For Old Times' Sake
Monday
Epilogue – Gingerbread Houses and Kisses. Sean. Silencing Charms.
"Are you happy you sat your N.E.W.T.s?" Hermione asked.
"I don't regret it, if that's what you mean," Harry replied.
They were in the sitting area of the cottage, watching the snow fall outside the window as a small mountain range of it had already formed on the sill. They each had a glassful of mint hot chocolate, something Harry had thought to make them, while a throw was over their legs. Because even though there was a fire in the fireplace, the winter weather came over them as strong as it had ever done before. It was cold, so much so that Hermione found herself snuggling into Harry's arms whenever the opportunity presented itself. He didn't seem to mind and she loved him for it.
"But we didn't need them," she said. "It was almost as if it was all for nothing."
"Not to me," Harry remarked. "Even though I didn't know it at the time, going back to Hogwarts to sit our N.E.W.T.s offered a bit of closure with everything that happened. Besides," he went on, "it was the most normal year I ever had."
"Boring?" Hermione asked for clarification.
"With you?" he scoffed, smiling. "Never."
"I'm actually surprised so many came back," she said. "I mean, you changed your mind more than I thought you would-,"
"And at one time, you thought about skipping N.E.W.T.s altogether," Harry interrupted.
"I was more worried than anything," she reasoned.
"Ron and Ginny?" he guessed.
She only nodded.
When Harry and Hermione got together, they thought it'd be best to let their friends know about their relationship. After all, they'd be cowards if they didn't. (A coward leading a cowardly life, Petunia had said.) In a weird twist of events, Ron had been happy for them, a sentiment that threw Harry and Hermione through a Muggle rollercoaster full of loops, twists, and whirls. He reasoned that after giving it some thought, Hermione was more of a friend to him than a lover. Ginny, on the other hand, hadn't reacted well to the news at all. Though she was quiet with their announcement, she fled the Burrow directly after, and didn't return for several days.
"I can't imagine how it was with Quidditch," Hermione said.
"You were worried about Gryffindor's chances of winning the Quidditch Cup?"
"Surprised?"
"Well…yes," he spluttered, his eyes wide. "The last time you showed any interest in Quidditch was…," he trailed off, thinking. "Have you ever showed any interest in Quidditch?"
"To be honest, I've never been much of fan," she commented, sipping her mint hot chocolate.
"And now?" he pressed.
"Kind of the same," she shrugged, "only I have a better understanding of why you like it so much."
"What brought that on?"
"Your kiss," she said.
After Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff for the Quidditch Cup, Harry, having caught the Golden Snitch, flew over to the stands, located Hermione, and snogged her in front of the whole school. Dennis Creevey, having taking up the mantle of his late brother, Colin, snapped so many pictures of them that it seemed like lightning was flashing around the pitch. Many of those pictures from that day now hung on Harry and Hermione's bedroom wall upstairs, forming a collage in the shape of the Golden Snitch itself.
"There were rumors going around that Gryffindor would be last in the running due to you and Ginny not being able to work together, and that that would cost us a chance at winning the Quidditch Cup," Hermione said. "Of course, it didn't turn out that way but still."
"You know, I was relieved when Ron was supportive of us dating and all, and even more relieved when Quidditch started back up again. Because there were several times after practice when it looked as if Ginny meant to corner me-,"
"Corner you?"
"To tempt me," he explained quickly. "But Ron never let that happen. It was almost as if he was there just to keep her away, not that her temptations would've worked anyway."
"I would hope not," Hermione grumbled, more than annoyed that anyone, let alone Ginny, would try and tempt Harry when he was already in a relationship.
Laughing, Harry leaned over and kissed her, slipping his tongue into her mouth shortly afterwards. He tasted sweet, like the mint hot chocolate he had nearly finished, and Hermione, unable to help herself, simply melted against him. He guided her hand onto his erection, one that was tenting his grey joggers quite massively, and when she opened her eyes, she saw his toes curl under the white socks he was wearing – a trait, she had since learned, that meant Harry was ready to couple.
"We can't!" she insisted, though made no move to take her hand off of his erection. (Merlin is it hard, she thought to herself, nearly salivating because of it.) She then began to stroke it, making Harry groan, and he used his bedroom voice when he did.
