A/N:

Thank for the last time to Cheesyficwriter and RomioneB, you've been supportive, fun, helpful - overall amazing. You're both the bestest writers and friends a first-timer as myself could have asked.

Also, as is protocol-ish, I own nothing of the Wizarding World, all the characters are J. 's creation. I only like to pretend I can write and I do not make a single peso from this story.

This is the last one, and I'm happy about it but also sad .

Now, read!

There are images that torture you forever, and as I came out of the dark pipe-like tube of Apparition into reality, feet landing firmly in my flat, I knew Rose's face as I left was going to be one of those forever-haunting memories.

Thankful that Harry and George had left and no one was able to see me this low, I all but crawled onto the sofa, curled in a tight ball, and let it all out. I didn't know if I was crying, screaming, or shaking. Maybe I was doing it all, who cared? There was only one thing I was sure of: It was all too much.

Somewhere between the nervous breakdown, I fell asleep, only to wake up to the sound of Hermione's voice.

'We need to talk this through. Come back whenever you're ready.' The otter said, and as soon as it finished, it vanished, taking with it the warm feeling only a Patronus can convey.

Feeling empty again, I turned on the sofa until I was laying on my back, a forearm over my eyes to block the annoying stream of light coming straight into my face from the kitchen window.

"Come back whenever you're ready", she had said.

I scoffed.

I wasn't even close to being ready. I couldn't face the twins. I couldn't bear the stampede of emotions that had surged at the mere sight of Rose, and she wasn't even the little version of myself. I wondered what would happen if I was face to face with Hugo, now that I knew I – Fuck!

Rolling to the side, I curled up again. Maybe if I slept I wouldn't have to think.

Just for a day...

The Floo roared, and as I shut my eyes closed in preparation, I cursed at my past self for not locking the damn thing.

'Please, I can't talk right now Her–'

'Nope, M'not her.'

I jolted up on one hand and turned around. 'Harry? I thought...'

'She's worried sick, mate.'

I growled, dropping back onto the sofa, closing my eyes again as the heels of my hands went up to massage my forehead. 'Shit!'

A puff of air brushed my cheek as Harry let himself fall onto the closest armchair, squishing the cushion. Then, nothing. The git remained silent.

'You won't tell me to talk to her?'

'Nope.'

'Then why–'

'Look mate,' Harry cut me off, 'we've been through this before. I only came to check on you because Hermione is driving me round the bend.' I scoffed, and Harry snorted before saying, 'Yeah.'

After a few minutes of silence, Harry started again. 'I get it, you know?' he asked, and I grunted. 'No, I really do, Ron. If I'd just found out I had two kids and I'd missed their lives because I was too pissed drunk to know I was their father...well, I'd be moping too.'

'M'not moping.'

'No, of course not. You're the face of delight, Ron.'

'Fuck off, Harry.'

'Can't. Have to wait for–'

The sound of the fireplace cut Harry off, and George was talking before the Floo had stopped roaring. 'How's the situation, Potterkins?'

'Doesn't look like he's moved from there since Friday night,' Harry stated, then sniffed. 'No shower either.'

The gits.

'As expected.' George said before dropping into the other armchair. After a minute or so, in which he could've been silently talking to Harry or assessing my state, he said out loud, 'What d'you reckon then, Harry? I think we're facing a Plan B situation.'

Lifting my hands to peek up at George, I asked, 'A what?'

'Plan B,' said Harry, then turned to George, 'I agree.'

Now resting on my elbows, I stared at the pair. 'What d'you mean Plan B?'

'You see, Ronniekins,' said George, 'dear Potter here and I have been harassed by one bushy brown-haired witch to find out what's going on with you.' I grunted, dropping to the sofa once again.

'Thing is,' continued Harry, 'we know better than to come fussing over you. We know how you work. But Hermione, as I said, she's...well, Hermione.'

'So we decided to check on you, assess how you were coping, and apply Plan A, B or K, depending on the evaluation.' From my supine position, I lifted only my head to throw George a questioning look, and he hastily explained, 'Plan A: you're fine, and we let you be, so you can go back today or tomorrow. Plan B: you're self-destructive and brooding, so we send you to the beach for a few days to think and clear your mind before going back to your kids.'

