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SIYE Time:15:06 on 28th March 2024
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A Proper Epilogue
By TomBombadil

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Category: Post-DH/AB
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Other, Ron Weasley
Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Fluff, Romance
Warnings: Death, Intimate Sexual Situations, Mild Language
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 188
Summary: Harry has just defeated Voldemort and everyone in the Wizarding World wants a piece of him, but there is only one witch with whom he wants to speak. How exactly can he hope that she still wants to see him?
Hitcount: Story Total: 74179; Chapter Total: 4056





Author's Notes:
After removing the stuff that made this story "restricted" and filling in the blanks, I took advantage of the site's maintenance and jammed two chapters together. That way, what was left wasn't too short! I hope it makes sense!!!




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“Parents?” gasped Harry, although he had not failed to understand what Ginny had said. He was simply trying to gauge her reaction before allowing his own to take root. 



“Yes, Harry. Parents,” she answered. 



“Are you sure?” he asked, although he knew she was. 



“Yes, love, the Sensory Charm was quite clear. We’re going to be parents.”



“Oh, Ginny, are you all right?”



“Yes, I’m fine. Not even a trace of morning sickness or anything else.”



“No, Sweetheart. I meant are you fine with this … with being pregnant?”



“Like I said in Professor McGonagall’s office, I’d really rather have waited a few years, but it isn’t a tragedy. We are getting married, you know.”



“I know, but I also know this wasn’t in your plans. We have options, you know.”



“Yes, I know, but this is our baby, Harry … yours and mine ... our son or daughter. There’s only one option as far as I’m concerned,” she continued before staring up to meet his eyes. A soft smile crossed her lips. “We’ll be fine.”



“Oh, Ginny, I’m so sorry, love,” he gasped, unable to grasp the magnitude of what was happening in their young lives. 


“It’s my doing, Harry. I’m the one who jumped you and shagged you senseless. Anyway, I’m not sorry at all — just surprised.”



“Oh, Ginny,” he repeated as the knot in his stomach began to ease. “Of course we’ll be fine. God knows we can afford as much help as we need along the way. Whatever you need, Ginny — we’ll get you whatever help you need to make this work.”



“We want a family regardless of the timing. Let’s just relax and enjoy the experience as best we can,” answered Ginny. 



“You’re amazing, Ginny. Truly amazing!” he replied as a wide smile began to spread across his face. 



“I wonder what Professor McGonagall is going to think about this?” asked Ginny, a sardonic smile flickering on her lips. “I bet it was going to be hard enough to have a married couple in school. Now we’ll be parents before the end of the school year. It has probably never happened before at Hogwarts!”



“I think Minerva will cope with it just fine,” answered Harry. “I know Dumbledore would have done.”



Ginny reached her arm around Harry’s neck and pulled herself up to meet his lips. As hard as it was to accept being pregnant at the age of sixteen, she couldn’t have asked for a better situation. She was with the man she had loved ever since she could conceive of such thoughts. The war had ended in a fashion better than they could have possibly hoped for, even with the loss of so many friends and her beloved brother. But the future looked brighter than Ginny could have dared to hope for when Harry, Ron, and Hermione had Disapparated from Bill and Fleur’s wedding. There were many worse things that could befall them than adding a child to the equation of their love.

Harry’s lips responded immediately to her kiss. He had been afraid to let his emotions run free, waiting to see how Ginny would react to the news of being pregnant. As much as he had looked forward to a few years of being a couple on their own, the thought of having his own family was causing Harry’s heart to soar. After almost eighteen years of being all but alone in the world, he was going to have a family of his own … and not only that, a family with the woman he loved more than life itself.

He looked into Ginny’s alluring brown eyes and allowed himself to relish the fact that his life had turned from an endless nightmare into a dream that seemed almost too good to be true. 

Sliding his arm down to her waist, Harry pulled her firmly against his chest. Her lips parted as they deepened their kiss.

“Harry?” she asked longingly, “Do you think it can always be this wonderful?”



“Yes, love,” he replied, “always. Always this good.”





Pansy sat up in Draco’s bed, the sheets pulled up tightly against her chest, and wondered what had happened to harden his heart over the last year. The pain in her own heart was palpable, as real as if he had struck her with the Cruciatus curse and had only momentarily relinquished his assault. Although no promises had ever been exchanged, Pansy had always assumed that she and Draco Malfoy were destined to be together. In fact, she had never even considered the fact that she might end up with another wizard. 



Pansy heard the shower running in the next room and allowed her mind to consider the possibility of going in to join Draco — to make him see the error of his ways, but her pride wouldn’t allow it. She had long though about how incredibly erotic it would be to share a shower with her one and only lover — how they could find new and exciting ways to love one another. Now she realized that he was doing nothing but washing her scent off his body. The thought was devastating, and she suddenly found that she could think of nothing but getting out of Malfoy Manor as quickly as possible. 



She literally jumped out of his bed and began wrestling herself into her clothes in rapid fashion, pausing only to wipe herself against Draco’s duvet, wishing that she could expel every drop of him from her body. At last, tears began to well in her eyes. She felt ashamed for the first time in her life and the feelings were overwhelming. As the tears began to cascade down her cheeks, she slipped on her blouse and skirt and reached for her robes. In only another moment or two, she would be free to walk out of Draco’s room and out of his life. Nothing had ever seemed as clear to her as the need to be away from this man in whom she had invested far too many of her emotions.

Pansy fumbled with the buttons on her robes, hoping to be gone before Draco got out of the shower, but suddenly she froze.

The doorknob turned, and a freshly showered, totally naked Draco Malfoy emerged from his bathroom. 



“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. 



“Away,” was all she could manage in response.



“Away?” he replied. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve got a lot to figure out.”



Despite her best efforts, Pansy’s heart soared momentarily. What could Draco mean about having things to figure out? Had she misunderstood everything that had just taken place? She thought for a moment before responding.

“Exactly what do we have to figure out?”



“I thought that would be obvious,” he continued. “We have to figure out how to keep Father’s plan from killing us.”



