Chapter 94: In the End

In August:

Harriet found Ron sitting in the hallway opposite the door to his bedroom, his knees drawn up to his chest and his long arms wrapped around them. His head was back against the wall, his eyes closed.

"Hey," Harriet said, folding herself to the floor beside him. "Here." She handed him the rolled parchment she'd brought up.

"What's this?" Ron asked, sounding tired.

"NEWT results," Harriet said.

"Oh. You had yours?"

"Yeah," she said. "O in Defence and Charms, E in Potions, A in Transfiguration and Herbology. I'll get Runes later- I take the exam on Monday."

"Oh. Well done," Ron said flatly, not making any move to open his own results. He held them loosely in one hand, his gaze not shifting from his bedroom door.

"You going to open them?"

"I'll wait for Im," he replied. "I don't want to find out before she does, y'know?"

Harriet cleared her throat uncomfortably. "I can go," she suggested. "I just came to see what your results were, I didn't realise about Imogen…"

"Nah," Ron replied. "Stay. I could probably do with the company." He tapped his scroll idly against his leg. "You know," he said after a few moments of silence, "this doesn't seem to matter anymore. I know Hermione would be hitting me over the head with them for saying that I don't care what my results are, but… Imogen's in there, having my babies. Who cares what happens, as long as they're all okay?"

"You're still going to be an auror, aren't you?" Harriet asked.

Ron shrugged. "Yeah, if I get the results, I suppose. If I didn't… well. Guess I'll just do whatever to make some money. Fred and George need help in the shop, 'specially since Fred can't do much any more. I just want to make enough to make a life for us, y'know? Living here, with Mum… it's a bit overbearing, really. I want us to have our own place, but that might take a while." He sighed, wanting to direct the talk away from him. "What about you?" he asked. "How's the house hunting going?"

Harriet winced. It was a touchy subject. "Not great," she admitted. "We can't seem to agree- there's no way two of us can live in Robin's place- he doesn't have room for his own stuff, let alone more from me. Not that I have that much, but…"

Ron fiddled with his jumper. "What about Grimmauld Place? Or that house you have in Edinburgh?"

"I don't think I could really bear to live in Grimmauld Place," Harriet admitted. "It's… too Sirius, I suppose? Not to mention filthy, and can you imagine what old Mrs. Black would have to say about a half-blooded squib?" She snickered, and Ron even barked out a quick chuckle of laughter. "I was kind of thinking of giving it away, actually… It's a Black house, and Draco's mother was a Black, so I thought he might like it… and Kreacher would probably love him."

Ron stared at her, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. "You want to just give someone a house? Just give Malfoy a house?"

"He's not a Malfoy any more," Harriet reiterated with a sigh. "And he has nothing, he'll be living on a training stipend. He's been living with Severus, because he's got nowhere else to go. I don't want the house."

Ron shook his head slowly, still looking astounded. "I dunno, mate, that's a pretty big present to someone as shitty as the ferret."

Harriet had changed so much since the feuds she and Draco had engaged in over the years. Draco had changed too. He was still high-handed in his manner, with an arrogance that rubbed most the wrong way, but Harriet knew it for what it was now: simply a defence. Because she'd found Draco staring moodily into space, she'd heard the shouts of frustration and the sobs from his room when he'd neglected a silencing sphere, and she'd seen Severus slipping in. She knew that Draco was damaged by his childhood just as she was. Yes, he'd grown up in a grand house, with every material possession he could want for, but who, after all, would want Lucius Malfoy for a father? He'd disowned his only son without a second thought, and already, the newlywed Pansy Malfoy had appeared in public in tight-fitting robes, a hand supporting a very small bump. There had been no official announcement of pregnancy, but that didn't stop the Prophet printing the photo and running endless speculations. Draco had every right to be a bit prickly, she'd decided. "Well, just because he was awful in the past doesn't mean he will be in the future," she said. "Technically, he's going to be my brother-in-law soon… well, by adoption, or something?"

Ron shook his head. "Eugh, that's just too weird, you being related to the ferret… you being related to Snape!"

