Once more I deeply apologize for the delay. Another very challenging chapter to write, not just because of my lack of time, but because I had idealized something else entirely, but it just wasn't meant to be. I hope you enjoy this one and I must say, we're headed towards our story finale, also, thank you ever so much for all of the wonderful reviews, and for the reader who mentioned me having put aside the matter of Tenby, that'll be the focal point of next chapter. Stay tuned!

Saturday, 26th July 2014

It was six in the evening when Hermione, clasping a hand of each of her children flooed straight to Portobello Road in Notting Hill, a colorful and wondrous place full of quirks and old-world charm that seemed to fit in perfectly with the magical inhabitants of the two-story pink house sitting at the end of the famous street, in a corner much quieter and nothing but charming.

When she stepped out of the black Victorian fireplace, she could barely acknowledge her new surroundings as her head slightly span and as a petite woman smelling of orange blossoms engulfed her in a tight hug. At first stiff from the surprise of it, Hermione soon relaxed into her arms, the round protuberance of the blonde's pregnant belly making the embrace more awkward than in other times. She could hear from the background Ron's voice calling from somewhere else in the house, calling for the children. They each cried a hurried 'hello, auntie Luna!' before scrambling off to the direction of their father, but Luna wouldn't let go of her, barely acknowledging them.

"I'm so happy you're here, Hermione…" Luna said, blue eyes pooled with tears, her skin usually so pale now crimsoned on the cheeks. The Ravenclaw had put on a bit of weight since the last time Hermione saw her, most likely due to the pregnancy. She nevertheless looked beautiful and like an angel, if ever was one. "I-I've been missing you, we were once so close and now that I'm expecting, I-everything's been so uncertain…" She trailed off, sniffling.

Hermione knew very well what Luna was referring to. They had once upon a time been very close, an unlikely friendship that blossomed during their final year of Hogwarts at a time where following the war Hermione had found herself back in school without the company of Harry and Ron. The two, despite their drastic differences in personality and beliefs, had bonded over their traumas, the absence of parents in their lives, over solitude, fear for the future and what it felt to be an outcast. They had bonded over the impact of coming out of a war no longer girls, but women, and due to the fact that they would never be the same again. The war had robbed them both of their innocence and had shown them the limits of human pain, but also of cruelty, love, and courage. Their friendship continued through the years, with them seeing each other nearly once a week for tea at Pandora's Box, a hidden café in Diagon Alley that Luna bought with her inheritance money after graduation and where on the second floor she continued to issue editions of The Quibbler, nowadays a much better regarded and well-read publication than it had been and The Daily Prophet's only real competition, more appealing to the younger generations and far more progressive in its contents.

When Hermione and Ron's divorce came about, she had relied on Luna for a shoulder to cry on and for moral support. When two years later a nervous Luna came to her saying she'd shared a kiss with Hermione's ex-husband, the curly-haired witch hadn't known quite what to do or how to react. When Luna admitted to her that she'd been deeply in love with Ron since Hogwarts days, it had come as a shock. Though Hermione knew that nothing had transpired between her best friend and husband while they were still married, things had never again been the same between the two women. Hermione had given them her blessing and support, but drastically cut ties, until she finally stopped trying to maintain the façade that everything was 'okay' and moved to Tenby with Rose and Hugo.

Hermione's eyes locked with Luna's and she squeezed her hands reassuringly. It dawned on her that Luna was pregnant, a very emotional and life-changing moment in any woman's life and going through it without parents for support or any truly close friends. Childbirth was scary as hell and Hermione knew exactly how she felt.

"Oh, Luna! I'm here now, and I assure you, everything will turn out fine, you'll be a brilliant mother, look at how Hugo and Rose love you…" As Luna dissolved into tears and sobs it was Hermione's turn to embrace her, rubbing soothing circles against her back, allowing the blonde witch to release her pain and frustration, made more intense by the hormones.

"I have missed you so much, Hermione, honestly—I feel so lonely at times and Ronald is a dear and very supportive, I love him, but I miss having my friend around…" Hermione held Luna against her, the Ravenclaw's face buried into her shoulder, much like a child holding on to her parent for dear life.

