A/N: I would like to thank all my readers for the many wonderful and supportive reviews and for being so patient with me. This chapter feels like it took a million years to come out, and for that, I apologize. It was a bit difficult to write because it could easily have a "rainbows and butterflies" perfect ending, but I'm a bit of an overachiever and think there's much more to this story and to these characters' journeys. So please, take the time to review at the end of the chapter and let me know what you think!

Chapter Eight: A Grand Finale

"And in the sweetness of friendship, let there be laughter and the sharing of pleasures. For it is in the dew of the little things that the heart finds it's morning and renews itself." - Khalil Gibran

Unfortunately for the children, the storm continued to rage on for the rest of the day, so the Potter family's last day in Tenby was not spent outside, at the beach as what would have been ideal, but indoors, within the safety and coziness of aunt Hermione's house. Despite this, the two adults had been doing their best to keep the littles entertained and enjoying their last day together. Hermione couldn't shake the expression of disappointment and sadness she saw on all of their faces when it was announced during breakfast and it had taken them a good deal of time to console Hugo and Lily. Hermione also wasn't oblivious to how James' disposition had changed, as though he was trying hard to have fun and relief her and Harry from the guilt, but was actually wearing a dark stormy cloud over his head—deeply saddened that he would have to return home to London.

In an attempt to bond with the older children Harry had enlisted James, Albus and Rose into the kitchen to bake pizza for lunch and it had worked. James, Albus, and Rose happily kneaded and pounded the dough against flour covered kitchen table and enjoyed a snack of chocolate chip cookies they had baked with Harry and tall glasses of warm milk while they waited for the dough to grow. And now they were making a war zone of Hermione's kitchen as she cringed hearing pans clatter, giggles, and squeals from the three pizzaioli, flipping the disks over their heads from the living room.

"What's that?" Hermione heard Lily ask pointing to the bunched-up heavy fabric with embroideries that she was carrying.

"This, Lilybug, is a hammock. It's something you hang between two posts or walls and can swing and rest in. A lot of people sleep on hammocks instead of beds, actually." The girl hummed and watched with curiosity as Hermione finished hanging it and listened as her aunt explained that she'd brought it from a work trip to Brazil several years ago. Lily examined it with curiosity, having never seen a hammock before and as Hermione pulled the little redhead into it with her, their bodies swinging as Hermione's long legs lifted from the ground the girl squealed and giggled, snuggling next to her aunt. "So, do you like the hammock, baby?" Hermione asked, nuzzling the little girl. Lily nodded and Hermione smiled. When Lily seemed distracted enough Hermione surprisingly assaulted her with tickles. Lily's high-pitched laughs could be heard all over the house and soon Hugo arrived and wanted into the hammock as well, Hermione tickled him too. A few minutes later the two children were panting and wearing matching cheeks of bright crimson. They calmed into Hermione's hold as she continued to swing them leisurely, each child with a head resting on her shoulder as the witch ran her fingers gently through their ginger locks and offered to tell them a story.

"Mummy, tell a Toto the Dog story!" Hugo exclaimed with a smile. "Please, mummy! Oh, Lily, you'll love it!" He told his cousin.

"All right, all right. Let me see… Ah, yes. Once upon a time lived a very fat, very smelly dog by the name of Toto. Toto was so, so smelly that none of the children wanted to play with him, so he became very sad. One day, a boy named Timmy and his brother John moved to the house next door to Toto's and despite the way Toto appeared and smelled they were instantly friends and would go on many adventures together…"

Harry peaked at Hermione and their littlests from the entryway and half-heartedly listened to the silly story.

"Mummy will never admit it, but she's Toto." Harry turned around to face the know-it-all's know-it-all child and chuckled.

"Smelly and fat?" Rose's brown eyes twinkled and she chuckled. "Why do you think that?"

"Because she told me once that she was very lonely before meeting you and dad and that she didn't have any friends because everyone thought she was strange."

"Ah, like the children didn't want to be friends with Toto?" Rose nodded and looked at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Harry ruffled her rust-colored curls and allowed her to wrap him in the Granger-famous bear hug, even though she was covered head to toe in flour. "I'll miss you Rosie. Take good care of mum, all right? We don't want her feeling lonely and sad like that ever again."

Rose frowned and sighed as she untangled herself from her uncle.