A smile quirked at the corners of Harriet's mouth. Ron found it weird, but she was used to it now… she welcomed it. Severus had done so much for her over the last year, and now she could see how he'd protected her from a distance all of her Hogwarts career. And for all that she and Robin couldn't seem to decide on a place to live, she was impatient to marry him. "I suppose," Ron mused, "at least you won't change your name. Imagine, you could have been Harriet Snape!"

"Harriet Brandon," she said distractedly, still thinking of finally being one half of a Robin-and-Harriet unit, legally.

"Yeah, well, come December, you'll be Snape's daughter-in-law," Ron said with a wince. "Married woman, and all that."

"But we need to find a house first," Harriet sighed.

"The Edinburgh house?" Ron suggested again. "That place was nice."

"Too big, too grand," Harriet said with a long-suffering sigh. She didn't feel comfortable there either. "Besides, Robin can't really explain that he's travelling by floo to all his muggle friends. It would be better to live somewhere near Manchester. We'll have to find something soon- Hogwarts is looking pretty good right now. There's only a few bits left to go, and after we finish, there's no reason for me to stay there any longer. I need somewhere to live." She let her head fall back against the wall, a mirror of Ron. "Being grown up is hard," she sighed. "I thought that once the war was over, everything would be easy, like nothing could ever be hard after Voldemort. But it's just a different kind of hard, you know? Not so much running for your life, but still a bit… difficult."

That much couldn't be denied. For a month after the battle, it had seemed that they'd done nothing but attend endless funerals. Mr. Weasley and Charlie had been the hardest, but that didn't make Lavender Brown or Justin Finch-Fletchy or Padma Patil any easier. And Moody… Moody's funeral had been very hard. There had been trials, as well- Death Eaters and suspected Death Eaters, and Harriet, along with others present at the battle, had been called to give evidence. There was at least some happier news- Harriet and Robin weren't the only ones to announce an engagement: Lupin and Tonks had finally decided to 'make it official' and would wed next summer. Neville and Luna, too, were officially betrothed.

It hadn't all been dramatic events: the fifth and seventh years had returned to a Hogwarts that was rather more crumbly than before the battle to finish their lessons and do their exams. Hermione had been ecstatically grateful that the library had somehow escaped largely unscathed- there was a small cave-in by the door that necessitated a magical scaffold to allow for safety, but the books were safe. Hermione and her books…The same couldn't be said for the Hufflepuff common room and dormitories, though, which were little more than a dusty mountain of rubble, tenuously supporting the floors above it. Harriet sighed… that was the next part of the castle to be repaired, and she was fed up of her punishment duties by now, carrying and sweeping and cleaning along with the house elves for the most part.

"I know," Ron replied, breaking Harriet's train of thought. "Before, it was just us, right? But now… now I'm going to be a dad, and that's so scary."

The door to the bedroom opened and Ron shot straight up. A groan emanated from the depths of the room. Severus shut it quickly behind him. "Is it… are they…?" Ron asked breathlessly.

"The babies have not yet arrived," Severus said. He handed a large jug to Ron. "Please fetch another jug of iced water, please. In addition, I need you to contact St. Mungo's, please- floo to the midwifery department and ask for Edith Belmarsh to attend."

Ron's eyes widened in panic. "What? Why? What's wrong?"

Severus sighed and glared down his nose at Ron. "Nothing is wrong. We discussed this, Weasley. She is simply going to oversee. I am still in training, after all, and a triplet birth is unusual."

"Oh," Ron replied. "Oh, yes. I remember." He looked down at his feet for a moment. "Can… can I see her?"

Severus looked down at him with his hard Severus stare. "That would not be appropriate," he said. "Please make yourself useful."

Ron was getting better at standing up to Severus, particularly where Imogen was concerned. After all, he figured that he should be able to defend her. "How is she?"

Severus sighed. "She is doing well enough," he replied. "A little tired, but that is to be expected." He glared at Ron until he finally turned tail and ran.

Severus glanced down at Harriet. "Why are you here, Harriet?"