"I've missed you too, Lunes." Hermione slowly parted their embrace and let Luna have a quiet moment to recompose herself, wiping away the tears. Luna's face was red and her eyes a bit swollen but a smile grew on her face. She grabbed Hermione by the hand, pulling her towards the narrow staircase animatedly.

"Come see the nursery." Hermione followed her upstairs, hand in hand, Luna so quick Hermione could barely take in the colorful décor of their house or the hand-painted murals in some walls that she knew were Luna's work.

…

A few hours later they were all seated around the table, adults, and children engaging in animated chatter over the promised and ever-delicious mashed potatoes with beef casserole, Hermione's favorite food. Hermione's cheeks were rosy as she sipped on her fourth or fifth glass of cabernet and her eyes met with the twinkly blue ones of her ex-husband and best friend. She had missed him—his sense of humor, his brashness, the side of him that would always be a little boy. She enjoyed seeing him with Rose and Hugo—he had taken to parenthood so easily that once she'd been jealous. She realized, looking at the faces of each person on the table that her fears and worries were all very silly—she was happy here, with them, they were her family and how could her brilliant brain have forgotten this wonderful fact?

"I met with Harry the other day at the Cauldron, 'Mione." Ron began, a mischievous grin playing at the corner of his lips. "We were catching up and he told me about his time in Tenby with you…" Hermione, the terrible liar that she was failed to feign indifference as she felt the need to take a rather large swig of her wine. "He told me you lot had fun at the beach. Is that right, Rosie?"

"Yes, daddy! We played a lot at the beach and I showed uncle Harry and my cousins around Tenby and the fortress with Granny and Granddad."

"A great deal of fun, then—that's nice!" Luna remarked, sharing a quick look with her husband, before running her fingers through Hugo's ginger mop of curls. "Why don't the two of you come with me to the kitchen so we can fix dessert?" At the sound of the word 'dessert', the Granger-Weasley children were out of their chairs and carrying each their plate and cutlery into the kitchen excitedly. Ron chuckled as he watched them go—the father of all voraciousness. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You and Luna are as subtle as an elephant hiding behind a post." She remarked, raising a dark brow.

"Pfft! Don't bullshit me, Granger—I know something happened in Tenby between the two of you, honestly, I'd be disappointed if it didn't."

"What would you like to have happened?" Ron shrugged as he wore a sly grin.

"Vows of undying love or sexy times, maybe." Hermione, who had been taking a drink nearly choked and spit it all out. His ginger eyebrows going up and down were no help either. She glared upon seeing the smug look on his face, his arms crossing over his chest.

"You're just hoping for that to appease your own conscious—you married my best friend, after all." Now it was his turn to roll his eyes.

"Look—your relationship with Harry was a sore subject during our marriage, and it wasn't for nothing. If someone as daft as I could see it, how could someone as brilliant as you not realize it? All those years I wondered to myself why on Merlin's beard I had to have feelings for you and why you were so stubborn to stick with me. You loved me in your way, I know that now—but for you, it was always him like I've always been the one for Luna."

"Ron—" Hermione tried to interrupt but he motioned with his hand for her to stay quiet a moment.

"I'm not trying to appease my conscious, Hermione. We'd been divorced for two years and I was always faithful to you, I know that, you know that. What I really want is for my two best mates to be happy, like I am now with Luna. We were so young when we courted and decided to marry, it was one and done without considering other options out there, Harry and Ginny the same thing…" Ron reached over and captured her hand in his. "What I'm trying to say is that you don't need to worry about me or my feelings nor does Harry have to worry about respecting my sister's memory or whatever, just allow yourselves to be happy!"

Hermione sighed deeply, recognizing internally that for some bonkers reason she needed Ron's validation, but he wasn't quite grasping at the real problem.

"Ronald, nothing is holding me back but Harry himself!" Hermione said a bit too loudly with a tone of exasperation. When Luna came back into the living room wearing a slightly worried expression, Hermione knew to lower her voice just for them. "He's the one who has to figure out what he wants and what his feelings are. I'm waiting for him and I'm probably stupid enough to wait for him forever if necessary." With that, she took another swig of her wine while Luna and Ron shared a look.

