A/N: And so we reach the end of another story. Thank you so much to all of you who have supported and encouraged me along the way with your comments and reviews. This fic was difficult. The emotions within it pretty well reflect a lot of what I've been going through lately. However, I hope you've enjoyed reading it, as I've found writing it to be very therapeutic. I've tried a few new things like the present tense throughout (which was more difficult than I thought it would be). Any final thoughts or comments on this story would be greatly appreciated. Until next time. Take care, DSxx

32 years later

Click-clack. Click-clack.

Hermione stops to give a practised tug to the ball of wool in her lap before her fingers continue to work in a nimble blur.

Severus draws a long finger down his nose before stopping at the tip and tapping it thoughtfully. His book rests on the arm of the chair between them so that they can both read, though Hermione misses parts as she stops to appraise her knitting and he turns the page too soon. It doesn't matter, the book is by a dry, rather opinionated, historian whom she doesn't care much for.

Severus gives a scoffing snort.

"Well, that's a lie." He jabs at the page with his finger. "It didn't happen like that at all. I should know. I was there."

"Why do you read it, then?" Hermione spreads the knitting over her needle to check for dropped stitches.

"Because I like to be informed." He peers over his glasses at her.

"No you don't. You like to be indignant. You're just trying to find errors."

The corner of his mouth hitches up. He would never admit it but she is absolutely right. He holds her gaze for a moment longer before continuing to read.

Her eyes don't leave him. Even after all these years, she still finds him striking. The silver threading through his dark locks has become more abundant over recent years but it only serves to make him look more distinguished and, if it were at all possible, more attractive. It's a bit annoying because Hermione feels herself succumbing to a decidedly drab greyness that makes her look like she's been left out in the sun too long. Not that the sun wouldn't be a welcome change, she thinks, as her attention is drawn again to the hectic flurry of snowflakes outside the window.

"They couldn't have chosen a worse day to tackle Diagon Alley." She nods at the window.

Severus keeps his finger on the page but follows her gaze. "Mmmm." He frowns in concern. "I'll give them another twenty minutes. Then I might go out."

Despite her husband's age, Hermione isn't concerned about him battling the weather. He has lost very little condition over the years and could put men far his junior to shame.

He returns to his book, his hand absently lifting to tug at his side-burn as his lips twitch—a more subdued response to some other preposterous claim, no doubt.

Hermione sighs.

"Do you want me to go now?" he asks.

He knows her too well.

"I just wish—"

There is a sudden commotion in the hallway. They hear voices, the stomping of boots and rattling of parcels.

She smiles with relief and he reaches over to squeeze her hand fondly. "You worry too much."

"They never stop being your children," she murmurs, squeezing him back before flicking the wool free and continuing to knit.

Moments later, the door bursts open and a tall, dark-haired man strides in, a flush high on his cheeks and a dusting of snow clinging to his dark curls.

"Bloody hell! It's mad out there. Diagon Alley was a zoo!" He drops an armful of packages on the table before using both gloved hands to brush down his cloak.

Hermione can't help but cast a swift drying spell over him.

"Thanks Mum." He grins before snatching up one of the packages. "I found this in the Muggle book shop. I thought you'd like it."

"Roland, you shouldn't have been buying for me!" she cries in shock. "You should have been in and out of there as quickly as possible."

He shakes his head dismissively. "Lily and Sophia were so well organised—they told me to leave. I had to do something."

Hermione gives a reluctant smile before taking the package. But it instantly turns into a beam of delight when she unwraps it.

"Robotics?" Severus' eyebrows shoot up. "Who's that for? Gabe?"

"No, it's for me." Hermione opens the book and skims over the writing. "Remember I told you that we're covering robots in Muggle Studies at the moment? The students need to know how they work, how to program them. Thank you, Love." She looks up at her son fondly. "This is pitched at exactly the right level for them."