My kids.

The knots in my stomach twisted and turned, squeezing my gut until the only thing left was a sense of hollowness. The unpleasant sensation spreading towards my chest was proof of how un-ready I was to face the twins.

'Yeah, you're right. Plan B it is.' I confirmed, head back on the cushion.

George took a bit of parchment from his pocket and set it on the table before saying, 'Verity has a cottage near Haverigg Beach, in Cumbria. You have five more days, Ron. Five days to feel sorry for yourself and then return to your family. If not, we apply Plan K.'

'Which is…?'

'We kick your arse back to your kids.' Harry quipped, his tone light and almost joyful, as if he wasn't talking about me hiding from my newly acquired children like a fat rat.

I choked out a barking laugh, and George jumped out of his seat. Then, staring at me with pretend anger, he asked, 'What? You don't think we'll do it?'

I chuckled. 'Oh, I'm sure you'll do it. If it comes down to it, you'll even enjoy it. The thing is I… I dunno... everything is a bit too much. But you're right, with the entire plan, I mean. I–I need to sort myself out. Soon.'

From the corner of my eye, I saw Harry standing up. Once he was standing next to George, he looked down at me, his face now solemn. 'As I said, mate, I get it. We –' he pointed a finger between him and George '– get it. We're selfish, self-destructive blokes as well when we're sad. So we're allowing you time to brood. But, you dragged yourself into Hermione's life – into the twins' lives. Hermione is an adult, she can understand, but the kids...that's a different matter. You can't disappear from their lives, Ron. They need you. You ought to go back soon, okay?'

I took a deep breath in, letting it out as I bowed my head in affirmation with a slow nod.

'Good. Everything you need to know about the cottage is on that parchment.' George chipped in, head jerking to the side towards the centre table. 'Go get your stuff and have a nice week at the beach torturing yourself. If you need us, send an owl. Otherwise, we'll just let you be. You know the rules.'

With that, both of them turned and headed to the fireplace. George left first, and Harry was about to go as well when he stopped short and slapped his forehead with a flat hand, cursing loudly as he turned around. 'I almost forgot,' he said, 'I talked to Robards, and he said you can either use some vacation days or do your work from the cottage – your choice.'

'Fuck, right! Er...thanks, mate, but I don't think I fancy doing any work tomorrow. Guess I'll go with the free days, then? So, you told Robards about the…'

'No, don't worry, I didn't.' Harry assured me, handing over the paperwork to fill in and sign. As I did, he continued, 'When I told him you might need to take a few days, he didn't ask why, just handed me the paperwork and said to do whatever you needed.'

Once done with the forms, I gave them back to Harry, who checked that everything was correct before he rolled the parchment. Though instead of putting the scroll back in his robes' pocket, Harry started to fumble with it as he stared at me. The git was silent and biting the inside of his cheek.

'Out with it, Potter.'

'When we went through the plans with Hermione, she agreed not to, uhm, force you to talk to her right away under one...er...condition.' He paused for a moment as if waiting for me to say something, but when I didn't, he went on. 'She gets to send you a letter, whenever she wants, sometime within these five days. So, expect an owl.'

I said nothing but nodded in understanding. Satisfied with my answer, Harry pivoted towards the Floo and left. Once alone, I laid back on the sofa, arms folded behind my head, taking my time to let everything sink in.

Hermione.

She wasn't asking for much – she was barely asking for anything, really. It was a very unlike-Hermione thing to do, to let me brood and not coerce me into a conversation. Even more so considering that I was pretty much the culprit of the entire mess we were in. We both knew she hadn't done anything; I did. I got drunk, I changed the sperm and I made myself the father of her children – and yet, she was letting me be miserable.

I wondered how she was coping with the whole ordeal. I had been pretty selfish now that I thought about it, leaving her like that – and with a confused Rose to calm down – and I hadn't even said goodbye. Oh, and let's not forget, not going back, not answering her Patronus, not even writing for over one and a half days. I was a right git. Scratch that. I was the king of the gits.

