked, smiling in thanks as Kreacher arrived to serve them tea, sandwiches, and little cakes, while Màiri proceeded to parade around their ankles.

"All right, but she only wants Molly and Madam Pomfrey with her," Harry replied, doing his best to keep his tone light.

Ron, meanwhile, had taken an egg and bacon brioche slider, which was one of Kreacher's specialties, and was devouring it piece by piece. "That's normal," he responded, mouth full.

Hermione delicately took a cucumber sandwich and chewed it slowly. "She's given permission for me to be there when Headmistress McGonagall and Deputy Headmaster Flitwick perform the rite," she said quietly, something that Harry previously hadn't been aware of, although he quite understood, given Ginny's closeness to her. "They need a grounder for it, a support system, really, to assist Ginny's soul leaving her body before being temporarily transferred into the sacred vessel, which will, ultimately, be transported to Hogwarts."

"Blimey, I didn't know it was that complicated," Ron said, hesitating before he took another section of his chosen sandwich, tossing a spare bit of bacon towards Màiri, who caught it in an effortless manner.

"More like respectful," Hermione informed Ron gently, and handed Harry his favorite, a steak sandwich, before she leaned back upon the chaise, sipping at her cup of Earl Grey. "It's quite the opposite of a Horcrux, really, as the vessel itself, as previously mentioned, is temporary, and no one is seeking to gain immortality from the rite itself."

Just before dinnertime, a piercing cry of an infant filled the cottage, and Harry got to his feet, Hermione at his heels, as they rushed out of the parlor and towards the guest bedroom, Màiri hurrying behind. Ron was in charge of summoning Headmistress McGonagall and Deputy Headmaster Flitwick, while Hermione took the chosen vessel out of her robes, which would briefly store Ginny's soul—a box painted with primroses, the official flower of Devon, handcrafted by Cedrella Weasley (née Black) as a part of her dowry upon her marriage to Septimus. She and Ron had collected it from the back of the Weasley vault just a fortnight ago, once Ginny had requested it, as well as Hermione's presence, at her deathbed.

Harry's heart entered his throat as they came upon the outside of the guest bedroom, and he straightened up as Madam Pomfrey stepped out of there, a blue bundle wrapped in her arms. He did his best not to let his voice shake, although emotions threatened to get the better of him, and quickly. "Is...is...?"

"Your son is completely healthy, Harry," Madam Pomfrey informed him, a small smile on her face as she finally handed the baby over for the first time. "Perfectly formed and beautiful; his magical core is quite strong, Harry, and he will make a fine wizard one day."

Harry nodded, his attention taken up by the raven-haired baby in his arms, who immediately seemed to calm and coo slightly as he rocked him gently. "Thank you."

"As for you, Hermione," Madam Pomfrey said, turning to the former Gryffindor, "Ginny is now asking for you. I will be on hand as the official healer for the rite, while Arthur and Molly will be its witnesses, Minerva and Filius the castors, you the grounder, and Ginny the recipient." She nodded at the box Hermione held. "Ah. That is the vessel, then?"

Hermione nodded, tearing her gaze completely from the baby in Harry's arms; there would be plenty of time to meet her nephew later. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey."

Madam Pomfrey placed an arm around her shoulders. "Everyone has arrived and is awaiting the two of us." She turned to Harry, and said, "Ginny mentioned you had said your goodbyes earlier this afternoon."

Harry looked up at the healer. "We did," he confirmed, "before her contractions became too much, I mean. She... She didn't want..."

"I understand, dear," she responded. "I also know that you took exceptional care of her, and permitted her family and friends to come over whenever they wished, and that she has said farewell to everyone she wished to."

Harry nodded; just the week before, Neville and Luna had stopped by the cottage to say goodbye to Ginny. Bill and Fleur had come by with their daughter, Victoire, and said their farewells not too long afterward. Ron and Hermione were frequent visitors, so they'd had many occasions to say whatever it is they wished to say. Charlie had come from Romania, and was staying at the Burrow temporarily to offer any support towards his parents necessary. George had come with Angelina Johnson, now a healer at St. Mungo's, who he had become serious with, and Ginny wished them well. And, of course, Percy had come with Audrey, who he had proposed to recently, and Ginny was very happy for them.

"I just wanted her to be happy," Harry said at last, and Màiri meowed, as if in agreement with that statement.

Madam Pomfrey smiled. "You made her happy, Harry. And you, too, Màiri," she assured them both, before she escorted Hermione into the guest bedroom.

Harry took the baby into the nursery, Màiri scurrying behind; the walls were a sage green, and done up with various characters from Beatrix Potter stories—Peter Rabbit, Benjamin Bunny, Jemima Puddleduck, Tom Kitten, Jeremy Fisher, Squirrel Nutkin, and Pigling Bland, to name a few, went about their merry ways in fantastic scenes straight from the books. The paint was of the wizarding variety, so the animals would hop (Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny), waddle (Jemima Puddleduck), pace (Tom Kitten), jump (Jeremy Fisher), leap (Squirrel Nutkin), and trot (Pigling Bland). Hermione had selected the nursery theme, while Luna had painted the characters expertly, as it was one of the few Muggle books she had growing up.

Harry sat down in the rocking chair, Màiri not far behind as she perched on the window sill to watch him with the baby. Harry had been relieved when Kreacher showed up with a bottle of milk for the baby, the finest wizarding formula out there. Harry held the baby boy and the bottle how he'd been taught, and practiced on both Victoire Weasley and Teddy Lupin the past few months. He was relieved that the baby took it without fussing, just staring up at him with his dark blue eyes. Once the formula was drunk, Harry permitted Màiri to sniff him for a moment before winded the little mite and changed the baby's nappy for the first time, smiling as the baby's gaze turned tired. He sanitized his hands afterwards and placed the little one into its crib, just watching him sleep...

"Mate?"

Harry turned slowly around, seeing the haunted expression on Ron's face. "It's done, then?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah."

Harry slowly stepped away from the crib, unknowing what to say, but nevertheless pulled Ron into his arms, and the pair of them just stood there, saying nothing.

. . .

Harry named his son Liam Simon Potter, and the little boy was positively and immediately doted on by all who met him. He had grandparents in Arthur and Molly, a plethora of aunts and uncles in the Weasley clan, a constant companion in Màiri, and playmates (inasmuch as babies could play) in Victoire Weasley and Teddy Lupin. Liam had everything a baby boy could want—love, milk, warmth... However, after a few weeks, Liam began to have trouble sleeping.

Harry was at his wits' end; he had tried simply everything to make his little boy sleep. He quickly established a bedtime routine, ala Hermione, wherein he would either read a story or sing a song to Liam during his final formula of the night, all in his rocking chair, before putting on the nightlight and tucking him in, but that didn't work. He tried swaddling Liam, as Molly suggested, and, while that worked in keeping Liam quiet or calming him down, he refused to sleep. Luna, meanwhile, advised a simple massage, and while Liam seemed to enjoy the further bonding time with Harry, even that didn't work.

He was tempted to try a Muggle sleep trainer, but that would involve taking down the wards of the property, and hiding many things in his house, including Màiri, Kreacher, and Winky. He was not, however, desirous of the new line of baby-safe potions, which included so-called gems of Dozy Darling, Barfing Balm, and Tearful Tot. He knew entirely well that one Severus Snape didn't approve of such things, and all but degraded them to the current Hogwarts staff. This, he heard from a good authority—Hermione herself, who now traveled in the same circles as the eponymous potions master.