Pansy’s sense of logic knew without doubt that Draco was right. Lucius and Malcolm were setting them up in the worst way, leaving them behind to cause a diversion while Lucius escaped to safety. They needed to have their own plan of escape, but none of her powers of logic could stop her heart from dying within her chest. 



She thought about Ginny Weasley, who would soon be marrying the man she had always loved, while she could no longer avoid the obvious conclusion that she would be starting anew. 


“Well,” she thought, “unless someone stops Draco’s father, Ginny Weasley will be starting anew, as well.”
Strangely, the thought did nothing to ease Pansy Parkinson’s agony. 



*****




Harry sat at the desk in their bedroom, listening to Ginny’s soft breathing as she slept peacefully in their bed. He looked away from his stack of letters; bittersweet tears still streaming in rivulets down his face. The afternoon sun was fading, yet Ginny’s brilliant hair continued to glow radiantly upon their golden sheets. No matter how frequently he glanced in her direction, it shocked him every time to see that she was actually there. 



On his desktop sat his mother’s letters, which had been written for his birthdays, two through ten. On top of the dwindling pile to his left was the letter she had prepared for his eleventh birthday — his last before returning to the Wizarding World. He found himself oddly reluctant to open this letter. The first nine had been overwhelming; with each one describing a bit more about what it meant to have magical blood.

Each letter had been filled with loving advice, coaching Harry in ways to deal with being different — about being a wizard in a world full of Muggles. She had lived through the same process of discovery and knew what it would be like for Harry. She had offered hope that he might come to meet a few of his own kind along the way, as she had with Severus Snape. 

She also warned of the dangerous temptation of the Dark Arts and begged her son to avoid them at all costs. Her letters did not state explicitly that Snape had fallen victim to these temptations, but given the insights he had gleaned from Snape’s memories, Harry winced in sympathy for his mum and the terrible loss she had suffered when her first friend in the Wizarding World had been lost to the allure of evil. 



He reached for the next letter — the one that his mum had intended for him to read on his eleventh birthday — and began to read the next missive sent to him from beyond the grave, for Lily had long since stopped writing as if she hoped these letters would not be necessary. He swallowed deeply and wondered exactly how long his mum and dad had known that they had little, if any, chance of survival.



Our dearest son,

Happy birthday, Harry! Be especially gentle with your Aunt Petunia today, for this will undoubtedly be a painful time for my sister.

Today you turn eleven, a momentous day in the life of any wizard, for you will now reach the age at which you will be officially accepted by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! Unlike most Muggle-born witches and wizards, I already knew that I was a witch thanks to the knowledge Petunia and I had gained through our friend, Severus Snape. Although she had known the truth long before I turned eleven, this birthday will undoubtedly remind her of the watershed event that separated two formerly close siblings and set us upon paths that could not have been more widely divergent. I pray that she has managed at some point to find peace with the fact that she was born without magic.

Attending Hogwarts will be your first full step into the magical world, as it was for me. I beg you, son, to be very cautious as you begin to make friends and associates. I can only assure you that things will not always be as they seem, and you must be very careful of those with whom you associate. I entered my first year believing that my dear friend Severus would always prove kind and good. In contrast, I found myself completely repulsed by a cocksure man, who would go on to become my wonderful husband and your father, and his best friend, your godfather, Sirius Black.

Other than a general warning to choose your friends wisely, I can only add this piece of advice: Avoid anyone who claims that some wizarding families are better than others based upon purity of blood!

Hopefully, Lord Voldemort will have fallen long before now and issues related to purity of blood will be long behind you. However, such issues have caused problems for as long as magical blood has run through human veins, and it would be naïve to think such prejudice will die whenever he falls.

Do not take this to mean, however, that you cannot trust pureblood families. Your father and godfather are both purebloods and are two of the finest, bravest wizards I have ever met. As I have mentioned to you in previous letters, Lord Voldemort would welcome either with open arms. He would do the same for the Longbottoms, Frank and Alice, who have also fought with us against the powers of darkness. Assuming he survives, you will soon meet their son, Neville, who was born on July 30, 1980, only a few hours before you came into the world. You will doubtlessly become acquainted with the Weasley children, whose parents are also purebloods who have never been tempted by the evil plans of the Dark Lord.

Hate and fear have always fueled the powers of Darkness. Evil leaders use fear to turn otherwise good people into their followers. Lord Voldemort and his inner circle of Death Eaters have convinced many within the Wizarding World that our kind will die out if we marry and reproduce with Muggles or Wizards of less than “pure” blood. Once this idea has been introduced, it becomes easier to convince otherwise decent people that it is necessary for our survival to alienate or even kill those who are less than pureblood.

You, Harry, will be called a Half-Blood wizard because I am Muggle-born. The fact that your father comes from one of the oldest and most respected wizarding families will not be considered important by Death Eaters. Neither will they concern themselves with the fact that I was at the top of my class in Hogwarts and am considered by many to be a powerful witch.

Of course, discrimination is not limited to wizarding families. Ever since Petunia was denied admission to Hogwarts due to her lack of magical abilities, she appears to have lost all affection for me. Your father and I have discussed whether or not it would be best to have you placed under the care of your godfather, but Professor Dumbledore insists that should something happen to us, you will be better protected by growing up amidst Muggles. I trust Professor Dumbledore above all others, as should we all. He is the only wizard Lord Voldemort has ever feared, and your father and I trust him without exception. He is not only a talented and powerful wizard, but also a good man.

Enough with warnings and advice! It is your birthday, and a most important one at that. Hogwarts School is a marvelous place, full of exciting things to be learned and wonderful people who will become your friends for life — the place where I met and fell in love with your father — the place that will do more to inform your life than anywhere you have been before and are likely to go afterward. If only we could be taking you to Platform 9-3/4 to experience this great joy with you! How I pray it will prove unnecessary to be writing these letters, but your father and I know better. Still, hope lingers even in the midst of the darkest of times.

Give Petunia my love today, and if possible, find ways to show her how grateful we are to her for her opening her home and heart to you.

Enjoy this new and wonderful chapter of your life and know always that your mother and father love you beyond anything we could have imagined possible before you came into our lives.