What would the twins think of me now? Did they know? Had Hermione told them what I did? I hoped she hadn't. I wanted to be there when they were told, so I could see their faces as they heard the news. Would they be happy with me as their dad? Would they want to be my kids?

Shit.

I hoped they would.

Deciding not to spiral there again before getting to my beach destination, I jumped off the sofa and started to collect my stuff for a week-long vacation in brooding land.

Hermione's owl came on Thursday. I expected a manuscript the size of a Transfiguration essay, but I was wrong. She sent a very concise, straight-to-the-bone letter. It was so effective that it almost made me grab my stuff and run to her house. Almost.

Thing is, I still couldn't face the twins. Even with Hermione's words, I was too scared to face them, to tell them I was their dad. How could I? How to explain a mess like this to two five-year-olds? It was an impossible situation.

Plus, there was also the guilt. Guilt for what I'd done to Hermione, taking away her right to choose who the father of her kids would be. Even if I knew she always wanted for him to be me in the end, it wasn't supposed to be like this. We should've done it the right way, as a couple, with no lies, no drunken mistakes – with love.

I should have been right next to her the whole way.

Which leads us to the biggest source of guilt: the kids. I'd missed their entire lives – everything. All I knew of their first years came from a fistful of letters shared between their mum and me on holidays and birthdays. That's all, nothing more. And I couldn't help but resent Hermione for taking them away, though I knew I had no right. She didn't know they were also mine; she took her kids to what she thought was a better life. But it wasn't. They should've been here, dammit!

Leaving the letter safely warded on The Happy Book, I took a bottle of water and headed to the beach. It was time for a walk. I had to clear my mind…

After discarding the unfinished lunch and setting the charm for washing up the dishes, I went to grab the scrapbook before heading for the deck. It was a lovely afternoon, chill enough to need a coat, but not enough to cast a warming charm. Just perfect to mope on the deck's steps with a nice view of the back garden.

Once comfortably seated, I retrieved Hermione's letter from its safe place between the back cover and the last page of The Happy Book, where it had remained untouched since I'd gone for a walk the day before. I had two and a half days until Plan K was put into motion, and seeing that I still didn't feel like facing the twins, I was counting on the letter to do its magic and give me the push I needed to take my head out my arse and go home. Taking a deep breath, I unfolded the parchment and proceeded.

Ron

I wish you could see the pile of discarded letters on my desk. I hate that I can't help you, that I can't just hold your hand and bring you back to me – to us, where you belong.

And though I am utterly furious with your younger self for losing control and doing what you did, I've run through all the facts, and I forgive you.

Yes, you read it right, but just in case you still doubt me: I forgive you, Ron Weasley.

Because you tried to make it right, even if you failed.

Because you've been wonderful to me since the moment we met again.

Because you've been a father to the twins before you even knew you were.

Because you're everything I've ever wanted, and everything I'll ever need.

Because you've forgiven me at my lowest, and now is time you do the same for yourself.

I am calling you love. Come home.

Hermione.

I leaned forward, letting out a shuddering breath as I positioned myself with the elbows resting on my knees and head hanging low. The bloody letter didn't work. Not a single bit. Instead of a surging need to go home, it had evoked a bursting need to cry. What a royal soppy.

Fuck!

New plan. No more letters, no more trying to pull myself together. I'd just allow Harry and George to drag me home and make me face the kids. I knew I was being a bloody coward, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

After staring at my shoes for a few minutes imagining every possible way in which my brothers could hex me into being a responsible father, I decided enough was enough, and went to put the now-folded letter back in its place. But when I grabbed the scrapbook, something fell from it. Bending over to pick up the paper, I stopped short as I took in the object on the floor. It was just my luck. From all the things contained in the scrapbook, I had to drop the family photo with Hermione and the twins. Holy shit.

