Bonus.
AKA (And one time he didn't.)

Warning: Super-extra fluffy and domestic and adorable because why not.

(VERY VERY IMPORTANT A/N BELOW DON'T SKIP THAT OKAY NOW CARRY ON)

"What a life, eh?"

Harry laughs, wrinkles pronounced but eyes still as green as they've ever been. They make quite a picture, two old men, reminiscing in old leather armchairs in front of a merry fireplace, snow collecting on the windowsills outside. Hermione walks into the room, the firelight shining golden on her grey-streaked bun, bearing an enormous platter of fresh biscuits, still warm from the oven.

"Neville's been baking again," she announces, cocking a questioning eyebrow at Ron.

"Ah, yeah. Tracy just got her Prefect badge in the mail. He's having a dad moment," Ron replies, grinning and grabbing three of the chocolate fudge biscuits.
Hermione looks amused, even as she takes a dainty bite of hers. "He's been having a dad moment for the past week?"
"Sweetheart, if it gets me free triple chocolate fudge, he can have his dad moment for as long as he wants."
Harry smirks at the two of them, and steals another biscuit from the rapidly emptying plate.

"Grampa, grampa, grampaaaaaa!" Teddy Lupin Jr. run-walk-topples over into the living room on tiny, chubby legs, right into Harry's shin, promptly wrapping himself around Harry's calves. He looks up and flashes a wide, gummy, baby smile; fine hair flashing green and gold and pink in rapid succession.

"Grampa, spawkies!"

Harry obliges with a fond chuckle, waving a negligent hand (Wand? What wand? This is Harry Potter.) and bright coloured sparks descend from the ceiling, like starlight dyed every shade of the rainbow. They're all quiet for a moment, in the face of Harry's magic, always a little careless and a little stunningly beautiful.

"Grampa, cookies?" Teddy Lupin Jr. is adorably pathetic, tugging at Harry's trousers, all big blue eyes, and little rosebud pout, and hair to match.
Grampa is defenseless in the face of such persuasion, but when the baby has messily demolished four biscuits, she walks into the room, all scarlet hair and fiery temper.

"Harry. Darling. What did I say just this morning about giving Teddy cookies?"
"Uhm." Harry colours just a little. "Not to?"
"Oh, so it isn't rapid onset dementia that made you completely forget my very explicit instructions?"
"Uhm." Harry may be a saviour of the world as we know it, but boy did he never learn to talk to girls. "No?"
"Do you have any human idea of how long it will take to put this imp to bed now?"
"…no?"
"NO! NO! Exactly! Because you make me do it! Every time!", she exclaims. Her fists are balled up, and she stamps an impatient foot, just like she used to do when he fell in love with her at sixteen.

Harry looks at Ron, a little pink and a lot desperate. (Also, terrified.)

Ron grins, and snags the last cookie, settling back into his armchair. There are many things Ron Weasley would do for Harry Potter. Facing Ginny's wrath still isn't one.

a/n:
While the response to this little oneshot series has been incredibly lovely, it was always intended this way: Five mondo-dramatic oneshots plus one that was super-extra-fluffy.

Thank you so much for your reviews and follows and favourites.

Feel free to check out my profile!
I will personally vouch for the fact that my other stories are basically a hot mess.