As baby Harry reached age eighty-nine, he sat in an old rocking chair, oscillating slowly. His right arm was extended, his hand intertwined with that of an eighty-seven year old redhead.

Her gaze shifted from the yard to Harry. She admired his hair, black as night, and his sparkling emerald eyes. She'd been told numerous times how much he looked like his father, but with his mother's eyes. She silently thanked James and Lily for bearing this man, and the fates for sending him into her arms.

A/N: FINISHED! I'm still not totally satisfied with the ending, but here it is! Have you all been watching the World Cup? C'mon England, get your act together! You're a favorite to dominate and yet you're not doing so hot! Oh well. Please drop me a line letting me know what you think, and thanks so much to those who reviewed/favorited/alerted/etc.

Much Love, Sadie