Resuming movement, I reached for the picture and sat up, eyes fixed on the repeating scene. It started with the four of us waving at the camera, Hermione and I in the back, kids in the front. Then, in less than a second, a cheeky grin spread over Hugo's face as he pushed Rose's face full into the cake. Hermione and I jolted out of the way as a fuming Rose emerged from the cake and threw it onto her brother, then it started again.

I was mesmerised by the picture. I lost count of how many times I watched the sketch repeat itself, each time noticing a different detail, a different expression. Despite Rose's fury, we looked so happy, and I wanted that again with every fibre of my being. If only I could find it in me to be brave.

Running my fingers over the picture, I spoke for the first time since Harry and George left me in the flat. 'I am sorry. Rose, Hugo… so, so sorry.'

It couldn't have passed more than five minutes when two loud pops echoed from the sitting room. I jumped to hide behind a bush to gain ground against the intruders, wand in hand, ready to attack. But no amount of years as an Auror could have prepared me for what I found.

'Rose? Hugo?' I checked, incredulous.

Both of them startled and turned, matching grins spreading across their faces. 'Wha'– how?' I stuttered, walking over to them. 'I mean, what are you doing here?'

'We found you!' squealed Rose, bouncing on her heels before racing towards me. On pure instinct, I squatted down and caught her. 'You were lost, and we found you!' she mumbled, nuzzling into my neck.

Still stunned, I hugged her tight, but much too soon, she pulled back, beaming as she spun around to face Hugo. 'It worked! You were right!'

Hugo sported a smug grin as he quipped, 'Told you it would! I'm always right.'

Rose tutted before turning back to me, muttering, 'So full of himself.'

'Right about what, Rose?' I jumped in, 'How did you–'

'Deluminator!' Rose yelled, half-turning and pointing at Hugo as he held it out for me to see.

'You didn't have it with you, so we–'

'I' Rose cut in.

'She,' Hugo corrected, 'thought you couldn't come back.'

'I... what? What do you mean?' I asked, even more confused than I had been before.

Rose put her free arm on my shoulder, pulling me so I was facing her at arm's length. Once she had my full attention, she spoke in a serious tone. 'Mum said you'd come back when you were ready, that you were just lost. Said that you'll always find your way back, like when you had to leave before – in the...tent.' She whispered as if it was a secret she shouldn't be telling.

I felt like the most worthless rubbish in the world. They hadn't been my kids for a week and they'd already felt abandoned by me – what a dad!

But I didn't have much time to punish myself as Rose resumed her monologue. 'But you couldn't come back because you didn't have the Deluminator! I had it! I told Mum as much, and she didn't listen, but I knew you needed it to find us because it was Mum that brought you back, and now you didn't have it, because of me! And I told Hugo, and he said we just had to use the Deluminator to find you, and we've been waiting for you to call us ever since!'

'You what?'

Hugo, now at my side, pat me on the shoulder. 'Did you hit your head? You're a bit slow today.'

'Hugo!' Rose admonished him.

'What?' Hugo defended himself, 'He is!'

'I'm not slow, Hugo. I am shocked.' I clarified, ruffling the little brat's hair. 'You're not supposed to be here.'

He shrugged, combing back his messed up hair with his fingers. 'Had to find you, didn't we?'

A small hand cupped my cheek and turned my head to the other side. 'Now, go get your things,' Rose prompted me. 'we're going home – you with us.'

I sighed, letting my bum fall to the floor. 'I can't go with you, Rosie. Not now.'

She tilted her head to the side. 'Why not?'

'I–'

'Come on, Rosie, let's go!' Hugo snapped, grabbing his sister by the arm and pulling her away. She didn't move. 'Can't you see? He doesn't want to be our dad. We go, now!'

Rose struggled against Hugo, and it took me several seconds to process his words. 'What'd you just say?'

'I said you don't wanna be our dad!' He growled, causing Rose to flinch.

Between the looks and the temper, this kid was undoubtedly mine. And as the thought crossed my mind, all the doubts and fears surged as well. But a quick glance at the twins was enough to erase any and all of my apprehensions. Rose's jaw was clenched, though she was looking between Hugo and me as if waiting for hell to break loose. The brat, on his side, was still holding Rose by the arm, his face red and body tense.

