Hopefully, this chapter answers a few of your questions. Ah, and enjoy the fluff!

They were walking along the narrow stone roads of York, just a few minutes from home, on their way to the grocers. It was a Saturday, a lazy day for their family, where Hermione put some time off from the mountains of work she'd bring home from the university and just lounge around all day with a book or listening to music as she calmly sipped a tea staring outside of the bay window of their room. She'd stayed back home with Lily, who was napping as if by some sort of miracle against her chest, as she enjoyed the rare opportunity to watch a movie on their muggle telly. Harry summoned Rose out of the house so they could buy some ingredients for supper and now here they were. Harry loved to cook—it was something that he'd learned to do out of necessity while living with the Dursleys but that had become more than something he had to do, it was something he truly adored and excelled in.

Harry appreciated the fact that the whole alchemy of cooking was something that deeply interested Rose, who like her mother had a more intellectual view of the world and took every venture into the kitchen as if it were some groundbreaking science or potions experiment… It was quite adorable, her enthusiasm, and every day Rose resembled her mother more, while wondrously still being very much her own person. When Harry announced that he would cook soufflé this evening Rosie ran out of her bedroom putting on her favorite yellow scarf, coat, and colorful rainboots and enthusiastically told him that she would accompany him.

And here they were, on their way—she skipped around the stone pavement happily as he watched her.

Two years had passed since he entered Rose's life and the same amount of time had gone by since she, not he or anyone else, adopted him as her father. It was quite an honor, even if she interchangeably called him 'dad' and 'Harry' confusing almost everyone outside of their little family. They reached a wider street and finally were able to walk side by side. She slipped her little fingers in his hand and he gave her's a gentle squeeze. It would never cease to amaze him just how much this little girl moved him in the simplest of ways. He felt the same with Lily, but perhaps with Rose it was different because she hadn't been born by him, it was her choice—every little smile, every time she sought him for advice, every time she chose to spend time with him, hug him, ask for a story, call him daddy—it was her choice, she had given him the honor of being her father and that meant more to him than words could describe.

Perhaps this was due to the fact that he couldn't remember his father or even what having one was like. What Harry wouldn't have given, the scrawny and battered little boy that he was, to be able to choose someone to be his parent. Every single time he thought it might happen, the possibility slipped out of his fingers… First Sirius, followed by Remus and then after that, he was already too old, too seasoned by his life's tragedies and the prospect nevermore showed itself—Harry grew up.

Rose halted suddenly and Harry, lost in his thoughts, nearly tripped over. He followed her gaze and let out a silent chuckle as his eyes landed on the charming little ice cream parlor that she loved. He saw the longing in her brown eyes and just like that his heart melted. They were just an hour or so away from dinner, but he could never resist the child—Hermione often chided him about it—he rolled his eyes at his lover's crazy dentist's child ways, a person who couldn't appreciate the wonder that was sweets and sugar.

"Hey, Rose-Petal, would you like to have a scoop?" He asked and she smiled brightly, hugging his legs and then pulling him by the hand through the shop's door, the golden bell ringing as they entered.

Minutes later all had been paid for and they sat on the wooden table outside, watching the passersby, admiring the shops and the Christmas lights already hanging on the buildings. Rose wasn't a very talkative child, perhaps that was where she differed the most from her mother who always had something to say, whether one was willing to hear or not. The kid was a mystery sometimes… How could a seven-year-old be a mystery?

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked, nearly finished with his chocolate and lemon sorbet.

"What took you so long?" She asked, her eyes meeting with his. Her gaze wasn't accusing or judgmental, but genuinely curious. He could tell it was a question she'd been ruminating over for a long time. He shifted awkwardly in his seat and ceremoniously cleaned his mouth with the napkin. Her dark eyes didn't leave him once.

"To move in with you and your mum, I gather?" She nodded.

"Well, I was working at Hogwarts before, but you know that. The job required that I live there…" Rose rolled her eyes, she couldn't be fooled and that would be his downfall.

"I was also engaged to Lily's mother and I did love her, it just didn't work out as either of us expected it would. With time we both realized we wanted different things out of life—and then Lily came along unexpectedly and we tried to stay together longer, tried to find that love we once had for each other but it didn't work that way. Lily's mum was very unhappy, I was unhappy and then one day she decided to leave. I hadn't the faintest idea how to take care of a baby by myself so I thought I'd write to someone who did and your mum and I became close friends again."

"Why did you have to become friends again?" Harry thought long and hard for a moment, the memories of about eight years ago coming back to the surface.

