Epilogue

Hermione lay in her hospital bed, tucked against her husband, head on his chest. She'd just given birth hours before and was properly exhausted, but she was too elated, and mostly too relieved to sleep. Harry seemed to feel the same way and he was just laying there, Hermione curled under one arm, his newborn son nestled into the crook of the other, when all of a sudden the baby let out a cry and Hermione jumped.

"Careful sweetheart," Harry murmured, "I know you must be sore."

"I'm fine. Does he need anything, do you think he's hungry?" She asked anxiously.

"He's fine, he's still asleep. And you've been carrying him for nine months, let me take over for a little while, you just relax."

"Eight months," she corrected ruefully.

"Either way, he's here and he's healthy. You did brilliantly, stop beating yourself up. Now, do you have any thoughts about names?"

It was a blatant attempt to distract her, but she allowed it. Their other two children had been named months before they arrived. But, given her complicated pregnancy, it had felt like tempting fate to come up with a name this time around, and the nameplate on his cot that simply said "Baby Boy Potter," bothered her.

"I like Oliver," she provided quietly.

He pulled back so that he could fully see her face. "Really? I've never heard you say that before."

"Well," she shrugged, it's not a traditional Potter family name so I didn't see any point in suggesting it before."

"Hermione, we didn't have to use a traditional name," he said cautiously.

It had led to one of the biggest fights they'd ever had when he'd wanted to name their first child after his mother, and she'd responded that she didn't think that was fair to their daughter. Lily Potter's memory cast a large shadow, too much pressure to put on a little girl. He had taken that as a slight against his mother and had ranted and raved, wouldn't listen to her explanation, and then proceeded to sleep in a guest bedroom for the next three days. Hermione, hormonal and at the end of her rope, had done something she'd promised herself she'd never do: put their best friend in the middle. She showed up on Ron's doorstep in the middle of the night and promptly fell into his arms, sobbing, the moment he opened the door.

She'd explained what had happened and then he'd gone to speak to Harry, leaving her in Eloise's care. He was gone for an entire day and when he returned it was with a sheepish Harry in tow, both of them looking a little worse for wear. She was never able to get either of them to tell her what was said, or what had happened between them, but it had a deep impact on Harry who had literally fallen to her feet begging for forgiveness.

Hermione had clarified that she would love to name their daughter in honor of his mother, she just didn't want to literally name her 'Lily.' They'd compromised with Bryony Elizabeth: Bryony, a flower name as was traditional in Lily's family, and Elizabeth which had been her middle name, as well as the name of Hermione's favorite Grandmother.

So, when they'd gone to name their son, he had been hesitant to suggest that they use a traditional Potter name, considering that their son would be the Potter heir. But she'd loved the idea, and had actually been the one to suggest 'James' as a middle name because it honored both Harry and his father.

"Harry," she said, matching his chiding tone, "we agreed that we would, it's what I wanted too. Besides, I love Philip's name, I'm just telling you why I never added Oliver to the list when we were deciding before."

He nodded and thought that through. "I like it, but since I know you have a reason for everything, may I ask why?"

"Well 'Oliver Twist,' was one of my favorite books when I was a little girl."

"That I did know," Harry said with a grin. She owned no fewer than three copies of the book and had already read it with their daughter.

"And I guess I just always thought if I had a boy…" she trailed off, hiding her face in his shoulder.

"Oliver it is, then," he agreed easily.

"Just like that?"

"Why not? We named Bryony in the tradition of my mother's family, Philip in the tradition of my father's. It's time to honor your family with a literary name. Plus you got all shy just now, which means it's important to you."

"That's not exactly a tradition, just something my parents did because Mum loved Shakespeare so much," she answered, still hiding her face.

"Then we're starting a new one, with you and Oliver."

"Are you sure?" She looked up at him hopefully. This was a wish she'd been carrying quietly in her heart since they'd discovered they were having a second son.