"See much of him, lately?" Harry asked when Liam was around three months old, and Christmas was officially around the corner.

Hermione pursed her lips, as she knew by this point of the kiss Harry had shared with him in the orchard at the Burrow during Luna and Neville's engagement party. This evening was one of the first times that Harry wasn't holding his son, as Molly had temporarily absconded with him during the Christmas party at the Weasley family home, and she was relieved to see him at least attempting to relax. "Are you becoming addicted to Pepperup?" she asked, stroking Crookshanks, who was asleep in her lap.

Harry glared at her, digging his free hand into Màiri's fur; she was never far away, especially now that Liam had entered their lives. "No! No, of course not."

Hermione smirked, resting her free hand in her palm; she deliberately waited until all the conversations around them were particularly loud, knowing entirely well that Harry didn't want this next bit of information being announced. "You know, you could ask him yourself, you know, as you're the only one here who's snogged him..."

Harry gritted his teeth; she always knew just what to say to properly get on his nerves, as any sister could. "'Mione," he said warningly.

"All right, all right," she responded, throwing her hands up into the air. "Yes, we see one another at least once a week. He attended the Ministry's Christmas Gala earlier this week and, before you ask, yes, he looked well. And no," she continued at Harry's hopeful expression, "he did not ask after you, or bring a date."

Harry was relieved that he'd had a worthy excuse not to attend that Christmas gala at the ministry that year, as he wanted to spend as much time with Liam as possible for his first holiday season. Although Kingsley seemed disappointed, he stated that he understood Harry's reasons, and would make excuses on his behalf. Harry was just pleased that the wards around his cottage prevented Howlers or unwanted correspondence from getting through, although seeing the shredded remains of the eponymous red letters definitely put a damper on things.

Harry felt himself deflating; he'd had the opportunity to see Severus in person, and he'd missed the chance. "All right," he said, hating how frustrated he felt because of it. "So, what's he been up to, then?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows slightly, but nevertheless answered him. "Apparently, he's doing independent potions research now, and that takes up most of his time, but..."

"But what?" Harry asked, needing distractions for his sleepless nights; Liam still wouldn't sleep through the night, but he did get increments, here and there, which was definitely a change for the better, although things were far from perfect.

"Well, he's teamed up with Lee Jordan for the Wizarding Wireless," Hermione said, and Harry felt his eyes widening. "He's their current Special Correspondent on the war. You know, where war heroes do a six-month stint with the wireless to give their perspective."

Harry gave a jerky nod; he'd been asked to do so, of course, and had declined, not fully ready to discuss anything of the kind with anyone outside his family and close friends. So far, George Weasley, Neville, and Kingsley Shacklebolt had taken the roles, while Luna was slated to take over once Snape's tenure ended in June. He was truly amazed that anyone had that much to say, although he supposed that they planned their segments far in advance, and only stuck to one clear topic, thus paving the way for future broadcasts. "He'd be good at it," he mused, picking up his goblet, filled with Hot Butterbeer Rum.

Hermione smirked, her brown eyes glimmering with amusement. "And that has next to nothing to do with the fact that you're positively besotted with his voice, doesn't it? Or, rather, is it his lips and tongue now?"

Harry's response was to choke on his drink, while Màiri made a noise of annoyance.

"Do you fancy him, Harry?" Hermione asked, poking at him with her finger.

Harry got unsteadily to his feet, more out of awkwardness than being drunk, while Màiri took off somewhere else in the house, Crookshanks immediately following her. "Right, and that's the end of that conversation, Hermione Granger," he told her firmly, moving away from her.

"Harry!" Hermione cried out. "I didn't mean anything by it, I swear—!"

Harry shook his head at her, his mind swirling with thoughts of Severus's passionate kiss at Neville and Luna's engagement party, as well as his subsequent rejection of further communication with him via owl. Biting his lip, he ventured into the small parlor down the hallway, where Molly had taken Liam, and noticed that Fleur was in there with Victoire, and Tonks was there with Teddy. Harry watched the scene unfolding, as the three babies babbled with one another, which is when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Harry?"

Turning, Harry looked up at his former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and merely gave him a nod. "Remus," he responded awkwardly, before walking in the opposite direction, not ready to speak with him either.

In the days that followed, Molly had suggested the possibility of warming up his formula in order to help Liam sleep better, and, while it definitely made the baby boy drowsier, it certainly didn't improve his sleeping on the whole. Amid all this, he fended off owls from Remus, which had been arriving steadily since things had settled down after the battle, internally hating himself because he just couldn't bring himself to speak to him. Liam, as always, proved to be a worthy distraction, although he knew that something definitely had to give.

Finally, Harry simply walked through the cottage with Liam, hoping that the steady movement of his steps would cause his son a modicum of drowsiness, drowsiness which would get him to sleep through the night. Liam, as always, fought against it; he was truly as stubborn as he was and, while with certain matters it was an endearing quality, his only child's refusal to sleep was beginning to wear upon him. As the Christmas holidays drew ever closer, in between Harry's decorating, shopping, and other scheduled tasks involving Liam, life had an unsteady pace to it, and nothing seemed to help. That evening, the Wizarding Wireless came on, as it always did, as it was on a timer, and Lee Jordan and Severus Snape's voices filled the rooms.

"How did you manage to keep yourself from going mad?" Lee asked.

Harry's attention was immediately severed completely from the baby in his arms, instantly realizing what the program was, and who Lee was speaking to. In addition, he was amazed at how casually Lee addressed Snape, as well as the notion that the question itself was quite informal as well, knowing that he would have never dared to speak to Snape in such a manner, given the current state of their relationship, or lack thereof.

"I came up with a plethora of potions theories," Snape answered, and Harry noticed that Liam was even paying attention, while all the while goosebumps erupted on every given surface of Harry's flesh, heart pounding in his ears as the voice caressed his very soul, knowing that, the last time he'd truly heard it was in the orchards of the Burrow.

"Anything you'd like to share with us?" Lee wanted to know.

"Typically, I would say no, but I have reached a breakthrough," the potions master said, and Harry stopped dead in his tracks to listen, though he still swayed on the balls of his feet to keep Liam as calm as possible. "As you know, I am one of the few potion masters alive today who can successfully brew Wolfsbane, and Remus Lupin has agreed to be my, for lack of a better term, test subject."

Harry continued to roll on the balls of his feet; he felt a fresh wave of guilt for not having really spoken to Remus since the man had made him Teddy's godfather during the height of the war, although Tonks, Andromeda, Molly, and Arthur had attempted to intercede on their reunion, given that Liam and Teddy had already proven to be such good friends. As a show of good faith, Harry had had the goblins remodel and rebuild the home in Godric's Hollow, while Bill and Fleur had acted as the official Cursebreakers on the project, thus making it like new again. Harry had given Tonks the keys during the six-month victory celebrations, one of the few he'd attended, and Remus, Tonks, plus little Teddy, now lived at the former Potter home.

"Would you be willing to tell us what you've done to improve upon the recipe?" Lee asked, obviously very curious.

