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Hermione shifted beside him and Harry stilled where he’d been reaching for his glasses where he’d abandoned them somewhere on the floorboards last night.
He couldn’t remember where exactly.
He’d been a bit preoccupied honestly.
Memories of his fingers digging into the soft flesh of Hermione’s hips as he steadied her while she straddled him flitted through his mind. Heat crept up the sides of his neck, his cock, already stiff from his morning erection, ached.
“What are you doing?” Hermione murmured, her voice still heavy with sleep.
Harry glanced over his shoulder at her where he sat propped up on his elbow as he leaned over the side of the bed. She was a blurry outline next to him.
“Sorry—er, just looking for my glasses,” he whispered. ”Go back to sleep, love.”
He heard her sigh and mumble something that sounded an awful lot like,
“Honestly Harry,” before sticking her hand out and saying clearly,
“Accio glasses.”
Warm hands cupped his cheeks a moment later and he felt the cool metal of his glasses slide up his nose and suddenly he could see again.
He blinked as he took in Hermione where she lay stretched out beside him, looking at him fondly, her eyebrows raised in amusement.
“Better?” She asked, her voice teasing.
He smiled.
“Loads.”
He rolled over onto his other side, resting his face in his palm, his other hand coming up between them as he gently brushed her curls off her shoulder where they’d fallen forward, tucking them behind her ear.
Something swelled in his chest at the way she leaned into her touch, her eyes fluttering closed, a contented,
“Mmm,” escaping her parted lips.
“Good morning, Mrs. Potter,” he said softly.
The corners of her mouth twitched.
“What did I tell you about that?” She reminded him sternly.
Harry coughed to hide his laugh.
“Right, sorry…good morning Mrs. Granger-Potter.”
Hermione’s face broke out in a broad smile as she opened her eyes. She laughed and Harry couldn’t help but duck his head and press what he meant to be a quick kiss to her mouth.
His wife, it would seem, had other plans.
Her hands threaded in his hair and held him to her, deepening the kiss until they were both breathless.
“Good morning, Mr. Granger-Potter,” she said breathily when they parted.
Harry’s nose wrinkled.
“Did we ever actually finish our conversation about that?”
Hermione snorted.
“You’re saying you wouldn’t want to take my name?”
Harry’s heart thudded and an overwhelming emotion clogged his throat.
He pulled her into his arms.
He breathed her in deeply, her familiar scent of lavender and rain soothing him like it always did.
“Yesterday was the happiest day of my life,” he mumbled into the crook of her neck. “You can call me whatever you want, Hermione, just call me yours.”
She held him tightly.
“Yours,” she murmured. “Always yours Harry.”
They clung to each other for a moment, breathing the other in. Finally, it was the rumbling of Harry’s stomach that shattered the quiet. They broke apart laughing.
“Do you think Kreacher would complain terribly if I asked him to make us breakfast if I told him it was for my husband?” She wondered as they both sat up.
“You’re his mistress now, he’ll do anything you ask,” Harry said as he pulled on a shirt.
Hermione scowled.
“You know I hate being referred to as his mistress, Harry.”
Harry slapped his hands on his thighs as he stood up.
“Hermione, he cried and refused to eat for three days when I tried to give him clothes. You were there, you saw.”
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.
He walked around the edge of the bed, his arms going around her waist and tugging her closer.
”Well maybe—” she fretted.
“Would it make you feel better if I referred to you as my wife instead?”
She faltered, a blush spreading across her cheeks as she mumbled something he couldn’t hear.
He held a hand up beside his ear.
“What was that?” he said loudly. ”I may only refer to you as Harry Potter’s wife? In every setting? Hermione, I hardly think that will go over well at Sunday dinner with your parents.”
Hermione swatted his chest.
“Oh hush,” she scolded though her eyes were bright with mirth.
Harry chuckled as he found her hand, pulling her from the room as he called for Kreacher.
Gods he couldn’t believe he could finally call her that.
His wife.
For so many years after the war, Harry had wondered if he was ever going to get to be happy.
Truly happy.