"I couldn't think of anything that fits better. The look on your face right now would be enough to convince me if I needed convincing."

She beamed at him and turned back to the baby.

"Welcome to the family Oliver," Hermione cooed. "I can't believe he's here," she murmured, reaching for her son and Harry adjusted the baby so that Hermione could reach him easily. "He's so small," she said, a tremor in her voice, "he's really going to be okay?"

"He's little, but he's perfectly healthy, he was just in a hurry to get here," he reassured her for at least the tenth time since the healer had placed him on her chest- tiny yes, but screaming.

She took a few long breaths through her nose, and then she choked on a sob. "I was so afraid, Harry! I've never been that afraid, not even in the tent!"

Harry took a deep breath and then carefully transferred Oliver into her arms, and at her questioning look he tapped her back, urging her to scoot forward. He swung one leg around her and got her settled in the vee of his legs, wrapping his arms around her so that they were cradling the baby together.

"You're a rockstar sweetheart," he murmured into her ear, "and honestly, I'm in awe of you."

She laughed and sniffled. "I tell you I was terrified, and you tell me I'm a rockstar? Have you been here the past few months or was that somebody else under polyjuice?"

"You'd ferret out anybody trying to impersonate me in less than five minutes. It's kind of scary how well you know me," he snorted. "Anyway, bravery isn't an absence of fear, I think you and I know that better than just about anybody."

She sighed and nodded. "I just felt like the universe was punishing me! About the only thing I really wanted for years was to get pregnant again, and then we were blessed with two in a row, and I couldn't even be grateful for it!" She admitted on a hushed whisper, holding the precious bundle in her arms a little tighter.

He kissed her temple. "You know that's not true, right? You were faced with a surprise pregnancy when you had a three month old infant who was only conceived after four years of gut wrenching infertility, as well as a six year old who was still very much getting used to having to share her parents. It's understandable that you were upset and afraid- I was and it wasn't my body. You didn't doom yourself to a complicated pregnancy because you weren't overjoyed the moment the detection charm appeared positive."

"It just felt like I must have done something wrong for my body to keep failing me." She shifted uncomfortably- they'd never spoken any of this outloud.

Harry sighed. That had been the most difficult part of their life together; trying to get pregnant again after Bryony, watching his strong, powerful wife feel like a failure. They did thousands of hours of research, tried and exhausted every magical and muggle fertility treatment they could find, but month after month, nothing. It had gotten to be too much, and he had been the one to convince her to stop, that their little family of three was perfect as it was.

And then just four months later, after watching Hermione run for the toilet three mornings in a row, he'd also been the one to convince her to let him check. With shaking hands he'd performed the charm for what felt like the thousandth time, but for only the second time it actually came back with a positive result. And they'd been overjoyed. And as with Bryony it had been an easy pregnancy.

By contrast, this one had been anything but and she'd blamed herself for that from day one. She hadn't said anything, he could just tell. She followed the healers instructions to a tee, but it was just one problem after another, and he had been terrified of what it would do to Hermione when the healer informed them during her sixth month that she'd have to remain in St. Mungo's until the baby was born.

"You did nothing wrong, you've been so strong, I'm amazed. And that's what I'm talking about, you easily could have let this bring you down, withdrawn into yourself, pulled away from me and the kids. I know you've been going stir crazy up here, but you stayed positive even though you were afraid. I should have known you'd rise to the occasion though, after all, you taught me how to do that."

"Taught you what?"

"To never give up, even if things are desperate. Even when you're cold and starving in the woods with no plan and no end in sight." He gave her an extra squeeze and nuzzled her neck.

"Harry," she snorted, "as I recall, I was a wreck then too."

"But you didn't leave me, and you never stopped believing in me," he countered. "I have no doubt in my mind that I'd be dead if it hadn't been for you. I needed your strength, I always have."

"Harry," she gasped.

"Do you know what else you taught me?" He interrupted before she could argue.

"I- no, what?"

