"Why were you going to your Manor house?" she braved the question, lying sated in Ral's arms.

After their amazing session in the kitchen, he'd carried her up the stairs to their bed and had pampered her under the cool sheets with light touches and tender kisses.

Rabastan sighed. "I was going to pack up my brother's things and get rid of them. He won't need them since he's serving several lifetimes in Azkaban and won't be coming home again. I wanted those... what did you call them?... old photographs gone from our life. Oh, and I was also going to bring our family's house-elf, Winky, here to live with us. She's lonely in the Manor by herself and getting on in years. I thought we could ask her to care for the cat or something to keep her busy. She'd be paid, of course."

"That sounds like two very good ideas, actually," she admitted. "Getting rid of Rodolphus' things could be cathartic, and if we gave them away to charity, they could benefit a lot of people. As for the elf... well, I suppose Crooks could use the company once we're back at work in another week or so. And she would be paid a fair wage, so it wouldn't be an abuse to retain her services. We could also build her a little extension room at the back of the house where she could live and have her own private space so she wouldn't feel like a second-class servant."

Her husband kissed the top of her head. "Whatever you think best, darling."

She ran her fingers very gently though the dark hair on his chest. "Since you're moving your house-elf here, I need to ask you something important: what are your plans for living arrangements?"

He started and stared down at her in confusion.

"I mean, I know the rich often maintain several residences, but I was hoping" - she glanced around their small bedroom- "that maybe we could stay here. Full time. I'm sure your ancestral home is quite splendid, but... well, I'm in love with this place and the neighbourhood, and I don't want to leave it." She peeked up at him through her lashes. "This is our home, together. We're equal here, and there are no bad memories of this place to get in the way."

He stared down at her in silence for a few moments, his blue eyes as fathomless as the oceans. "I'm going to sell the Manor. The Lestranges who lived there are all gone now. Right here," he said, caressing her belly, "my family starts over."

"I like that plan," she agreed.

He smiled, kissed her, and then lazily stretched against her. "Besides, I don't want our little Typhus growing up in a big, empty, dark house. It'll ruin his disposition."

She gave him an arch look. "You want to name our son after a deadly disease? No. Try again."

His smile bloomed into a teasing grin. "How about Seymour, then? Seymour Lestrange. Get it?" He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Hermione pushed up onto her elbow and stared down at him with incredulity, trying not to let the giggle she was suppressing escape. "Not in this lifetime."

"Governor?" he joked, trying to make the sale sound legitimate. "It has an official ring to it. Just think someday he could be Minister Governor Lestrange, and people won't know whether to bow or scrape."

She gave a sigh of disgust and threw herself back into the mattress, crossed her arms, and gave him a sidelong look. "And what if it's a girl? Something ugly to keep away the boys, like Mathilda or Agnes, I suppose?"

He shook his head. "I have the perfect name already picked out in that case: Hysteria Nutter Lestrange, named in honour of her mum."

Laughing, she hit him with a pillow.

...

Epilogue - Five Years Later

Hermione hurried through the kitchen, grabbing the jam-and-buttered toast that Ral had made for her that morning and trying to juggle her satchel in the other hand. Thank goodness she'd gone with the square heels and the pantsuit today because stepping over her four-year old son's toy broom in the middle of the floor, weaving around Crooks as he regally sat at his food bowl and nibbled, and dodging to the side as her giggling three-year old daughter ran past being chased by her brother, who was being chased by Winky had tapped even her multi-tasking abilities.

Her husband sauntered into the room from the living area, watching with a bemused expression on his still-handsome, though slightly aged face as his wild children went screaming past him into the hallway.

"Before you dodge off, love," he called to her, stopping her at the door. "I have something for you."

Hidden behind his back, he pulled out and presented her a magical picture frame. It was a black, grey, and white image of her strange Lestrange family, smiling in their front yard and waving at the camera. Susan and Theo had taken the picture for them just two weeks ago, when they'd all gone to Millie and Greg's for a picnic together.

"A photograph," she murmured, smiling.

"New ones. A house full of them, and all good," he vowed, kissing her cheek. "This one's for your office. It's about time you cheered that utilitarian desk of yours."

She glanced up at her husband and smiled. "I'm a Silk. I'm not supposed to be personable at work. I'm supposed to be stern and imposing. It comes with the job."

He grinned at her. "There's my girl - claws out, formidable. I do love your spirit, kitten." He pinched her bum. "Hang it anyway. For me."

With a mock sigh, she agreed. "Yes, dear." She tucked the picture into her briefcase and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I'm off. See you tonight. Love you."

"Love you," he murmured.

Shoving the toast between her lips, rushing out the door, she headed for the Apparition point down the street from their cottage.

Her relationship with Ral had been up and down since the day she'd drawn his name from the lottery ball. Mostly, it had been good, but there were days and fights that diminished her, leaving her shaking and in tears. Her husband was a master at calling her to the carpet, and she was a mistress with a sharp tongue. Still, she felt it was well worth the fight. Learning to compromise and how to slow down had been two very hard lessons for her, but in those struggles, she'd grown as a person, maturing in ways that she hadn't expected.

When asked by Harry, or Ginny, or any of their other friends as to how she and Rabastan managed to overcome the challenges they had thus far, Hermione always replied the same: that the glue that kept her relationship with Ral sticky was based on two simple things - first, reminding herself that she loved him even when he infuriated her, and second, the promise they'd made to each other of 'no breaks'. After their first married couple fight, they had vowed to tough out their disagreements, even when the compulsion for one or the other was to run away. So far, that small, but significant promise had worked out well for them, as it kept them communicating. There was no running away from each other, especially with two children underfoot.

Besides, the make-up sex was always great!

"Morning, 'Mione," Susan called out as she fell into step at her side. After years of encouragement, Mrs. Nott had finally decided to come out of her shell and follow her Aunt Amelia's lead: she'd recently been handed her Wizengamot membership cap. She worked in the same Department as Hermione at the Ministry proper.

'Morning, Sue," she called back. "How was your weekend?"

The two women headed off to work, waving at Greg and Millie who were out for a stroll with their newborn. Theo came out to the fence line to greet them with his daughter, and just before Hermione turned to Disapparate, she noticed Ral and her two babies joining them, followed by Winky. Despite his advanced age, Crooks walked along the picket fence, stepping gently over the climbing roses to avoid thorns. He seemed to wag his tail at her in goodbye.

With a smile, she Apparated away.

When she arrived at her office half an hour later, the first thing she did was to find the perfect spot to hang her new photograph and decided it belonged right next to the infamous, rumpled parchment that she'd drawn from the lottery ball that fateful day five years previous. Ral's handsome features were smug with amusement as he smirked at the camera, tossing her a wink. He'd had the scroll professionally matted and framed, and had presented to her for their first anniversary.

"Paper is traditional, remember?" he'd asked.

As are photographs, she thought as she tweaked the nose of her husband's magical image, throwing him a saucy wink of her own.

~FIN~

AUTHOR'S FINAL NOTES:

Thank you for taking this trip down a new ship for me. I hope I fulfilled my requestor's prompts for the fest, and that you enjoyed the story as well, dear readers!

Please review and let me know your thoughts!