Hermione had been at Oxford studying her arse off pursuing both Classical and Medieval History as her majors. He'd been working as an Auror for the ministry for a few years, a job that didn't bring him the excitement and challenges he had craved—it was all so tiring for him and each day he woke up in the morning, did the very same things only to return to bed in the evening, just as indifferent and tired as in the morning. It wasn't something people discussed, depression and post-traumatic stress disorder, especially in the Wizarding world where mental illness was still completely taboo. It was a surprise Harry even found the will-power to get up from the bed most days—but he had perhaps Ginny to thank for that and Ron. He hadn't been easy on them… Harry remembered leaving his job one day after handing in his resignation letter to Head Auror Higgins. After that life was even more of a blur... He saw very little of Hermione and when he did, she gave him the vigor and just enough of light and enthusiasm to last him a few weeks—her effect on him was overwhelming and absolutely scary, but also, seeing and being with her was like coming home, they were his only moments of peace. But she was busy—being Hermione, being smart and intellectual and reading piles and piles of books and ancient documents and papyri, writing essays and scientific articles…

Hermione had given him the best years of her childhood and youth, he couldn't force her to give him anything more. Harry was certain that just one word or one faltering smile could prompt her to drop everything for him, and Merlin he'd never been worth it. So, he avoided her, no matter how much his entire being ached for her—it was sheer torture. And then on his 22nd birthday, she appeared out of the blue at his door, pregnant. She engulfed him into a giant hug that lasted hours, it seemed. She was stressed and worried out of her mind, but still absolutely radiant. Hermione had just graduated and was already researching for her Master's dissertation while working as an Assistant professor in York. She had dark bags under her eyes and her skin was paler than he remembered it being, even during the bone-shattering winter of the war… and that was saying a lot. It had shocked him to no end, seeing her like that, and of course, carrying a life inside of her. He knew something was deeply wrong with him when he found himself wishing, praying and hoping that the baby was his—but of course, it wasn't. How could it possibly be? Hermione had become involved with a professor at Oxford, a rare moment of lack of wisdom and responsibility and then nine months later Rose Guinevere Granger came to be. And the professor, completely out of the picture. It was also the summer Harry wrote back to Headmistress McGonagall, accepting the post of professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, which quite honestly, saved his life.

"We were both living separate lives… I was in London working as an Auror and your mother was in Oxford studying, following her dream. I didn't want to bother her with my problems, so I stupidly let her slip away."

"Didn't she notice you were slipping away?" Harry nodded.

"Your mum notices everything, Rose—never ever doubt that." He let out a hoarse chuckle and Rose couldn't help but let out a small smile, it was quite true. "She was bothered by it, but I always avoided her so we had very few moments to actually be together and talk in those days… And then you came around and Hermione was even busier…" Rose hummed in understanding, staring down at her half-eaten ice cream.

"But you won't ever leave, will you?" She whispered, minutes later, raising her big brown gaze to look at him—he could tell it was something she worried about. His heart sunk for her—Rose knew too well that parents could up and leave you, her birth father had done that and even Lily's mum had decided to leave her as well.

Harry smiled and opened his arms for her to climb onto his lap so he could hug her tight. Rose did so and pressed her cheek to his heart. He held her tight against him and kissed her forehead.

"I'll only leave you when I die, Rose…" She wrapped an arm around his neck, hugging him back with urgency.

"I won't let you die, daddy." She whispered and he can feel the sting of tears in the corner of his eyes. When it came to his girls, Harry Potter was always a pile of mush…

…

After dinner Lily and Rose played quietly in the living room—Rose was keen on teaching her how to build a proper fortress out of the wooden blocks. Two-year-old Lily thought it quite funny when each time her sister piled the walls neatly up and then she knocked the fortress down. Rose grew annoyed while the little redhead giggled and giggled, her cheeks rosy and green eyes bright with humor.

"You're better off watching Peppa Pig, Lily… Or I might have to knock you over." Rose grumbled, thick dark eyebrows furrowed, threateningly. Hermione chuckled as she overheard from the doorway to the kitchen and watched as her daughter reached for the remote control and put the children's cartoon on.

The witch felt his warm hand weigh on her shoulder and turned around. He had his 'kiss the cook' apron on and gave her a gentle squeeze.

"She asked today…" Hermione's forehead creased in confusion for a few seconds as she looked back at him. "She asked if I would leave…"

Though Hermione knew how irrational it was, this fear of her, she felt herself go cold for a minute, a sensation of dread and nerves overcoming hers. She couldn't speak, only look at him.

Though not the most observant wizard on earth, Harry noticed her reticence and the flicker of fear in her eyes, as she stared back at him. He sighed deeply and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, Hermione's arms limp. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and his hand gently slid up her back and dove into her golden-brown curls, vanilla scented and ever-soft.

"And?" She finally whispered and he held back the urge to roll his eyes. With his hand, he rose her chin up so their eyes could meet and he pressed his lips onto hers.

"Until death do us part, Hermione…" Was his only answer, before he produced a delicate antique ring from inside his jeans pocket—it was rose-gold and encrusted with tiny diamonds on the shanks and in the middle a large oval-cut diamond surrounded by what looked like four rounded petals, with more small and delicate diamonds in floral motif inside. Her eyes widened, and with them, a smile broke on her face—the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen her wear.

"I know you're not one for marriage—but I thought you could perhaps be my partner for life?" Hermione nodded, breathless and voiceless, apparently and he chuckled.

"I love you, you twat…" She finally managed, with a teasing smile.

"Oh, well I love you too, crazy person." He pulled her into his arms and they kissed.