"Erm, NEWT results?" she said, holding up her scroll.

"Hmm. What are your results?"

"E in potions," she said with a grin. "Two O's, the E and two A's."

"Well done," Severus said shortly. "I must return to Mistress Weasley now. Do not make a nuisance of yourself." He was gone before she could even roll her eyes- she wasn't a child, she'd turned eighteen almost a week ago! She was hardly going to run riot and annoy everyone! She slowly climbed to her feet. She should probably go, leave Ron and Imogen. They'd floo her when the babies were born anyway: that much had been agreed. She was going to be Godmother to one of them, along with Hermione and Faye.

Before she could get more than a few slow steps, Ron was hurrying back up the stairs, a jug of iced water sloshing dangerously in his hands. He looked at the closed door helplessly, then turned to Harriet. "I don't think I'm allowed in," he said, holding his burden out to Harriet. "Can you?"

Harriet's eyes widened. "Me?" she asked. "But… she's your wife!"

Ron flushed. "Well, yeah, but Snape says I can't go in… he says it's not right for a husband to see…"

He looked so much like a kicked puppy that Harriet took pity on him. She took the full jug. "Oh!" he cried. "Tell him the midwife will be here in about twenty minutes."

She nodded, and grimly knocked on the door. "I've got the water," she called through the door.

"Come in, Harriet," Severus voice came faintly, then something indistinct as his voice faded out. Cautiously, Harriet turned the door handle.

She didn't really know what she'd expected. Darkness, perhaps, with the curtains pulled tight against the world, a close, sweaty, primal space. But it wasn't. It was just Ron's bedroom, where she'd spent so much time. It was changed, certainly- the walls were freshly painted and no longer plastered with Chudley Cannons posters, though two remained in a corner. The bed too, was different, no longer two singles under the eaves, but a double bed beneath the window, which was open, letting in a slight breeze, though there was the slight shimmer of a silencing charm over it. A large crib stood against one wall.

She'd also imagined some kind of medieval scene with Imogen in some kind of torture device, restrained, helpless. She'd seen the birthing stool that Severus used, but, as yet, it lay abandoned in a corner. Instead, nightie-clad Imogen leaned over the side of the bed, one knee braced on the edge, one on the floor and arms locked out before her. She panted shallowly, completely ignoring Harriet. Severus glanced over. "Set it on the dressing table, please," he said reproachfully, as if berating her for wide-eyed fascination. Imogen let out a long, low moan, Severus rubbing the small of her back. "That's it. Not long now," he reassured her. "Keep breathing."

Harriet stood, shuffling her feet, not sure whether to interrupt. "What?" Severus snapped at her.

"The… the, erm, midwife says she'll be about twenty minutes," Harriet relayed hesitantly.

"Thank you," Severus allowed. "Now, pour a little of that water, and bring it here."

Harriet scurried to obey, half filling the wide glass tumbler on the dressing table. Carefully, she handed it to the waiting Severus. "That's all, Harriet. Please send Healer Belmarsh in when she arrives." He offered the glass to Imogen. "Just small sips," he advised. "Just enough to wet your mouth."

He looked up, holding the glass steady for Imogen. "That will be all, Harriet," he said sternly.

"How long will it take?" Harriet asked, ignoring him.

Severus huffed out a frustrated breath. "Babies arrive in their own time. Now go."

Imogen cried out again, and Severus grasped the glass firmly before she could drop it, her hands immediately pressing to her hugely swollen belly. "Harriet," she panted out, her face grimaced and red, "Tell Ron… tell him I love him, but right now, I want to hex his bollocks off."

Harriet blanched. "Okay," she agreed shakily, and finally fled. She shut the door firmly behind her, and leaning against it, blinked at Ron. "I am never having children," she informed him vehemently.

She made moves to leave a few times, but every time, Ron begged her to stay. They camped outside his room until lunchtime, their uneasy wait interrupted only by the arrival of Healer Belmarsh. She was a tall, dour woman- of the two, Harriet thought that Severus was quite possibly the warmer. Mrs. Weasley finally tempted them downstairs for lunch. "You'll be no use when the babies come if you haven't eaten," she informed Ron kindly as he looked helplessly at his bedroom door, firmly shut against the world. "You need your strength, and first babies take a while."