However, he soon stopped her hand with his and said, "I'm going to cum if you keep up with it."
Confused, Hermione asked, "You don't want to?"
"I promise you I won't be quiet about it," he replied. "And you can add to that the usual expletives I tend to let loose when we hit it raw." Following a pause, he suggested, "Silencing Charms?"
"Sean's only in the kitchen," she said, and this time, took her hand away.
Harry watched his erection deflate with a frown.
"I'll make it up to you," she promised.
"Tonight?"
"We'll see," and kissed him.
They took to the kitchen and Hermione smiled when she saw that Sean was passed out at the table, one that Harry had since expanded to fit three people instead of two, using a debris of crayons as his pillow. She noticed that next to him was a drawing of the gingerbread houses each of them had made earlier, and that he was doing a very good job with it. The gingerbread houses themselves were in a row atop the table, kind of like its own private village: a house for Harry, a house for Hermione, and a house for Sean. Sure, she knew that Sean was a child prodigy in what he could do with a couple of crayons, but it still surprised her every time she saw a creation of his on a bit of parchment she'd thought to spare.
"Looks like this one's long ready for bed," Harry said, scooping Sean into his arms. He then fondly kissed him on the forehead. "Care to help me?" he asked Hermione.
"Definitely," and Hermione accepted the kiss Harry gave to her. A kiss for Hermione, a kiss for Sean…a kiss for Sean, a kiss for Hermione. There was plenty of kisses from Harry to go around.
Passing through the sitting area, Hermione smothered the fire in the fireplace with a wave of her wand, minding the large Christmas tree in the corner that Harry and Sean had brought home several days ago and decorated, complete with balls, ornaments, and a shower of tinsel, not to mention the large pile of presents under it waiting to be opened.
As they went up the stairs, Hermione remembered when Sean came into the picture…their picture…and it all started with a question Harry had asked Hermione: Are you happy?
"Why?" she asked him, curious.
"You don't seem to be," he shrugged.
"It's the hours," she replied, tired.
"I think you're logging more than me these days," Harry said. "Didn't know the Beast Division required so much of your time."
"The Department's busy," she said, referring to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. "Charlie's doing his best to make sure the opening for the Northumberland Dragon Sanctuary goes as smooth as possible."
"It'll be fine," Harry said, leading Hermione into the kitchen where a Cornish Hen was waiting for them. "He has you to back him up, doesn't he?"
"Maybe," she said, picking up her fork and knife, "but that only means there's more pressure on me."
"Want to trade?" Harry asked.
She looked at him and said, "And what's wrong with the Auror Office? Last I heard, Azkaban was full to the brim these days."
"It's gotten a little boring," he answered, cutting along the backbone of the Cornish Hen, finding the ridge, and nestling his knife downward so that he pushed the entire breast right off. "I remember telling McGonagall that I was interested in becoming an Auror-,"
"Career advice in fifth year," Hermione inserted.
He nodded, "Now though, I don't like it as much. I guess it wasn't able to live up to the high expectations I had of it in the first place, and it doesn't matter if those high expectations were unreasonable or not."
"So what're you going to do?" she asked next. "I mean, you shouldn't continue with the Auror Office if you don't want to."
"Well," Harry started, looking a little embarrassed with himself as he rubbed the back of his neck, "there is a little something I have up my sleeve." Here, he paused to take a long drink of his Firewhisky, seeming as if he was trying to drum up the courage to explain what his little something entailed. "You know how there's been talk to restore Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour in Diagon Alley?"
Hermione did as she remembered that Harry's sixteenth birthday at the Burrow was spoiled by talk of disappearances, of which greatly irritated Mrs Weasley, including that of Florean Fortescue. (He used to give me free ice creams. What happened to him? Harry asked. Dragged off, by the look of the place, was Bill's reply.)
"I'm thinking of doing it myself," Harry said.
"Restore Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour?" and she felt her brows pull together across her head.
She saw him frown as he said, "Doesn't tickle your fancy, does it?"
"It's just that I've never pegged you for serving ice cream."
"It won't really be ice cream," he told her. "Instead, I'm thinking of a kind of bakery."