"How to love."

"Harry! You always knew how to love, you just didn't really have anybody in your life worth loving before Hogwarts."

"Oh, I could certainly feel love, even though I had almost no experience with it, but you misunderstand me. I don't mean love as an emotion, but as an action. And I don't mean making love either, though you've certainly taught me a lot about that," he nipped at her jawline and she let out a little laugh. "I mean that twelve year old girl who befriended an eleven year old boy and never left his side. Through that first little adventure," he said sardonically, "with the Philosopher's Stone and everything else at Hogwarts, through the war, and those dark days after when you helped me figure out what normal looked like for me. Being married to me- I know it's not a picnic, it comes with a lot of baggage. And you've given me three children- Merlin witch, I've watched you give birth three times- you are a freaking rockstar and you'll never convince me otherwise."

"It would be impossible for me not to love you Harry," she sighed, "it's just an ultimate truth of my life. I'd say it's nothing spectacular, but I think what we have between us is exactly that. It goes both ways though."

"Everything I've been through was worth it to have this life with you. I love you so much." She craned her neck, clearly asking for a kiss, which he was happy to grant her. "And I've missed you. I think I owe Oliver. Since he was so anxious to get here, now I get you both home so much earlier than I thought I would."

"Home," she sighed and sunk further into his embrace. "Merlin, I can't wait to get home." She looked up over her shoulder at him and reached up to caress his cheeks. "You haven't been sleeping." She accused.

He turned his face to kiss her palm. "Funny thing that, you see, my wife's been in the hospital and I'm not used to sleeping alone." He winced. "And while we're on that subject, I have a confession."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I may have been allowing Bryony to crawl into bed with me far more often than you would approve of."

"Oh, Harry," she smirked at him, "she's seven and I'm her mum, do you really think she hasn't been confessing everything that's been going on to me?'

"That was supposed to be our secret!" He objected, looking truly affronted- eyes wide, mouth open, like the little boy she'd first met.

She laughed, heart swelling with love for him, but then grew serious. "She wanted me to know that she was doing her best to take care of you. She knew you were lonely and didn't want me to worry."

Harry's eyes softened. "Just like her mum. You know," he said after a moment's contemplation, "our kids are pretty perfect."

"I'll remind you of that when this one is waking us up every two hours."

"Still," he shrugged, "we're good at this baby making thing, maybe we should look into going professional," he waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Oh no!" She exclaimed on a laugh, "this factory is closed!" She gestured generally to her abdomen. "I will be going back on the potion and there will be no more forgetting the charm. We're already outnumbered as it is!"

"Alright, alright," he chuckled,

"Harry?" She asked after a few minutes of peaceful silence where they just enjoyed being back in each other's arms again.

"Hmmmm?"

"You do know that if you'd let Philip sleep in our bed that discussion would have gone very differently, right?"

"Oh, no way, that kid kicks!"

At that moment Ron's Jack Russell patronus came trotting into the room to let them know that he was downstairs with their other two children and was bringing them up.

"Hi boy!" Hermione greeted the glowing animal cheerfully after he delivered his message.

She held out her hand for him, and he immediately came over to her, sniffed at her hand, gave her an affectionate doggy smile, and disappeared.

"You know," Harry growled in faux irritation, "a lesser wizard would be threatened by how much you love that patronus."

"I can't help it, he's so cute," she shrugged.

"Cute," he growled, "Prongs is noble, majestic even."

"Yes, yes," she patted his face condescendingly, "no need to be threatened."

Just a few minutes later Ron's quiet voice sounded from outside. "Knock knock," accompanied by an even quieter tapping on the door. As a father of two himself, Ron was well acquainted with the rule about waking sleeping babies- which is that you never do it.

"Come in," Harry called.

He opened the door, Philip perched on his hip, Bryony following closely behind him. She peaked out from behind him, looking slightly shy. Ron was beaming at the bundle in Hermione's arms.

