The end of term had come and gone in a wave of euphoria that even managed to lift Neville's mood. He was sprawled on the floor of Hannah's living room, perusing a Herbology book, while Hannah sat next to him with parchment receipts spread across the sofa cushions. They were silent except for Hannah murmuring to herself, as she was prone to doing when concentrating, and Neville turning pages.

"This is impossible," said Hannah, dropping her quill and shaking her head. "I can't make out Lionel's handwriting. How am I supposed to tell how much money we're bringing in if I can't tell if this is a three or seven?"

"His threes look like sevens?" asked Neville curiously, looking up from his book. "Blimey, that is odd." Hannah smiled and pushed away the papers, turning to look at him.

"So, eight days until your birthday," she said in an overly casual tone. "Are you going to tell me what you want or will I have to take a guess?"

Neville sighed and closed his book. "I've already told you, you don't need to get me anything for my birthday," he said firmly and slightly exasperatedly. She had been asking him what he wanted for his birthday since the first of the month and she did not seem to be listening every time he told her not to get him anything.

"And I told you not to get me anything, and how did that turn out?" asked Hannah and she glanced pointedly at the pretty glass flower sitting on her mantle that he had gotten her for her birthday the month before. Since Neville had no good counter to this argument, he settled for a dignified silence. "Well if you aren't going to tell me then I'll just have to pick it out myself and you can be surprised," said Hannah when she saw his resolute expression.

Neville knew what he'd really like for his birthday; he'd like the ring in his pocket to be on her finger. Gran's death had driven romance and his plans of proposal clean from his mind for several weeks. While he still visited Hannah as consistently as always, and the whole incident had brought them closer than ever, he had yet to actually ask her. The glumness that had followed his after the funeral had only just faded into the background, and now he was once again starting to feel that yearning in his chest to ask her. He had relied so heavily on her during the dark time that he had realized just how much he needed her in his life, and that warmth in his ribs that he associated with her was glowing stronger than ever.

"Oh quit being so stoic," said Hannah, laughing. "Alright, I'm through talking about your birthday. We can talk about something else." She moved closer to him and leaned against his side, resting one arm gently on his back and toying her fingers through his hair. "Are you sure you don't want to move into a room here at the inn?"

Neville laughed. This was another question he had heard a lot this month. He had rented a small flat in Hogsmeade for the summer break. Normally he would live with his gran for the two months, but, even though he had inherited her house, he felt no desire to live there alone so soon after her death. Hannah had offered to let him rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron, but Neville had turned her down; he was afraid she would charge him less than need be, or even offer him free rent, and he didn't want to feel like he was cheating.

"I need to be close to Hogwarts so I can go check the protective spells on my gardens in the mornings," said Neville, giving her the excuse he had come up with early on. It was true enough in essence, at least; he really did need to look after his plants in the mornings. "Besides," he continued, "if I was living here I might never be able to tear myself away from you and then I would get none of my summer work done. Remember, you're distracting."

Hannah laughed appreciatively. "Maybe, but you certainly help me get my work done," she said. Neville had taken to pitching in and helping around the inn when he was there during the daytime, to make her job easier. "And I like being able to see you so often. It'll be a shame when the term starts again and you have to go back to work."

"Don't start fretting about that already," said Neville, and he rolled over to look at her, propping himself up on his elbows. "We've still more than a month. I'll feel guilty if you start getting gloomy this soon."

"I'm sorry," said Hannah and she lay down, resting her head on his arm and curling close to his side. "But I'll miss you when I only get to see you a few times a month again." She shifted to press a kiss on his cheek and then nestled her head on his shoulder again. "I love you, Neville."

"I love you too," said Neville and he felt a sweeping warmth pass through him much as it did every time. The good setting had his hand inching toward his pocket. This could be his moment, the moment to finally ask her. His fingers found the little ring and he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger at his side where Hannah couldn't see, trying to build up his courage.

"Hannah," he started and she tilted her head so she could see his face. "I lo – OUCH!" Neville's hand shot back into his pocket and a second later he had pulled out a dull Galleon. It felt warm in his palm and there was a circle on his thigh that was still stinging from the burn. The serial number was displaying today's date, and he knew what it meant. There was only one other former D.A. member that still had their coin, and the pair of them used them to send important messages to each other. He had been expecting this particular message all week, although he was now cursing the bad timing that put it at this exact moment.

"Is that your D.A. coin?" asked Hannah curiously. Too stunned by the message the coin represented, Neville only nodded. "I didn't know they still worked. What does it mean?"

Neville finally managed to lift his gaze to Hannah's and in an awe-struck voice he said, "Ginny's having the baby."