"I will mention one advancement I've made to it," Snape said, in full lecture mode. "Instead of an Occamy egg, one must procure the egg of a dove, and use a combination of a phoenix' tears and its flames to create blue flames," he continued, and Harry blinked, shocked. "Anglican individuals, as well as those of other faiths, will know that these symbolize wisdom and purity, as well as revelation. These enclose themselves around the egg instead of burning it, due to their magical properties, and you must add them in place of the Occamy egg. Thus, the transformation process no longer is painful, and is more of a peaceful process overall."

Harry had been so distracted by Snape's words that he hadn't noticed Liam's eyes fluttering and, when he looked down, noticed that his little boy had fallen asleep. Not wanting to jinx it, he carefully crept back towards the nursery, and placed him gently into his crib, with a quick kiss to his forehead. He then put up the Baby Monitoring Spell before he slipped out of the bedroom, smiling to himself as he switched off the wireless, and made his way into his own bedroom, hoping beyond hope to get some sleep that night.

However, before he did, he clicked his tongue, leading Angelia, his graceful and small tawny owl, whom Hermione had presented to him for his last birthday, to straighten up. "Fancy a hunt, girl?"

Angelia twittered from her oak perch, watching knowingly as her master retrieved a piece of parchment, quill, and the standard black ink. She ruffled her feathers with excitement at the prospect of delivering a letter so late at night, but hoo-ed softly once she saw who Harry was writing to.

"Yes, I know he likely won't write me back," Harry said, maneuvering the ink pot out of the way as Màiri hopped onto his desk in curiosity. "But, I just..." He sighed, shoulders slumping as he relayed the events of the evening to his former potions professor. He'd never mentioned Liam directly in a letter to Snape before, but he was sure the man knew about him, given the exclusive he'd given to Luna in The Quibbler a few weeks after Liam's birth. "I want him to know that I appreciate him."

Harry worried his lower lip; maybe Snape hadn't responded to previous letters because of his demands to know about his mother, or why he'd just kissed him like that. Shaking his head, he finished off the letter with a quick, Regards, Harry and sealed it up with the Potter seal. He handed it off to Angelia carefully, scooping up Màiri as he did, and walked towards his bedroom window, allowing his owl out into the night sky. There was always a small kitchen window left open, where Angelia had another perch, food, and water, so she could always find her way back in if Harry was out, sleeping, or otherwise indisposed.

"What do you think, Màiri?" he asked, setting her down on his king-sized, four-poster as he began undressing for bed. "You think he'll write back?"

Màiri opened and closed her eyes, eternally optimistic.

"Well, let's hope you've enough hope for both of us," he muttered, shaking his head.

. . .

Liam's first Christmas was a success, though he much preferred the boxes of varying sizes to the actual gifts. He'd received a Weasley jumper from Molly, which matched Harry's eyes, which meant that he and Harry would be matching. Liam's eyes had changed to the same shade of green as his father's and grandmother's, which very nearly made him Harry's double. The only similarities to Ginny on Liam were the nose and high cheekbones; other than that, he was all Evans and Potter.

He was invited out for New Year's by Ron and Hermione, and was relieved when Molly said that she and Arthur would be happy to take Liam for the night. He met his two best friends in Muggle London, where they participated in a bar crawl. Neville and Luna met them at the first bar, with Seamus and Dean meeting them a bit later, and, surprisingly, Draco and Astoria Greengrass, who were newly engaged, ultimately joined as well.

"I don't drink myself," Astoria said with a smile, sipping lightly at her virgin rose and rhubarb cocktail. "But, I don't want it to ruin any of your fun." She rolled her shoulders. "Besides, I think Daphne and Blaise will be having enough drinks between them for me."

Harry chuckled; it had been plastered all over The Daily Prophet last summer that Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass had married, and the pair had relocated to Italy. "Just as long as they're being safe," he said.

Astoria smiled at him, her blue eyes kind. "Oh, I'm sure they are," she assured him, as if she was pleased that he seemed worried about her sister and brother-in-law.

"We've set a date," Luna put in, in the lull of conversation that followed, as she carefully sipped her blueberry and elderflower wine. "Neville and I are going to be married next spring."

"Professor Sprout says that some of the most beautiful gardens in the world can be seen during that time," Neville said, flushing when Luna took him by the hand; or, perhaps, it was his drink of rum punch. "We're using the Easter holidays for our honeymoon."

"Daddy's not coming, of course, but we'll keep in touch via postcards regarding any magical creatures we see," Luna continued, seemingly relieved that Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't seem to mind her mentioning him. "And we've already made reservations at various bed and breakfasts that have, or are near, gardens. Neville's even gotten permission from a lot of them to bring back some clippings for Professor Sprout."

Seamus leaned easily into Dean's arms; the pair had married within hours of the side of the Light declaring victory over the Death Eaters, with the Irish lad proclaiming his love for his longtime best friend mid-battle. It had been an entirely lovely scene, with Dean reciprocating, followed by a passionate kiss amid the various duels. "We've got some news ourselves," he said softly, and took Dean's hand.

"We've decided to expand our family," Dean said proudly, raising his good quality stout. "Since Master Fitzworth handed over Quality Quidditch Supplies to us in September, we really think it's time."

"I'm pregnant!" Seamus declared, which explained his own virgin cocktails.

"Congratulations, mate!" Ron crowed, nearly upsetting his own whiskey, and he, plus Harry, Neville, and Draco promptly circled the table to hug him, while Hermione, Luna, and Astoria squealed.

"When are you due?" Hermione asked, her eyes shining with happiness, as she raised her own Cosmo.

"The girls are due next July, a couple of weeks before Neville and Harry's birthdays," Dean said proudly, pressing a kiss onto Seamus's temple.

"Twins?" Luna breathed, eyes widening.

"Dear Merlin, if Filch lives long enough, he'll be having a fit," Ron chuckled, as if remembering Fred and George's antics, a small shadow of sadness passing over his features.

"Ron's proposed," Hermione said, taking him by the hand and whispering, "Revelio," directly causing a lovely ruby engagement ring to appear into being on her hand; she almost always knew what to look for when it came to her fiancé's moods. "We were thing of late-summer for the ceremony, perhaps in August."

"That's wonderful!" Luna said, hugging Hermione.

"Astoria's going to move into the manor in the New Year," Draco put in, seeming quite chuffed that his girlfriend was going to be living with him full-time.

"And I've been promoted to head pastry chef at Bewitching Bon-Bons," Astoria said, flushing slightly, her cheeks matching her hair; she never was one to boast, but she seemed truly proud of herself for her hard-earned promotion at one of the more exclusive haunts in the newly-minted Dessert District in Diagon Alley.

"What about you, Harry?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows wagging up and down. "Anything to report on your end?"

"Liam's said his first word," Harry responded.

"What was it, mate?" Ron asked.

Harry grinned. "Dada," he replied, really quite proud of his son.

"Anything else?" Hermione asked him. "Perhaps with a potions master and your clear pining for him?"

Draco raised his fair brows as he lowered his expensive whiskey. "Does this have anything to do with my godfather and the engagement party?" he asked.

Harry glared at Hermione, very nearly slamming down his French 75. "'Mione!" he cried. "I can't believe you told them!"

Hermione threw up her hands. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said quietly. "I needed some input. You know that Ron and I don't keep anything from each other..."

"I told Dean and Seamus because I needed some...perspective, y'know?" he asked, gesturing in between the two of them.

Harry blushed hotly. "It's not so different from being straight, Ron," he huffed.

"We told Neville because he's sensitive," Dean said softly.

