I want to thank everyone that reviewed, added this to their alerts/faves, and simply bothered to read this. Thanks for sticking through.

I'm planning to pick up To Settle a Debt and work on that one as much as I can; I'd consider it my project for NaNoWriMo, I guess. I'm not really going hard-core into it (thanks, college), but I figure I could try and update when I can, etc. Along with the occasional update to Gone Awry, my Thor fanfic (because that's like a stress reliever).

So, thank you, again. You guys are wonderful. :)

I actually...I don't...it's not that I don't like happy endings, but this...ties it up fairly well, I suppose. Dunno.

Riley never left his bedside; he'd wake up and find her asleep, curled up with the Prophet in her lap. Her explanation had been that she couldn't sit around knowing he'd gone to finish it alone. She'd gone to Kavanagh, who sent a team that Riley insisted on tagging along with. Thankfully, the Auror that had gone with him to Azkaban had heard enough of Davidson's conversation to know where to go.

He'd forever bare the wound, a large deformed circle of pink scar tissue just under his ribcage. It hardly bothered him; no one would see it anyone, save Riley. His other wounds were treated and healed, no traces present. It irked him that he was the one with so few marks.

He had been given pardon of his sentence due to his actions; that he had willingly gone after Greyback alone, which had led to the capture and imprisonment of said werewolf, he was relieved of the charges that had to be dealt with. After all, he had reached the end of his usefulness, really. What were a few stragglers when the leader was gone?

They had begun making full use of the cottage; what was a little Floo-Powder to get away from the city every few days.

The Ministry had decided to give Scabior a position as a low-level Auror (although he had to suffer through training among freshly-graduated students and could have sworn Weasley and Potter were present at one point).

Things had settled down, recovery truly kicked in. Finally. There was something in the air, security and hope and this strange desire to just grin for no reason. That hadn't happened in years, many had said. It was wonderful, amazing. To have to go out and truly not worry about anything.

Finally.

-Seven Years Later-

Scabior sat on the edge of the bed, willing his son to try and sleep. He had run out of stories to tell. Some of them amended for the sake of not wanting to influence a six-year-old's mind.

"Sam, you 'ave to go to school tomorrow, c'mon, it's late."

"Please, dad? One story?"

The boy had his father's eyes, but a shade of brown hair much lighter than either of his parents. Scabior denied having parents with light hair, and a picture of Riley's mother seemed to confirm his thoughts.

The older man ran a hand through his hair; it was much shorter. He had decided one morning that his hair was becoming a hassle and promptly cut most of it. Riley approved; she was able to properly ruffle it and run her fingers through it without hitting a knot.

"Wha'dya wanna 'ear, then?"

"How did you and mum meet?"

Scabior averted his eyes, his gaze falling on the closet doors to the left of the bed. The truth would be out when he was older, probably. He didn't know about his father being a Snatcher; he did know that they both were on the run during the war.

"Well…I…I don't…"

His eyes caught sight of Riley, leaning on the doorframe. She looked so tired, but happy, finding the sight of Scabior trying to coax their son into a reasonable bedtime hour oddly adorable. She was dressed still; jeans and a sweater that couldn't hide the fact that she was clearly six months pregnant.

"You met during the war, right?" Sam looked to his mother, ignoring his father's presence. The way he did when he hoped to get something.

"Your father and I were both…running from the Ministry. I lost a scarf that was very important to me…" Said scarf hadn't been worn in months. "The one that your grandmother made."

"And I 'ad found it, kept it. You see, your mother had been wearing this very distinct smell. 'nd I was 'opin' I'd be able to find 'er and return it. I 'ave a good sense o' smell, after all."

"And you found her?" Sam's eyes were wide, like a child at Christmas.

"Sort of. More like she found me. An' you know what?"

"What?"

"He thought I was the prettiest woman he'd ever seen." Riley had come over and sat on the bed next to Scabior, a quick save. "He gave me my scarf back, and some food to carry with me. And I left, never thinking I'd see him again."

"But you did."

"I still think you were stalking me."

"Did you have your fight with Greyback then, mum?"

"No, sweetie. That came after. And that's a story for a much later time." She kissed his forehead. "Your father's right, it's bedtime. You're cranky in the morning as it is."

He moaned in protest, his father ruffling his hair and gently pushing him down when he tried to sit up.

Scabior waved his wand, snuffing out the lamp beside the bed and leaving the door open a crack.

They walked down the corridor into their bedroom, his hand resting on the small of her back. They didn't say much to each other. She had thrown on one of his tee shirts and flannel pajama pants, crawling under the covers next to him.

They both knew they'd have to handle their son's questions eventually, properly.

Riley was out as soon as her head hit the pillow. Understandably so. He kissed her lightly, earning a nuzzle in return.

He sighed contently, slipping an arm around the woman next to him and following her lead into sleep.