"'Mione, do you reckon we could talk some sense into that thick brain of his?" Ron asked.

"Please don't." She said, in resignation. Luna wrapped an arm around her shoulders to comfort her. "It's not the end of the world you two. I'm perfectly happy on my own."

"Of course, not a soul more independent and resilient than yours, Hermione," Ron said, putting an end to the subject.

…

The following day, Hermione opened up her bookshop and took over the morning shift. However busy she was and constantly on her feet, Ron's words wouldn't leave her mind. What had he meant about her independence and resilience? None of those qualities were untrue about her, that she could think of. Before she could reflect any further on it, a face that she hadn't seen in weeks despite their proximity came her way.

"Hermione."

"Mother." The older woman rolled her eyes and huffed. Obstinacy and pride were flaws they both carried in equal abundance.

"Oh, child, I have missed you!" She cried out suddenly. "For heaven's sake, it's been weeks and I'm too bloody old for this. I am sorry, I really am and it's been eating at my conscious."

"Good, then," Hermione said impassively. Helena frowned and inhaled deeply for a moment, locking her brown eyes with those of her daughter.

"I didn't mean for him to leave or to ruin everything for you. I'm your mother, all I want is to help you and see you happy. Have you never made mistakes with Hugo or Rose? Is the almighty witch Hermione flawless in every way?"

"I don't see how saying horrible things to me is supposed to earn you forgiveness…" Hermione responded grimly, torturing her mother just a little bit, though inside she was holding her laughter and had already forgiven her a long time ago.

The curly haired witch watched with amusement as her mother's face changed from one of indignation, then to frustration and finally to one of annoyance.

"I have given my apologies Hermione Jean, now if you cannot find it in you to forgive me, that's your burden to carry." Hermione raised a brow feigning skepticism and for the entirety of two minutes both Granger women battled in what looked like a staring contest before Hermione smiled and chuckled, completely surprising her mother, whose eyes went wide and then turned into a reprimanding glare.

"I'll forgive you if you bake me those brownies I like." Then just like that, all the ice melted, the corners of Helena's burgundy-painted lips betrayed her and she opened up her purse to reveal a plastic container filled to the brim with her daughter's favorite dessert, the witch's brown eyes twinkling.

"Like?! Hermione, how offensive!" Helena exclaimed, theatrically, though in reality, she was all smiles. "Here I thought that you loved, revered, absolutely adored my brownies with hazelnuts!"

"You know I do, mum." Hermione rolled her eyes as was her usual and took hold of her dessert. "I'll go fetch us some tea and milk. Mrs. Weasley will hate me for arriving at Luna and Ron's baby shower with my stomach full, but I don't care one bit." She rushed over to Susan's café in a corner of the bookshop while her mother laughed, fingers dexterously typing on her phone to let her worried husband know that all was settled between them.

…

A plump, ginger-haired witch watched with eyes of concern from the little window facing her kitchen sink her grandchildren enjoying a perfectly bright and warm summer day in the vast fields of her home. It felt like it had been just yesterday that her own children had been there, frolicking about such as them and if she squinted her eyes just a bit, the images blurring ever so slightly Molly Weasley could perfectly envision the five tall redheaded boys were Percy, Bill, Charlie, and the twins while little Hugo and Rose were the perfect images of who Ronald and her darling Ginevra had been.

Mothers were fiercely loving beings who always want to see their children grow into the perfect persons they had envisioned them being from birth. That was why they were also universally prone to meddling, nagging and complaining. Now, in her old age and having buried two of her seven loves, she regretted not having motivated, complimented, cherished and given them love in equal measure. When she lost her Fred sixteen years ago, she had thought a piece of her was gone and dead forever along with him, but with time she had been able to go on and mend that ghastly scar on her heart. In those times they'd all been busy rebuilding their world following the war, she had concentrated on her children who were still living, the eldest sons who had returned home, the arrival of the first grandchildren who she had a good hand in raising while the parents worked—she'd been busy and that had helped, but it still always hurt, no matter how many years passed. A child without parents was an orphan, but what word is there to describe a parent who has lost her child? She could think of none, because it wasn't the natural way of things.

