Rosie wasn't sure what was better. Knowing that half her O.W.L.S. were over with or the fact that she and Scorpius now spent nearly every free moment in the Room of Requirement. No more sneaking kisses into broom cabinets. No more intentional detentions in Herbology. Every moment with him marked a new sense of hope for them, and she couldn't let herself think that it was all too good to be true. They were almost 16, and in another year would be legal adults. Best of all, Scorpius could be with her. Would be with her. That was cause for celebration right there.

Laying against his chest, watching him sleep, she hoped that it would never end.

---------------------------

Harry and Ron arrived that evening, bags in tow. It was tradition, almost, for them to come and give the Defense Against the Dark Arts practical exam. Now that the Death Eaters were out of the way, they had the free-time to come and teach on occasion. Although, in a few years, another batch of Voldemort's followers would arise and the Aurors, once again, would have to take care of the problem.

To say that age hadn't effected them would be a lie. For the most part, Ron's transformation was natural. As a teenager, he had been lanky and awkward. His work and training as an auror gave him muscle and confidence that Harry wished Ron had during their Quidditch years. He grew a short beard, and generally kept himself neat, if for no other reason than to please his wife. Other than that, not much had changed about him, other than the various creases and wrinkles one tends to get with age (and teenagers).

Harry, on the other hand, was hardly recognizable from the small, underfed boy that had first arrived thirty-some years ago. His hair was long and scraggly, streaked here and there with grey. Years of fighting wore on him, but give him an impression of strength, intimidation and grace. . His face, once clear except for the lightening bolt on his forehead, was marked with scars. Some small, others bold and angry. To those who didn't know him, he looked quite menacing However, behind his glasses, his green eyes still flashed with mischief and wisdom. Time had, if nothing else, gave him all the more reason to appreciate his life and his family. Beneath that hardened exterior was a man that knew he was truly blessed.

"HARRY! RON!"

"Hello, Hagrid!" they called back, in unison.

Hagrid, although retired from teaching, stayed on grounds. No matter how old Harry and Ron got, they were still treated to tea and rock-hard biscuits whenever they returned. Twenty-four years had gone by and Hagrid's cooking had not improved. Not that Harry didn't mind trading a healthy stomach for a familiar face.

Hagrid scooped them up, trapping them against his chest in an intense hug. Years of experience told the men to stay limp as rag dolls. Struggling and protests only made Hagrid cling harder.

"Welcome back! I'd invite ya in, but the 'Eadmistress wants to see yer right away."

"As always," Ron laughed, grateful when Hagrid finally eased them to the ground. "Very efficient, that woman."

"'Eadmistress, to ya. Fine woman. Fine woman, 'eadmistress Dobrinski is."

Ron and Harry sighed. Forever loyal.

The trip to the Headmistress' office was fairly typical. Hagrid talked about Hogwarts, pointing out the new developments on the grounds. Ravenclaw had won the Quidditch cup, but Gryffindor put up a good fight thanks to Hugo and James. They had only lost by 10 points.

Then came the lectures. James was just like his grandfather, arrogant and cocky. Smart as a whip, just like all the Potter children were. James kept his nose clean but inherited his father's habit of sneaking around, although no one could ever seem to catch him at it.

'The Marauder's map,' Harry thought with a smile. 'I wondered which one of them took it.'

Hugo, of course, was obsessed with sports. Couldn't say two words without the third being about Quidditch. More than once, Hugo had bored Hagrid to tears with statistics and strategies, but mention girls and he's blush so hard that you wouldn't know where his face ended and his hair began.

"Just like his old man!" Harry laughed, ducking when Ron took a playful swing at him.

"Like you're one to talk!" Ron chuckled. "Don't think I've forgotten our 4th year."

"I haven't forgotten either! Your dress robes were hideous!" Harry let out a mock howl as Ron pushed him to the ground.