"But can't you see she already is?" Harry's forehead creased as Rose ran off and seconds later returned with a picture frame. She showed it to him, a muggle shot of a smiling Hermione in her graduation day robes, Harry and Ron surrounding her, all goofy smiles as well. The sky on the horizon was of pink and orange hues from the sunset and behind them was the imposing and fairytale-like castle of Hogwarts. They had been so happy that day—over a year after the war ended and though it was an utmost bittersweet occasion, it had been one of the most beautiful ceremonies Harry had ever attended. He recalled how Headmistress McGonagall had called on all of the graduating students, leaving the best—Hermione—for last. He remembered the older witch's speech like it were yesterday, presenting Hermione onto the stage as the most courageous and brilliant witch to set foot in Hogwarts in over a century or more. Hermione had completed her course with Outstanding results in all subjects even though the greatest test of all she had already top scored—the war itself. That day marked the first time in history that the imposing Headmistress had actually allowed herself to cry in public—to let go just a little bit to honor her favorite pupil of all time. And how the crowd had watched in awe and then cheered Hermione with confetti and streamers as she climbed up the stage, face red from her own tears and received the diploma.

Harry and Ron had never been prouder as they watched Hermione deliver her speech in honor of the schoolmates they had lost to the war and would have been graduating with them today, hologram-like images of them floating about in a way that had been mesmerizing and Harry remembered being curious at how Hermione managed to do that. And then came Head Girl Ginny Weasley's speech, followed by Head Boy Neville Longbottom's and Luna Lovegood closing the event with a beautiful song. Besides Weasley Is Our King, no one had really known she could sing and so beautifully. Indeed, an unforgettable day. After the ceremony, Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved into a flat together near the ministry where Harry and Ron had been undergoing Auror training and Hermione spent a good deal of her summer researching how to find and reverse the advanced memory charms put on her parents, still in Australia.

"What do you mean your mum's lonely and sad, Petal?" Harry asked her, pulling her aside so Hermione wouldn't listen. The girl frowned and pointed to the picture.

"Because she doesn't have you or my dad so close anymore, as her best friends. She has other friends here, but it will never be the same, I think. Like it wouldn't be the same if James and Albie weren't my best friends anymore…" Harry nodded and looked at the picture once more, wistfully.

"I reckon it's about time we worked on fixing that, isn't it?" Rose nodded in agreement, happy she was able to get the message across. Adults could be so daft at times, even her mother with all her brilliance.

"DAD!" Harry heard Albus call from in the kitchen. "Do you think the pizzas are ready?" Harry rushed into the kitchen because he noticed a burnt smell wafting through the house. And Rose giggled at the Potter boys' hysterics as she followed her uncle in, setting the picture frame on the table.

…

After their dinner of slightly burnt pizzas (but that were nevertheless delicious) and a full jug of pumpkin juice, Hermione decided they best make a goodbye party out of the rest of the evening. She hauled the sofas and coffee table into the back of the room and with her wand rolled the large rug and shrunk it, setting it on top of her desk. She then charmed the room to darken and the lamps to shine in multiple colors. She transfigured the ceiling light into a large disco ball and turned on her music player, popping in an old LP with songs by Chuck Berry, Little Richard and Elvis Presley, the loud music pouring into the room. As soon as Hermione, inhibitions thrown out the window began to dance in the funny 1950's style, Hugo, Lily, and Rose joined in and the girl, as bossy as her mother, pulled James and Albus in as well.

Finished with the tidying up in the kitchen, Harry came in only to catch the mesmerizing sight of a Hermione dancing with her curls wild and bobbing in the air, bright brown eyes full of joy and laughter in her voice as she sang along to "Roll Over Beethoven", twirling Rosie around. Her eyes locked with Harry's and he saw as a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes and she began to edge closer to him, still swaying to the music and pulled him by the hands into their makeshift disco. Now, Harry was known for being the owner of two left feet, therefore absolutely terrible at dancing, but even he wasn't immune to the fun and music and soon he was twirling Hermione around and singing along as well.

…

When bedtime finally came around James and Albus had insisted Hermione read them the last two chapters of "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" and seeing as it was their last night, Hermione had wormed herself onto the double bed with Albus and James listening with all their attention. For them, when aunt Hermione read a story it seemed like it was coming to life. She brought emotion and different tones of voice to the characters, which was simply mesmerizing. Meanwhile, Harry tiptoed out of Rosie's room, who was fast asleep on her bed, after had sat next to her humming a tune and running his fingers through her curls. The crushing goodbye hug that she gave him weighed on his conscious, especially now that more than ever he was aware of the troubles and insecurities that plagued his young niece. He would miss her dearly, his little Rose-Petal, and he made a deal of letting her know.

