A/N: Title from a Joan Baez lyric. Contains one brief quote from the Lord of the Rings.

X-X-X-X

2005

While other magical households might have made use of silencing charms when there was a crying infant, the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place vastly preferred to know what was going on within their home. Hence, one floor down from the nursery in which a squalling Jane Potter – and her parents - were suffering from colic, Hermione Granger was propped up in bed, her bedside lamp on, reading a book as the screaming continued above her. As per her wife's rule, only pleasure reading was kept next to the bed, so she was currently in the midst of the mines of Moria. For the dozenth time. Beside her, Fleur sprawled on her stomach, snoring softly after a particularly long shift at St Winifrede's.

When the knock on the door came, it was soft and hesitant. Hermione smiled, calling out, "Come in." The knob turned, and Teddy slipped through the door as soon as there was space for his small frame. Dressed in dinosaur pyjamas with his stuffed hippogriff in his arms, he met his aunt's eyes. "Can't sleep, Teddy?" she asked quietly.

He nodded, clutching Bucky closer. "She's loud."

Hermione hummed, "I know, but that's the way babies are sometimes." She tilted her head, studying the obviously tired boy standing at the end of her bed. "Why don't you stay with us for a bit, eh?" Teddy nodded, climbing gently in beside her as she shuffled closer to her wife to give him space.

He settled next to her, yawning, and laid a finger on the book in her lap. "Good story?" He melted even further into her side.

She smiled, reminded of the baby he had once been. Teddy was an undeniable cuddler – a rather endearing trait, she thought. "One of my favorites, yes."

"Would I like it?"

He must have been exhausted, as his free thumb made its way into his mouth. He had mostly given up that habit, except when he was sick or overtired. "I think you would. Want to hear the first bit?"

Teddy nodded, mumbling around his thumb, "Yes, please."

She marked her place, and opened back up to the beginning. "When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton."

Within a few pages, he was drooped against her, his breathing deep and even. She continued to read, slowly getting quieter and quieter, until she was barely whispering. Shutting the book, she carefully levitated it over to her bedside table, turned off the light, and drew up the duvet over the two of them. Settling back against the pillows, she let one arm curl around Teddy as he unconsciously snuggled as close as he could, and the other found its way to her wife's body.

Above them, she could hear the gentle pacing Harry often engaged in to soothe Jane, and she was between her wife, who snored when exhausted, and Teddy, who just snored. Hermione smiled to herself. When Jane was over her colic, perhaps it would be time to bring up getting pregnant to Fleur. By then, Teddy should be used to having another child in the house, and with luck they could avoid two children in nappies if they timed the birth right. It was something to think about. Until then, she had her beloved nephew who had not yet decided he was too old for cuddles, and her beautiful new niece who, finally, was starting to calm herself upstairs.

Hermione had never expected so much joy in her life, and it was with a contented look on her face that she slid off to dreamland.

X-X-X-X

2007

Stumbling out of the Floo, Fleur absent-mindedly patted her green Healer's robes free of soot. Shrugging the still filthy robes off, she dumped them into a laundry basket set conveniently next to the fireplace, always ready to accept whatever disgusting clothes she or whomever was not willing to tramp through the house in. Hermione had set it there during her residency, after she came home covered in a particularly disgusting goo a patient's accidental magic had produced, and that no cleaning charm she knew would remove. To this day, she was fairly certain her wife had ended up setting the robes on fire in frustration. In merely her worn scrubs, she moved towards their bedroom.

Their bedroom, where her wife basically lived at the moment, sentenced to bedrest during the last months of her pregnancy. Hermione Granger was not meant for bedrest, or taking it easy. But like her mother and grandmother before her, Hermione was in the midst of a difficult pregnancy. Their healer, Fleur's colleague Liz, had insisted Hermione stay in bed and rest as much as possible during her last two months of gestation. Fleur debated with herself what she would find upon entering her room. It was something new every day.

Climbing the stairs, desiring only a hot shower, a cup of tea, and perhaps a short nap before supper, she heard quiet voices murmuring from her room. Entering, she saw Hermione in oversized flannel pyjamas propped up in bed with a pile of books to one side, but a portfolio spread across her lap. Next to their bed, Dean Thomas perched on a simple wooden chair, pointing to something in his drawing.

"I thought the color scheme here should be Hufflepuff colors. The old wizard is sort of like the best of them, and the son should maybe be in Slytherin colors?" Dean said as she stepped up to the end of her bed.

"For the father, yes, but I'm not sure we should perpetuate that stereotype about Slytherins. What does Tracey think?" Hermione said, concentrating on the detailed picture in front of her.

"It was her idea," Dean replied, sheepish.

Fleur cleared her throat. "Is this resting, really?"