"And I told Luna because I don't keep things from her either," Neville said quickly.

"Neville and I mentioned it to Draco because of the fact that Draco and I recently discovered that we're cousins," Luna explained.

"Half-cousins," Draco pointed out. "Uncle Xenophilius was actually the half-brother of my father, whose own father strayed to Azolia Lovegood, the heiress and final member of the Lovegood family, despite being married to my grandmother, Lazuli Travers. Abraxas never officially recognized Uncle Xenophilius, but blood doesn't lie."

"Draco and I have no secrets either," Astoria said softly, taking Draco's hand in hers. "And, for the record, Harry, I think Master Snape is treating you most unfairly."

"You were a Slytherin," Harry said softly; he didn't blame Astoria for anything, not in this situation. "Aren't you going to side with your Head of House?"

"Not in matters of the heart," Astoria responded primly. She leaned closer to Harry, and said softly to him, "Draco and I know where he lives."

"Astoria!" Draco cried out.

"What?" she demanded. "You agreed that he was being a blaggard about everything, Draco. Are you going to take it back just because we're in public now?"

Draco huffed. "No," he admitted.

"Come on, mate," Ron said softly, his blue eyes kind. "You know you've fancied him since you were sixteen. Remember how torn up you were?"

"I was torn up about Dumbledore's death, Ron, before I knew what a manipulative bastard he really was," Harry responded hotly.

"But, Harry, you had lots of time to think when we were on the run," Hermione put in. "Didn't you spare any thoughts towards Snape?"

Harry huffed, taking the final swig of his drink before pushing himself to his feet. "And that's quite enough of that," he said bitterly. "The man obviously doesn't care, Hermione. I need to get over him, and fast," he informed her gruffly, before digging into his denims and throwing down some pound notes. "I'm heading out," he said, bitterly disappointed that he wasn't even buzzed, and left the bar, before finding an alleyway to Apparate in.

He landed with a thud in the barren landscape that was the Burrow in wintertime, his vision swimming with tears as he stomped past the orchard. Pushing it from his mind as best he could, he rapped at the door. It was just gone eight, and, he figured, Molly and Arthur would still be awake at that time of night. Once the door opened and Molly Weasley was standing there, she pulled him into her arms as he sniffled.

"Harry, it's all right," she told him gently. "Come in. Liam's still up."

Harry knew that any normal parent would likely be angered by their infant son still being awake at eight o'clock at night, but he could hardly blame Molly, by all intents and purposes his mother, for being unable to put his stubborn son to bed. He sighed and crossed the threshold, smiling and rubbing his jumper across his face to get rid of the tears as he spotted Arthur, Liam in his arms. "Hey, sweetheart," he cooed, and felt his happiness spiking as Liam turned his head at his father's voice, and reached for him. Harry gently took him out of a chuckling Arthur's arms, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Dada, Dada," Liam proclaimed, patting Harry's face.

"Do you mind if I take him home?" he asked.

"Of course not, Harry," Molly told him gently, picking up Liam's bag. "He's your son, after all. I completely understand."

Harry situated the bag onto his shoulder, cuddling Liam against him. "Thanks," he said. "I'll let you know when we're coming by again." With a final smile, he walked towards the Floo, called out for his cottage, and stepped through as the flames went green. The Wizarding Wireless came on again as he walked through the house, and he rolled his eyes as Snape and Lee Jordan began their nightly conversation, when Liam began to squirm and make soft cries, the very picture of a soiled nappy.

"Let's discuss Hogwarts tonight," Lee said. "How did you find yourself employed there?"

Harry raised his eyebrows, turning the knob of the wireless so that he could listen, and laid Liam down on the dining room table, Cushioning Charm in place, to see to his nappy.

"As I've previously mentioned before on your program, I found myself manipulated into the Death Eaters' circle during my later years at Hogwarts, as a student," Snape answered. "I only thrived in potions class, but Horace Slughorn never saw anything particularly special about me, much preferring those students from esteemed families whom he would add to his ever-growing collection of trophies. Even though my mother, Eileen Prince, was very good in the class, she herself was from a Pureblood family and, therefore, her pedigree more impressive."

Harry felt a burst of sympathy towards the man, given how infamous he'd found himself to be from the moment he ventured into the Wizarding World for the first time. He disposed of Liam's nappy and utilized a Cleaning Charm before he summoned the baby powder, wipes, and a clean nappy for his son, while all the while Liam kicked his legs in enjoyment.

"That must have been difficult, then, being sorted into Slytherin, notorious for its Pureblood leanings and supremacy," Lee put in.

Harry snorted. "That's certainly putting it lightly, isn't it, my love?" he asked Liam, who grinned up at him, as Harry tended to his bum.

"Initially, yes, given that many of the older students would simply turn up their nose at my surname, not even bothering to ask or attempt to look into my background to discover the identity of my magical parent," Snape responded. "However, I will never truly know if, had they done so in the early days, would they have been impressed with me merely for my magical lineage, or would they simply have taken note of it and thought of ways to serve themselves which, ultimately, happened."

Harry shuddered at the notion of people literally judging a book by its cover; although, he reasoned, while powdering Liam, it was easier to do so when you were young.

"Who recruited you into the Death Eaters?" Lee asked.

Recruitment certainly sounded as if anyone had a choice in the matter which, Harry believed, you truly didn't, once Voldemort had his red eyes locked upon you. Once he finished powdering Liam, he put on the new nappy and cleaned his hands again, before lifting up his son into his arms, gratified when he wrapped his arms around his neck.

"Lucius Malfoy, Evan Rosier, Augustus Rookwood, and the Lestrange brothers for the most part, although Lucius Malfoy was the most vocal of my supporters," Snape told him. "Of course, at the time, I was not the only wizard being courted for the new regime. Regulus Black was also being considered around the same time, as there were only a handful of months between us in age."

Harry had known that bit of information; he was also aware of Regulus going turncoat, much like Snape had done, although Regulus had died doing so, long before he'd been able to at least attempt to make amends with Sirius. "I suppose we'll never know how that possibly could have gone," he mused, putting Liam into fresh pajamas, and proceeded pacing around the kitchen, parlor, and hallway.

"So, you were being recruited for your potions skills and research," Lee said. "Would you wager a guess that Regulus Black was being recruited for his name alone, or did he have any particular academic leanings which Voldemort could take advantage of?"

"Regulus was very good at potions, as well as astronomy," Snape answered. "While Voldemort, like quite a bit of the Wizarding World, believed that Divination as a subject was a complete waste of time, he did, unknowingly to much of the Wizarding World, agree with the way the stars, planets, and constellations aligned."

This was a complete shock to Harry, wondering why Voldemort would rely on something that could potentially change at any given moment...

"So, you're recruited by Voldemort," Lee continued, obviously not wishing to touch on the whole astronomy thing and, quite frankly, Harry couldn't blame him, "and then you graduate from Hogwarts. What was your next step?"

"Through connections with Lucius Malfoy, I was able to secure an apprenticeship with Vedastus Viridian, grandson of Vindictus, and son of Vitezslav, who were all great potioneers in their own right. Vedastus was a hard taskmaster, but he was also fair, and was quite pleased to have someone like me there to teach, and I even taught him a thing or two as well, most notably the way to procure the juice from a Sopophorous bean," Snape said proudly.

"You aren't supposed to cut it, then?" Lee asked.