"Mama," Philip screeched, trying to throw himself out of Ron's arms in her direction and Hermione's heart melted.

She had been so worried that her hospital stay would damage her bond with him. She'd had six years alone with Bryony and she felt a lot of guilt that she had missed so much of her second child's first year. He hadn't even been allowed to cuddle in bed with her when he came to visit, he was a naturally rowdy child and far too young to understand that he had to be gentle with Mummy, on top of which, visiting hours for children were already so limited anyway.

It was Ron who had confided in her that Harry had placed pictures of her all over the house so that Philip saw her everywhere he looked, and that he constantly chatted to the baby about her. As a result 'mama' had actually been his first word, though she unfortunately hadn't been around to hear it.

She immediately passed Oliver to Harry and crawled from between his legs to the end of the bed.

"Careful," said Harry.

"I've done much more strenuous things today," she answered with a roll of her eyes as she dangled her legs over the side of the mattress and prepared to stand up.

"I know, that's what I'm concerned about," he answered wryly.

She intended to just ignore his concerns but then rethought. Given that the only physical activity she'd been allowed to do for weeks was shuffle to the bathroom and back a few times a day, it might be foolish to trust her legs while holding 20 pounds of squirming infant, so she just reached out for him instead. Ron didn't hesitate to approach the bed and hand him over, and she took him into her arms for the first time in longer than she cared to consider, holding him against her chest and covering his face and dark head with kisses. She'd missed him tremendously.

"You can move around now," Bryony observed with a shy smile, still hovering at her godfather's side, leaning into him slightly.

"I can, still just a little wobbly on my feet. I'll be home soon, probably the day after tomorrow."

She smiled more brightly and then lurched forward, but paused mid-step as if uncertain if she was allowed.

"Come here pretty girl," Hermione held out one arm for her daughter and she rushed to embrace her.

Ron watched them for a moment, a soft smile on his face, then he winked at Hermione and loped up to the head of the bed where Harry was still perched with the baby. "You did good again, Mione," he declared, peering at the newborn. "Your kids always come out with so much hair."

"Why thank you, Ronald," she answered with a chuckle.

"Do we have a name?" He wondered.

She looked at Harry to confirm and he gave her a nod. "Oliver, his name is Oliver, though we haven't talked about a middle name yet." She turned to her daughter, running a hand through her curls. "Maybe you could help with that, Bry?"

She just nodded as Ron let out a barking laugh. "You're seriously going to name your kid after a quidditch player?"

Hermione frowned, considered this, and then groaned. "I most certainly was not thinking about Oliver Wood when we decided!"

"Well I approve, but for the record, if he turns into a big burly Keeper, you were warned in advance!" Ron teased.

"If our preemie turns out to be a big burly Keeper, I'll just be grateful," she answered quietly, hugging her other two children a little closer.

Ron's expression melted in understanding. "He'll grow up big and strong nonetheless," he asserted, cupping the baby's head. "I'll get out of your hair, I'll be back in a couple of hours to pick these two up," he looked between her and Harry questioningly, turning his statement into a question.

"That sounds good, when you come back you can hold Oliver, but Petal should go first," Harry answered with a smile for his daughter.

"Of course she should." Ron came back to the three huddled at the foot of the bed and pressed a kiss to Hermione's temple. "Seriously, you did good. I'll be back to formally meet my godson later."

"Bold assumption, Ronald."

He scoffed. "Like you'd pick anybody else, I am the best godfather in the history of godfathers. Right, Petal?"

"Maybe..." Bryony grinned at him.

"Just like your mother," he tweaked her cheek affectionately and went to the door, turning back before he walked through it, "you should consider 'Ronald,' it's a good strong name." He winked and closed the door behind him.

"Petal, would you like to meet your brother?" Harry asked after Ron disappeared.

"Yes," she said quietly, but she didn't move from where she was leaning against Hermione.