For a moment, the pair only stared at each other in surprise, and then at the exact same moment they stood up. They both sought out their shoes and forced them on, and once they had met up in the middle of the room again, Hannah seized Neville's arm and he Apparated them to the walk of the Potters' house. Only seconds later they had reached the door and Neville knocked heavily.

"Neville, Hannah, you've made it," said a breathless Hermione as she opened the door and ushered them into the house. "C'mon, the others are all in the sitting room." She gestured for them to follow and they went down the hall and into a room opposite the grand room where they'd held the Christmas party.

The sitting room was packed; every seating place had been filled and there were people sitting on the arms of couches and even on the floor. The same glowing red hair was visible on most of the room's occupants, so that the few people who were not Weasleys stood out strongly. Andromeda Tonks, Arthur Weasley, and Fleur were sitting on the sofa, with Bill sitting on the arm beside his wife. Percy and George were in chairs facing each other, talking in low voices, while Angelina sat on the floor and kept an eye on the children. Her twins, Frederick and Roxanne, and little James Potter, were being entertained by Bill's daughter Victoire, and Harry's godson Teddy Lupin, whose hair was currently his favourite, electric blue.

"Hey, mate," said Ron. He and Harry were pacing back and forth past each other; Harry biting down on his knuckle and not looking up from the ground, and Ron holding his infant daughter, Rose, and trying to soothe her as she fussed. "I'd say pull yourself up a chair, but..." he said with a laugh, glancing around at the crowded room.

"No worries," said Neville, waving a hand. He sat down on the floor across from Angelina, and Hannah quickly sat down beside him, leaning into his side again.

"Unca Weh-vul," exclaimed James and he instantly raced over and fell into Neville's arms.

"Hey Jamie," said Neville as he straightened the toddler out so he was sitting upright on Neville's crossed legs. "Are you excited to be a brother?" James nodded so enthusiastically that he nearly fell over, and it managed to pull Harry from his pacing for the slightest moment as he gazed over at his son and smiled. Then a second later he was tracing the same line in front of the mantle and dragging his hand through his hair anxiously.

"He looks nervous," said Neville with a faint smile as Hermione sat down on his other side. "With all he's been through, you'd think nothing could make him nervous."

"He's doing a lot better than last time," said Hermione. "You weren't here, you should've seen him. Nearly tore his hair out when James was born, and he was so faint he kept falling down into chairs and then leaping right back up to pace again." She leaned closer and lowered her voice, and Neville thought he saw something mischievous in her smile. "I slipped a bit of Calming Draught in his tea; not enough that he'll notice, but it'll stop him from getting hysterical. I also cast a Muffliato charm on the upstairs room so he can't hear Ginny. I think that was got him the worst last time."

"Up there cursing a thousand words a second, I reckon," said Neville, casting an amused glance up at the ceiling.

"Well, it is quite painful," said Hermione with an almost reproving look. "Even with magic. I'd like to see you try it."

"I'd rather not," said Neville quickly, hiding away his smile. He knew better than to get her on a feminist rant; they were just as impassioned as her lectures on house-elf rights, except these ones could actually make Neville feel guilty. "I'd thought Harry might be up there with her," he said, changing topics before Hermione could pick up any steam.

"No, just Molly and the midwife," said Hermione. "They thought Harry might well have a panic attack if he was in the room." The three adults looked over at where Harry was ruffling his hair so fiercely that it looked like there might be permanent damage to his scalp. "And they're probably right," she conceded. "Although he's keeping his head better than Ron did; he got a whole Calming Draught and still fainted."

The hours stretched by and the tension in the room grew with each minute. The groups shifted around to talk with others, all in the same hushed tones as if they were at someone's bedside. James had left Neville's lap, bored by the adults' conversation, to play with Teddy. A half hour later as the clock on the mantle tolled midnight, he climbed into Hannah's lap, yawning and rubbing his eyes. She seemed just as shocked by this as anyone, but she dutifully situated the drowsy boy and let him drift off curled into her chest.

From across the room, Neville took in the sight of her with her arms around James as she rocked slightly where she sat, holding a whispered conversation with Hermione over the top of his head. He had always known she was a very maternal person, but it amazed him how right it looked to see her that way. For a second he let himself imagine that she was rocking a little blonde child, with his round face and her wide, soft eyes. It was a pleasant image.

"You gonna ask her to marry you?"

Neville jumped at the whispered question and saw Ron standing by him, grinning and still cradling a sleeping Rose in his arms. "What do you mean?" asked Neville, trying to act calm while his heart was racing. He couldn't believe Ginny had told!