He loved his work as an auror, loved his quidditch scrimmages on the weekends with Ron and Draco and the other members of the DMLE. He loved his Friday night dinners at the Burrow that Mrs. Weasley insisted he still attend even after he and Ginny decided to amicably end things after trying to make it work for nearly three years.
Harry loved his life. But there had always been something inexplicable that was missing.
Years passed but he could never put his finger on it, could never quite figure out what it was.
Not until a raid had gone poorly three years ago and he’d gone missing for twelve hours, captured by a rogue horde of giants. He’d eventually made it out when a recovery team had found him.
And when he’d finally trudged back to the Ministry after arguing with the healers at St. Mungo’s for nearly two hours that he did not need to stay overnight for observation, he’d nearly been knocked over backwards as he stepped off the lift when a mass of familiar curly brown hair collided hard with his chest.
Hermione had been furious with him, shouting at him for being reckless and it was as he was trying to reassure her that he was fine, that he realized she was crying.
Shock had caused him to take her face between both of his hands, his thumb swiping away the tears that tracked down her cheeks while demanding to know who upset her.
“You did, you idiot!” She all but shrieked at him before fisting the front of his robes and jerking his mouth to hers.
It was then, as he stood there, completely dumbfounded as Hermione kissed him, that Harry realized what he had been missing all this time.
It was her.
It was always her.
Hermione had always been and would always be, everything to him.
He did not function properly without her.
They dated quietly for two years after that before he knelt down on one knee and asked her to do him the honor of allowing him to promise himself to her forever.
They had their wedding yesterday.
They’d stood there before their closest friends and family and pledged their love to each other, binding their magic together forever.
And when he’d finally been able to whisk her away to their home, he made love to her all night and promised to do it again and again for the rest of their lives.
It was difficult for Harry to imagine a greater happiness than marrying his best friend.
—
Harry wasn’t sure what exactly the tune was that he was humming as he rocked their daughter gently in his arms.
Her tiny eyes had closed long ago but Harry had learned by now, nearly six months after her birth, that Penelope Lily Potter had the cunningness of a future Slytherin. She had already more than once fooled her parents with feigned sleep only to open her mouth and scream her lungs out the moment they moved to lower her into the crib.
Once her dreams began to twitch behind her eyelids, Harry knew she was truly out.
Grateful he still had some of his seeker agility, he carefully lay her down before creeping silently from the room.
He felt the magic of a silencing spell go up over the room as soon as the door clicked shut behind him.
He shot Hermione a grateful look where he saw her standing at the end of the hall. He moved towards her, accepting her outstretched hand after she pocketed her wand.
She led him downstairs to the living room where the muggle sitcom they’d been watching on the telly when they’d heard Pen’s cries through the baby monitor still played.
Hermione sat down first and patted her lap.
Harry did not need to be told twice. He collapsed on the couch, stretching out his long legs, his head resting comfortably atop her thighs.
He sighed, closing his eyes as she began carding her fingers through his hair.
“You reckon kids are this bloody exhausting for everyone? Maybe we’re doing something wrong?” He asked.
Hermione chuckled.
“Remember what you said to Ron after he and Lavender had Rose?”
Harry pretended to think.
“Can’t say that I do.”
“You called him a zombie and offered to take him out to the pub.”
Harry groaned.
“Merlin, I don’t know if I can make it up the stairs again to go to bed let alone to the bloody pub.”
She lightly scratched her fingernails against his scalp.
“You will,” she said soothingly.
He cracked open one eye to peer at her.
“You’re awfully confident tonight Mrs. Potter.”
She smirked at him.
“That’s Granger-Potter to you, are you trying to get me into trouble with my husband?”
Harry squeezed her knee before closing his eyes again.
“A bit of a prat is he?”
Hermione hummed.
“Only when he knows his wife needs him inside of her.”
Harry’s eyes both popped open and he lurched into sitting, misjudging the distance between their faces and flinching as his forehead collided with her nose.
“OW!” They both shouted in unison.
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose as blood spurted out while Harry cradled his head in his hand, his stomach dropping when he saw the blood streaming down her face.
