a/n: That's blackout folks. I may go back and add to this. There will also be at least one longer fiction covering the war in the states and the impact to Harry and the kids.

Prompt: Retirement

Chapter 25: Milestones

Harry could feel Hermione's breath change. He always knew the precise moment she woke. It was astonishing to him that she could go from peaceful sleep to full on lucid thought. He pulled her tight, kissed the curse scar that wrapped around her chest to her shoulder blade. They knew each other's body better then their own. He knew the scars from her life well lived, the loss some represented and the others that marked a painful victory. She always reminded him that scar tissue was stronger than the original tissue and that was her. Stronger for it all. It made her and them who they were and made them stronger.

Rolling over on her back, she didn't bother to adjust the blankets. Looking into his green eyes, she could still get lost in their depth. "You're thinking very loudly this morning, Mister Potter," she told him, knowing it was usually his line.

Leaning down, he kissed her deeply, letting his hands roam her skin. "I think it's nearly afternoon," he corrected.

"Hm, is that so?" she asked angling her head to give him better access to her neck. "I guess we might be really old now, but we're still not boring."

He laughed against a sensitive spot below her ear, "I was worried once you turned in your minister's robes we might hit a dry spell." His hand crept downward, felt the scars on her right leg and knew she often woke with stiffness in her injured muscles. He massaged the area gently.

Hermione let out a groan of pleasure. "If you're not careful, we're going to need to go again and then we'll be late for your own retirement party."

"By definition, my retirement party can't start without me," he said, deepening his kiss.

Reluctantly, Hermione pulled away. "Loads of people will be waiting. We should make sure you got everything from your office.

He popped his head up and looked around the Headmaster's office. The spells were still in place to make sure the paintings didn't get a front row seat to their night of passion. It was the one last location on his list. They got them all, he thought wickedly and wanted desperately to tell Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus he cleared the board. Maybe he could get them away from everyone at the party. He stood, let the blanket fall to the floor as he scooped Hermione up, helped her stand before wrapping her in the soft comforter.

"What's the smile for?" she asked, looking around self consciously, expecting to see an audience.

"Nothing. Just thinking about school days. I didn't think this room was possible is all," he said, side stepping her attempt to swat him for the implication. He gathered up her discarded clothes and got to work with his own. "I thought I'd need the invisibility cloak." Harry cocked his head at the thought. They never did it under the cloak. That opened up a whole world of possibilities. Maybe he could borrow it before Liam handed it down to his oldest.

"It seems being headmaster had its privileges then," Hermione said, made sure her clothes were straight and buttoned correctly before lowering the spells shielding the office area from view. The paintings started to chatter at the insult they had endured all night.

"Hush," Harry called out to the former headteachers and then he noticed he still had a framed picture on the wall of Hermione standing tall with the ICW solicitors. It was taken right after the final Death Eater's case had been decided. Well. Not the final one. The final one for her. She switched sides to defend Lucius and then later had been made to serve as a witness in the trial against Bellatrix. It had taken him decades to understand how she'd been able to defend Lucius. Her intense desire for justice over revenge was honorable. He understood that much. And it was why she had been such an influential minister for magic. A feeling of pride for her swelled, he turned and saw her opening the drawers to his desk. It was the last bit to pack up.

Hermione pulled out a small familiar bundle. Harry had kept the resurrection stone wrapped neatly in the leaves Hermione had found to protect it. He thought it kept it looking mundane or even like a bit of trash in case anyone went poking around. He hadn't used it in years and they never discussed what to do with it in the future. It wasn't like the cloak. It wasn't really meant to be passed down. It needed to be entrusted to the right person who wouldn't be taken in by the false promise. It was a problem for another day.

"What's this?" Hermione asked, holding up a singed scroll of parchment. It looked old, fragile, and damaged.

Harry smiled as he took it from her. "It's my first lesson plan. It went off really well. Clearly." He put it in a small box, placed the framed ICW photo on top of it, and put the stone in his pocket. Then thought better of it. He took it back out and handed it to her. "You never used this."

Looking from the bundle in confusion and up to Harry she opened her mouth and then closed it. She understood who he thought she might want to see, to talk to. A flash of fear and pain replaced the confusion.

"What is it? You don't want to see your parents?" he asked, trying to understand. She'd certainly like to see Shiloh too. He thought.

"What if…" she trailed off, her voice a whisper.

Harry bent his head to get a better look at her, hoping to assess her concerns.