"Oh, Merlin no," Snape said quickly. "You're supposed to crush it. Cutting it will cause it to spring away from you, wasting valuable time, to the point where your brew could potentially become useless."

Harry smirked; this was something he was actually aware of. "Once you're a bit bigger, we'll begin reading child-appropriate Hogwarts texts," he told Liam. "Your aunt Hermione is already hard at work on some, in between her work with werewolves for the ministry. I'm sure she'll have something for us to read when the time comes."

"How long did your apprenticeship last?" Lee was asking.

"Until the summer after I turned twenty-one," Snape answered. "I barely managed to finish, given what had been going on the past several months, what with me overhearing the prophecy at The Hog's Head Inn, informing Voldemort about it, and then begging Dumbledore for help in getting the Potters moved somewhere safe."

"What was Dumbledore's condition to hiding the Potters?" Lee asked, his tone a serious one, and Harry tensed; he knew this information as well.

"That I would forsake Voldemort, acting as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix and the side of the Light," Snape said, without any hesitation. "As a cover, I was offered the position of potions professor, as well as Head of Slytherin House at Hogwarts, once it was made known that Horace Slughorn intended to retire. Voldemort ordered me to accept the position."

Harry heard a soft sigh within his arms; lowering his eyes, he saw that Liam had, inexplicably, fallen asleep to the sound of Severus Snape's voice. Shaking his head, he switched off the wireless and took Liam directly to the nursery, pressing a kiss to the baby's forehead and placing him into his crib. He turned on the Baby Monitoring Charm before heading into the master bedroom, Màiri following him quietly. As he changed for bed, he noticed Angelia looking at him, her brown eyes fixed, as if she was telling him something.

"I must be out of my mind," Harry muttered, trudging over to his desk. He wrote a quick letter to Snape, letting him know that Liam had, again, fallen asleep to his segment on the Wizarding Wireless, not expecting a reply. He hesitated for a moment, once he'd placed the letter into its envelope and sealed it shut, before he let out a sigh, and wrote a second letter.

Remus,

I feel really thick for not speaking for as long as we have.

Can we meet for tea sometime this week? You can bring Teddy, and I'll bring Liam.

Say Concordia's Cuppa Cottage in Leeds?

Let me know.

Harry

Harry attached both letters to Angelia's legs, and her wings fluttered with pure, unadulterated excitement as her master opened the window for her. "No rush," he told her softly. "Enjoy a bit of a hunt after you deliver them, all right?"

Harry awoke the following morning at six, pleased that his son had slept through the night, with the exception of a feeding at one and another soiled nappy at four. Harry gave Liam some breakfast on schedule; solid foods were the order of the day, given that he was only giving him one or two bottles of formula a night now. That morning was oatmeal with some blueberries, as well as a small omelet with spinach, mozzarella, and tomatoes, both of which he seemed to like very much, much to Harry's relief.

"Is that good, then?" Harry asked.

Liam grinned at him, gently smacking his hands against the tray of the highchair. "Yummy breakfast, Dada!" he proclaimed; he had begun stringing sentences together for the past two and a half months or so, which, according to Hermione, was on schedule for proper child development purposes, much to his relief.

Harry chuckled. "Glad to hear it, sweetheart," he responded, feeding him the last several bits before summoning Kreacher to clear it away. He'd already had a fruit smoothie and some toast, so he was plenty full up. "Come on, then," he continued, removing the tray and lifting Liam out of his seat. "Let's get you cleaned up, and then we'll talk about our day, all right?" Harry turned at the twittering sound he heard, and it was then that Angelia swooped elegantly into the kitchen, a letter clutched in her talons. "Oh," Harry said, slightly surprised. "Erm... Winky?" he called out, and the house-elf appeared. "Could you please clean up Liam? I've a letter..."

"Of course, Master Harry," Winky said, and Liam giggled as he was passed to her. "Oh, Young Master Liam, you've got blueberries all over your best bib," she scolded lightly, gently poking him in the nose, much to Liam's delight, as he was carried out of the kitchen.

Harry spelled his hands clean and crossed over to Angelia, taking the letter from her. "Kreacher, please make a slice of bacon for Angelia," he called as Angelia fluttered into the kitchen proper, and sighed as he saw it was not a letter from Snape, but from Remus. He was pleased to have his father's last remaining best mate writing to him, of course, given that the pair of them needed to talk and mend their relationship. He broke the Lupin seal, and rolled his shoulders, halfway expecting the worst.

Harry,

Tonks is away on a mission with the Aurors, so I'm alone at home with Teddy.

I would love to meet for tea in Leeds. Teddy hasn't been yet, and I know they have a child-friendly area there.

We can meet today, if you like.

I will Floo you later to find out your answer—I wouldn't want your poor owl to fly another three hundred miles, there and back, again so quickly. Or, if you're more comfortable, you may send over Kreacher or Winky to tell me.

Remus

Once Harry knew Kreacher was finished with the bacon preparation, as well as tidying up the kitchen and Liam's highchair, he asked him to please go to the Lupin home to inform Remus that he would meet both him and Teddy at Concordia's at two o'clock. In the meantime, Harry opted to take Liam to Aldershot Park, a local, well-known play area, to get some of his energy out before teatime. He brought along a picnic basket, expertly packed by Kreacher, with sandwiches for their lunch—steak for him and ham and cheese for Liam. They also had a packet of crisps each, fresh fruit, vegetable sticks, and plenty of bottles of water.

Liam especially loved the swings, laughing merrily with each push, begging Harry, "Higher, Dada, higher!" which lifted Harry's heart ever so slightly.

They returned to the cottage after lunch to clean up, and then Harry and Liam did some finger painting, much to the little boy's delight. The fingerpaints had been a Christmas gift from Hermione, who said that artistic activities in young children boosted creativity, imagination, and happiness, and Harry wasn't about to deny his son any of those things. He knew he would, one day, have to tell Liam how he'd been raised by Vernon and Petunia, but he sincerely hoped that he wouldn't have to do so for a long time.

Half an hour before his meeting with Remus, Harry and Liam cleaned up the table and paints, as well as themselves, before putting on appropriate teatime outfits. Harry was in a white button-down with a green jumper on top, as well as dark-wash jeans and his black Derby lace-ups. Liam was resplendent in his casual gray suit, with matching coat and trousers, as well as the most darling little gray chukka boots. Harry Apparated to the alleyway just around the corner from the tea shop, as it was Muggle, and ventured inside the elegantly-appointed, green Victorian building with large windows.

"Harry, over here!" Remus called from the small table by the window.

"Go on over," the lovely hostess said. "Becca? We've another one for you," she said, and one of the child minders stepped forward.

"Thanks, Alisha. Hello, I'm Becca," said Becca, shaking Harry's hand.

"Harry," Harry responded. "Nice to meet you."

Becca smiled at him. "Lovely to meet you, too. And this must be Liam," she said, her kind face melting slightly at the sight of Liam in Harry's arms. "Miss Erin was about to read The Very Hungry Caterpillar while I get some snacks organized. Would Liam like to join us?" she asked.

Liam immediately looked at Harry with wide green eyes; once Harry nodded at him, he turned back to Becca and nodded at her solemnly. "Yes, please, Miss Becca," he answered softly, and went willingly into her arms.

"Does Teddy have any food allergies?" Becca asked, positioning him expertly on her hip.

Harry shook his head. "No, he doesn't," he replied, "but he's not fond of turnips."