With love always,

Mum and Dad




Harry folded his mother’s letter as carefully as he could, wanting desperately to keep it in perfect condition, and added it to the stack on the right side of his desk. His heart ached terribly, and he knew without doubt that he could continue no further this day.

His mind reached cautiously back into the past, remembering his first meeting with Draco Malfoy in Madam Malkin’s shop and how, despite his insecurities, the arrogant ramblings of a Death Eater in the making had left him both terrified and saddened by human nature’s capacity for heartlessness.

He flashed forward in time, only a few weeks later, to his meeting with Molly Weasley, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny. His mother’s words about the Weasley family echoed in his ears, foretelling the manner in which he would come to make his first lifelong friend and meet the girl who now shared both his bed and his life, fulfilling him in a way he could never have anticipated, becoming his equal in all things and his soul mate in ways he hadn’t known could exist. 



He remembered sitting with Ron Weasley, his first friend and the pureblood wizard who represented all that was good in the Wizarding world, yet who suffered for his perceived inability to compete with the glories of his brothers before him.

He thought further forward to the arrival of the pompous little girl who, despite her know-it-all attitude, was already seeking to help others in need, even if it was only a lost toad! Hermione Granger, who despite her compulsion to excel, was as loyal and pure of heart as anyone he could ever hope to meet — the sister he had always wanted but could never have had otherwise. 



As lonely as Harry had been in so many ways, he wondered how he could possibly have been more richly blessed. He swallowed deeply, wiped the tears from his eyes, and rose from the desk. With only a few steps, he crossed the space between the desk and the bed, raised the covers, and slid back into place next to Ginny. He slipped his arm over her and cupped her breast as he had the first time they slept together. He had intended to avoid disturbing her sleep but obviously failed to do so, for her fingers rose up to interlace with his as she snuggled her back firmly against his chest. 



“I love you, Harry,” she whispered before drifting back to sleep.



Molly Weasley sat at the Burrow’s kitchen table fidgeting noticeably. No matter how adamantly Ginny kept repeating the word ‘simple,’ the more it seemed to bother her mother. The guest list looked woefully short, and it wasn’t anything at all like Molly had always had in mind for her youngest child and only daughter. 



“But Ginny, you’re the only female Weasley for generations. In fact, it’s been so long since there has been a daughter in your father’s family, no one can remember when the last girl was born.”



“That’s not my fault, Mum,” replied Ginny, who was starting to bristle a bit at the unwanted pressure. “If it helps, think of me as just another female Prewett in a long line of female Prewetts, because I want a simple ceremony and so does Harry. Otherwise, we’re going to be overrun with reporters, governmental flunkies, and everyone else who wants to be associated with Harry.”



“I know, dear, but surely you want to have someone other than family in attendance,” pleaded Molly. 



“We do, Mum,” Ginny said with exasperation. “We have Neville, Luna, and Hermione.”



“Hermione’s as good as family, dear. I’m half surprised Ron hasn’t already asked her to marry him.”



“It took him years to admit that he fancied her, Mum. I expect Hermione’s going to have to ask him if she wants to be young enough to have children when they get married,” said Ginny with a touch of wry laughter. 



Ginny had no intention of telling her Mum that she was already pregnant. It might only serve to confuse her parents as to why she had accepted Harry’s proposal in the first place. That simply wouldn’t do, so she had made that fundamental decision even before telling Harry, who had readily accepted her plan to keep this information in trust between them only. 



“But don’t you want a few more friends?” asked Molly. 



“Neville and Luna were at the Ministry with us and helped me with the DA last year. They’re special friends. Beyond that, we’d have to open the doors for everyone, and that’s exactly what we want to avoid. Anyway, once Charlie, Percy, and George bring dates, and Bill and Fleur bring all of her family, we’ll have a garden full of people.”



“But what about Hogwarts professors, dear?” continued Molly. 



“We’ve invited the Headmistress, Hagrid, Professors Flitwick and Sprout, and Madam Pomfrey. Who else would you want us to invite, Mum?”



“Oh, all right, Ginny. I give up! But why do we have to cater all the food?”



“Because you’re not going to work like a slave, Mum, and Kreacher and his children are also coming as our guests. Anyway, Madam Rosemerta’s food is wonderful,” said Ginny emphatically. 



“But it’s so expensive,” Molly replied, a tinge of concern lacing her words. 



“Harry can afford it. Can’t we just let go of all these details?”



“But, Ginny dear, how can he afford all this?”



“Mum, please let it go,” she began, placing a hand on her mother’s arm. ‘There’s no need to go into details. Just try to understand that this won’t be a hardship for Harry, and it’s something he wants to do. Like he says, it’s a stupid custom that says a bride’s family has to pay for everything, and we’re not doing anything nearly as elaborate as what you did for Bill and Fleur.”



“But …” began Molly before she was forcefully cut off. 



“Let it go, Mum!” Ginny exclaimed, finally allowing some of her frustration to come through. “Just let it go!”



“But about the dress, Ginny …” Molly said, trying to resurrect the discussion about Ginny’s wedding attire for the hundredth time that morning. 


“Dress robes, Mum … dress robes,” Ginny answered once again. “Harry and I have already gone to Madam Malkin’s and been fitted for our robes. Ron and Hermione can have theirs done as soon as they get back from Australia.”



“When will that be?” Molly inquired. 



“As soon as they’ve found Hermione’s parents and restored their memories,” said Ginny. 


“But what if they don’t make it back in time? You won’t have any attendants.”



“Then we won’t have any attendants. It’s not required for a valid marriage. Anyway, they promised they’d be back in time,” muttered Ginny. She hoped it was a promise Ron and Hermione could fulfill. It would be terrible to get married without their closest friends in attendance. 



Molly was about to ask again when two soft pops came from beyond the open kitchen window. She knew her daughter was becoming irritated with her requests, but realized that Ginny would come to understand things better when her own daughter was preparing to walk down the aisle. Molly smiled nostalgically, remembering that she had asked much the same thing of her mother when she and Arthur had married. 



“Hermione!” exclaimed Ginny as she saw her friend entering the Burrow’s kitchen. “You’re back already!”