“Oh fuck! Are you alright? I’m sorry—I wasn’t—”
“Hawee, I…tink you broke my dose,” Hermione said slowly, her voice thick and nasally as she tilted her head backwards to try to staunch the bleeding.
Harry wrenched his shirt over his head and pressed it gently to the blood that was dripping down her mouth and chin.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he repeated.
She ignored him.
“Your wand Hawee,” she said, holding her other hand out palm up.
“Right, sorry,” he says hastily before ripping his wand from his back pocket and giving it to her.
She pointed it at herself.
“Episky,” she said clearly.
Harry winced at the pop of her nose righting itself.
She cast a vanishing spell over the blood next followed by a cleaning spell.
He tilted her chin up with his thumb and forefinger.
“Inspecting my work?” She asked.
Harry flushed before shaking his head ruefully.
“Just making sure you’re alright,” he murmured before dropping his hand. She caught it before it could land in his lap and pressed a kiss to his palm before motioning him to lay back down.
He obliged, laying his head in her lap before letting out a contented sigh as he closed his eyes once more.
He heard her whispered summoning spell followed by the twisting of a jar. Then he felt the light touch of her thumb on his forehead and then the cool tingling sensation of bruise paste.
He sighed again, the exhaustion of the day making his body feel heavy.
“I love you Mrs. Granger-Potter,” he mumbled as he began to drift off.
He felt her pause for a moment before her soft lips pressed against his.
“I love you too Mr. Granger-Potter.”
—
Hermione moaned beneath him, the sound a breathy gasp in his ear.
Harry sucked on the delicate skin of her clavicle as he snapped his hips against hers, lewd wet sounds filling the air as their pace grew frenzied.
Hermione met him thrust for thrust, her breasts pressing up against his chest as she arched her back.
“Harry,” she whispered, digging her heels into his arse. “Don’t stop. Please—I can’t—Gods I’m going to—please.”
Harry groaned, hooking his forearm beneath her knee and hitching her leg up higher before pinning it into the mattress, spreading her wider for him.
“Quiet love, you’re going to wake the kids,” he grunted as sweat beaded his forehead. His thighs burned and his arms trembled where he held himself over her but he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop.
He could feel how close she was by the way her cunt spasmed around him.
His cock swelled impossibly harder as he continued to rut inside of her over and over again.
Hermione let out a wail after a particularly hard thrust and Harry clamped a hand over her mouth, pulling his head back to look down at her.
Her eyes shone bright with her arousal as she stared into his. He panted against her cheek.
Harry felt her small hand slip between them, felt as she began to rub small circles over her clit.
He felt her begin to flutter.
“Not yet,” he gasped, pressing his knees more firmly into the bed to better the angle of his thrusts. “Be a good girl and wait for me.”
Hermione let out a muffled moan against his hand before giving a jerky nod.
He felt the warm tingling begin at the base of his spine and rolled his hips as she rocked against him.
They moved together in a pattern that had become instinctual over the last seven years of marriage.
Even with two children and two exceptionally busy careers, there was still nothing either of them knew better than each other.
Harry drove into her with long, purposeful strokes, his lips finding hers in a messy clash of teeth and tongue as his pace began to stutter.
Hermione kissed him back with equal fervor, clawing at his shoulders.
“Come for me,” he groaned. She gasped before clenching around him hard. Stars dotted his vision.
“Harry!”
His name on her lips was enough to push him over the edge. His hips snapped against hers once more before he jerked into her, his cock pulsing as he filled her, cursing as he felt her suddenly come around him. He watched in awe as her eyes rolled back in her head, her lips wordlessly chanting his name over and over again.
Harry collapsed on top of her in a heap before rolling onto his back.
They both stared up at the ceiling panting as they fought to catch their breaths.
“Fuck, you’re amazing,” he said.
Hermione curled into his side., ducking her head into his shoulder.
He felt more than saw the blush that spread across her skin.
“I mean it,” he insisted. “You’re perfect Hermione. That was bloody perfect.”
She shushed him.