No wonder their kids were trouble. Grabbing them by their collars, Hagrid gave them a gentle shove forward. Ron gave a last smack, Harry stuck out his tongue, but they soon straightened out and continued on.

Hagrid sighed. They might be in their 40's, but they were still kids.

-------------

"Master Potter. Master Weasley. Come on in, gentlemen." The headmistress sat at her desk, looking over various bits of parchment. At first, Harry and Ron were not quite used to the strict demeanor of the headmistress, but now they knew that it always took her a few minutes to finish her work before keeping her appointments. She wasn't about to simply sit and wait for them to arrive, but she wasn't going to let off her work either until she was ready.

Of course, this gave them time to take a look around.

Ron headed off to the windows, taking in the view of the Quidditch field while Harry went to the portraits. His end-of-year visit would not be complete without speaking to Dumbledore. Who was, of course, sound asleep.

"Professor?"

Dumbledore gave a snort, but otherwise did not stir.

"Professor," Harry said, just a shade louder.

Nothing.

"Allow me," said the neighboring portrait. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he shouted "ALBUS!"

"LOLLY!" Dumbledore yelped with a start. His eyes darted around the room a bit before settling. "What's all this hullabaloo about, Severus?"

Lowering his hands from his mouth, Snape gave a satisfied smile as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I believe that Mister Potter would like to have a word with you."

Dumbledore bent down, searching for his spectacles. "That namesake of mine in here again?"

Snape snorted. "Our namesake, if you don't mind . Although I fail to imagine why anyone would want to saddle their child with such a name." He gave Harry a very pointed glare.

"Well, I'll certainly have to speak with Harry about his son when he comes to visit. Now where in blazes are my glasses?"

Snape rolled his eyes and wandered out of his portrait.

"On top of your head, Professor," Harry suggested.

Dumbledore placed a hand on his head, giving a happy cry over finally finding them. Wiping them on his robes, he carefully perched them onto his nose. A smile drifted over his face as things came into focus. "HARRY! HELLO!"

"Hello, Professor," Harry replied, trying not to laugh. The man had gone a bit dotty since the end of the war, but perhaps it was for the best. After all that had happened, Dumbledore deserved a bit of lunacy. "You're looking well."

"Generally speaking, yes. Although, there really isn't much that can happen to you when you become a picture on a wall."

"Of course, of course. I have to ask though, just how many times has my darling son come to Dobrinski's office?"

"Twenty-seven by my last count."

"Ah," Harry said, grin on his face. "Down a bit from last year then."

"There's still time."

"Indeed."

"But he's a lovely boy. Kind enough to bring me some sweets from Honeydukes, so I can't fault him for that." Dumbledore grinned, folding his hands over his stomach.

"Don't let him fool you. He's just doing it to butter you up. Besides, you're a portrait. You certainly can't eat them."

"Ah! Don't deny an old man his Fizzing Whizzbees! I'm willing to over-look a bit of naughtiness if it produces the results I like." Dumbledore looked over his glasses, giving Harry a knowing smile. "And of course I can't eat them, but I can certainly remember!" Smacking his lips, he leaned forward a bit. "This woman here," he whispered loudly "has no appreciation for the little luxuries of life. Bland potatoes and poached trout for her! Won't even indulge herself in a nice cherry tart during the holidays! No pleasure at all! Taste is wasted on the living, you know," he said sadly.

"Ahem!"

Harry turned, quickly noting that Ron was already seated in front of the headmistress' desk. Dobrinski gave a curt nod to the unoccupied chair next to him.

He turned back to Dumbledore. "I'd better go, Professor. Thank you for the chat."

"Always a pleasure, Harry," Dumbledore said with a yawn, already drifting back to sleep.

Harry took his place in front of Dobrinski's desk.

"Well, I see where your daughter gets her talent for gossip," she said, shuffling parchment. Before Harry could remark, she settled the parchment onto her desk. "Now. Down to business."