Fred and George were already at the table when the came down. They usually shut up shop for an hour at lunchtime and came home, Ron had explained- it wasn't uncommon practice on Diagon Alley, where everything seemed to run on a different schedule. Apart from the crazed two weeks before Hogwarts started, when shopkeepers opened early and barely ate, but made an astounding profit, and the month before Christmas, Diagon Alley closed between half past twelve and half past one.

Harriet watched from beneath her eyelashes as Molly delivered two plates of ham, egg and chips, one already cut into bite-sized chunks, egg yolk spreading across the speckled brown earthenware. George handed Fred a fork wordlessly as Molly delivered food for Harriet and Ron. "You eating, Mum?" George asked, his tone light, but something in his gaze as he watched his mother flit about the kitchen.

"Oh, I'm not really very hungry, love," she replied with a vague smile.

"You need to eat something," he said, setting his knife down and reaching over to steady a cup for Fred.

"He's right, Mum," Fred said, when he had gulped down a mouthful of water. His fork clattered noisily against the plate as he tried to stab a piece of ham.

"Oh, Freddie," Mrs. Weasley sighed as the ham went skittering onto the floor.

"Sorry," Fred muttered softly, head down. Harriet had never seen him so very… subdued. Laughing, joking Fred was gone, or hidden so deeply that she couldn't find him. Beside her, Ron kept his attention firmly on his food.

"It's fine, Mum," George said firmly. "It's not a problem, alright?" His chair scraped in the uncomfortable silence as he leaned over to retrieve the fleeing meat. He dropped it into the chicken scrap bucket.

Ron's glance strayed to the clock once again. Harriet hadn't thought to look at it, not in ages. She couldn't bear to think of it without Arthur and Charlie's hands. She squinted to see it properly now.

Her hand was still there, and she realised with an odd little skitter of her gut that it pointed, with the others, to 'home'. Was that because Mrs. Weasley saw this as Harriet's home? Did it still say 'school', she wondered, when she went back to Hogwarts, where she lived now, rather than studied? And what would it say when she was living in her own house, with Robin? Imogen's hand, at least, also pointed to 'home', and not 'mortal peril', though Harriet could see why Ron was worried- her clock hand shook and trembled, as if not quite sure where to go.

Fred and George left, Fred's plate not empty yet. Molly tutted over the leftovers. "Mum, you've got to leave them be," Ron said, finally. "They're managing."

"You wouldn't understand," she said with a sigh. "You can't understand the worry a mother feels for her children."

"Hey!" Ron began.

He didn't get much further. "Mr Weasley?" Healer Belmarsh asked from the doorway. Molly visibly paled, bracing herself against the scrubbed countertop.

Ron had stood, his own freckles standing out against his pale face. "Is everything… okay?"

"You have three baby girls, Mr Weasley," she informed him without a hint of a smile. "You may go up to see your wife now."

Ron didn't have to be asked twice. His chair rocked alarmingly as he left it at top speed. "Honestly," Healer Belmarsh intoned. "Anyone would think that birth was not something that happened every day."

It didn't, for most people, Harriet thought. Not everyone, after all, was a midwife. For Ron and Imogen, this was a long-awaited, wonderful moment. She splayed her hand across her own flat belly, once again wondering what it would be like to have children. She still had no idea if it was something she wanted or not. Something else that she and Robin would have to figure out. Later though. "Are you alright?" she asked Molly.

She received a weak smile in return. "Yes, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "It's just a shock, that's all. When I hear someone say 'Mr. Weasley', it just makes me think of my Arthur, that's all." She took a long,calming gulp of air, straightened, and hung the tea towel she'd clutched neatly over a cupboard door. "I should floo for the other godparents… no doubt they'll want to get the babies named, and I want to meet my first granddaughters. Make yourself useful dear, and make a pot of tea. No doubt Imogen will need some." She bustled off to the fireplace, and Harriet filled a kettle of water.