At night, when she was in the twilight dividing wake and slumber it was her Fred's face she would see and it was his laughter she would hear. And then, when she had finally been able to find a new and quite happy balance to life, Ginevra's death came suddenly, with the full force of a speeding, fuming cargo train, so fast and heavy it crashed into her very own being.

The war had been over for so long, what could possibly explain her baby girl's demise?

Over a year had gone by and she still hadn't found her answer, probably never would. Molly Weasley was proud of and loved all of her six sons with a passion, but that little girl of beautiful red hair had been her life's one greatest desire. When she'd married Arthur so long ago, in a time so remote that she'd been young and pretty, the two would daydream about her, the determination in her eyes, the freckles, the button nose, the sturdy legs, the laugh, the scent of wildflowers, the princess dresses, sunshine, sweet butterfly kisses and all things lovely. Ginny had been all they'd ever wanted in life and their sons were living proof that they were adamant their dream would come to fruition. Ginevra had been that dream entirely and beyond. Her death had knocked all life away from her father, who was just a ghost of the man he once was, and Molly, ever strong, persistent and stubborn still held everything and everyone together, though it didn't feel like her life had any meaning anymore. She no longer could find happiness in her life, at least the kind she remembered experiencing so many times in her life—there was no possibility of it while her daughter wasn't here. Everything came with more difficulty now, smiles, laughter, sleep, appetite, energy, even magic. Sometimes she couldn't remember the most elementary of spells or sometimes she could, but wasn't able to cast them…

But she and Arthur hadn't been the only ones to suffer from Ginny's passing—there were her beautiful children too, James, Albus and Lily who missed her a great deal, but there was also the raven-haired husband, who for every day of this week they'd spent here at the Burrow had made his way to her tombstone in the orchard. Children were resilient and stronger than adults gave them credit for and though they would always miss their mother, at one point they'd move on. But Harry, he carried his heart on his sleeve because of her. He not only missed Ginevra, but he had loved her with the intensity of a first love and with a passion and endurance so very great. Probably if she hadn't died, he'd be married to her until his grave.

But fate wasn't on their side, she now believed, because she could feel a change in the air even if she couldn't yet wrap her finger around it.

Merlin knows how Molly loved, cherished and welcomed Harry Potter into her family like the eighth child she never knew she needed. The day of his engagement to Ginny, here at the Burrow on a rainy Easter day, it had been the happiest day of her life since the war. Her dream of one, big Weasley family would come true, they would all be together forever, in sickness and health, for rich and for poor… Harry would officially become her son. And what a wonderful son he had always been! He was a bit clumsy and shy at times, especially when it came to affection and he always ate too damn little, but she loved him, still did and despite everything was thankful. When Ginny died a part of her irrationally thought he would leave and never look back, carrying her grandchildren with him, as Hermione had after the divorce, but he hadn't, Harry stayed and had been present at the Burrow almost every family Sunday, every birthday, Christmas, Easter or whichever special occasion to be celebrated.

She and Arthur were old, they had done quite their bit, not that Harry with the life he'd been born into hadn't done his, but he was young, opposite of them, and he still had so much life ahead of him! Molly wished to see him smiling and happy again and though it pained her and made her fearful, she also wished and hoped he could find love for and in another woman as well.

…

When Harry emerged from his shared bedroom with Ginny at the Burrow after a much-needed shower and rest, following the kids' getting ready the living room had become crowded with Weasley's and friends alike, all gathered around to celebrate the arrival of a new member of their numerous family. Seeing Luna positively glowing and so happy dressed in her pleated peach dress and Ron with a grin as wide as a crescent moon, it made him feel lighter. He knew the sensation very well, the expectation, all of the love and good wishes, but also the nervousness that came with a new little life to care for. Immediately he spotted his children, all three engrossed in playing with their older cousins, although he hadn't seen Rose or Hugo since earlier, and with them busy playing outside and him mostly inside, they hadn't yet the opportunity to chat.