"What if death didn't restore their memories?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"Oh. Oh, Hermione," Harry said, the pain stabbing at his own heart, pulling her into a comforting embrace. He had just assumed. The sacrifices she had made for him came rushing back. Really the sacrifices she made for those she loved. She had been preparing for the scenario that she would die helping him and she didn't want her parents to mourn that loss. She couldn't have predicted that that action would have her mourning their loss. No one wants to read about the villain. They want to read about the hero.

"Maybe I'll hang onto the stone. Think about it first," she said, turning her head to rest her ear against his chest, feeling his heart beat for her.

"As long as you need," he told her. Regrettably, he noted the time and sighed. "We will be late if we don't leave now. I can finish packing this up tomorrow. When I'm officially retired."

Hermione nodded, took his hand and she let him lead her to his courtyard where he had placed an apparition exception. In seconds they were standing in front of The Leaky Cauldron. It couldn't possibly be more than sixty years since he first set eyes on the pub that served his entrance to the magical world. Ron hadn't understood why Harry wanted to have his retirement party there. It wasn't anything special to his friend who took for granted the secrets hidden just beyond the brick wall within. Still holding tight to Hermione's hand, he stepped in and was instantly overwhelmed by the number of friends, family, and coworkers who had gathered to celebrate with him.

Tom opened a bottle of champagne from behind the bar and then spoke out loudly. "Make a hole. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger need to get through."

Harry smiled and thanked everyone as the crowd parted for them to get to the front of the pub. Hermione was with him every step. He didn't take that for granted. He meant it when he told Dumbledore that she never let him think the impossible tasks set before him had been something he needed do on his own. She was always there with him, trying to find all the answers. Even when he tried to do it alone, she came running after him.

Now they were about to embark on a new journey. A time to focus solely on their life and what they needed. Retiring early would have its benefits. Something he was sure they had earned for their service to their community. They finally found Ron who was preparing a seat of honor for Harry. Harry hugged his old friend and let him fuss.

The wall behind the head table was plastered with pictures and mementos. The pair looked over the happy times. Their kids growing up before their eyes, Harry teaching DADA, the revamped wizarding tournament, quidditch matches, love, laughter. It was all there. Even a picture of the memorial Liam had made for Shiloh. The small box Harry had carved for Hermione was displayed in a family photo. Shiloh Potter—we never knew you, but you are loved . It was all of it that made his life. Hermione had once asked him to not let the heartache change them. It wasn't a promise he could make. All of it had changed them. For the better. Harry traced the lilies and daisy on the memorial.

"She had your eyes," Hermione whispered for his ears only. "I never believed that meant a simple color. She had the care, the compassion, the emotion in your eyes. The same in your mother's. I love you Harry Potter and I'm glad I've been able to tell you that everyday for fifty years."

His love for her had only grown since that night in the tent. The next day when she said those words to him for the first time. It was a mystery to him why he waited so long to realize his feelings for her. Maybe it wasn't realizing them as much as it was admitting them. They'd been there for years. They just weren't the feelings he was told were romantic. They were never awkward or unnatural. He never expected them to be rejected. It was just love and comfort. It was a love that had helped him open up. His first hug, his first kiss… every milestone they experienced together was worth it.

Ron stepped between them. "I hate to interrupt this sappy public display of affection, but we've got a party to get started." The redhead motioned to the chair set in the middle of the stage for Harry. It was transfigured to resemble a throne.

Hermione joined their kids and grandkids at the nearby table. It seemed Ron was prepared to regale the crowd with exploits from their school days. Hermione only shot their friend one warning look as he tried to share the rumor that went around in their third year that she liked to watch other couples snog in the small observation room at the top of the Gryffindor tower. She even let him embellish his account of the troll rescue, claiming he lifted that troll up by its ankle and dropped it on its head. It was a speech for the ages. The crowd was enthralled and Harry couldn't blame them.

When the time came for Harry to mingle he tried to find Hermione. She seemed elusive and Harry assumed she was giving him space while catching up with their family. As the night wrapped up, Harry took a minute to get some fresh air outside the pub. He was looking up at the sky when he heard the door open and close. He was tired and wasn't really in the mood for one more conversation. Still. The people had taken their time to be there for him, he could keep going.

"I've never been very good at making friends," Hermione said from behind him.

He smiled broadly, half turned to give her room to join him stargazing, thinking about what the future had in store. "I never had a friend until I met you," he told her.