"Bakery?" she repeated.
"Don't look at me like that! You said so yourself that I've gotten better at it!"
"You have," Hermione agreed, "but running a bakery of all things?"
"Forget it," he mumbled, taking to his plate and using his fork to skate around the remaining sweet potatoes there.
It was a horrible thing to see Harry look so defeated about opening a bakery in Diagon Alley. And even though she hadn't totally shot down the idea of it, she felt crummy nonetheless, very crummy at that. Truthfully, the very last thing she expected of him was to propose leaving the Ministry of Magic to find work in Diagon Alley – at a bakery too! Yet should she really be all that surprised by it? For months, Hermione had felt that Harry wasn't satisfied with his work in the Auror Office because the prospect of being an Auror often clashed with the realities that came with the job itself. And yes, Harry was fully capable of handling such clashes, though that didn't mean he liked to do so on a daily basis. Thus, she figured his question to her (Are you happy?) was actually a question for himself. And over the course of their meal, he decided that he wasn't.
Meanwhile, he believed that opening a bakery in Diagon Alley was something that could make him happy. And hell, who was she to stand in the way of Harry and his happiness? After all, that was her biggest wish: for Harry to be happy. Unfortunately, her own skepticism on the matter of a bakery had killed all the happiness he had had before then. She saw it leave his eyes just like the darkness left a flaming candle. She bristled at herself for being so stupid! If Harry wanted to leave the Auror Office to run a bakery, then she'd fully support him in that venture. And just as she was about to tell Harry this, the spontaneous side of her stopped the words from coming out of her mouth. (No, the spontaneous side of her said, he deserves more than meaningless words, doesn't he?) Oh, yes, he does.
Later that night, Harry's mood hadn't improved in the slightest. But it was no matter because she had the perfect remedy. In bed, he was flipping through the latest edition of the Quidditch Times, the sheets bunched around his middle so that his belly button was barely visible. She made her way into the bedroom wearing a satin camisole, the color matching that of Harry's eyes, and carrying, of all things, a jam jar.
"What's with that?" he asked her, nodding towards the jam jar.
"I was making a Vicky Sponge but thought to apologize," she said, "for not trusting you about the bakery."
"You don't have to-,"
"Just listen to me, will you?" she cut across him. When he nodded, Hermione continued, "Your happiness means the world to me, and if you think that leaving the Auror Office to run a bakery in Diagon Alley will get you the happiness you want, then I'm all for it."
"Seriously?"
"Don't believe me?"
He scoffed, "Your enthusiasm about it was a bit muted before."
"I'll prove it to you."
"How?"
Worrying her bottom lip, she removed her camisole, tossing it on the floor. Afterwards, she slowly undid her bra and pushed her knickers down so that it pooled her ankles. It was at this time that she noticed Harry's eyes had grown hungry, taking in her nakedness like she was Aphrodite. He closed the Quidditch Times, chucking it atop the bedside table as if it was distracting him from the main event. Unscrewing the lid of the jam jar, Hermione, urged by the spontaneous side of her (Go on, do it! it said), poured raspberry jam over her breasts, letting it avalanche down her body. It was almost comical in the way that Harry's mouth dropped open in shock, but there was nothing comical in the way his eyes flashed, the hungriness being replaced with a kind of starvation.
"The jam's for me?" he asked, husky.
"All of it," she confirmed.
That was when he took her, roughly at that, kissing and licking and tasting the sheen of raspberry jam over her skin. Not only that, but Harry went down on her, putting one of her legs on one shoulder and the other leg on his other shoulder. He then leaned forward, his tongue on her folds. Unable to help it, she moaned, hastily grounding against his hot mouth. And when he sucked on her labium, she threw her head back and nearly screamed, her hands feral in his already feral hair. She was lost onboard a ship out in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by the open sea. She began sinking when he found her clitoris, moving his tongue over it lovingly. He was torturing her and she was close to being submerged in the water that threatened to come out of her like a tsunami.
"Harry, I'm nearly there," she said, breathless.