Harry propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at her where she was avoiding his gaze. She was always so shy after sex and it only endeared her to him even more to know he rendered his brilliant wife speechless.
“I could take out an ad in the Prophet if you’d like,” he said, pretending to actually consider it. Her eyes snapped to him. “Tell the whole world how hard their future Minister makes her husb—”
Hermione covered his mouth with her hand.
“Don’t you dare Harry James Potter,” she hissed.
Harry laughed beneath her hand before sticking out his tongue and licking her palm.
Hermione shrieked and tore her hand away.
“My tongue has been inside of you but that’s what bothers you?” he said incredulously.
She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to argue when voices in the hallway drew their attention.
“MUM!” Five year old James yelled through the door. “Penny won’t share her biscuits!”
Hermione rolled her eyes as she slipped out of their bed, wandlessly summoning her robe.
“Jamie, I bought you your own tin, remember? In the bottom drawer?”
Their son made a noise of discontent.
“Those are chocolate ones mum! Pen has orange ones and those are loads better!”
Harry chuckled as Hermione blew out an exasperated breath.
“Everyone knows the orange ones are loads better,” he whispered.
Hermione tightened the tie on her robe before crossing the room and pulling open the door.
“I’m sorry love, I must have picked up the wrong ones,” she said as she scooped the boy into her arms, something that was almost too difficult for her to do anymore with Jamie’s recent growth spurt. “But daddy promised to pop out to the grocer and buy you the proper ones right now, how does that sound?”
“Oi!” Harry protested as Jamie let out an excited shout and wiggled his body until his mum set him down.
Hermione grinned wickedly at him over her shoulder as their son launched himself onto their bed and began pleading with Harry to go with him.
“Pick up some eggs while you’re out, would you? Oh and some milk?” She called before flouncing away down the hall and calling for their daughter.
Harry shook his head, his lips quirked up in a smile as he tugged on his trousers, promising Jamie he could go if he hurried and got dressed.
The boy let out a whoop before tearing out of the room, shouting at his sister that he was going to have more biscuits than her.
—
Harry waved his hand over his head a final time as the Hogwarts Express let out its final whistle before disappearing around the bend.
Hermione sniffled beside him and Harry draped his arm across her shoulders, pulling her into his chest.
“They’ll both be fine,” he murmured before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Pen will look after him, they’ve got each other now.”
Hermione sniffled again.
“Honestly ‘Mione, you’re worse than Lav was,” Ron teased as he lightly knocked her shoulder with his.
She faux glared at him, sticking her chin in the air.
“Thank you Ronald, for those incredibly sensitive words of comfort,” she dead panned.
Ron laughed, his attention going to his wife who walked quickly towards them after saying her goodbyes to Parvati and her husband across the platform.
Lavender took her husband's outstretched hand, her gaze falling to Hermione and quickly turning sympathetic.
“Oh Hermione, it’ll be alright,” she said consolingly. “You’re handling it much better than Ron. He bawled like a baby for weeks when Annabeth finally left with her sisters.”
Harry and Hermione turned matching disbelieving looks to Ron whose cheeks had turned a ruddy pink before looking at each other and bursting out laughing.
Ron grumbled something unintelligible under his breath.
Lavender giggled before standing up on tiptoe and pressing a quick kiss to her husband's mouth.
“Drinks at the Leaky then?” She asked brightly.
Harry glanced at Hermione who nodded yes as she wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands.
“Sure, we’ll meet you there in a ‘mo,” he said.
Ron and Lavender smiled before disappearing with a pop.
As soon as they vanished, Harry turned to his wife, his hands coming up and gently cupping her face.
“Hey,” he said softly. Brown eyes stared into his. “It’s alright if you’d rather go home. Ron and Lav will understand.”
Hermione shook her head.
“No, I want to go. Don’t mind me, I’m being ridiculous.”
Harry held her gaze.
“No, you’re not,” he said. “We just sent our last child off to Hogwarts. It’s okay to be…sad. I don’t know how we’re supposed to go home to such a quiet house. It’s…just—”
Harry broke off as emotion clogged his throat.
Hermione’s hands came up and covered his.