Roland nods, then laughs at his father's disapproving pout. "Don't worry, I have something for you too." He dips his hand into his pocket and tosses a small felt-covered box to Severus who catches it cleanly.

Inside is a beautiful brass fob watch. Severus instantly removes the time piece, holding it up to the lamplight to run his practiced eye over the intricacies of the craftsmanship and inner workings. "This is excellent," he murmurs. "How much do I owe you?"

Roland snorts in a manner identical to his father. "Nothing. Leave it to me in your will."

"You've got a while to wait before that happens," Severus chuckles, a deep, rolling bass note that reverberates in his chest.

"That'll give me time to build an extra room to house it all," Roland responds dryly, his voice also a similar timbre to his father's.

"There aren't that many," Severus grumbles, continuing to gaze at the watch.

"Yes, there are that many," Hermione corrects him, turning more pages of her book.

Severus had developed what could only be described as an 'obsession with time' and, particularly, timepieces, collecting literally hundreds of them over the past few decades. Although she teased him about it, she didn't mind at all—she understood that it was his way of processing and, in effect, memorialising the significance of what had transpired all those years ago.

"Speaking of Gabe, did you manage to work out what was going on with his computer?" Roland looks between the two of them.

"Oh, your mother dealt with that. I had no idea what he was talking about." Severus waves his hand vaguely.

"It's fine," Hermione assures him. "Just a browser update causing compatibility issues with the software he's working with."

"It's a different programming language." Roland nods. "I told him it was going to affect his web pages."

"Do you two mind speaking in plain English?" Severus grouses. "I have endured enough technical gobbledy gook from the nine-year-old upstairs."

"Have you used that email account I set up on your tablet yet?" Roland asks him.

"No, I have not!" Severus snaps. "It is impossible to express one's displeasure effectively enough through that contraption."

"You're not still writing letters of complaint, are you?" Roland asks him, raising an eyebrow at Hermione.

She nods, a small smile on her lips.

"If people are going to publish blatant fabrications of the past, then they deserve a scathing letter and a nasty nip from Eugene," Severus responds. "Now, what's keeping the other two?" He looks at the door. "Where's my girl?"

"Here I am!"

A pretty redhead comes sweeping into the room, having changed out of her outdoor clothing.

Severus chuckles, leaning up to kiss her cheek as she bends down to kiss his. "I meant my other girl?"

"Sophia's upstairs getting changed. She's very excited to show you what we bought today." Lily turns and kisses Hermione on the cheek before straightening and brushing her fringe out of her eyes. "But I swear Madam Malkin's prices are ten times what they were when we bought my Hogwarts uniform."

"Which is why Ginny has taken it upon herself to knit Sophia's robes and I've nearly finished her scarf, gloves and hat," Hermione reports, holding up her almost-complete scarf.

"And we so appreciate it." Lily assures her. "Although Sophia is a little worried that Grandma Ginny's knitting might be a little too similar to Great Grandma Molly's . . . but we bought the wool together so hopefully there isn't too much room for . . . interpretation."

Hermione grins. Ginny had certainly become like Molly in many ways but knitting wasn't one of them. "They're beautiful. I've seen them. I'll let Sophia know."

Lily sighs with relief. "At least that's one less thing to worry about. Now I'd better go and get the dinner started. Are you still doing dessert, Severus?"

"Of course," Severus responds, still fiddling with the watch.

"Can I ask what it is?" she asks, her brow furrowing in trepidation.

"No you cannot."

She nods as though it was expected.

"Lucky we love your surprises so much," she murmurs with a touch of sarcasm as she turns away.

He glances up sharply. "Cheeky witch," he growls. "Just like your father."

She grins over her shoulder, and that's when her likeness to Harry becomes most apparent. "Speaking of my father, he said he's coming over to play chess with you this weekend. But this time he's bringing his own board. He doesn't trust yours."

Severus' lips twitch in amusement. "He always was very distrustful, your father."