The last few days, I've feared that they wouldn't want me to be their dad, and it turned out they were barking mad because they thought I didn't want to. It was the best news in the world, but it was not the time for celebrations – yet. First, I had to fix this mess.

'Of course I want to be your dad! There's nothing I want more.' I clarified, reaching to put one hand on each of their shoulders. At the touch, they both relaxed, so I gently pulled them down as I continued, 'You better sit down, kids. It seems we all have some explaining to do.' They nodded and did as told, taking a seat in front of me, one next to the other. Now, there was only one more thing to take care of before we could talk.

'Hugo,' I addressed him in a stern tone. His head snapped up and I looked him directly in the eye. 'This is the first and last time you talk to me like that. We clear?'

'Clear!' He grinned. His reaction took me by surprise, and I ended up giving him a stiff half-smile as I made an internal note to work on the scolding. I must've been rubbish if I made the brat smile.

Rose pulled my hand from her shoulder to her lap, then turned it so the palm was facing up, and started to play with my fingers. 'So, you want to be our dad?' she asked, her voice shy as she looked at me through her eyelashes.

I closed my fist, capturing her hands in mine and squeezing them. 'Of course I do. How could I not?' She beamed at me, and I added, 'You're both pretty wicked, you know?'

Hugo took my other hand from his shoulder and put it on his lap, holding it with both of his. I hated to ruin the nice moment, but I had to find out how they'd found out that I was their dad, so I decided to rip off the plaster and continue with the interrogation. 'Kids, how do you know I am your dad? I didn't think Hermione would tell you without me.'

Rose grimaced whilst Hugo grinned. Not giving her time to utter a word, Hugo went on to explain how Rose had heard us (me and Hermione) talking Friday night. Rose admitted to spying on us but said she'd only caught the last few words before Hermione yelled, so she didn't know the details of how I ended up being their dad. They were also pretty emphatic in making me understand that they didn't care how it happened – not that I was planning on telling them the details, mind – and they were just happy that I was.

Once their part of the story was clear, it was my turn to give some explanations, and they wasted no time questioning me about my reasons for being away from them these past few days, and why I didn't want to go back with them at the moment. Deciding to go for an honest answer, I explained to them how I felt sad and guilty because I was the only one accountable for the mess we were in – that it was a mistake I'd made that led us not to know I was their dad for so long.

Innocent as they were, the twins showed no resentment and made it clear that they didn't mind that I hadn't been there before, persisting on their previous claim that they only cared that I was there now. However, it wasn't that easy for me to let go of the past, but they kept on insisting that it didn't matter.

They couldn't understand why I was so fixated with things that were already gone, so I tried to describe how I couldn't look at them without thinking of everything I'd missed from their lives and how that made me angry with myself. Angry to the point that I thought I could potentially say something that hurt them or their mum. Thus, the reason I needed to step aside and take some time to sort out my mind before diving into parenthood.

With nothing more to say, I put my hands behind me and leaned back to observe the kids' reaction to what I had confided. The resemblance to Hermione had never been more evident than at that moment when I could almost hear their thoughts as those brains of theirs worked, pondering the implications of what I had just told them. As it had become a habit, Hugo broke the silence.

'What I don't get,' he began, 'is what's the big deal, anyway? I don't remember the first five years of my life.' He glanced at me and frowned. 'Should I be mad about it too?'

Again, he took me by surprise, and I gaped as Rose shoved him on the shoulder. 'No, you don't! It's not important!' she scolded.

'How is it not?!' Hugo responded, turning to her and looking annoyed. He held out a hand and started lifting one finger at a time as he counted, 'First steps? No memory. First word? No idea – maybe chocolate – how could I know? I don't remember!'

'Of course you don't remember!' shrieked Rose, waving her hands in the same exasperated moves her mother made when bickering with me. 'WE WERE BABIES!'

The entire scene was hilarious, and despite still feeling miserable for not being there for those firsts, I chuckled.

'I've been robbed all my first times!' Hugo cried, ignoring Rose. Looking defeated, he turned to me and said, 'I think I know you feel now, Unc–' he stopped, and his face lit up in a grin as he went on to say, 'Dad.'