“Yes!” answered Hermione excitedly. “We found my parents right away, and the reversal spell worked perfectly. Ron and I gave them a summary of what’s happened since they left, and they wanted to come back home immediately.”



“I’m so glad for you, Hermione!” Ginny offered with a smile “Where is Ron, by the way?”



“I left him with Harry and Kreacher out in the garden. They seemed to be excited about something.”



“Harry’s thinking we ought to go to Chateau Peverell and, if it’s not in too bad a condition, see if we might use it for our honeymoon.”



“How long has it been since anyone’s lived there?” Hermione continued inquisitively. 



“Forever, as far as Harry has been able to find out, but it’s supposed to be absolutely beautiful,” Ginny added, unable to keep a trace of excitement out of her voice. 



“And you own it?” asked Hermione, her excited voice carrying farther than she had intended. 



“What?” sputtered a surprised Molly. 



“Yes, Hermione, where did you hear that?” added an equally shocked Ginny. She and Harry had agreed to keep such information a secret amongst the two of them, only. 



“I didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret,” answered Hermione. “I simply heard Kreacher asking ‘Master Harry’ about instructions for fixing up your new house. It was really obvious with that bull frog's voice of his.”



“I’ll have to speak with Kreacher about keeping such things quieter in the future,” muttered Ginny.

They hadn’t thought about the risk of including their primary house elf in their secret, since he and his children would be responsible for caring for their residences. 



“Such things?” asked Molly. 



“Harry has inherited a little real estate, Mum, that’s all,” answered Ginny.



“A little real estate called Chateau Peverell? ” continued Molly suspiciously, as her thoughts about Harry’s inheritance began to come together. 



“Yes, and we know nothing about it. That’s why we’re going to pop over there tomorrow afternoon and see what kind of condition it’s in. I did a little research on Lac Annecy, and it looks absolutely beautiful. It would be a brilliant place for a honeymoon if it’s not too shabby.”


“So you’re taking Kreacher and all three of his children?” asked Hermione. 



“All three of his children?” Molly asked incredulously. “Harry owns four house elves?”



“No, we employ four house elves. We presented them with clothes and offered them contracts to work for us as free elves, and they all accepted.”



“I hope you know what you’re doing, Ginny.”



“We do, Mum. Just let go and trust Harry. I do.”



*****

 ;

The next afternoon, the weather was perfect and the sun glimmered brilliantly as it reflected off the cold, clear water of Lac Annecy. Harry and Ginny had arrived at the Official Apparition Point in the wizarding quarter of Dijon, where they presented their official travel documents to the dumbstruck employees of the French Ministry. Although it had been only a few days since Lord Voldemort had fallen, Harry’s fame preceded him even into Burgundy.

From there, the young couple had taken a Portkey to the village of Annecy, which was perched quaintly upon the northern shore of the glacially carved lake. The French Alps towered majestically to the east, while the western shore was flanked by rugged, densely forested hills. The surroundings reminded them of Hogwarts and the Black Lake, although the scale was much grander. 



A quick review of the legal documents Harry had obtained from Gringotts went quite satisfactorily, and a pair of goblins escorted them to their property, which was nestled on the eastern shore near a famous Muggle resort. Although Harry and Ginny had the written directions to their unplottable chateau, they doubted if they could ever have found the property without assistance.

A tiny lane ran downhill from the main road that paralleled the eastern shore of the lake, quickly falling into the woodlands that obscured the small castle from view. The ancient building was constructed primarily of grey limestone, although the trim had been made of deep red bricks held tightly in place by grey mortar. The leaded glass windows towered four stories above them and reflected the glittering sunset from the water’s surface. 



Ginny opened the sheet of incantations the goblins had provided and held them in plain view so Harry could recite the phrases necessary to open the locks. 



“We’ll add you to the blood wards the moment we’re married,” said Harry as the front door sprang open and they walked into the foyer. 



“Oh, Harry, I feel so tiny,” whispered Ginny as she took his hand in her own. “It’s magnificent.”



“Yes, sweetheart, it is,” he answered, “but so are you.”



“Oh, Harry, thank you for the compliment, but that’s ridiculous!” she chided him. 



“Why don’t you shut up and let me be the judge of that, Ginevra?” Harry responded firmly. “It’s my opinion that matters, anyway.”



“It’s just that you act like I’m the most beautiful and talented witch in all of Britain,” she said sardonically.



“And France,” Harry added quickly. “You forgot about France, love.”



“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry!”



“I’m not being ridiculous!” he protested insistently as he closed the distance between them, slipped his fingers into her gorgeous red hair, and placed a passionate kiss on her lips. The familiar feelings of fire and spice spread instantly through his body as she melted into him. So they remained locked together while passion flared intensely between them.

At last Ginny reluctantly broke their embrace and stared into his emerald eyes. 



“Unless you want to have me on this flagstone floor, I think it’s time we summoned Kreacher,” she said huskily. 



“Kreacher!” Harry called, barely raising his voice to a normal speaking voice. 



Four sharp cracks rang out in the foyer as Kreacher, his sons and his daughter appeared out of thin air. 



“Amazing!” said Harry respectfully. “We wizards have to go through all this regulatory nonsense, but you can simply Apparate.”



“Wizards is never respecting Elvish magic,” answered Kreacher proudly. 



Harry swallowed hard and thought how that simple truth had saved his life and the lives of his closest friends, though Dobby had perished in the process.



“Ginny, may I introduce you to Kreacher’s daughter, Melpomene, and his sons, Winston and Randolph.”



“Pleased to meet each of you,” said Ginny politely. 



“Mistress Ginny,” replied each of Kreacher’s children in unison. 



“There is no need to call us mistress and master,” said Ginny as a kind smile spread across her face, matching the sparkle in her eyes. 



“Kreacher and his children would be preferring the old ways, Mistress Ginny,” answered Kreacher. “Now, what would Master Harry have us do?”



“Would you please prepare the house for us to stay overnight, Kreacher?” requested Harry. “It seems so nice here, and I think we’d like to stay.”



“Indeed,” replied Kreacher. “Winston and Randolph will start by serving dinner on the terrace while Kreacher and Melpomene will begin with the living quarters.”