Ron raised an eyebrow and snorted. "Sure," he said sceptically. "Honestly, Neville, I may have, as Hermione so kindly says," he put on a lofty, high voice, "the emotional range of a bleedin' teaspoon," (Neville laughed as Ron rolled his eyes and resumed his normal tone), "but even I can tell you're a goner for her."

Neville shrugged in a noncommittal way. "I've thought about it," he said in as off-hand a voice as he could manage. Well, at least Ginny hadn't told them all.

"Ha, I knew it," said Ron, laughing. "I told Hermione you were planning it, but she wouldn't believe me. Like she knows what a man preparing to propose acts like, she never had any clue I was gonna ask her. Took her completely by surprise."

"That's not how she tells it," put in Neville in an amused tone.

"Well, she'd say that, wouldn't she?" said Ron, brushing aside the comment. "You know how proud she is." It had never failed to impress Neville just how thick the youngest Weasley brother could be when it came to his wife; even though everyone could see that Hermione held the upper hand, Ron was still quite convinced otherwise.

"Besides, she had a lot of rubbish arguments," Ron continued without noticing that Neville was trying very hard not to laugh at him. "Said that if you were going to ask, you'd have told us. Not ruddy likely, I said. I made the mistake of telling my family and they took the mick outta me so much I was too nervous to ask her. Had the ring almost two months before I finally did it. You got the ring yet? How long you had it?"

"Three months," said Neville awkwardly.

"Three months," repeated Ron. "What's taken you so – oh, your gran, right." Ron grimaced. "Sorry mate, I forgot."

Neville shrugged it away. "I was going to ask her tonight, but I sort of got interrupted by this whole thing," he said, waving a hand to signify the room at large.

"Damn kid just had to pop out now and ruin the moment, huh?" said Ron with another laugh. He raised his voice just slightly as Harry paced toward them. "Yeah, well, he is a Potter; they are known for being trouble-causing prats."

"Oh sod off," snapped Harry, but his tone didn't sound all that angry. Neville could see he was fighting a smile as he turned on his heel and set off for the opposite end of the room again. A moment later the door opened and a middle-aged witch appeared, who Neville assumed must be the midwife.

"Harry," she said and Harry crossed the room so quickly he might have flown. He paused to scoop James, who had woken up at the door opening, out of Hannah's arms and then stepped past the witch, and could be heard running up the stairs, saying, "C'mon, James, let's go see your mum and little brother." James cheered sleepily.

"Everything went well," said the witch to the rest of the room. "You can all go up now so long as you don't cause too much ruckus." Neville thought this was a bit much to ask from the Weasleys but no one bothered to tell the witch as much. They all flew to their feet and began filtering past her, the sound of thunderous footfalls on the stairs impressively loud. Neville fought his way through the crowd to join Hannah and they trailed near the back of the group as they made their way upstairs and into a second floor bedroom.

Ginny was sitting up in bed, propped up on a mass of pillows. Her face was as red as her hair and she was sweating heavily, but there was a radiant smile on her face. Harry was at her side, holding James on his hip as they leaned close to look at the bundle of blankets in Ginny's arms. The rest of the crowd was forming a semi-circle around the bed and the excitement in the air was even more palpable than the previous tension downstairs had been.

"Let's see him then," said George loudly. Ginny obliged, tilting her arms just slightly and moving the blanket away from the baby's face. It looked much like Neville thought every baby did; all round and squishy and pink. However there was already a swatch of thin hair on his head that was jet black, and when he blinked at the large crowd they could see that his eyes were a bright, emerald green.

"Blimey, Harry, he looks just like you, this one," said Ron, laughing and shaking his head. "Too bad he couldn't wait a week more to be born, you'd have been twins."

"Except for the fact that we're twenty-five years apart, right?" Harry returned, but the sarcasm was daunted by the fact that he was beaming proudly. He reached out a hand to touch the baby's cheek. "Albus Severus Potter," he said in a dazed voice.

Neville fought back a shudder at the former Potions master's name; he knew that Snape had turned out to be a hero, but that didn't change the fact that he had been the terror of Neville's youth. Hannah seemed to notice this and she slipped an arm around him, giving him a comforting squeeze. Neville replied by wrapping his own arm around her waist and drawing her closer to his side.

The Potters presented a beautiful image to look at; Ginny with little Albus in her arms, stroking his cheek with a finger and smiling like the sun, while Harry hovered at her side with James on his hip, matching expressions of excitement and awe on their faces. As Neville watched them he felt Hannah pull her other arm around his middle and nestle her head against his ribs, and he knew more surely than ever before that the scene in front of him was the one he wanted to one day share with the woman at his side. And in the very same thought, he knew exactly how he wanted to ask her.