I gasped.

It was one thing to hear the kids know I was their dad, but it was hell of a lot different to hear one of them say it to my face. It seemed that Hugo was fully aware of the impact of his words as he widened his grin and wiggled his eyebrows at me. Rose giggled next to him.

'Sounds good, doesn't i–' Hugo started but was interrupted by a bright stag barging into the cottage. The Patronus rushed through the sitting room towards me as Harry's voice echoed from it in what I'd come to know as his big-Auror-in-a-dead-serious-situation tone.

'Ron, the twins had been taken from school–'

Oh.

'–I found traces of Apparition, and a team is already searching for further clues–'

Shit.

'–we're at Hermione's. Come, now.'

'Fuck!'

The kids squeaked. 'You said fu–' Hugo was cut off again, this time by an otter swimming through the air and taking the stag's position as it vanished.

'Ron, the kids! They've been – I KNOW YOU SENT A PATRONUS, HARRY, I WAS THERE! – they've been taken...from school. They – for Merlin's sake, Harry! I swear...er... no, Molly, I don't want to sit – I need you, Ron. Now. Please.'

'Uh, oh,' both the kids said in unison.

Feeling like a twat for not thinking of reporting the kids' arrival before, I briefly pondered if I should send a Patronus to let Hermione know that I had the kids before Floo-ing there, but decided against it since I'd probably get there before the message did. Not wanting to waste any more time, I jumped off the floor, grabbed the twins and, hoping that Hermione didn't hate me for causing yet another mess with her children, headed towards the fireplace.

Stepping into Hermione's sitting room, we were received by a room full of people, both Aurors and family members. I hadn't gotten entirely out of the fire before Hermione had already taken the kids from me. She went from kissing them to thanking me for finding them between sobs as she hugged them, holding onto them for dear life.

Everyone's eyes were on us as I stood there, patting her shoulder to try and calm her down whilst dismissing her constant gratitude as politely as I could without having to say that instead of thanking me, she should be hexing me. For something to do, I scanned the room and caught sight of Mum, weeping through a relieved smile as Dad stood behind her, stroking her shoulders; two full teams of Aurors gawking at us (Hermione, the kids and me), frozen at their spot around the dinner table, which was covered with maps and parchment; and Harry, who was staring at me through narrowed eyes.

Of course he knew there was no way I'd found the kids in the short amount of time between his message and our appearance in the house, a fact he made evident as he tilted his head to the side and arched an eyebrow in a clear "what the fuck?". Using years of silent conversations to my favour, I slowly angled my head, opening my eyes to convey my best "get rid of the sodding Aurors" look. With an almost imperceptible nod, Harry turned to the Aurors and dismissed the two teams, cleaning the mess off the table and thanking them for their outstanding work as he sent them off.

Once Harry had sent word to Robards that the kids were safe and he'd report the details the next day, we moved to the sitting room, and I told the family that the kids had been with me the whole time in the Haverigg Beach cottage. Not wanting to submit the twins to public interrogation, Hermione sent them to their room before the adults continued to decide on a story for Harry to report to our boss. You see, after involving the Aurors, there was no way we were going to say the kids were never missing. About ten minutes of debating later, we decided to stay as close as possible to the truth and settled on blaming it on a burst of accidental magic.

We agreed to say that the kids had Apparated to Diagon Alley and went to look for me at the flat, but I wasn't there, so they sat and waited on the side entrance's stairs. They were shocked, so they didn't think to go to the Wheezes and fell asleep as they waited. After Harry's Patronus, I went to grab my equipment from the flat before heading to Hermione's and found them there. It was perfect since it had been an accidental Apparition, after all. And though all recorded cases of children Apparating were reported to only be short distances, studies of twins and coordinated magic bursts were few and unrecorded, so we didn't think anyone would dig any further into that.