“It’s just us again,” she said.
“Just us,” he repeated, dropping his forehead to hers.
“It’s only four months till Christmas.”
He nodded jerkily.
“They’ll be alright. James is only a first year, how much trouble could he possibly get into?”
Harry laughed.
“Do you not remember how much trouble we got into our first year?”
Hermione suddenly looked stricken.
“Oh Merlin,” she breathed. “Do you think we ought to—?”
Harry tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow.
“I think we should have a butterbeer with our friends and then go home so I can ravish you on top of every surface in our house now that we don’t have two kids nosying about.”
Hermione’s cheeks turned pink.
“Well…alright,” she mumbled.
Harry spun on his heel, apparating them before she could think too much about it.
—
Harry slipped into the Minister’s office, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
The Minister glanced up at him.
“Can I help you, Mr. Potter?”
He crossed the room until he stood before the ostentatious desk. He clasped his hands behind his back, the movement puffing his chest out where his Head Auror badge gleamed.
“Actually, its Mr. Granger-Potter and since you asked, I was hoping you might be able to direct me to my wife. Rumor has it she was elected Minister for Magic today.”
Hermione raised an amused eyebrow at him as she lay down her quill and sat back in her chair.
“Really? That’s quite an accomplishment,” she said.
Harry nodded seriously as he slowly took a step around the corner of her desk until he was behind it.
“It is,” he said solemnly, gently moving her chair and helping her stand. He lifted her onto the edge of the desk before moving between her legs, rucking her skirt up around her hips. He palmed her thighs. “I truly must congratulate her as soon as possible. Husbandly obligation and all that.”
Hermione looped her hands around his neck.
“Oh really? Is that the only reason?”
He leaned down and kissed her deeply.
“Congratulations baby,” he murmured against her lips. He felt her smile against his mouth.
“Merlin, I can’t believe it,” she exhaled.
He pulled back slightly to look at her.
“I can,” he said. Her beaming smile warmed something in his chest. “I’m so proud of you, Hermione.”
Heat flared in her eyes and then she was kissing him again, her fingers carding in his hair.
Harry stepped back after a moment, breaking the kiss.
“What are you doing?” Hermione breathed as he slowly lowered himself onto his knees.
He slid his hands inside her skirt, finding the waistband of her knickers. He tugged firmly and grinned when the fabric tore.
“Congratulating my wife,” he said.
Hermione’s pupils dilated, her breaths now coming in short pants.
“Harry,” she whispered.
“You might want to silence the office love, you know how loud you get,” he murmured before leaning forward and dragging his tongue over the folds of her cunt in one long stripe.
When he gently rolled her clit between his lips, he heard her curse and felt the magic of her silencing spell fall over the room.
Her thighs tightened around his head and her hips bucked up against his face.
Harry took the hint and doubled his efforts, kissing, sucking and lapping at her before slipping a finger inside of her and curling it.
“Fuck,” Hermione moaned, her entire body trembling.
Harry’s cock throbbed almost painfully as it strained against his zipper.
Fuck he was so gone for his witch.
“Be a good girl Minister Granger and come on my tongue,” he groaned against her cunt.
He thrust his finger over and over inside of her before adding a second and then a third.
It was when his thumb pressed lightly against her puckered hole, barely breaching the tight ring of muscle that she shattered with a scream, full body convulses going through her as she came hard.
Harry kept at it as she worked through her orgasm, licking up all of her juices as she rocked against his face.
When finally, her movements slowed, he pressed kisses to each of her inner thighs before rocking back on his calves and standing up.
He winced as his knee popped and Hermione looked at him, her eyes, still dazed from her orgasm, narrowed in concern.
“I’m fine,” he insisted as he helped her right herself.
A few wand flicks later had her looking just as refined and orderly as before, save the flush in her cheeks.
“You really don’t need to be going out in the field as much as you are,” she said with a glance at his knee, which hadn’t been the same since he took a bombarda to it two years ago during a raid. “That’s supposed to be one of the perks of being Head Auror. You’re not a teenager anymore Harry.”