She was pouring the boiling water into the pot when Hermione stepped through the floo. The last of the golden trio to arrive was practically humming with excitement as she bounded out of the way of the fire. "Have you seen them yet?" she asked Harriet. "What are their names?"

"I haven't seem them, and they haven't said what the names are yet," Harriet told her.

"It's odd how you can live in the wizarding world for years and not know the traditions, isn't it?" Hermione gushed. "I mean, not telling anyone the names before they babies are born? It's so different from the muggle world!"

"It's so the child can't be cursed in the womb," Molly said. "Some say that if you share the child's name with anyone but the other parent before birth, it will be born deformed, or a squib."

Hermione giggled. "Such a quaint tradition," she said.

"Well, say as you like, but I gave birth to seven healthy children, and never shared the names before they were born," Molly sniffed. She turned back to the fire to floo for Faye, but the flames flared up again, and Robin stepped out.

"Hello, Molly," he said with a smile. "I hope you don't mind me coming… I was a bit worried about where Harriet was, so when you called Hermione..."

"Oh no, my dear boy, of course not," Molly said with a wide smile. She'd adored Robin since he'd done the dishes for her. "Now, you just sit down over there, and we'll get you a cup of tea!"

"There's no need to put yourself out," he said with a smile. "I'm sure you're very busy."

She flapped her hands at him, a broad grin on her face. "Oh, get on with you," she chided good-naturedly then stuck her head back into floo-green flames.

Robin laid his hands on Harriet's shoulders. "All okay?" he asked.

"All okay," she said with a smile, looking up over her shoulders at him. "Well, I think all okay… no one said it wasn't."

He smiled. "Good," he said. "I'm glad." He kissed the top of her head, then looked up towards the door. Harriet followed his gaze.

Ron stood there, almost literally beaming from ear to ear. "There's someone I'd like you all to meet," he said, slightly breathless. "You'll have to come upstairs if you'd like to meet her sisters- I was too scared to carry more than one at a time, and Imogen's not ready to come down quite yet."

Mrs. Weasley was there then, gently lifting a blanketed bundle from Ron's careful, almost comically exaggerated hold. "Oh, the precious little mite!" she gushed. "Oh, look, she's got a little bit of ginger hair already… oh, Ron, how beautiful she is!" she looked up, almost dewy eyed. "Oh, they're all alright, then! All healthy, right numbers of fingers and toes?"

Ron nodded, after a moment of hesitation. "One of them is really tiny," he said. "She's upstairs, and they said she's not breathing very well yet, but it's because she's so little, and Snape's given her some potion to help her lungs." Curiously, Harriet crept forward. She'd never seen a really tiny baby before.

Not much of the little girl was visible: a tiny, squished face, a wisp of reddish hair. A little hand curled out of the blanket level with her head. It was the fingernails that Harriet noticed- minute little fingernails, so impossibly tiny, and yet so very perfectly formed. She could hardly fathom anything as tiny as that baby's fingernails actually existing. And if there was a triplet even smaller… "Are they always so small?" she asked. The baby opened her eyes, and they seemed the biggest thing about her.

"She's seven weeks premature," Molly explained. "And she had to share space with two other little babies."

"But Imogen was huge !" Harriet protested. "I kept thinking she'd never be able to stand up again every time she sat down!"

Mrs. Weasley chuckled. "That's what being pregnant is like, dear. One day, God willing, you'll know." The floo flared green, and Faye flopped through, a stack of carefully wrapped packages in her hands. "That's everyone, then," Mrs. Weasley said. "Shall we go up?"

Robin tried to hang back in the kitchen, but Molly ushered him along. Namings, she said, were a family affair, and he was family now. Even Ron, who normally found himself quite tongue-tied near Robin (He couldn't understand how anyone could speak three languages, and two of them dead, especially without magical help) urged him to come. Ron would have urged anyone he could find to come and admire his brand-new daughters.