Hermione started, an embarrassed grin working its way across her face as she caught sight of her wife. "Dean was just visiting, showing me the next batch of illustrations for Beedle, love," she said, clearing her throat lightly. "I even had him make me tea, and sandwiches," she gestured to the tray with teapot, cups, and a plate of half-eaten sandwiches on her nightstand.

Fleur raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes at their friend, who shrugged and winked. More likely, he had insisted on her staying in bed while he fetched her tea instead of letting the very pregnant woman serve him. His wife had given birth several months prior and he was rather familiar with stubborn bullheadedness during pregnancy. "And I was just leaving. Keep them overnight, I'll stop by midday tomorrow and we can talk about it. I'll even have Tracey jot down some notes for you on her reasoning, if you like," he offered.

"That would be wonderful, Dean," Hermione replied. "Thank you. I'll see you around one-ish?"

"Around then, depending on when Julian agrees to go down for his morning nap," Dean agreed, "And I'll bring him round with me. Tracey was writing today but she's got some research to do in the ministry archives and so I've got him all day." He grinned. Dean, like Hermione, Tracey, and a few others in their circle, worked primarily from home, partially to accommodate their children and partially because crowds – all these years later – still made them nervous.

"Oh, I haven't seen him in a couple of weeks, that'd be lovely," Hermione gushed. Julian was overall a happy baby, and in his baby way rather adored his Aunt Hermione. With Dean's wide smile and Tracey's calculating, intelligent gaze, he had drawn in his parents' friends like a fisherman with a lure.

"I'm sure he'll enjoy it," Dean smiled. "Good to see you, too, Fleur." He nodded to her, sharing the smile of the non-pregnant spouse league – a club she had found herself relying on to maintain her sanity as Hermione struggled against her medical restrictions and the deluge of gestational hormones.

"And you as well," Fleur replied, "Thank you for keeping her company."

"Always a pleasure. We're getting quite a lot of work done. The book should be ready to print right around the time she pops." He laughed softly, "A book and a baby at the same time. Can't do anything by halves, can she?"

The two of them grinned at each other as Hermione scowled in bed. "I'm right here," she snapped. Dean's grin widened, and he left quickly, abandoning Fleur to the pregnant woman's mood.

"I know, love," Fleur soothed. "And once I have showered the stench of hospital off of me, I shall pay all the attention I can to you."

"If I wasn't so fat, I could join you. I haven't scrubbed your back in weeks," Hermione crossed her arms.

"I miss that as well, but it's safer if we don't. I will not risk you or the bébé, even for a round of shower sex," Fleur smiled.

"But I like shower sex," Hermione growled.

"So I've heard," came Harry's blushing reply from the doorway.

Hermione groaned, covering her reddening face with her hands. "Please tell me Teddy and Jane didn't hear that."

"No, they're with Luna in the kitchen, helping put away the shopping. We stopped at the market on the way home." At Hermione's hopeful look he nodded, "And yes, we bought more pineapple for you."

"Thank you, Harry," Fleur said, sighing. Her wife's cravings had been odd, but not completely out of bounds.

"No problem. At least it's not plimpy soup," he replied, grimacing. Luna's cravings had been decidedly unusual, and as her husband and the cause of her pregnancy, he'd been forced to make more than a few nontraditional meals for her.

"Ugh, thankfully," Hermione said. "Can we get takeout for supper? I'm in the mood for curry."

"Of course. Your normal order?" With her nod, he left to walk to their local curry shop.

"Sending your brother out for curry. I think you're taking advantage of him," Fleur smiled. "Now, I really do need to shower, love. Give me a few minutes and I'll help you down to the kitchen."

"I'll be here. It's the only place I am these days," Hermione called after her wife, settling back against the pillows.

Fleur just laughed as she stripped out of her scrubs. They were magically-enhanced to avoid dirt as well as bacteria and viruses, but they still felt sweaty and worn after a long shift. Ten minutes later, towel wrapped around her body and hair damp, she returned to the bedroom, shutting the door as she moved to pull out clothing and then dress.

"Do you need to use the toilet before we go down?" Fleur asked, distracted, as she shoved a foot into a pair of worn denims.

"I probably should," Hermione admitted, started to lever herself up.

Half an hour later found both of them at the table, Teddy already digging into his tikka masala and Jane gumming a small piece of naan from her high chair. Harry and Luna moved around the children, setting takeout containers down and getting plates from the pantry.

Fleur, next to Teddy, cut up his chicken as his fork flashed around her utensils, "Patience, Theodore," she admonished with a grin. "Don't eat so quickly. It's not good for your digestion. And take some dhal to go with your chicken."

Hermione looked around the room, soaking in the atmosphere. The formerly dark and foreboding kitchen of the House of Black had become a warm, welcoming place. She was surrounded by her family, which they was about to expand shortly, and she had tasty curry. She smiled, settling a warm hand on Fleur's thigh, and turned her attention to the feast of takeout containers before her.

"Can you hand me the parotha, Luna?"

fin.