Harry clutched his chest and pretended to be wounded.
“You should’ve added that to your acceptance speech under your list of accomplishments, ‘Always able to keep Harry Potter’s ego in check.’”
Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Forgive me for worrying about you,” she said. “One of us has got to.”
Harry pecked a kiss to her cheek.
“Forgiven,” he said with a smirk.
“I should be home by seven,” she said as he moved to leave. “And don’t forget, tomorrow is Jamie’s—”
“—Hogwarts graduation,” he finished for her.
She let out a huff.
“And Saturday we’re—”
“—having Penny’s boyfriend over for dinner.”
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest.
“You need to be nice to him, she really likes him,” she said sternly.
Harry held up his hands in surrender.
“Hey! I’m always nice!”
—
“Dad, don’t let me fall,” Penny whispered, her grip on his forearm vice like.
Harry squeezed her hand.
“Never,” he whispered back, swallowing over the lump that had formed in his throat the moment he saw her in her gown.
She was beautiful. Stunning. Just like her mum.
“Breathe Pen, I’ve got you.”
His daughter took a deep breath before straightening her shoulders.
“I’m ready,” she said confidently.
The music swelled and Harry’s eyes stung more than he cared to admit as they began their slow procession down the aisle.
Gasps and awes went through the crowd as they walked.
Harry’s eyes found Hermione’s where she stood beside her chair in the front row, Jamie beside her.
Hermione dabbed at her eyes as she beamed proudly at them, her smile growing wider and wider the closer they got.
When they reached the end, they paused, Pen hugging her mother briefly before taking the final two steps forward towards the wizard, Trevor, who stood waiting beside the minister, blinking rapidly, his gaze entirely focused on Penelope.
Harry’s throat tightened as he gave his daughter one last smile before gently placing her hand in her husband’s. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and stepped back, finding his place beside Hermione, Jamie on his other side.
He held his head high as Hermione slipped her hand into his and they took their seats.
The ceremony passed in a blur, as did the reception.
Harry twirled his daughter around the dance floor, his skills passable now after so many decades of balls and galas.
When he finally got to sweep Hermione in his arms, the weight of the day finally swept over him and he held her tightly.
“She’s so bloody happy Hermione,” he said quietly. “Our little girl—she…”
He couldn’t find the words.
Hermione’s hands found the sides of his neck as they swayed and she traced soothing circles under his jaw.
“I know,” she murmured.
“And Jamie’s portkey to America is next week. Who the bloody hell told him it was a good idea to study university abroad?”
Hermione laughed.
“You did, love.”
Harry scowled.
“Everyone knows you’re the smart one, not me. They shouldn’t listen to a word I say.”
Hermione lay her head to his chest.
“They'll be fine, Harry,” she said softly.
Harry sighed before resting his cheek on the top of her head.
“I won’t be.”
She hummed lightly.
“Me neither.”
“Gods, we’re pathetic.”
Hermione snorted, the sound causing Harry to chuckle and before they knew it, they were both doubled over in laughter.
Guests dancing near them cast them strange looks which only served to make them laugh even harder.
Their children found them then.
And as James swept his mother into a dance and Harry’s arms once again wrapped around his daughter, he knew that while they may not always be together anymore, they were going to be okay.
—
Flashbulbs popped and Harry plastered on his well practiced Chosen One smile as the rest of the department heads shook his hand and offered him well wishes.
Truly, over his thirty year career at the Ministry, Harry had never given too much thought over his retirement.
He knew it would come one day just like everything else.
He finally reached the end of the queue where the Minister waited for him.
Hermione had her equally well practiced Minister for Magic smile on full watt and Harry couldn’t stop the smirk that crossed his face as he recalled earlier that morning when she’d knelt on her knees in the shower and congratulated him properly.
Gods he wished they could just sneak off like they used to and find an empty office or storage room.
Something about retirement made him feel suddenly youthful and he wanted nothing more than to make love to his wife in every forbidden place possible.
Hermione leveled him with a familiar look warning him that she knew where his thoughts had gone and that he had better keep them to himself, before shaking his hand and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.