Quickly, he pushed into her and when he did, she felt him get even harder. It was like having the world's hardest object stuffed inside of her. But she didn't spare this much of a thought, she couldn't, not when Harry began to thrust in her, so deep that he kept pushing and rubbing against her cervix. He moaned and she cried out. It was a sex symphony, featuring the voices of Harry and Hermione. When he balled the sheets on either side of her head in his fists, his erection tightened considerably. Soon after, he pumped his cum into her, driving her mad from the way his erection pulsated, semen squirting her vaginal walls like a Muggle water gun. This triggered her own orgasm, one that came on hard and intense.
When they were finished, Harry refused to pull out of Hermione. Rather, he kissed her again and again and again, over and over and over. It was like he couldn't get enough. And if anyone asked her, she'd say the exact same thing of him. She liked the way his tongue explored hers, it navigating a terrain it was becoming more familiar with. She found this to be more than intimate…hot, actually…and the best thing about it was that it was hers and she could have it whenever she wanted.
"So a bakery, huh?" Hermione said.
Harry, having already taken to her neck to wreak havoc with a storm of love bites across it, laughed, "Is that all you can think of at the moment?"
"Don't tell me you haven't a plan!" she insisted, though didn't move because Harry was sucking even more of her neck now. Simply put it, she'd be flooded with love bites come morning.
"Later," he said, distracted.
Hermione huffed, "We're not going into this blind, are we?"
"We?" he asked, taking a break from ravaging her neck. "You want in?"
"Not with the Northumberland Dragon Sanctuary opening so soon."
"How about afterwards?"
"You don't mind working with me?" she asked.
"Hermione," he said, taken aback, "you were the one who got me interested in opening a bakery in the first place."
"Battenberg?"
"That," he said, "and everything else you taught me."
"If anything, I'm surprised you listened."
Harry grinned as he went back to her neck. And Hermione couldn't believe it, she felt him stiffen! Clearly, he was willing to have another go of things. And something else Hermione couldn't believe, she was too!
"One last thing," she said, wrapper her legs around his waist so that she caged him to her. "Have you thought of a name?"
As it turned out, Harry did.
So after securing the necessary funds from Gringotts, Jean, replacing Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, opened in November of 2001. The fanfare that came with the opening was unbelievable: Diagon Alley was like the London Underground during rush hour, with witches and wizards clamoring to be the first customer, not that it mattered any. And what do you know it, Rita Skeeter was there too, leading the charge. However, instead of placing an order, she bugged Harry about a potential cookbook that featured his recipes and his recipes only. (It'd be a bestseller, she told him with a smile, her gold teeth winking at him.) In fact, Jean was so busy that Harry commandeered the help of Mrs Weasley, much to Ginny's chagrin, who was still bitter about Harry and Hermione's relationship.
"Why Jean?" Hermione asked him one night.
They were in bed, naked under the covers having just finished making love.
"It's your middle name," he said simply.
"And you named your bakery after that?"
"No," he shook his head. "I named our bakery after you."
"Our?" she repeated, confused. "I'm not a partner-"
"Yet," Harry interrupted with a smile.
"Have you thought about hiring someone else?" Hermione asked. "I mean, Mrs Weasley has been a big help, but I don't think she's willing to work full-time."
"She said she was," Harry said, stretching his arms and legs, yawning a little.
"I don't want you to overwork yourself," she said, bothered by the thought of it.
"Trust me, I'm not," was his reply. "Besides, this is something that I like to do, even more than what I did at the Auror Office." He then leaned over and kissed her. "How about you come in one day and try it for yourself."
Hermione considered this and said, "Well, I could now that the Northumberland Dragon Sanctuary is over with."
"What about tomorrow?"
She looked at him and asked, "You really want me there?"
"More than anything."
And that was how Hermione got started with Jean, handing in her resignation to the Beast Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures just after New Year's. Because while her work at the Ministry of Magic was worthwhile in some aspects, her work at Jean was worthwhile in every aspect, especially since it was with Harry. For a period of time, Mrs Weasley continued to help out, refusing the salary Harry tried to give her, something that he greatly disliked. However, when Bill and Fleur announced that they were pregnant, Mrs Weasley reduced her hours, and even more so when they announced that they were pregnant again. But such was fine considering Harry and Hermione were able to handle everything themselves, even though there was a titanic of orders coming in day after day, week after week. Frankly, Jean was famous. (Can you imagine if it was called Potter's Pâtisserie instead? Harry asked her, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.)