"Come on," Hermione encouraged her to climb onto the bed and settle next to her father, then she put Philip down and planted herself at Harry's other side, managing to snag her elder son before he could lunge at Harry to check out the bundle in his arms, "it's been too long since we had a family cuddle and this'll be our first as a family of five."

Harry started to hand over the baby, but Bryony hesitated. "He's so little," she breathed, "I don't want to hurt him."

"He's smaller than Philip was, but we have confidence in you, love, you remember what to do?"

She took a deep breath and nodded. Holding out her arms, Harry placed the swaddled bundle into them and they both watched in satisfaction at how careful she was, how she was certain to support his head. "I like his name," she observed quietly. "Like 'Oliver Twist.'"

"You know me well," Hermione noted with a chuckle, Philip wriggling in her arms, a little manic at the prospect of finally having both of his parents within reach at once.

Hermione tried to hide her tears as she watched her daughter fall in love with her little brother. She'd been theoretically excited about the prospect of another sibling, and Hermione had been thankful for that, had adored listening to her eldest chat to her expanding belly, but that had been nothing compared to watching them really meet.

"You should name him after Uncle Ron," Bryony said after a few minutes, brushing her middle and index fingers gently across the baby's cheek.

Hermione looked at her husband who just shrugged as he caught Philip's little fist before he accidentally punched him in the nose.

"You think?" She asked.

"Well he's your best friend," Bryony shrugged, "and he's our godfather. Me and Philip are both named after important people, why not? I mean, he should be named after somebody important too, right?"

"Brightest witch of her age," she heard Harry murmur.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Is that agreement?"

He shrugged. "I think it's a nice gesture...and I can't think of anybody more worthy."

"I agree," she said quietly.

"Okay then, Oliver Ronald. Though, he's going to be insufferable."

"What's 'insufferable?'" Bryony wondered.

"It means that we'll hardly be able to listen to Uncle Ron brag about how we named your brother after him because he will be so smug, or full of himself," Hermione explained.

"Oh, yeah he will," she agreed as she petted her newborn brother's head. "But he's always so full of himself."

She didn't even seem to notice the way that observation completely cracked her parents up. Their daughter wouldn't recognize the insecure young boy her godfather had once been.

"Was I this cute?" Bryony continued, oblivious.

"Yes," they both answered automatically.

"And he's so little because he came early?"

"That's right," Harry said gently, "but he's just fine. He just couldn't wait to meet you, that goes for both of your brothers, actually."

"Excuse me," Hermione interrupted, incredulous, "maybe you've been able to forget, but I certainly haven't, that this kid," she pointed to Philip, "was two miserable weeks late."

"Yeah," Harry grinned, "but when he decided it was time, he made it quick."

"If you weren't Harry Potter, I'm pretty sure I would have ended up delivering him in the waiting room," Hermione answered wryly.

"Why does it matter that he's Harry Potter?" Asked Bryony, still not taking her eyes off of Oliver.

"Remember what we told you about the war and how everybody knows Daddy, and it means that he sometimes gets special treatment?"

"Oh. That." She answered flatly.

Harry and Hermione exchanged an amused glance. If anybody hated his fame more than Harry, it was their daughter. They tried to keep their children out of the limelight, but they couldn't completely hide them from the wizarding world and it's scrutiny of their family. And when they went to Diagon Alley or to visit Hermione at work, Bryony noticed that they drew the attention of a lot of people. So, about a year before, they'd sat her down and explained the basics of the war and Harry's past. And she had been distinctly unimpressed- not that her father was considered to be a hero, that had already been an accepted fact in her mind, but that these strangers thought that they had some kind of claim on him.

"What about me?" She asked.

"You were right on time, practically perfect in every way." He gave her a smacking kiss on the top of her head, and she finally looked up to grin at him- her green eyes wide and delighted. "Have I ever told you about the day you were born?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Bryony answered, sounding decidedly uninterested. It wasn't a particularly interesting story- typical labor and delivery, meaningless to a seven year old- nor was she a particularly self-involved child, she preferred the stories of her parents (heavily edited) adventures at Hogwarts.