Becca grinned, turning to Teddy. "Neither am I. You're very lucky, because they had turnip pie yesterday for lunch!"

Liam made a face of disgust, as did Becca, before the pair giggled together.

Harry smiled, pleased that his son was already so polite, and watched as Becca ventured to the other side of the tea room; it was cordoned off a bit by a hip-high white picket fence, much higher to the children inside, which she walked through and set Liam down. He observed as Liam spotted Teddy through the crowd and hurried over to him, leading the boys to babble happily to one another. Feeling satisfied that Liam was being well looked-after, he watched as a lovely woman with blue eyes and long, dark hair came into the semi-circle that the children had already formed, and held up the book.

"Who knows the story of the very-hungry caterpillar?" she asked, and a few of the children showed their hands. "Well, that's good! But, remember, some of us don't know it yet, and we don't want to spoil the ending for them," she said with a smile, leading the rest of the children to laugh aloud at that.

Harry looked over at Becca, who was standing at the edge of the kitchen, and noticed that she was preparing some of the things the hungry caterpillar ate. He noticed a platter of fruits, including apples, strawberries, and oranges, and a dessert plate with fairy cakes and lollies. He was plenty satisfied with this, and finally ventured over towards the table to have a grown-up conversation with Remus.

"Sorry," he said awkwardly as he sat down.

Remus shook his head. "Think nothing of it, Harry," he responded; he looked a great deal better, now that he was taking the new and improved version of Wolfsbane from Snape. "I always get a little nervous whenever I take Teddy somewhere."

Harry smiled, relieved that Remus understood. "Thanks," he said.

"I ordered for us already," Remus said. "Just a traditional tea with scones, clotted cream, various sandwiches, and little cakes. I hope that's all right."

Harry nodded. "It is. I'm sure it'll be great."

Remus sipped at the glass of iced water provided, leading Harry to notice that he already had one, too. "I'm sorry we lost touch following the battle," he said quietly.

Harry shook his head. "Remus, that was my fault," he replied. "I deliberately avoided you, remember?"

Remus shrugged. "It can be looked at that way, if you like. I mean, I did send you a card, along with other methods of communication, after you gave us the cottage in Godric's Hollow. I can never thank you enough for that."

"I'm sure Mum and Dad would've wanted you to have it," Harry told him. "It meant a lot to me to be able to give it to you."

Remus smiled. "Well, we're very happy there," he assured him.

Harry waited to speak, once their tea and accompaniments arrived, and casually stirred in the offered milk and sugar into his own cup. "How are things going with the new potion?" he asked.

Remus sighed. "A hell of a lot better," he replied. "I mainly sleep during the night now. Because of the dove egg, there is a rare sense of peace within me, so not only is the transformation no longer painful, but I no longer feel the need to wander."

"Wish there was something appropriate for Liam," Harry muttered. "Not that he..." He shook his head, once he noticed that Remus looked horrified. "Sorry, bad analogy. I just mean that he's not really sleeping," he clarified, and Remus immediately looked calmer. "The only thing that gets him to sleep is bloody Snape on the wireless."

Remus chuckled, sipping at his own tea, flavored with lemon and honey. "I had thought that you and Severus would be on good terms, since you 'accidentally' left his memories to be found by Minerva in her office, who then showed them to Kingsley, thus clearing his name."

Harry shrugged. "Not so, apparently," he huffed.

"Well, when did you see him last?" Remus asked.

"At Neville and Luna's engagement party at the Burrow," he muttered.

Remus blinked. "Harry, that is nearly a year ago now..."

"You're telling me," he said, his tone bitter.

Remus leaned forward. "He told me he was going to speak to you that day," he said softly, as if he knew what a sensitive subject that was. "Severus said he'd been meaning to tell you something important, but that something happened, leading him to believe it wouldn't be considered appropriate..."

Harry's eyes locked on Remus's. "Did he tell you he snogged me?"

Remus clenched his teeth, though Harry immediately knew it was to keep himself from laughing aloud in the small space. "I had thought it would ultimately lead to that, yes," he admitted, "as he confessed to me while I watched over him in the early days after the battle that he found himself having feelings for you."

Harry very nearly dropped and shattered his bone china cup, which Remus managed to save with a well-placed, and well hidden, Arresto Momentum. "I'm sorry. What?" he demanded.

"It was all for you, Harry—shielding you, protecting you, willingly handing over his most precious and intimate, and, sometimes devastating, memories..." Remus shook his head. "He did not do it because he initially loved you, because you were a child; that came later. He considered Lily to be his sister and, although he loved her dearly, it was never romantic. However, after he was forced into killing Albus, when he saw how torn up you were about it, he believed there to be something more between you. Then, not only did you clear his name, but you called Fawkes to save his life before sacrificing your own, once he'd given you the truth."

Harry lowered his eyes; he didn't think Snape remembered that little detail, given his ignoring of his owls, and treatment of him in the godforsaken orchard. Only Ron and Hermione, to Harry's knowledge, knew about Harry's calling of Fawkes to save the greasy git of the dungeons. "But he won't talk to me, Remus," he whispered, and found that, once again, he was crying. "I just don't understand why he won't talk to me..."

"Perhaps he believes he will never have a chance with you," Remus said softly. "After all, you did agree to the Blood Adoption of Liam—"

Harry's head snapped up. "To make sure that the Flints didn't get their filthy hands on him, after everything they've done, both before, during, and after the war!" he very nearly shouted. "That's my son, my baby, and I love him!"

Remus held up his hands. "I know that, Harry," he responded gently, "and no one is doubting that in the least. However, others could see it as you providing for your childhood sweetheart by ensuring that her son, now a son you share, is provided for."

"I was never in love with Ginny," Harry said quickly, and winced; he didn't want to sound like a callus bastard, despite the fact that it was true. "I wasn't even in love with Cho. I guess... I guess it was always Snape," he said softly, recalling his words to Hermione, the day after Dumbledore had been killed, and he'd made his final decision not to return for his seventh-year, and, instead, devote himself to finding Horcruxes full time.

"Have you told him that, Harry?" Remus asked.

Harry opened his mouth, only to snap it shut. No, of course he hadn't; initially, he'd only written to Snape to thank him. Then, after the orchard, it was to demand to know why he'd snogged him, as well as questions about his mum. And, finally, in the aftermath of Liam falling asleep to his melodious voice, it had been entirely about that. Not in any of Harry's letters had he confessed his love, not only because he thought he didn't have a chance, or because he hadn't fully comprehended it up until now—no, it was because it was simply not something one puts in a letter, a love confession.

"Harry?" Remus asked.

Harry looked up, eyes wide. "Where does he live, Remus?" he breathed. "Severus. Where does he live?"

"Unthank, a village in Skelton, in Cumbria," Remus responded, and Harry coughed to hide a chuckle at the aptly named location for Severus Snape to live. "But, Harry, I don't know if you should—"

Harry threw down a twenty-pound note, and turned to grab Liam, only to see how much he was enjoying himself, only to return his gaze to Remus. "Could you please watch Liam for me?" he asked, his voice shaking.

Remus sighed. "Harry—"

"Look, Remus," Harry said, standing up straight, "I have something bloody important to tell to the most infuriating man in England. Now, you can either support me and watch my son for a couple of hours, or face the wrath of the wizard who took down Voldemort." This, he was relived to say, was said in a hissing whisper, so none of the other patrons, or the employees, of the little tea shop could hear him.