Yet things took a turn, a major turn, when Sean came into their lives, quite unexpectedly too.
It was after work one day – sometime in late January or early February – when Hermione took the rubbish to the alleyway in the back, levitating several bags of it with her wand. But she stopped short upon seeing a boy digging in the dustbin, taking scraps of food he found there and eating it. Startled, the bags of rubbish clamored to the ground, causing the boy's head to snap up like a Muggle jack-in-the-box. His green eyes stared at her, unblinking.
Recovering as quickly as she could, Hermione said to him gently, "Hi there," and waved her hand, a smile on her face. "My name's Hermione. What's yours?"
He didn't respond, only looked at her in the same way she imagined that the witches and wizards looked at Harry when he took a detour to Knockturn Alley the summer before second year.
"Can you tell me your name?" she repeated, her smile waning like the crescent moon.
No answer.
"How old are you? Four? Five?" she asked next.
Again, there was no answer.
"Your parents? They can't be far from here, can they?" Hermione looked around, hoping to see a frantic parent running down the alleyway, searching for their lost son.
Still no answer.
"What about siblings? Do you have a brother or sister?"
Unmoving, Hermione wondered if she was talking to a statue. For all intents and purposes, she kind of was.
Sighing, she slowly made her way over to him, holding her hands in the air so that he knew she meant him no harm. His eyes, eyes that reminded her so much of Harry's, watched her like guard towers, widening the closer she got. Because of this, she expected him to scamper when she reached the dustbin, and was more than surprised when he didn't. She lifted him into her arms, realizing that he was completely naked. Hermione waved her wand, conjuring a wool blanket, and cocooned him in it.
"Let's get you in the warm, okay?" she said, rubbing small circles across his back.
The only response the boy gave was that of nestling his head in the crook of her shoulder, using it as a pillow of sorts.
Despite the situation at hand, Hermione smiled, trying to flatten the cowlick standing up the back of his head. (Doesn't it ever lie flat? Mrs Weasley asked Harry before his Hearing at the Ministry of Magic.)
Once inside, Hermione told Harry of the Lost Boy. Since he hadn't a name he was willing to share, Lost Boy was what she referred to him as. And after running some simple diagnostics (I read the theory behind them in a book, she explained), she found that the Lost Boy was unable to speak.
"Is he really?" Harry asked.
"It seems so," Hermione replied.
They decided to take him to the Auror Office as Harry assured that Neville could help them. And help them he did. After accessing Ministry Records, as Aurors were wont to do, Neville told them that the Lost Boy's name was Sean, one whose parents were murdered by Death Eaters that managed to evade Azkaban after the War. Such Death Eaters were the same ones Harry was tasked with finding when he worked for the Auror Office.
"When were his parents murdered?" Hermione asked.
"Early in 2001," Neville said. "He was orphaned afterwards."
"Orphaned where?"
"The Dilys Derwent Children's Ward," Neville answered, referring to Sean's file, "fourth floor of St Mungo's, just across from the Janus Thickey Ward."
"How old is he?" said Harry, holding Sean, who had since fallen asleep in his arms.
"Four," Neville replied, "born on New Year's Day in 1998."
"Do you think that Sean suffers from psychological trauma because of what happened to his parents?" Hermione thought to ask. "Maybe that's why he doesn't talk."
"According to Healer Patil, that's exactly what's wrong with him," Neville confirmed, his knuckle tapping against Sean's file.
"There's nothing wrong with him!" Hermione replied tersely, trying to keep her voice down lest she wake Sean up. "He's different. That's all."
"Different, of course," Neville agreed sheepishly, his cheeks a rosy red.
"I suppose we should take him back then," Harry said.
Hermione only nodded.
Under the Disillusionment Charm, because the last thing they needed were a bunch of rumors surfacing about how Harry and Hermione already had had a child between them – something that'd surely have Ginny go mad with envy, they passed the Welcome Witch, her nose buried deep in Witch Weekly, and took up the stairs to the fourth floor. However, that was when Sean woke up, almost on instinct alone, and scrambled out of Harry's arms. He tucked his back against the wall, sliding across it like a jewel thief might do on the outside ledge of a tall building. Just before he reached the double doors at the end of the corridor, Harry and Hermione caught up to him.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked him.