When everyone was calm and clear on the storyline, my parents and Harry left for their respective homes. Hermione and I stood in awkward silence in our places at opposite ends of the sofa. I didn't know if I should talk to her, and she wasn't giving me any clues as to what to do with her nervous glances between her hands and me. I hated to be like that, hated that she couldn't even look at me, that I had done this to us.

The situation extended for several long minutes until Hermione saved us both by excusing herself to go check on the kids. She lunged off the sofa, hitting her leg against the centre table in her rush, and continued with a limp, disappearing into the hallway that led to the rooms.

She hadn't said anything, so I didn't know if I should stay or go. Though now that I was there, I reckoned I didn't want to go back to the cottage – or anywhere else, for that matter. It felt good to be back, surrounded by what had become my home in the last month. And Hermione hadn't said that she wanted me out, so it would be utterly rude to leave without saying goodbye.

Yes, I had to stay. It was only polite.

So, I went to the kitchen, put on the kettle and started to prepare a light snack. About half an hour later, Hermione appeared through the door and headed for the fridge, but I cleared my throat and pointed to the milk and sandwiches I'd already prepared for the kids. She smiled and mouthed a "thank you" before taking the tray and walking out again. I checked our food and tea as she went, casting the appropriate charms to keep it all fresh and warm. Then, I snuck a chocolate frog from my personal stash and waited. I might have taken one or two more after that.

'Gods, Ron, how many frogs did you have?' Hermione asked, startling me and causing my castle of cards to crumble.

'About three.' I answered, but she crossed her arms. 'Right...er...five, tops.' She raised her eyebrows. 'Maybe six, but that's it.' I conceded, but the witch was tough, and after she lifted her chin, I gave up. 'Eight.'

'Ron!'

'You took too long, and you know how anxious I get! So don't judge.' I shrugged.

Hermione chuckled and shook her head with a smile as she dropped herself on the seat next to mine. Closing her eyes, she leaned limply onto the back of the chair, her head hanging loose and face towards the ceiling.

'So...' I began, pushing her plate and tea towards her. 'How are they?'

'Grounded until they're thirty, that's how they are.'

'You know it–'

'No, Ron!' She cut me off before opening her eyes and focusing them on me. 'Don't you dare try to defend them.'

'But–'

'Stop. It's not your fault.' Hermione insisted. 'They knew you were fine. I told them to wait, and they made the conscious decision to ignore me and almost gave me a heart attack – Aurors were searching for them. Aurors!'

She shut her eyes again as if to end the discussion before letting out a sigh and sitting up straight. We started to eat in silence; I was finishing my second sandwich when Hermione cleared her throat. I figured she was calling my attention, so I left the food on the plate, took a sip of tea, and turned to her. I was right.

'What are you...I don't want to pressure you, but… uhm...' She took a deep breath in and out as if to collect herself before continuing. 'Are you leaving again?'

'I–I don't want to.'

'Then you're staying?'

'I can't.'

'Why not?'

'Because…'

'Guilt?' she provided. I nodded. 'I can understand the feeling, Ron. But that won't go away just because you isolate yourself from us.'

'I know.' I groaned.

'Then do something about it.'

'I don't know what to do.'

Hermione suddenly stood up. She left the kitchen and returned less than a minute later, then sat back as she placed a piece of paper on the table and pushed it in my direction with her forefinger. She smiled. 'You can't go with the same therapist as me, but I've heard all the professionals in this centre are quite good.'

I didn't know what to say, and she took my silence as a sign to go on. 'I know this is untraditional for wizards, but it helped me loads. And I think it could help you too, if you're willing to try it, of course. You don't have to do it if you don't want to.'

'I… I want to try.'

'Perfect then.' She beamed. 'And if this doesn't help, we can find something else. Or maybe you just need time. In any case, we will figure out a way for you to forgive yourself.'

'Thanks, Hermione. I want to leave this all behind and be happy with you – all three of you.'

She smiled. 'I want that too. You know I love you, right?'

I chuckled. 'I love you too. So much.'

'Wait here a minute,' she said, raising a palm flat out towards me, 'I'll be right back.' Hermione jumped out of her seat for the second time and jogged away from the kitchen. It took her longer than it had before, but when she came back, she was carrying a book – a scrapbook. Sitting down, she held it out to me. 'Here. Take it.'

