A/N : JK Rowling's property. Still not mine.
This is the last chapter. I had much fun writing this story and I hope you had a nice time reading it. Thank you for taking the time to read me and a bigger thank to those you left a review.
Love
I remember our first kiss. I don't know what prompted it. It was a day like any other. Nothing peculiar except this fleeting moment when something flashed in her eyes. I still have no idea what possessed her but I suddenly found myself full of her. Her body against mine. Her hair tickling my neck. Her smell in my nose. Her waist against my hands. Her mouth on mine. I never let her go.
I remember when he proposed. He hadn't gone for traditional. It was a winter day, with grey skies and cold, so cold. He hadn't booked a restaurant. Not Scorpius. Not somewhere public. He hadn't chosen some fancy or romantic setting. He hadn't gotten down on a knee. He had produced a ring however. I think he did it on the spur of the moment really. Not that he would agree. Ever. He had been very articulate. Quietly spoken but determined. That was my Scorpius all right.
I remember my family. My mother's kiss and my uncle Harry's knowing smile. My father's embrace.
I remember his parents most. His mother's embrace - one of the very few she ever gave me, despite her usual benevolence. She wasn't much keen about touching I suspect. His father's too. That is one that really knocked the breath out of me by its unexpectedness. It was rough, and quick. But it was given freely.
"Welcome to the family."
I remember when we announced Rose was pregnant. The utter joy. The tears. The hugs and congratulations. The endless questions. The constant worry and tiptoeing around her. It grated on Rose's nerves. She would rant about it, everywhere, whenever it happened.
I remember the birth of our son. How could I ever forget ?
I remember Rose's second pregnancy. I remember my parents' sadness. I didn't know then that my mother once had another child. They lost my sibling before the birth. But Rose had Weasley blood. Our second son was healthy and unruly.
Our third child was a girl. A small little bundle of pinkness who developed into an absolute disaster about girly attitude. She was as much a tomboy as one could get.
I remember the first time we went to King's Cross with them, to see our first born to Hogwarts. I could almost see the ghost of a redhead girl staring at the ghost of a proud but frightened boy, across the station. I looked at Rose then. I know she saw them too.
The end.