Winston and Randolph bowed deeply and made sweeping gestures with their hands, directing Harry and Ginny forward into a great room with massive fireplaces on either end and a long wall of leaded glass windows that looked over a well-kept terrace, immediately below which sparkled the pristine waters of Lac Annecy. Ginny’s breath caught in her throat as she gazed out over the beautiful sunset that was forming above the rugged hills that flanked the western shore of the lake. 



Harry’s attention was riveted on the beautifully set table on the terrace, featuring white tapers burning brightly in crystal candlesticks, matching claret glasses, and fine china. Harry had spent hours with Kreacher earlier in the afternoon while Ginny had been making wedding plans with her mother. He prayed nervously that she would be pleased with his efforts. 



He need not have worried, as Ginny held tightly to him when they approached the outdoor dining table. The weather had complied perfectly with his wishes, the temperature remaining balmy yet retaining the crispness so typical of the French Alps in late spring. 



“Oh, Harry, it’s perfect,” she whispered. 



“Like you,” he answered, following his heart but immediately wishing he had tempered his response when she grimaced and rolled her eyes.



“I’m nothing even vaguely approaching perfect, Harry,” she said firmly. “I really wish you wouldn’t put that kind of burden on me.”



“You’re perfect for me, love,” he answered, a hint of irritation lacing his reply. “I really wish you’d accept that, Ginny. I know you’re not an objective ideal. I only mean that you’re exactly who I want, and I wouldn’t change anything about you.”



Her features softened slightly, yet she still shook her head. 



“Tell me that again in seven years, Potter, when all you blokes start into the seven-year itch.”



“I like a challenge, Weasley,” said Harry as he pulled out her chair and helped her take the seat that looked out directly upon the glittering lake. “You know I’ll never lose, don’t you?”



“Hmmpf!” she said indignantly, although a jolt of electricity was running down her spine where he had allowed his hand to stroke lightly against the thin fabric of her blouse. 



“It really is beautiful here, Harry,” she sighed as her gaze stretched out across the water. 



Taking advantage of her distraction, Harry slipped a small jewelry box onto her plate. It was wrapped in gold paper with crimson and silver ribbon. He quickly slid into the seat to her left, his gaze vacillating between her profile and the present that still lay unnoticed upon her serving plate. 


“Harry, are those swans?” she asked excitedly as a small flock of long-necked birds descended to the surface of the water. 



“I think so,” he mumbled as his fingers began tapping impatiently upon the tablecloth. 



“They are so beautiful,” she murmured as she turned to gaze into his eyes, never once looking down at the present he so desperately wanted her to discover. 



She reached for him with her right hand and as she moved it from the surface of the table toward his face, she accidentally bumped her fingers against the box that sat otherwise unnoticed upon her plate. 



“Harry!” she gasped, finally taking notice of the carefully wrapped package that lay before her. It took only a moment for her to break through the wrapping paper and extract the jewelry box from its cardboard container. In the blink of an eye, she pried it open and sat staring incredulously at the ruby and diamond earrings that had last been owned by his mother. 



“I love you, Harry,” was all she could say before her lips rose to meet his. 



“I was going to give them to you at the wedding, but I couldn’t wait.” 



“They’re gorgeous, Harry, but honestly …” she began before hesitating, haunted by second thoughts about what she wanted to say. 



“But what?” asked Harry as a crestfallen look washed over his face. 



“Nothing,” she whispered, wishing desperately that she had been able to keep her concerns to herself.



“It’s not nothing,” he answered as he searched her eyes for clues about what he had done wrong. 



“It’s just that I’ve never had anything like this,” she replied, trying hard to find the right words to describe what she was feeling. “I’ve never had money or jewelry or a fancy house — not that you could even call this a house. And we haven’t even seen your estate in Cornwall. It’s all a little overwhelming.”



“I know,” Harry said softly, no longer able to look into her eyes. 

“At least I was smart enough not to give her Mum’s other ring,” he thought silently while his appetite disappeared. “How could I have been so fucking stupid?”


“I’ve not only never had these kind of things, Harry, I’ve never even missed having them.”



Harry fidgeted with the edge of the fine cotton tablecloth and looked at the elaborate collection of china and crystal. He knew that Ginny was right. It was all a bit overwhelming; exceeding even the level of formality at a major Hogwarts feast. 



“Look, Ginny,” he whispered, “it’s not about the things. I’ve never had them either. It’s all a little new to me, too. I guess I went a little overboard with the dinner, but I wanted tonight to be perfect for you. And I want you to have the jewelry because it was my mum’s … because it’s perfect for you … because I want you to know how much I love you … because I want to honor you with all that I am and all that I have.”



“Oh, Harry,” Ginny gasped as she reached out to raise his chin so she could again look into his eyes.

“Your mother’s jewelry is so beautiful, and it means the world that you want me to have it. I love it, as a matter of fact. What I’m trying so poorly to say is that all I really want or need is you.”



*****
̷ 2;

Following one of Molly Weasley’s exceptional dinners, Mark and Elizabeth Granger sat in the comfort of the Burrow, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the world into which their daughter had adapted so beautifully. The magical dwelling couldn’t have been more different than their neatly organized home in Oxfordshire. Still, the warmth and love that exuded from the Weasleys had almost instantly put them at ease. 



“Wendell and Monica Wilkins!” said Arthur with laughter lacing his words. “However did you choose such names for your parents, Hermione?”



“I don’t really know, Mr. Weasley,” she answered timidly. “I guess I chose a last name starting with the letter ‘W’ then let the rest sort of come out of the blue.”



“The letter ‘W’?” asked Ron, a sly grin slipping across his face. “Why the letter ‘W’?”



Hermione blushed brightly and turned her eyes downward to gaze at the tea service that sat upon the Weasleys’ living room table. “No particular reason, Ron,” she answered softly, “other than the fact that I was thinking about you at the time.”



“Blimey!” he replied, slipping his large, masculine hand around hers, lacing his fingers through her much smaller, softer ones. 


“Hermione’s spell work must have been pretty good,” said her father, “because I never once thought it strange that my name was Wendell Wilkins, although I always felt a bit odd calling my wife ‘Monica.’ Very strange, that!”