A bit stunned, I grabbed the scrapbook from her hands and put it on the table. 'Open it,' she instructed, 'check it out.'

I did as I was told, finding only blank pages. 'It's empty.'

'Oh, is it?' she smirked.

'It is. There's nothing – oh.' Since The Happy Book had a letter on the last page, I'd started from the back of the scrapbook. But as I got to the beginning, I found the only page that wasn't empty – the first page.

'Oh, don't just stare at it! Read it!' Hermione urged.

'Oi! It's my gift. I'll read it at my own pace!' I mock-scolded her as I took in the book's contents, and a grin spread over my face. Glued to the sheet was the same picture I had from the twins' birthday, and below it, in Hermione's handwriting, there were two lines:

What do you say?

Do you still want to fill up a lifetime of scrapbooks with me?

I looked up at Hermione, and she smiled. 'What do you say then, love?'

'Are you crying again?'

'M'not. That's sweat.'

A finger stroked the corner of my eye. 'Then what's this?' Hermione asked.

I glanced down at her as she showed me her wet finger. 'Sweat.'

She shook her head, muttering with a smile, 'Every damn Sunday.' I shrugged. 'You know this isn't a real match, right?' I waved her off. 'It's not a real league. They're just eight and–'

'Hermione!' Harry called, leaning forward to glance at her across my chest. 'I'm trying to see my kids play Quidditch. Will you shush it?'

'Are you crying too?'

Harry wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as he straightened back. 'Damn sweat.'

'Yep,' I agreed, 'heat it's bloody – WOAHH GO ON ROSIE! GO ON! GO – Ah, fuck!' I threw up my arms in frustration.

'Ah, so close,' said Harry, 'I thought she'd score.'

'Yeah, mate. Me too.'

'Will you cry again if she scores?' Hermione quipped with a smirk.

'It's sweat!' Harry and I answered in unison, and she laughed.

'Mhm.' She hummed. 'Harry?' Hermione started again, eyes narrowed in the strain to focus on a point near the farthest side of the Quidditch pitch that was divided into three small fields for the kid's Quidditch league. She lifted her index finger. 'Isn't that James?'

'Wha – oh, Merlin's balls!' Harry exclaimed, turning to the Quidditch pitch just in time to see James landing a fist on another kid's face. Albus was on his way to assist his brother in the fight.

Ginny, who was refereeing a match in the second made-up field, caught Hugo on his way to assist his cousins as she glanced toward the stands looking for Harry. When her eyes landed on me, I pointed at Harry, who had reached the front row and was now jumping into the field, wand in hand, to stop his children. Ginny breathed out in relief, still struggling to contain Hugo, as a scream startled me out of my skin.

'ROSE GRANGER-WEASLEY, DON'T YOU DARE!'

But Rose dared, and she was flying directly towards the fight as fast as her toy broom could go. I sprinted down, jumping over rows of seats – and parents – in my way, throwing apology after apology as I went.

Harry had already grabbed James and Albus, pulling them away from the fight, when one of the kids that James punched first started to run towards my hexed nephews. Harry turned around to stop him, but Rose fell on the kid before he could, and they started to roll on the grass. When they stopped, Rose was on top, throwing punches with her eyes closed.

I felt a mix of pride and fear as I hurried and grabbed my brat at the waist, liberating her victim. Harry came to assist the other kid, and handed him to his parents, who had just arrived. I turned, Rose still punching and kicking in the air, and I heard a camera flash.

My head snapped to the side, and there she was: Rita Skeeter. The old, bitter bat and her damn cameraman.

With a still battling Rose, I glanced at Harry, who shrugged in an I-can't-give-a-fuck-right-now way that very much matched my own thoughts on the matter. I pivoted towards the stands to find Hermione and saw that she was only a few steps away, so I jerked my head to point at the so-called journalist, as I said:

'Oi, love! It seems we'll have a damn good memory to add to the scrapbook!'

And we had – a lifetime of memories to fill scrapbooks and hearts.