"Did I ever tell you that it was the best day of my life?"

"What? I thought the day you married Mum was the best day of your life?"

Molly Weasley had saved copies of all of the extensive press coverage (despite only one reporter and one photographer having been invited) of their wedding and Bryony loved to look through the various magazines and newspapers and then ask all about it. Hermione couldn't even blame her daughter for thinking that they looked like a prince and princess at a ball straight out of a Disney movie, and believing that no day could possibly beat that.

"That was an excellent day. A beautiful, wonderful day," Harry glanced at his wife and Hermione could feel the emotions radiating off of him. "But it wasn't the best day."

"But why?"

"Because Petal, do you remember the stories of my mum and dad, how I never really had a family and how that's all I ever really wanted?"

She just nodded.

"Well, when you joined us, it was all my dreams come true. We hoped to give you siblings, and I don't love your brothers any less than I love you, but the day you were born, I had a family, and my life was complete."

"Oh," she said quietly.

Hermione looked up at Harry, tears clouding her eyes. 'I love you,' she mouthed.

Harry lifted his arms putting one around each of his girls and they enjoyed their time as a newly expanded, but not better, family.

That evening, when their two eldest had left, Hermione was once again laying, cradled between Harry's thighs, her back to his chest. The baby had been sent to the nursery, Harry having convinced her that she should rest while she could.

"So what did you do?" She wondered

"Do?" He asked, all innocence.

"To make sure you're allowed in here at all hours and nobody even blinks an eye when you're in bed with me?"

"Well, I am Harry Potter."

She laughed. "Thank you."

"Thank you?"

"I know how you hate to play that card."

"Fucking hell woman, how long do we have to be married for you to realize that I would do anything for you, and it's not a sacrifice."

She faltered, he'd said it jokingly, but it was nothing but the truth. "You're right."

"You're right," he repeated more loudly, yelling into the ether, "did you hear that universe, she admitted I was right! This will never happen again!"

She giggled and slapped at this hands. "Hush, whatever favors you've called in, I'd rather not bring the medi-witches busting in here to check on us."

He arranged them more comfortably on the bed when she yawned. "Rest sweetheart."

She turned her head on his chest so that she could look at him, not yet quite ready for sleep. "I love you so much, have I ever told you how grateful I am for that week in Switzerland?"

He laughed, "yes, multiple times during the week in question, and then again when I bought you the chalet for our fifth anniversary, and many other random times, usually when you're telling me how amazing I am in the throes of passion."

"Prat," she murmured.

"Your prat," he corrected, "and gladly so."

"But I'm serious, if we hadn't gone on that holiday, if you hadn't gotten drunk that night… Do you remember what you said?"

"I'm never going to live that down," he groaned, "I try not to think about it, I know it wasn't particularly eloquent or romantic."

"I thought it was pretty romantic," she shrugged, "it was also very possessive- that was a new side of you. Still, that was the moment for me. It was wonderful to hear you say that you loved me, but when you said you wanted children with me, I knew that I felt the same way. You told me that there was a moment you found me in Potter House, having made myself completely at home, and you knew only I could be Lady Potter? Well that was when I knew that only you could be the father of my children." She reached up to cup his face. "Thank you for our family Harry."

Author's note: This story is complete. However, when I was deciding how I wanted it to end I wrote an entirely different chapter first that just didn't end up fitting. That means that I have something like 5k words just sitting in my drive about Bryony's first day with her father as her DADA professor. Would y'all like to see that, or should I let this be the way it is? Let me know, majority rules, haha!

Thank you to Weestarmeggie for reading all the versions of this chapter, talking me down, beta reading this, she's amazing. Thank you all for your support with this, my first story in this ship. FYI, I already have another one in the works so watch this space if you're interested. Happy holidays!