Remus held up his hands. "You're stubborn, just like your mother," he said with a smile. "Go on, then," he said, retrieving a napkin, as well as a Muggle pen, and wrote. "These are the Apparition coordinates for his house. And, Harry," he said, as he handed it over to him, "promise me you won't get into trouble."

Harry flashed Remus a cheeky grin. "I don't go looking for trouble, Remus. Trouble usually finds me," he told him, before hurrying out of there. He made his way back to the alley, before he gazed at the coordinates one last time, turned on the spot, and vanished.

Harry arrived with a thump in a massive garden, knowing entirely well how much Neville would love a place like that. He could just see himself settling happily in some place like this, perhaps with a swing for Liam, intimate garden parties, and two or three more children, brothers and sisters for Liam, all with raven hair, laughing... He turned slightly, the thoughts evaporating, and saw four ancient-looking stone steps, bracketed by equally antique small brick walls, and climbed up them, hurrying towards the front door, which he tapped on hurriedly.

"Severus Snape!" he shouted when he got no reply. "I know you're home—I can feel your magical signature practically clinging to this place. You've been ignoring my owls, which is inexcusable, especially considering you bloody snogged me without any explanation! Come out here this instant, or I'll Bombarda Maxima this door!"

The door was wrenched open, and Severus Snape stared down at Harry, an angry expression on his face. "What do you want, Potter?" he sneered.

"No," Harry said, planting his hand, palm down, on the man's chest, and nearly effortlessly pushed him inside the house, before kicking the door shut behind him, "you don't get to speak to me that way anymore."

The potions master cocked an eyebrow. "Oh? And who exactly are you to make demands? The Boy Who Lived? The bloody Chosen One?"

"I never liked those nicknames, or cared for my fame, and you know it," Harry countered. "And I'm hardly a boy any longer; I'm nineteen, Severus, a man now."

Severus crossed his arms. "I never gave you leave to use my first name."

"And I never gave you leave to snog me," Harry replied, smirking slightly when the man realized he'd been beaten.

"I didn't see you complaining about it at the time," Severus said, some of his fire gone.

"Well, it was the first time I'd been snogged by a man," Harry said, leveling his tone of voice to match Severus's, and the man looked stunned. "And the only things I'm objecting to here is that you obviously didn't tell me something very important that day, and that you left before we could continue."

Severus stammered, shaking his head. "Something important...?" His gaze darkened. "That bloody wolf! See if I give him any Wolfsbane after this! How could he—?!"

Harry crossed over to the man and placed his hands firmly on his shoulders, dragging him closer and, despite him being mid-rant, planted his lips on his. It wasn't an elegant kiss, more like payback, but it almost immediately made his toes curl, just like the first time. He pulled away after a few moments with a smile, and said softly, "Don't blame Remus. I pretty much forced it out of him, and I'm glad I did."

"Why?" the man demanded. "So that you can tell that Lovegood friend of yours at The Quibbler that the former greasy git of the dungeons fancies Harry bloody Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Hardly," he responded. "Besides, she and all my other friends, plus your godson and his fiancée, know already that I fancy you."

Severus's cheeks pinked ever so slightly. "You... You..."

"And, what's more, I think you do, too," Harry informed him.

"Fancy," Severus said, shaking his head. "I do not fancy you, Potter—"

"Harry," Harry interrupted, his tone firm, although his head dropped somewhere to his knees at the notion that his feelings may not be reciprocated.

"Harry. I do not fancy you, Harry," he said, practically spitting the word. "I am fucking in love with you, head over wand, I've fallen for you, my heart and soul is yours—"

"Good," Harry said firmly, dragging the man back towards his lips, relief pouring from every inch of him, "because the feeling is entirely mutual, Severus Snape. I love you, too."

Severus shook his head. "How in Merlin's name can you love me?" he whispered. "Not only did I treat you atrociously whilst you attended Hogwarts, but I kissed you without permission, and ignored your owls when you saw fit to call me on it."

Harry reached up, cupping Severus's cheek gently in his hand, his heart rate spiking as the man turned to press his lips into his palm. "That was the past, and I understand your reasons for doing so now," he answered quietly. "While I wished I had known, I was a child then, and I wouldn't have fully appreciated the reasoning behind it. As for kissing me," he continued, wiggling his brows up and down, much to Severus's apparent annoyance, "yes, it was initially without my permission. However, I soon realized that you were the very thing, the very person, that has been missing from my life. I couldn't stand it when you walked away from me that day; I wanted to shout at you, to demand to know why you'd done all of it in the first place. But, I couldn't; I saw that look in your eyes and, at the outset, believed you regretted it."

Severus sighed, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against Harry's. "The only thing I regret that day was not explaining myself to you," he responded. "I regret the circumstances that led to our first kiss, not the kiss itself. I am no coward, Harry; however, in that moment, I acted the very part of one. I couldn't stand the notion that, not only had I forced you into it, but I had ruined my chances completely of having you. I never thought I could have you, or that I'd survive the war, but, then, I did survive, by your hand. And then came the announcement that you and Ginny Weasley were to have a child together—"

"How Skeeter got her hands on the story, I'll never know," he said, speaking through gritted teeth as his mind flashed with the memory. "Didn't you read Luna's article in The Quibbler? I had thought she'd done a decent job of clearing things up..."

"I must confess, I've not read a paper in the Wizarding World for quite some time," Severus admitted softly. "The Daily Prophet for obvious reasons; like the Ministry of Magic, it needs a cleanup. As for The Quibbler, Lovegood's anecdotes about flights of fancy when it comes to imaginative magical creatures truly grates upon me, to the point where I cannot bring myself to read any of the articles at all." He sighed. "And then Skeeter had written that you had offered to marry Miss Weasley..."

Harry sighed; Merlin, he had some explaining to do. "I did offer to marry her," he answered softly, and Severus looked shocked. "Yes, Liam is mine and Ginny's son, but you don't seem to understand. I never slept with Ginny; I've never slept with anyone."

Severus shook his head. "Then how is Liam yours? Did... Did you give her some of your essence? Why would she wish to become pregnant so young, I wonder? I believed she'd gotten over her girlhood crush on you..."

Harry cupped Severus's cheeks in both hands. "Severus, you know that Flint was sentenced to life in Azkaban?" he asked; he was still bitter about the sentence, but the Flint family managed to afford a halfway decent barrister, who persuaded Marcus to plead guilty in exchange for a life sentence in Azkaban, as opposed to the Kiss.

Severus nodded. "I was aware of that, yes. I was asked if I would be willing to be a character witness, as his former Head of House. However, once I caught wind of the charges levied against him, I refused. But why would it...?" His eyes widened. "Dear Merlin, it was Miss Weasley that Flint attacked?" he demanded.

Harry nodded. "Yes, and you brewed the potion to make Liam mine," he said quietly. "I was unaware of the spell Flint used on Ginny, and I thought, once I immediately agreed to Blood Adopt Liam, that I would have to marry Ginny to make it legally binding. She explained that the particular law attached to it was rendered null and void, but I did keep her comfortable in her final days. She passed away not one hour after Liam's birth."

Severus sighed, rolling his shoulders. "I did find it odd that she showed up as a ghost at Hogwarts, but Minerva merely explained that it was an illness which healers couldn't cure." He pressed his head against Harry's, shaking his head. "I am such a fool."