Both adults bumped into each other as Hermione tiptoed out of James and Albus' room and Harry carefully came down the stairs from Rose's attic bedroom. Bedtime rounds always took time and though worn out from the day and from their emotional exchange that morning, they still had Lily and Hugo to deal with, who by the sounds of the yells, laughing and crashing coming from their shared room, were little balls of energy that would take time to settle down. They shared a look, both dreading the same thing and couldn't help but laugh.

"Is it bad that I defeated a dark lord out to kill me and am more afraid of two five-year-olds on a sugar rush?" Harry asked and Hermione was incapable of holding in her laugh. He smiled at her reaction, glad and relieved that things were still okay between them, that she looked okay.

"Not half as bad as the prospect of not having two five-year-olds to put to bed tomorrow…" She told him, with a look in her eyes that reflected a sadness Harry realized she'd been hiding all day. "I'll miss them." She said, her eyes locked with his, chin pointing to the bedroom doors of the children. Harry knew she was being completely honest because he knew just how much he was going to miss Rosie and Hugo as well, but something about the way she said it and the way her dark brown eyes pierced into his, Harry knew that the words were directed straight to him. Hermione would miss him, Harry, and Merlin how he already missed her as well.

If he was perfectly honest, his heart's urging and desire were to pull her into his arms and kiss her silly, but they both knew it wasn't yet time.

"Harry…" She whispered, inching closer to him. Her eyes had tears now threatening to fall, "I know we discussed this, I know it's wrong, b-but…" Her eyes were searching for his, were desperate to know if he felt the same as she did, that strange inebriating pull, that wicked desire that pulled them closer like to heavy magnets. She wondered if he could see it all in her eyes—just what she was alluding to. And he, Harry, recognized that same fearful desire in her eyes and Merlin he wanted her so badly… He watched as she slowly, hesitantly snaked her arms, one by one around his neck and inched closer for an embrace. The vanilla scent of her curls assaulted his senses as she buried her face into his neck and before he knew it his arms were pushing her closer, glued to him. "Kiss me Harry, just this one last time…" She whispered into his ear, her warm breath eliciting goosebumps on his skin. His heart pounded in his chest and he could feel hers just as uncontrollable, and so he did. His hand gently cupped her cheek as their eyes met, full of emotion and dark with desire. She went on the tip of her toes, arms still snaked around his neck and he lovingly kissed her forehead and watched as her eyes closed involuntarily from the sensation, and then he kissed each one of her eyes, the tip of her nose and each cheek before landing on her sweet, rosy lips. They kissed softly, tentatively, all very different from the feverishness of the last night. He hoped to etch every little aspect of her, the texture and moisture of her lips, how soft they were to his brain, but when her tongue touched his, all reason went out the window. He pulled her tighter against him, if that was even possible, and he gave in to their attraction, to the wonderful feeling that he might explode from all this pleasure, joy and sadness. In the end, when they were both out of breath, he pressed his forehead to hers, both panting, eyes still closed from the sheer electricity of it and he let her place a smaller, chaste kiss on his lips and then his eyes fluttered open, meeting with hers. His hands trembling as he tucked her curls behind her ears, as she looked at him overflowing with love.

He didn't want to leave.

She didn't want him to leave.

He had to leave.

…

It was just after seven in the morning when Harry decided to go up and check on all of the children, make his rounds from room to room to call them to floo home to London, as had been the plan. He checked the guest room where he and his sons were staying first, both boys fast asleep, Albus with his thumb in his mouth, toes sticking out of the comforter and James snoring slightly on the mattress on the floor wrapped in a quilt, clutching the worn stuffed lion that had been his sleeping companion since birth. Harry smiled tenderly at his boys who were growing so fast, his heart heavy that at such a young age they had had to experience the painful and life-changing loss of their mum. Harry was well familiar with grieving and losses, but despite having always felt the great absence of his parents throughout his life, he had no recollection of them, he knew not what his mother's voice sounded like or his father's laugh. He didn't know what their favorite desserts were, or favorite colors and hobbies… Other than what the history books held and a few bits here and there from old friends and colleagues from the Order, Harry knew nothing of his parents and so his sense of loss was completely different from James and Albie's. The boys remembered Ginny, they knew almost everything about her—from her foul mood in the mornings to how she took her tea and the way she turned bright pink when she laughed in that loud boisterous way of hers. Ginny wasn't the stranger to them that Lily and James Potter the Firsts were to their son.