Of course, Sean didn't answer with words. Instead, he pointed his finger at the Dilys Derwent Children's Ward and shook his head back and forth.
"He doesn't want to go back," Hermione whispered.
"I wonder why that is," Harry said.
Abuse. That was why Sean hadn't wanted to go back to the Dilys Derwent Children's Ward, and it was a small wonder that the Healers were charged with child endangerment and child neglect a short while later. They confessed to the fact that they starved Sean for being a mute, as well as the fact that they starved the other children if their behavior warranted it. Hermione was furious with this, accidentally setting fire to the Daily Prophet. Sean's eyes lit up in fascination when he saw the flames at the kitchen table the morning it happened. The Healers were sentenced to ten years in Azkaban, something Hermione thought was far too little time. As it was, they appreciated Neville's help as his investigation of the Dilys Derwent Children's Ward was his last with the Auror Office. He left the Ministry of Magic shortly after, accepting McGonagall's offer for him to become the new Herbology Professor at Hogwarts.
"He's out like a light," Harry whispered to her. He set Sean on the bed and tucked him in with the bright green blanket Petunia had given him several years ago now.
"Only until the morning," Hermione said, leading Harry out of the room. "Most of the presents under the tree have his name on them."
"Is that such a crime?" he asked, softly shutting the door.
"You spoil him," she admonished.
"I can't help it," Harry shrugged, taking her hand and going back downstairs. "I love him so much."
They both did, actually, and because of this, Harry and Hermione decided to adopt him. It was unfortunate that what followed was the wildest media circus in living memory, the Daily Prophet, The Quibbler, and Witch Weekly reporting record sales. Rita Skeeter, herself, wrote at least a dozen articles on the matter, the most prominent being why Harry and Hermione adopted instead of having a child of their own. And that's not even mentioning the fact that adoptions from the Dilys Derwent Children's Ward soared, Harry and Hermione supposedly leading the charge, while the name Sean became the most popular option to give those born at St Mungo's. Jean was as busy as it had ever been, rivaling that of its neighbor, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, so it was more than helpful that Harry and Hermione had had several employees to keep up with the barbaric mob.
"He's special," Hermione agreed. "I just hope that he'll be able to talk again."
"Want to hear his voice, do you?"
"So much," she sighed.
"Give him time," Harry said. "Sean'll come around."
"You sure?"
"Positive," he replied, pulling her into the sitting room.
"What're you doing?" she asked, curious. "I thought we were going to get ready for bed."
"Not yet," he shook his head. "Because it's Christmas Eve, I think we should do something special."
"Special?" Hermione repeated. "You had something in mind?"
Harry pointed his wand at the Wizarding Wireless, a recent purchase that they had resolved in putting on the mantle, joining the pictures of James and Lily. The voice of Glenda Chittock was heard, introducing Celestina Warbeck who sang Nothing Like a Holiday Spell.
"Care to dance?" Harry asked.
With a smile, Hermione said, "But we don't know how!"
"Doesn't matter," and he pulled her against him, swaying from side to side.
Their dancing, if one could call it that, wasn't polished or precise, as they moved only a little here and there. It was void of dipping, of lifting, of turning, and of twisting because such was a choreographed dance. Their dance, on the other hand, wasn't choreographed at all. It was more natural instead. What was also natural was the tension that existed between them. Yet it was a good kind of tension, one that spoke of the love they had for each other. Hermione thought of them as such anyway: Harry, Hermione, and Sean – of two, there is both; of three, there is all. And sure, she hadn't expected to become a mother at the tender age of twenty-four, sharing a child, one who was going to turn six in a week, with Harry. Life, though, was funny that way, sneaking up on you with one surprise after another. However, she wouldn't trade her surprises for anything else. Hermione was happy now, and had been ever since she decided to visit Harry in the weeks following the War.
Her head against his chest, Hermione said, "Is this Nothing Like a Holiday Spell?"
"Been brushing up on Celestina Warbeck's music catalog?"
"Did a bit of reading on her."
"Really?" Harry asked.