“And I never got comfortable with the idea of being retired,” added Elizabeth. “It seemed like we ought to be doing something other than watching the telly.”



“Always wondered how that worked!” added Mr. Weasley excitedly. “How exactly have Muggles figured such things out? Brilliant, I tell you! Brilliant!”



“I’ve often wondered the same thing,” said Mark Granger understandingly. “It’s a bit different field of science than either Elizabeth or I studied at university … waves and such.”



It was only nine o’clock in the evening, but Elizabeth Granger was losing the battle against the need to yawn when all eyes in the room turned to her. 



“Excuse me,” she said politely, yet blushing profusely. “The company is wonderful, and your meal was delicious, Molly. However, I’m afraid the jetlag has hit us rather hard.”



“Jetlag?” asked Arthur curiously. 



“It happens when the body becomes dehydrated for so many hours when you travel by air — especially when you move across several time zones.”



“Fascinating!” said Arthur once again. “Well, Molly and I will be happy to escort you back home. I’m sure Ron and Hermione are both too jetlagged to risk Side-Along Apparition tonight.”



“Are you quite certain that it’s safe with Muggles?” asked Mrs. Granger, even though they had arrived at the Burrow by the same method of travel. 



“Absolutely, dear,” answered Molly with a kind smile. “Just hold on tight when we tell you we’re ready, and don’t let go. Everything will be fine.”



“Aren’t you coming along, Hermione?” her mother asked when the young witch made no move to join them. 



“Maybe later,” answered Hermione. “I’d like a little more time with Ron, if you don’t mind.”



“More time, dear?” replied her mum. “You’ve been together for days!”



“Not alone, Mum,” she nearly whispered, surprising everyone in the room with her frankness. 



“Oh, my!” gasped Elizabeth, “I’m sorry dear. I guess I wasn’t thinking.”



“It’s okay.”



“Yes, by all means, we’ll just let Arthur and Molly zip us back home and let you two have some quality time together. Will you be home late?” asked Elizabeth. 



“Not until tomorrow, Mum,” answered Hermione with finality. 



Arthur Weasley smiled knowingly in the direction of Ron and Hermione as he took Elizabeth by the arm and followed Molly and Mark toward the door. Just before he stepped outside, where it would be safe to Apparate, Arthur looked back over his shoulder at Ron and Hermione. 



“I think Molly and I will stop by the Leaky Cauldron on the way home for a nightcap,” he said with a light note to his voice. Turning back to speak to the Grangers, Arthur continued, “Now remember to hold our arms very tightly. You’ll get used to the feeling after a few trips!” 



*****

Pansy Parkinson tossed uncomfortably in bed. It was far too early to retire, as the sun had set no more than thirty minutes earlier, but she dared not return to the main portion of her home. Only by feigning a splitting headache and case of nausea had she been able to convince her father that she need not accompany him to Malfoy Manor. He had departed reluctantly, reminding Pansy that they still had much planning to do if they were going to successfully complete their plot to assassinate Harry Potter and gain control of the Elder Wand for Lucius Malfoy and the remaining Death Eaters. 



Pansy had wanted to ask her father exactly why it was so bloody important for a Malfoy, rather than a Parkinson, to lead the pureblood revival but her heart wasn’t truly in it. She had suffered severe misgivings when Lucius first shared his plan with them, but her inherent dislike for Harry Potter combined with the embarrassment of how easily Ginny Weasley and a house elf had disarmed both her and Draco had led her back into the fold.

On the c0ntrary, the disregard shown for her personal safety by Lucius had been compounded by the disrespect that Draco had shown for her as a human being. It was enough to make anyone think twice. 



She also wondered why she wasn’t enjoying the thought of Ginny Weasley being widowed on her wedding day. She was everything Pansy resented in the world, for the Weasley girl gathered friends effortlessly, excelled in her class work, and flew better than any witch she had ever seen. 


“Bugger,” thought Pansy, “she flies better than any wizard I’ve ever seen, except maybe Viktor Krum, himself!”

Pansy slammed her fist down upon her pillow and cursed beneath her breath, unaware of what was making her hold her emotions inside. The Weasley girl had everything Pansy wanted, including the love of a man she had always loved — even worse, Ginny’s choice was the most famous wizard in all of Britain and potentially the most powerful. It was enough to make her go round the twist with jealousy.

“Why then aren’t I happier about what we’re planning to do?” she wondered.

“It’s only because Lucius is setting Draco and me up to take the fall. Isn’t it?”



*****
&# 8232;

Hermione fidgeted nervously as her parents left the Burrow with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. She hadn’t meant to give them such a direct indication of the point to which her relationship with Ron had progressed, but she had expected a bit more discretion from her mum as well. Still, Hermione had to admit that she had previously told her parents nothing of her romantic interest in Ron. In fact, she had gone to great lengths over the years to speak of Ron and Harry as if they shared equally in her affections. Somehow she had expected her parents to pick up on the fact that Ron had accompanied her to retrieve them from Australia while Harry was preparing for his wedding and draw the proper conclusions.
“Well,” she reflected, “it hadn’t been particularly subtle, but it should be clear now exactly how I feel about Ron Weasley!”



As the door latch clicked shut, Ron looked up sheepishly at his girlfriend, trying hard to keep a grin from spreading across his face. He was fairly certain Hermione wouldn’t see the humor in the situation, yet he couldn’t keep the twinkle from his eye as his gaze finally caught hers. Whatever he had been expected, her actual reaction wasn’t it!



Hermione smiled broadly and let out a burst of laughter before covering her mouth with her hand. 



“Guess I haven’t gained any subtlety since Borgin & Burke’s,” she said, gasping to catch her breath between waves of laughter. 


“Well, your mum and dad aren’t likely to be sending Death Eaters after us, so no worries,” answered Ron. “And they seemed to take the hint quickly enough.”



“Yours, too,” giggled Hermione as she reached out to take Ron by the hand. “I take it they’re going to give us some time on our own.”



“It’s not like they’ve ever tried to keep us apart,” said Ron. 



“No, but they’ve never left us with the house to ourselves,” Hermione replied as she pulled Ron up from his seat. “Where shall we begin?”