“Congratulations on your well deserved retirement Mr. Potter,” she said formally, a smile playing on her lips.
“Thank you Minister,” he drawled. “And it’s actually Granger-Potter. My wife would be rather cross with me if I did not correct you.”
She arched an eyebrow.
“Would she now?”
Harry smirked.
“Positively livid,” he said. “I doubt she’ll even let me have dessert.”
He raked his eyes over her, gaze pausing for a beat on the apex of her thighs, his meaning obvious, before flicking back to her face.
Hermione’s face turned crimson as she glanced around to see if anyone had overheard.
They hadn’t of course, thanks to the muffling charm Harry had cast over them without her notice.
“You—!”
“Kingsley, mate, good of you to come!” Harry said loudly before moving on to the tall man who’d just come in, leaving his wife sputtering indignantly behind him.
Harry bit the inside of his cheek to stop Himself from laughing and knew he’d pay for that one later.
He couldn’t wait.
—
“He’s got your eyes you know,” Hermione said softly, looking up from the baby in her arms to Harry, her eyes glistening.
Harry stared in awe at the tiny bundle, his hand squeezing his wife’s shoulder
Gods he remembered when Penelope and Jamie had been that small. It felt like it was yesterday.
“He does, dad,” Jamie said from where he sat on the edge of the hospital bed where his wife Grace lay, an exhausted but happy smile on her face. “It’s the first thing everyone says when they see him. That he’s got his grandfather's eyes.”
A breath hitched in Harry’s chest and he blinked back tears.
“Have you decided on a name?” He asked as Hermione carefully laid the infant in his arms.
James exchanged a glance with Grace, who gave him an encouraging nod.
“We have actually,” he said. “We were thinking of Alexander Harry Potter.”
Harry’s head snapped up.
“W-what?”
The baby in his arms yawned widely.
Jamie stepped away from bed until he stood before Harry. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth in a way he’d done a thousand times before. A habit he got from his mother.
“We wanted to name him after the two most important men in our lives. Alex is Gracie’s brother that passed last year and well—you, dad.”
There was a long pause where Harry could only stare at his son.
His youngest, who had grown into the most incredible man, one who was quiet in his introspection but one who loved fiercely and who had the most brilliant mind, second only to his mother’s.
Harry had survived a war, had lost his parents without ever having known them, had buried more friends than he cared to think about, had died himself and come back, but somehow…this was the moment that unmade him.
His gaze dropped back down to the perfect little boy he held in his arms.
Harry’s lips parted as a tear slowly slipped down his cheek.
He felt Hermione’s hand rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades.
“Brilliant,” he said hoarsely.
—
The porch swing creaked gently under their weight.
Harry sat with one arm draped behind Hermione, his fingers gently toying with the edge of her shawl.
His glasses slid low on his nose as his hair, more silver than black now, ruffled in the breeze.
Hermione rested her head on his shoulder, her untamed mess of gray and white curls brushing his cheek as she read to him from the dog eared book she held.
When her voice grew tired, she bookmarked the page before resting the book in her lap.
Neither of them spoke for a while. They didn’t need to.
The silence between them was never empty. It never had been.
It had been filled by years, by babies who became children, who became parents themselves. By war, and work, and worry, and laughter.
It had been filled by choosing each other every single day.
Now, there was nothing left, just this.
Just them.
“Do you ever think,” Hermione said softly, eyes half-closed, “About how impossibly perfect our lives turned out to be? I can’t help waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
Harry chuckled.
“Every day,” he admitted. “I reckon we earned a bit of happiness though, don’t you?”
She hummed in agreement.
“I wouldn’t change a thing,” he said quietly.
Hermione turned to look at him.
”I love you, Harry Potter,” she said softly.
He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.
“That’s Harry Granger-Potter to you. And I love you too. More than my life.”
She kissed him softly, her lips lingering on his.
“I’m a bit tired, do you think we could stay out here a bit longer?” she murmured.
Harry smiled.
“Of course, Mrs. Granger-Potter.”
They had nowhere to be.
And for once, that was enough.