This is the last chapter to this story, though I might consider doing a sequel, if anyone wanted me to. Let me know what you think by leaving a review! Happy reading and hope you enjoyed the story :)

Chapter 7
The Potters

All they wanted was a child. And finally, they had one.

He was so sweet and small. He had bright orange hair and green eyes. He was a week old and laid in his crib, wrapped up tightly in his blue blanket as his fathers stood watching him. They'd called him Liam Albus Potter. They thought the name 'Liam' would complement the sister he never had the pleasure to meet.

Ron had never felt more honored in his life than the moment he could be called a dad. He'd never seen his husband more happy. They'd decorated the nursery with elephants, using the colors light blue and dark navy. He slept usually in their room, but sometimes during the day they would lay him in his large crib in his nursery to get him used to it.

Ginny had gone straight back to training, a new season of Quidditch just around the bend, but they were eternally indebted to her. She loved her nephew and was proud that she'd been able to help her brother and brother-in-law with something so amazing.

Ron looked across the crib at Harry, smiling at the raven-haired man's expression of complete love. Liam sputtered and his face got red and screwed up, his lip quivering and Ron chuckled, reaching in and pulling his son into his arms. He rocked him lightly and started to retreat from the room, Harry putting his arm around Ron's waist and walking with him down to the kitchen. Harry put together a bottle of formula and warmed it with his wand, checking the temperature on his wrist before handing it to Ron, who was now seated on the sofa in the front room.

Flames came to life in their fireplace and neither looked up as Francesca walked into their front room. She pulled out a camera and took a picture of them, Ron holding the baby and feeding him the bottle as Harry sat beside him, rubbing Ron's back and staring down at their son. Ron looked up and smiled a hello at Francesca.

"Feeling better, then?" Harry asked her.

"Loads. No cancer can beat this woman," she told them, smiling brightly.

Both men chuckled and glanced up lightly as the flames erupted again.

"Jessica, wash your hands first," John told his daughter as he stepped out of the fire, reaching forward to where she had stepped out before him. He had a sleepy Jacob in his arms, the little boy's face hidden in John's neck. Jessica sighed and sulked to the kitchen.

"She wants to hold the baby," John explained to the rest of the adults and then laughed lightly. When the little girl returned, she was bouncy and excited. She sat down carefully between Harry and Ron. Harry gently pulled her frizzy black hair away from her face and tied it with an elastic band at her back. She held out her arms cautiously and strongly, remembering how they'd taught her. Ron gently placed Liam into Jessica's arms, but held the bottle up, knowing it would be a little too much for Jessica to focus on all of it. John retreated to Harry and Ron's guest room to deposit his sleeping son.

A knock on the door sounded through the house and Francesca got up to answer it. She knew that Harry or Ron getting up from the sofa might startle her young daughter. She opened it expectantly, thinking it would be one of the Weasleys. Instead, she found a little girl with wild black hair and bright blue eyes, sitting in a stroller, sucking her thumb, staring up at her. Assuming the little girl must have been about two years of age she was shocked, looking around outside to see where the girl's parents were. The little girl was holding a small piece of paper in one of her chunky little fists. Francesca bent down so that she was eye level with the little girl.

"Hi, there," she said lightly. The little girl blinked at her. "Where are your mummy and daddy?" she asked more to herself than the child, knowing full well that the little girl was much too young to be speaking full sentences.

"Daddy?" the little girl whispered. Francesca leaned in and gently pulled the piece of paper from the little girl's hand. It was a birth certificate. Francesca gasped when she saw the name. 'Lily Ginevra Potter'.

"Hello?" Francesca stood back up and called out to the street, desperately, hoping that this little girl's mother was around somewhere.

Harry walked up behind her and placed a hand on her back, questioningly. "Francesca?"

She shook her head incredulously. Slowly, she moved sideways so that Harry could see what lay on the other side of the door. Harry let out a sound she'd never heard before, like a cry had been caught in his throat. He knew those eyes. He'd stared at those eyes in a picture hidden behind a mirror in his bathroom every single day for the last nearly two years. He glanced frantically around outside to see if Britney was there.

"Ron!" he cried desperately, his eyes watery and his whole body shaking with nerves and fear and excitement. He bent down and unlatched the buckle on the stroller, lifting his daughter up and into his arms, squeezing her tightly to him, kissing her face and her head and holding onto her for dear life. He felt her legs wrap around his middle and let out an exasperated laugh, still shaking wildly.

"Harry?" Ron asked, confused. Harry turned to face Ron, his face stained from tears of confusion and happiness. When Ron saw Lily in his husband's arms, his legs gave out and he fell in a thump to the floor, his knees hitting the ground hard. He held his stomach, thinking he might be sick. Harry knelt down beside him and pulled him into the embrace with their daughter. Together they stayed on the floor, crying and holding their little Lily, shaking uncontrollably and wishing upon Merlin that it was all real.

I thought I could do it but I can't. I'm sorry for taking her from you, but you really are her real parents. I just can't do it. Take care of her for me, -Brit

Harry didn't know whether to be angry or happy. Of course he was ecstatic that they'd gotten their daughter, after all, but they'd missed her first nearly two years of life. She'd have to grow up without her real mother or father. She'd have questions they feared they'd never be able to answer.

For the first fortnight, she'd been very confused. She'd cry throughout the night and sometimes would refuse to eat. There were times when Harry and Ron wondered if she was afraid of them. She'd look at them as though she was trying to decide what to think of them. They knew she could say at least a few words, but she was too uncomfortable and confused to say them for a while. Her walking seemed to be behind schedule as it looked as though no one had ever worked on it with her or encouraged her. Those were the moments that Ron and Harry felt both devastated- that she hadn't been loved enough in her first twenty months- as well as relieved that she'd been returned to them so that they could change it and love her more than any little girl had ever been loved.

After a month, she was completely comfortable with them. She was their daughter and she knew it. She'd gotten the hang of walking, but never seemed to stop, getting into all sorts of things. She loved her baby brother and she always tried to take care of him. Sometimes, she would go up to one of her fathers and say, "Lee, poopoo," to let them know that Liam needed his diaper changed. She called him 'Lee'. She called Ron 'Papa' and Harry 'Dadda'. She ruled their little house, having each of her fathers wrapped around her sweet, tiny little finger.

Each night, Harry and Ron would bathe their daughter and sit her in their bed with them. Ron would comb her wild hair and Harry would feed their son a bottle as he laid there in his little blue outfits, staring up at them all in wonder, his orange hair and green eyes always reminding Harry of his own mother. Lily would stroke Liam's face protectively and give him kisses before falling asleep on Ron's chest and Liam on Harry's. The fathers would deposit their children into their respective beds and would curl up together in their own bed, marveling at how perfectly their life had turned out. They'd discuss the 'big-girl-bed' they needed to pick out for Lily's second birthday next month or the clothes that needed to be boxed up that Liam had outgrown. They'd discuss their hopes and dreams for their children and they'd re-confess their love for each other.

All they wanted was a child. A child to share their love with. A child to start their family. And each morning as their son would cry his good-morning and their daughter would wait patiently to be picked up from her crib, they would sit and bask in the knowledge that they'd finally gotten all they'd wanted and more.

Fin!