"I'm home…"

His pleasant little home stood there strangely quiet but deliciously peaceful. He sighed. Yes, this was the stuff that dreams were made of. He could barely believe that he was home.

They had decided to send him home.

"Those cuts on your chest!" The doctor had said, "And I don't know how or if you'll ever be able to walk again. The shrapnel tore right through your…"

But he didn't hear anymore. Home! It didn't matter… magic would heal his leg soon enough and he would be with his wife and children. He felt guilty leaving his men, but, he decided, there was nothing that could be done about that. His family needed him and he had been gone so long.

And then, as he waited, his leg healed. The doctor was amazed. How could this happen? And his chest! Healed! You could barely tell… except for the puffy scars, that he had been hit just two weeks ago! It was not raw or anything… just scars, like they had been there since childhood. This would not do! He could come back! Six weeks then, six weeks leave.

Albus' face fell, "Six Weeks?" it was too short and too long at the same time. He would not be abandoning his men, but oh! He got to see his wife, and the children! A good lot they must think of their father being gone so long. True they were not a year old yet, but Albus never underestimated children, especially his own.

"They know a lot more than we think they know," he said to himself.

He reached for the doorknob, taking a deep breath fearing it was all a dream and he'd wake up back in that dreadful hospital bed. The knob turned and his ears were rewarded with the high shriek of four un-pacified children. It was music to his ears. He knew that the stillness of the air outside had been merely a façade with five children in the house.

"Thank God for silencing charms,"

He walked slowly into the house and set down his bag. He walked into the kitchen. It was chaos. His poor disheveled wife at the sink trying to calm one of the children while the other four tried to out cry each other in their highchairs. Albus found the scene pathetically comical but wonderful at the same time.

"Min…" Miss Stevenson stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the master of the house. But Albus put a finger up to his lips for her to be silent.

"Oh, Jane can… you…" she said turning around. Her mouth stood open in slow realization of the vision before her. Time seemed to stand still. Even the children softened their cries. He gazed back lovingly. Gently, he turned to one of the crying children and picked it up calming it as her hazel eyes followed him carefully. Almost in response, she picked up the child on the counter and rested it on her hip and the two found themselves being pulled toward each other.

They found themselves standing face to face, each with a child in their arms and seemingly entranced. She searched his deep blue eyes, almost to see if he was genuine. He read her silent question and nodded. She brought her lips to his and kissed him.

"Welcome home, darling," she said, smiling gently.

He smiled back and then pushed his lips back down to hers.

The children started crying again quite suddenly.

"Come on then, let's take care of these children," he smiled.

Jane, of course, was shocked to see her former Transfiguration teacher and Defense Against Dark Arts professor kissing in their own kitchen, but soon got over it, for they were, after all, married. It shouldn't, she reasoned, no, it isn't unusual at all, she told herself.

Then she started thinking about the days she had spent in both of their classes. It was all far too strange to think of the two together. Endless daydreams and ridiculous rumours of such things never came true. Or did they? Could it be? Gaaa! What if there were more teacher couples! It was too much for her to fathom. Disturbing images popped uninvited into her mind.

Yes… no… she decided finally… teachers should not marry. And yet, she thought with a sigh, they look so… cuddly together… eech! No! Educators! Sheesh!…

"Jane!" a shrill voice startled her. She almost forgot where she was for a moment, "Yes, professor?"

"Professor?" Minerva raised an eyebrow quizzically, "Call me Minerva…"

"They've gotten so big…"

She sighed happily.

"You've been gone for such a long time… nearly a year you know… crawling and all…"

She rested her head against his bare chest and ran her fingers along his scars as he stroked her hair.

"Why did you come to me last month?"

"I don't know! I can't understand it… I've never heard of anything like this happening. I guess dreams and the subconscious… Oh!"

She knew this was coming and she knew she had to tell him sometime.

She sat up straight and took a deep breath.

"That's the other thing…" she looked down at her slender hands. Albus looked sideways at her sudden quietness.

"What, dearest?"

"I saw it…"

"Saw what?"

"Jon,"

Breath caught in his throat.

"What do you mean?"

"The fog… the light… I saw what you saw…" she swallowed the emotion building, "He's dead isn't he?"

The memory was fresh again and painful.

"Yes… and he's back…"

"Who?" her face paled.

"Grindelwald."