"I found out she recorded Puddlemere United's Anthem, Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys, and Chuck That Quaffle Here, giving the proceeds to St Mungo's."
"Thoughtful of her, wasn't it?"
Hermione scoffed, "Now they can use the funds to find proper Healers to run the Dilys Derwent Children's Ward, ones that actually care about the children there. Sean-,"
"Is safe now," Harry said. "He's safe with us."
"I just can't help thinking about what he went through," she said. "He hadn't any food, never mind proper food, all because he didn't talk! And the fact that he didn't talk was due to his parents being murdered by Death Eaters makes it all the more horrible!"
"It does," Harry agreed, "but that's in the past." He stopped swaying when Nothing Like a Holiday Spell came to an end. A Witch and Wizard's Wintry Wondrous Land replaced it. "We'll give him a better future. I promise you."
"He definitely seems happier," she said. "He'll be even more so when Teddy comes over tomorrow."
"I'm glad they get along so well," Harry smiled. "I imagine Andromeda feels the same."
"Hopefully, they won't get into Hagrid's Rock Cakes like they did last year," she said, pointing to a plateful he had sent them. He did so every Christmas.
"Exactly how many windows did they manage to break?"
"Several," Hermione rolled her eyes, remembering the kerfuffle the Rock Cakes were part of the previous Christmas.
"Let's remember to put them away before Andromeda and Teddy come over then," he said. "I don't have the heart to bin anything Hagrid sends us."
"I feel the same way," Hermione nodded, "although it is nice of him to think of us every year."
"Dudley too," Harry added, his eyes finding the Christmas card on coffee table they had received from Dudley and his wife, along with the announcement that they were expecting.
"Are you going to visit him?" Hermione asked. "I mean, he said you're welcome to."
"Not anytime soon," he replied. "With Sean, I'm not sure how he'll be treated. I don't want him to go through anything I did."
"Dudley's changed though, hasn't he?"
"Seems like it, but that doesn't mean those feelings he had as a kid are all gone. It's possible that some of them are still there." He then bent his head and kissed Hermione. "You and Sean are my only priorities. The most important thing is for us to have a good Christmas together. Merlin knows work keeps us away from Sean much more than we'd like it to."
"So about a holiday?"
"Right now?" and his hands made their way to her waist, arresting it in a tight grip.
"I don't mean this second," Hermione said, "but maybe for Sean's birthday."
"Have anywhere in mind?"
"Yes," she laughed a little. "I've always wanted to visit the cliffs at Étretat in Normandy, including L'Aiguille and the Porte d'Aval. Also, it might be worth checking out the Chapelle Notre-Dame de la Garde since it's close by."
Harry seemed to consider this and said, "Well, France isn't that far away."
"Not at all," Hermione said, thumbing the band of his grey joggers.
"What're you doing?" he asked, and she saw that his eyes glittered an emerald green.
"From what I remember, you had an erection before that required a bit of handiwork. Since Sean's in bed, I thought now's a good time as any to help you with that."
"How about we change it up a bit?"
"In what way exactly?"
"You see, I have an erection," and he pushed it against her as if to prove his point, "that wants a blow job."
"We're parents!" Hermione said, scandalized. However, she reckoned that she shouldn't be scandalized in the slightest because while she hadn't planned on giving Harry a blow job, she kind of wanted to. It was dirty in its own way, and such dirtiness made it all the more attractive to her. She wanted to please Harry in the best way possible and if a blow job was what he wanted, then a blow job was what he was going to get. To hell with the dirtiness of it all!
"Of course, I'll repay the favor," he said, licking his lips.
She quickly agreed, exciting as it was, and before they started, Harry and Hermione put up the strongest Silencing Charms they could. Better safe than sorry.
A/N: So here we are at the end of For Old Times' Sake. I sincerely want to thank everyone that thought to favorite and follow this story, along with taking the time to leave a review. (Yes, I did read through all of them!) It definitely means a lot. Hopefully this epilogue was satisfactory enough. It was something I battled with for a while. Also, just in case anyone was wondering, the beginning of the epilogue takes place in 2003, the flashback takes place in 2001 and 2002, and the ending of the epilogue returns to 2003. As always, thanks for reading.