Harry stood on his toes, and pressed a kiss to Severus's. "You're no fool, Severus Snape. Don't talk about the wizard I love like that."

Severus chuckled, opening his eyes and staring down at Harry again. "Harry, I am old enough to be your father. Our past...it was complicated at best. You know entirely well that you and I will likely get an abundance of Howlers if we even consider—"

"My friends know," Harry told him, "and I'm quite sure that Molly and Arthur are quite close to guessing it. Remus will support me, and so will Tonks, by extension. As for the rest," he shook his head with a smile, "it doesn't matter. None of it matters, Severus, unless you cannot accept my son, in which case, I'm afraid I will have to see myself out right now."

Severus's arms wrapped around Harry's waist, pulling on him so that the younger wizard was positioned lengthwise against him. "The very same son who feel asleep during my talks with Lee Jordan on the Wizarding Wireless?"

Harry laughed aloud at that. "When all else fails, play the wireless for your children who refuse to fall asleep," he said, grinning.

Severus heartily laughed as well. "I have often longed for a family—a man to love me, some children running about the yard, children to teach potions to..." He smoothed Harry's cheek with his callused thumb. "I would love nothing more than to assist you in raising your son, Harry. I know it will take little time for me to adore him as much as you do."

Harry beamed, before he jumped in the air to wrap his legs around the man's waist, bracing his palms upon his shoulders, and giggled when Severus grunted with surprise. "Then, I would say that a tour of your home is in order," he declared, leaning in and kissing the man again. "I am particularly interested in seeing the master bedroom."

Severus's eyes darkened with lust at the implication, before he promptly left the entryway of the house and marched towards the elaborate staircase just beyond. "I think you'll take a strong liking to my bedroom, Harry Potter, before the day is out," he proclaimed, and mounted the staircase without hesitation, ready and waiting to begin this new chapter of his life.

. . .

It was a wonderful summer day when Liam Simon Potter-Snape received his Hogwarts letter at his papa's home in Cumbria. He thought himself very fortunate to have not one but two fathers, although his dad did tell him about his mother whenever he liked. He had even met her ghost on a number of occasions, and although he would always have a special place in his heart for her, Harry Potter-Snape and Severus Snape were his true parents.

Liam promptly showed off the letter to his two closest friends, Victoire Weasley and Teddy Lupin, who were due to begin at Hogwarts as well. It was truly a beautiful day, to celebrate his father's thirtieth birthday, and everyone he cared about and loved was in attendance. Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, along with their children, five-year-old Rose and two-year-old Hugo, were there; Uncle Neville and Aunt Luna, their children eight-year-old twins Gondoline and Gulliver; Uncle Dean and Uncle Seamus, with their nine-year-old twins Isobel and Caitriona, as well as their son, three-year-old Maxwell; Uncle Draco and Aunt Astoria, with their nine-year-old son, Scorpius, and their seven-year-old daughter, Cordelia; Grandpapa Remus and Grandmama Tonks with their daughters, seven-year-old Hope and three-year-old Andi; Grandad Arthur and Nana Molly; Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur, and their two younger children, nine-year-old Dominique and seven-year-old Louis; Uncle Charlie; Uncle Percy, Aunt Audrey, and their two daughters, ten-year-old Molly, and eight-year-old Lucy; Uncle George and Aunt Angelina, and their two children, nine-year-old Fred and six-year-old Roxanne; and Minerva McGonagall, now retired as Headmistress of Hogwarts, as well as Hagrid and his new puppy, Pearl.

Harry watched from the orchard as his eldest son ran around with Teddy and Victoire, with his three younger children, eight-year-old Lilac, six-year-old Florian, and four-year-old Violet, all dashing around as well, to keep up with their brother and his friends. Apples and cherries dotted the trees he was particularly close to, and Harry peered through the branches, catching glimpses of Liam and Violet's green eyes, or Lilac and Florian's long, raven hair. He let out a gasp then as familiar, strong arms came around his waist and turned him around, and he gazed up at his husband of ten years with a grin.

"Hello, Severus," he said, beaming.

Severus leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I'm so sorry to be late," he said softly, as he caught sight of Neville and Luna, sitting with Ron and Hermione, at one of the many tables, placed just so underneath an umbrella. "I was just at St. Mungo's."

"With Neville's surprise?" Harry asked; it had been a tradition to combine his birthday with Neville's since they'd graduated from Hogwarts, something Harry loved, and he knew that Neville enjoyed it as well.

Severus nodded, chuckling as Harry pressed kissed after kiss to his fingers. "Longbottom had better be grateful," he growled, though there was no rancor in his tone.

"My poor, sweet husband," Harry said, "working your fingers to the bone like that... You ought to publish your findings, you know."

"Perhaps," he answered with a shrug, and gently turned Harry around so that he was facing the party again. He wrapped his arms around his waist again, leaning his head down onto Harry's shoulder, and whispered, "Watch," as the pop of Apparition sounded on the other side of the garden, prompting the guests to look over at the new arrival.

Frank and Alice Longbottom stepped closer to the party, hand in hand, in new summer robes, as healthy as they had been before Barty Crouch Jr. and the Lestrange family had tortured them. It was a moment of silence that followed, before Neville broke it.

"Mum? Dad?" Neville asked, his voice cracking, before he bolted towards them, upsetting the chair he'd been sitting in, before they opened their arms to him and held him.

"Oh, my sweet baby boy," Alice whispered.

"Son, you look wonderful," Frank told him.

Neville pulled back and looked at them, shaking his head. "Is this...? Merlin," he said, digging his hands into his hair. "Is this real? Are you real?"

"We're real," Alice assured him, looking around Neville as Luna calmly stepped closer, holding the hands of Gondoline and Gulliver, and beamed at them. "Is this your wife?" she whispered, looking very excited.

"Yes," Neville answered proudly, beckoning Luna over, "this is Luna, daughter of Xenophilius Lovegood. He—"

"Writes The Quibbler," Frank said excitedly, stepping forward and kissing Luna on the cheek with a smile. "How do you do, my dear?"

"Very nice to meet you, Frank," Luna said gently. "And these are our children, Gondoline Alice Pandora Longbottom, and Gulliver Frank Tilden Longbottom."

Alice's eyes filled with tears as she greeted her grandchildren for the first time, shaking their hands before both children ran up and hugged her.

Neville looked around the party, his eyes meeting Severus's and Harry's in the distance, and nodded to them both, before turning his head to listen to something Frank was saying.

"And what do you propose we do now?" Harry asked, grinning at Severus.

Severus gave a mocking, put-upon sigh. "I suppose we will eventually have to get back to our party hosting duties," he answered, nipping at Harry's neck, before soothing the various bites with his tongue.

Harry's legs trembled, and he felt himself hardening at his husband's ministrations. "And... And until then?" he managed to get out.

Severus chuckled, his breath hot upon Harry's skin. "We will attend to them," he allowed with a smirk, before he turned Harry around to face him again, and leaned down so that he could whisper into his ear, "after the orchard."

Harry trembled with delight, before he wrapped his arms around his husband's neck and kissed him deeply, reaffirming his love for him. He could hardly believe a happily ever after with the wizard he loved was even possible, given their previous animosity for one another. And, to think, that all of this had happened, because of Lee Jordan's reporting with Severus on the Wizarding Wireless.

THE END