“B … begin?” stammered Ron in response. 



“I don’t know about you, but I’d like a change from making love with the Chudley Cannons flying around the room.”



“But … but … but Mum and Dad. They can’t be gone long enough to …”



“Long enough for what, Ron?” she asked.

Without another word, Ron’s fingers laced into her hair and he lowered his lips to meet hers softly. In only a moment, his tongue parted her lips and met with hers, where they began dueling ferociously, one with the other. Fire surged through him instantly, rising within him until he couldn’t suppress the moan that passed from his lips into hers. 



Unwanted clothes were cast unceremoniously aside as Ron’s hands found their way over Hermione’s body, claiming her after the longest three days of his life. It had seemed reasonable that they should refrain from sex during the time it took to make their way back from Sydney to London and that Hermione should stay at her parents’ home on their first night back in Oxfordshire, but Ron had never thought three days could seem so interminable.

As irrational as it seemed, Ron had ached for Hermione in a way he couldn’t have believed possible, and as their lips merged and their clothes flew in all directions, the ache that had filled his soul for three days turned into a raging fire.



“I’ve missed you, Hermione,” he breathed into her ear. 



“It’s seemed like forever, hasn’t it?” she breathed back. 



Ron’s hand slipped gently down over her bum before reaching back up her inner thigh. His eyes popped open to find her gazing at him humorously.



“I told you it’s seemed like forever,” she said softly before wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him down to the settee on top of her.

Her hips rose up to meet his, her hand reaching down to guide him into her in one smooth motion. Ron felt overwhelmed, as if he was home after a long journey. He melted into her and lost control completely, shuddering against her with an intensity that shook him to the core.



“Hermione,” he gasped, “I love you.”



“And I love you, Ron.

Hermione jumped up quickly and began gathering their clothes while Ron remained kneeling, dumbstruck that she had moved so quickly away from him. At last, he felt her hand on his shoulder. 



“Come on, Ron,” she whispered into his ear. “How long do you think it takes to have a nightcap at the Leaky Cauldron?”



“Not long,” he answered as two soft pops greeted his ears from the garden. 



Hermione took his hand in hers and pulled Ron quickly to his feet and up the stairs. 



“Upstairs!” she exclaimed. “It’s time to go back to the Cannons!”



*****
& #8232;

Arthur and Molly took their time puttering about in the garden, rearranging some of the chairs and tables and talking happily and in full voice about the lovely evening they had shared with the Grangers. 



“Oh,” Arthur said as if it were an afterthought, “I filed our consent forms at the Ministry today. Ginny is now free to marry, or do whatever else she chooses. Our youngest is now officially of age.”



“It was going to happen in a couple of months, anyway, Arthur,” she answered. “Nevertheless, it makes me a little sad. I really couldn’t be happier for her … and for Harry.”



“Me, too,” answered Arthur quietly. “Me, too.”



After a few moments, Molly noticed light shining briefly from Ron’s fifth floor bedroom before being extinguished. 



“I think it’s okay to go in now, Arthur,” she said softly, while taking her husband by the hand. 



“Right,” answered Arthur as a smile creased his lips. 



Molly pulled her husband into the house and toward the stairwell in much the same fashion Hermione had only minutes earlier led Ron up to his room. Molly wasn’t entirely sure if it was due to the excitement of Ginny’s upcoming wedding, or the obvious love that flowed between Ron and Hermione, but for the first time since Fred had been killed, she craved the comfort of making love with her husband. 



As they entered their bedroom, Molly and Arthur were greeted by the sounds of Ron’s bed creaking softly above them. 

“Ah, to be eighteen again,” said Arthur with a quiet sigh. 



“I don’t know, love,” answered Molly. “I actually think things have gotten better over time, don’t you?”



“Hmmm, glad you think so,” whispered Arthur as he took his wife in his arms and began to press kisses gently against her face. 



“I do,” she said, shivering slightly when Arthur’s lips met her ear. 



With a flip of her wand, Molly doused the candles that had illuminated their bedroom, shrugged out of her robes, and fell into bed with her husband hundreds, if not thousands, of times before. 



*****




So far, the night at Chateau Peverell had turned out differently than Harry had planned, but had been lovely nonetheless. The property had proven to be in much better condition than he and Kreacher had anticipated. Whether or not Harry’s parents had ever visited their French estate he would probably never know; however, it had become obvious that the name ‘Potter’ was not new to the French wizarding authorities. No fuss had been made when Harry James Potter arrived with supporting documents from Gringotts. 

The magical protections that had been placed upon the property when it had last been visited had kept even the dust and cobwebs at bay. All Kreacher and his children had needed to do was organize the furnishings, make the beds, light the fires, and prepare their meals for the evening.

Harry found himself wondering at times how it had come to pass that Chateau Peverell had been magically protected, as if kept lovingly over time for its owners, while number twelve Grimmauld Place had fallen so deeply into disrepair. Then it hit him that while Chateau Peverell had been cherished and lovingly protected for future generations, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black had fallen into decay as the family, itself, had fallen apart. Mrs. Black had survived the disappointment of Sirius and the loss of Regulus and lingered only a few years before dying a bitter and broken woman. The continuing ministrations of a depressed and alienated house elf had no chance of maintaining the once darkly magnificent home. 



At Chateau Peverell, Kreacher and his children had been anything but depressed as they seized happily upon the chance to serve ‘Master Harry’ and ‘Mistress Ginny’ in their magnificent new estate. As a result, the hallways had soon been lit with magical candles, draperies had been flung open to catch the crispness of the evening air, and fireplaces had been lit the moment that the crispness had taken on the chill edge of night that was ever-present in the Alps. 



Dinner had been marvelous, as Winston and Randolph had gone to great lengths to prepare even Harry’s favorite treacle tart for dessert. When he asked how Kreacher had known, Ginny merely smiled like the proverbial Cheshire cat and allowed the conversation to move on to other things. As they sat on the terrace, enjoying the food and the passage from sunset into night, Harry had finally focused upon the only thing he needed to feel complete — Ginny. 