He greeted a few old friends, Neville and Hannah, Susan Bones accompanied by her fiancée Padma Patil. He said hello to Parvati and Dean who carried their son proudly for all to see. Seamus waved to him from the other side of the room from where he chatted with George and Angelina. Fleur and Bill along with their daughters both came to speak to him, Fleur's accent having become less pronounced with the years and the girls with their exquisite part-Veela looks and strawberry blonde hairs were much taller and grown than last Christmas.

Finally, his eyes landed on a young lad of bright blue hair seated by the window, watching the sunset. Harry smiled because it felt like forever since he'd seen Teddy, who more than a godson he loved like his own flesh and blood. Sixteen years old, prefect, a disgrace at Quidditch but a wonder at transfiguration, a bit shy and introverted, much like his father had been, but also funny as hell around those he loved and was comfortable with, just like his mum.

"Uncle Harry!" He said with surprise in his voice, once he noticed the wizard standing near him. Before he could get up, Harry engulfed him in a bone-crushing hug he had learned with a certain friend.

"I've missed you, son," Harry mumbled. "You haven't written to me half as much this year!" He admonished with a grin once they parted. Before Teddy could elaborate any excuse, Andromeda Tonks' voice bellowed from behind them, amidst the crowd with laughter, having had a bit more firewhiskey than she would usually permit herself:

"Us both then, Harry! Our Teddy here only has eyes for his classes and some mysterious young witch no one seems to know the name of." Harry chuckled as he watched his godson blush a beet red and his hair turn into a subdued violet that usually meant he was embarrassed. "Please talk some sense into his brain, Potter! Molly, Minerva and Pomona are waiting for me in the kitchen for our game of wizarding bridge."

"Granny's aged substantially as you may have noticed," Teddy said with a snicker which earned him a glare from his grandmother and also a whack to his arm, the pain of which he clumsily his with a chuckle. Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes at their antics and as he did it, he suddenly realized he'd been doing it more and more, probably influenced by Hermione.

And then, because Harry simply could not help it, she was back on the forefront of his mind again. The sneaky witch.

"Ted, jokes apart, I really have missed you. I wish we could spend some time together this summer, just the two of us, like in old times." Teddy smiled widely at the prospect, his eyes shining. Harry felt a pang to his heart. With his marriage, work and younger children he had allowed less and less alone time between them both throughout the years. Thinking of the time when he was a young boy and just how much he had craved for the greater company of his own godfather, Sirius, and even Remus, he felt terribly guilty.

"I would love that very much, uncle Harry!"

"Great, I'll owl you when everything's settled, I have a good place to show you and that I've been meaning to revisit for a while."

"Oh, I still have the rest of summer, any time and place are fine! Granny's been so busy with the Headmistress and aunt Hermione preparing for the Tenby public audience next week that I don't think we'll be making any trips this month or the next. And your birthday is just around the corner isn't it?" Harry nodded, his hands buried in the pockets of his muggle jeans.

"Oh, I didn't know that…" Teddy shrugged. Before the boy, whose hair was now the bright magenta of excitement could say anything else, Victoire Weasley, accompanied by other older Weasley boys shouted his name and Harry excused his godson so that the boy could go spend some time with his friends.

"'Ello, mate!" Harry heard and as he turned around came face to face with the beaming figure of Ron Weasley, with his hand on his shoulder. The two exchanged a pat on the back and Ron smartly placed a cool glass of butterbeer in his hand. "Glad to see you here…" Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled.

"What do you want, mate?" Ron grinned with blue eyes shining like a little boy in a candy shop and for a split-second, Harry was afraid of what he would do or say, you could never trust a Weasley who worked at a joke shop. Ron's response was the silliest of giggles, before he pointed with his chin in the direction of the fireplace, from where a gorgeous looking Hermione Granger wearing a colorful summer dress had flooed in.

Harry's heart skipped a beat as he saw her, the first time since Tenby, the first time in a month that felt more like forty years. Seeing her again was like stopping in time, all of the people surrounding them disappearing into a blur, all of the noises, loud conversations and music quieting down until it was just the two of them, eyes locked intensely, across the Burrow's living room from one another. If at first, his heart had skipped a beat, now it was as strong as a horse and as fast as lightning. He felt himself grow infinitely warmer and it was all very overwhelming, but the good type of overwhelming.

Little did he know that she felt just the same.