Harry looked to the side and found his muggle camera laying haphazardly on top of the dresser and seeing his sons so peaceful and young it occurred to him to capture this little moment before they were too grown that he'd have a hard time imagining them this small again. He snapped a sweet picture of Albus, with his messy head of ebony hair all over the place and eagerly sucking on that thumb. Harry chuckled quietly to himself—he could perfectly envision an older version of his middle son blushing profusely as Harry showed the image to a visiting girlfriend—or boyfriend, for that matter.

And then came James, whose eyelids were beginning to flutter, sensing his father's presence. Harry shushed him as though he were still a baby and soon James let out a deep contented sigh and his foggy green eyes were shut again. Harry snapped the picture and smiled lovingly, thinking that in a year from now he would be seeing less and less of him like this. It always brought a pang to his heart. He recalled Ginny admonishing him for wanting to keep his children always closer because Hogwarts was every magical child's dream and he would make James weary of going. For Ginny it was mostly happy, aside from the war, but to Harry, as much as he had loved his old school, as much as it had been in his heart, what home was for so long, he couldn't wipe from his memories the heartache and the dark terrible things that had occurred there during the war. In fact, many times, it weighed on Harry that perhaps he was the only one who still recalled and dwelled on these things.

He stepped outside of the bedroom and shut the door behind him quietly, making a turn for the bedroom Hugo and Lily, the dynamic duo were sharing. Hermione had smartly transfigured Hugo's bed into a bunk, but to his surprise, as he tiptoed inside, Lily and her cousin were huddled together in the bottom for warmth, her back facing her cousin, who held on to the knit yellow duckling for dear life. Harry remembered the duckling from Hugo's first birthday party at the Burrow, what felt like eons ago. It had been lovingly knit by Molly Weasley.

As he looked at them, it dawned on Harry just how much Lily and Hugo looked alike, what with their bright ginger curls and the same small number of freckles bridging over Lily's delicate nose, bridging over Hugo's as well. The pair of redheads were just two months apart in age and Harry surmised that any pair of unknowing eyes would assume them to be twins and hell, judging by the last two weeks, they were just as in sync and inseparable from one another as any pair of twins. For a moment Harry's eyes traveled to many years ago when he first came across Fred and George, Lily and Hugo's uncles. As he set on the edge of their bed, curved over because there was a bed on top, he snapped the photograph of them, Lily's hand balled into a fist clutching her lilac baby-blankie, Hugo's little face almost buried in her head of curls. He would miss these two together and it hurt him already how their return to London would affect both five-year-olds. He knew for a fact that Lily would be miserable for a while and he imagined Hugo would miss her just as much.

It hurt that he had to do this, separate them, especially when they are all so happy, and it became increasingly clear to him what the past weeks had been truly about. Unknowingly, Harry, Hermione and all of their children living under this roof, looking out into the beautiful view of the ocean and colorful row houses had been living an illusion. They had been playing house… One big happy family. Lots of siblings to bicker, have fun and play with; the loving presence of a mummy, which Harry knew his young trio craved, and for the Granger children the safety, presence and companionship of a doting father—which judging by Rosie (because Hugo was not one to talk) was her greatest wish. And for Harry, it had been family, happy and united and a beautiful wife to share everything with—the good and the bad—to kiss and make love with, to share his feelings and frustrations with. Perhaps he was projecting on Hermione that which he most desired to have again. He shuddered as he recalled the intensity of last night's kiss, but he was certain that this was all a terrible illusion and they were right to put an end to it before they got hurt.

He shook Lily awake and gently pulled her, half asleep in his arms, careful not to wake her cousin and walked out of the bedroom with her shrunk little suitcase being slipped into his pocket. The boys were already up and ready, albeit wearing the somber faces Harry expected them to wear.

They climbed down the stairs together, headed for the fireplace that was a now functioning floo port and as the Potter's cast one last look at their surroundings, Harry threw the powder in as he voiced their home address and in seconds they were gone, consumed by the bright green smoke. Hermione stood on the bottom step of the stairs, clutching Lily's lilac baby-blankie, blinking as though only now the reality of everything dawned on her. It was impossible to fight against the tears stinging at the corner of her eyes and the ache in her chest that screamed of loss and in a way grief. She inhaled Lily's lavender, baby powder scent from the little blankie as she held on to it for dear life, her body lowering until she was sitting on the step because otherwise, she would fall.

Why? Why them for Merlin's sake?