Imogen was propped on a pile of pillows in the bed, dressed in a clean white nightdress, and even the bedsheets looked freshly changed. She was pale, purple shadows beneath her eyes, but she still smiled wanly at the little parade of people squashed into the room. She had another bundle lying loosely in her arms, and Severus had a third. Each baby was swaddled in a different colour, Harriet realised- Mrs Weasley carried the purple one, Imogen had one in a peachy pink, and Severus, in the corner, held an ivory-clad baby.

Imogen beckoned Faye forwards. Her voice was a little raspy. "Faye, meet your goddaughter. This is Alexandria Virginia Weasley."

Faye perched at the edge of the bed before taking the bundle. "I'm scared I'll get the words wrong," she whispered, one fingertip feathering across the baby's tiny cheek.

"It's the intent that matters," Severus said, his voice calm and deep amongst the nervousness around them.

Faye smiled down at the baby. "I...I recognise this child, and give her up to the powers of the world. Alexandria Virginia, may your path be joyous and your troubles few." Everyone watched with bated breath as a glitter before her grew into a shimmer and a piece of parchment dropped down onto her knee. Severus, a baby cradled carefully in the crook of one arm, reached out for it, setting it carefully on the chest of drawers.

"Who is next?" he asked.

"Mum, will you give Elizabeth to Hermione?" Ron said.

Mrs. Weasley carefully handed the baby into Hermione's unsure grip. "Just Elizabeth?" Hermione asked.

"Elizabeth Susan," Imogen supplied.

Speaking clearly, Hermione repeated the words to the naming spell. That birth certificate, too, was carefully added to the other. Harriet looked at Severus' tiny burden. "Be careful," he said as he laid her in Harriet's arms, correcting her position to adequately support the sleeping baby's head. "This little girl isn't quite as strong as the others."

She was even tinier than little Alexandria, but somehow slightly less squashed, a little less froggy. She had more hair too. Harriet was surprised to find her heart beating quickly. "What's her name?" she whispered, not wanting to wake the baby. "Charlotte Molly," Imogen said softly. Mrs. Weasley squeaked in pleasure at being honoured.

She'd practiced the words, and she'd listened to Faye and Hermione already. She tried not to sound too scared, too hesitant. "I recognise this child, and give her up to the powers of the world. Charlotte Molly, may your path be joyous and your troubles few." She looked up, and met Robin's eyes. He lingered in the doorway. He smiled at her, inclining his head in such a way as to say that he knew what she was thinking: that this could be their future, with babies of their own. Not now, though. Maybe in a few years.

"Big names for little babies," Faye said softly.

"Lexie, Lizzie and Lottie," Ron supplied.

"Nice names for little girls, and big, official names for when they get older," Imogen explained. "And grandmothers Molly and Susan and aunt Ginny for middle names."

Molly surreptitiously brushed away a tear. "I wish Arthur had been able to see this," she whispered, not trusting her voice any further. "He was so excited about his grandchildren…"

No one really knew what to say to that. In an idea world, Arthur would have been here to hold his granddaughters, but it was far from an ideal world. Perhaps, though, it was a world better than it had been. There was no more Voldemort. Harriet looked down at the baby in her arms. It had to be a better world for little Lottie. This, this was what she'd fought for, this was what Arthur and Charlie and Moody and so many others had died for.

A better world for all of them.

Notes:

And that's all she wrote, folks! :) Thank you so much to everyone who's read this far, and especially all those who have reviewed and encouraged me!

Almost a full year of writing this... I started it when I read the beginning of a femharry fic, thought it was terrible and I could do better. Then I thought it would be fun to write some smut, and then a wild plot appeared! There are definitely things I'd have done differently in hindsight, but that's what experience is for.

I do have ideas for a sequel, and even a few bits written, but as yet, it lacks any cohesive plot, or even an antagonist. I do hope it will appear one day, though. In the meantime, I'd like to do some work on my original fiction- all the lovely comments I've had have given me the confidence to think that maybe I could get something published if I could just get it written! I'm brilliant at starting things, and terrible at finishing them. I'm also working on an honest-to-goodness Drarry, so we'll see where that goes :)