The house elves had done everything in their power to remain unobtrusive through the course of dinner, sweeping in with each change of dish … with each empty glass. As the chill descended from the peaks towering behind them on the eastern shore of the lake, Ginny moved closer to her fiancé, sharing his warmth and obviously enjoying his embrace. The setting was so perfect that he hardly dared move, fearing on some level that any change might burst the magic bubble in which he and Ginny now resided. Only when Kreacher arrived to ask if ‘Master Harry’ would require anything else before retiring did he allow himself to think of what would happen next. 



The master suite of Chateau Peverell dwarfed that of Grimmauld Place both in size and beauty. Located on an upper floor at the eastern end of the castle, the room looked out over Lac Annecy. The moonlight that twinkled upon the surface of the water was intoxicating. The coolness that wafted in through the open windows was refreshing. The fire that blazed in the fireplaces at either end of the bedroom warmed them despite the effects of the room’s high gothic ceiling to keep them cool. Their massive four-poster bed sat on an elevated platform of the split-level room, inviting the young couple as if it were a living force.

The surface of the bed rose precisely to the level of Harry’s hips, causing him to think immediately of the things he and Ginny could manage to enjoy before he even took the step up to lie between the covers.

Harry allowed himself the luxury of believing that she was thinking similar thoughts as they stepped up beside the bed and into one another’s embrace.

As they always did, Harry’s hands reached up to touch Ginny’s face, and his fingers intertwined with her glorious hair. His touch was reverential at first, for that was precisely how he felt about this young woman who seemed to have been made as specifically for him as he knew he had been for her. He wondered as he often did, exactly how he had failed to see Ginny for what she was for so many years, only to be suddenly and surprisingly overwhelmed by his need for her early during his sixth year. Since that moment of awareness, no thought for any other woman had entered his mind, and Harry doubted it ever would, for Ginny was everything he had ever wanted. Indeed, she was everything he could ever imagine wanting in a partner. 



As her lips parted and their tongues met, Harry’s sense of reverence became melded with passion in a way he had not known possible before becoming one with Ginny. He frequently wondered how it was that he could be filled simultaneously with admiration and respect for someone when all the while he wanted desperately to ravish her physically. Perhaps it was the disrespectful way in which so many of his male classmates had come to talk about the various witches they found attractive and the things they had openly fantasized about wanting to do to them. But Harry had never once thought about doing anything to Ginny Weasley. Instead he thought only of the things he wanted to do with her … the things he wanted to do for her … the desperation with which he wanted to make sure that she knew he adored her. 



What his friends seemed to feel about other witches, Harry had never felt for anyone, so there was no sense of shame in what he felt for Ginevra Molly Weasley. Instead, the fire of his emotions for Ginny seemed as pure as it seemed overwhelming in nature. He knew without doubt that she was everything to him … everything.



How long they stood beside the bed, exploring one another’s mouths with their tongues … one another’s bodies with their hands … Harry had no clue, but it must have been quite a while, for his legs had begun to quiver. Somehow their clothes lay strewn about them as he struggled to find a way to deepen their kisses. His right hand remained buried deeply in her hair while his left moved freely over her body, seeking just as passionately to pull her somehow closer to him.

Neither desire was physically possible, but he felt compelled to try, nonetheless, until their teeth clanked gently against each other and she moaned passionately back at him. 



“I need you now, Harry, please,” she whispered when at last their kiss broke momentarily.



“Yes, love … now,” he answered as his foot reached for the pillowed step that stood beside their bed. “I think you’ll need this,” he gasped while offering her the little step. 



“Yes,” she gasped, stepping up and turning away from him to crawl onto the thick pillow-top mattress and luxurious duvet. 



The vision of Ginny’s bum and her erotic scent drove Harry beyond the edge of desire. As she pulled herself up, Harry reached forward and grasped her by her left hip and right thigh, halting her progress when her knees had barely made it up onto the edge of the bed. He moved forward hungrily, pulling her back against him so he could continue kissing her in a surprisingly new fashion. 



Ginny released a feral moan, telling Harry he had done something as welcome as it had been unexpected. She rocked back against him. Liquid fire was running through his veins as he poured his affection into her, eliciting another throaty moan and a shivering sensation that seemed to run through Ginny’s entire body. The feeling was electrifying. 



Harry wanted desperately to give her a level of physical fulfillment that she had never yet achieved, all the while wondering if that were even possible with all they had already accomplished so early in their relationship. Then, again, he knew it wasn’t really that early, for they had spent nearly a year apart as he longed for her … ached for her … feared for her … all the while knowing that she had been his only reason for living, and his greatest source of strength at the very last moment when he had offered himself up to death. 



“Oh, Harry!” Ginny screamed as she shuddered uncontrollably, bring him rapidly back to the present. 



In a flash, Harry followed her up on the bed where her face was partially concealed in a tangle of beautiful red hair as she fought to regain control on the duvet. Harry worried that it might be too soon for her, so he asked, “Are you okay with this, love. 



“Yes, please,” she answered. “I want you now, Harry.”



An emotionally intensity had held sway over Harry since they had begun kissing beside the bed and took him instantly tumbling over the edge with her. 



“Ginny!” he screamed before collapsing beside her. Only then did he recognize that this act had as biologically irrelevant as it had been emotionally indispensable, for she was already carrying their child, and this realization caused another wave of emotion to crest over him. He pulled her firmly back against him until her back was nestled warmly against his chest, and his arms were wrapped around her, and her fingers were entwined with his. 


“I love you, Ginny,” he whispered against her ear before pressing a string of gentle kisses down her neck and across her shoulder.


“I love you, too,” she replied, shivering happily at the feel of his lips and the gentle pulses of his tongue as he moved across her still inflamed skin. 

 He wanted absolutely no space between them, as if even a fraction of an inch of separation would be too much. 


“Funny,” he thought, “ordinarily I don’t feel this needy. What in Merlin’s name is happening to me?”

Harry felt momentarily as if their entire beings had merged … their bodies … their minds … their souls … perhaps even their magic? Was it even possible to become one with another person to such a degree?
“Obviously,” reasoned Harry silently, “the answer is ‘yes,’ because that’s exactly how this feels.”
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