"With good reason," Roland mutters, returning to the other parcels on the table and starting to unwrap them.

"Perhaps . . ." Severus responds. "But it hasn't always been easy to know whom one can trust."

"No." Roland suddenly raises a hand. "I can feel another Voldemort story coming on. Not today, Dad. Please."

"How can you be so insolent about your history," Severus snaps irritably.

"It's not my history." Roland turns to him. "It's your history. And I understand that it was terrible but it's in the past. I just wish you would move on."

"I'd better get the vegetables on." Lily's words come in a rush before she quickly exits through the side door. She knows what's coming.

"Severus." Hermione places a hand on his arm.

He sits stock still. Black eyes locked upon his son. Roland's cinnamon eyes burn with a similar intensity. Neither had ever taken a backward step.

Severus' next movement is lightning fast. A sharp flick of his hand sends the chair opposite toppling backwards. Roland side-steps it before punching his fist forward, causing the cushion beside Severus to explode, a cloud of feathers shooting into the air. Severus waves his arm, ejecting books from a shelf so that Roland is forced to duck. He then sends a metal poker from the fire toward his father, who deflects it easily before winding and pulling his fist. Roland doesn't immediately sense the result but moments later he looks down in shock before toppling over, landing on the ground with a loud grunt.

Severus is instantly up, moving quickly to assist him to his feet. "Alright?" he asks.

"Yes, fine." Roland kicks his legs free. "But you've fucked up this lamp." He lifts the power cord that had been torn from the base of a standing lamp. "You realise this is electrical? I can't just fix it with magic."

Severus shrugs. "Can't Gabe fix it?"

Roland rolls his eyes. "I can fix the bloody thing. Just make sure you sort out the rest of this place."

Severus turns away and after a few swift movements, everything is as it was. Then he turns back and gives his son's shoulder a quick, affectionate squeeze before returning to his chair.

"I don't know why you insist on doing that," Roland grumbles as he continues to unwrap various miscellaneous objects for the house.

"Keeps you battle ready," Severus responds, plomping down heavily in his chair.

"Battle ready? The biggest battles I have are with the Muggle stapler and photocopier at work, Dad," Roland sighs.

Severus straightens his glasses. "Complacency is what allowed the Dark Lord to rise to power in the first place. By being vigilant, we ensure that it never happens again . . . that we all remain safe."

Roland is silent for a few moments. Hermione watches him. She and Severus had made the decision early on never to burden their son with what could have happened, with what he could have become. He'd grown into a wonderful man—clever, hard-working, kind and loving. But Severus struggled with how dismissive the future generations were of what might have easily destroyed the wizarding world. In fact, what would have destroyed it if not for—

"I'm sure any future Dark Lord would be extremely intimidated by the cushion and lamp attack that we've perfected." Roland's handsome face suddenly breaks into a grin.

Severus chuckles. "Well, if your mother would only allow direct combat, we wouldn't have to resort to such tactics."

Hermione shakes her head vehemently. "I've had more than had enough of fixing up the two of you after your stoushes. You're fortunate that I allow even that."

"You have put up with a lot." Roland nods empathetically before glancing pointedly at his father.

"I beg your pardon?" Severus looks offended.

"Look at that shoebox you still live in at Spinner's end." Roland tosses up a hand. "You could have bought something far bigger. You can barely fit a bed in it."

"That's all we need," Severus responds. His hand is instantly on Hermione's knee. Hermione looks at him and can't help grinning as he sexily nudges up one eyebrow. Whilst she might feel the years catching up with her, Severus had never indicated that he found her any less attractive. In fact, their sex life was as it had always been . . . a perfect blend of lust and love.

"Too much information, Dad," Roland mutters. "As per usual. Seriously, I don't understand it. You both could have retired ages ago and bought something lovely but look at you, still working, still commuting from a tiny house."

"And still in love." Severus rubs her knee gently.

"Yes . . . . well. You're lucky."

"And so are you," Severus responds.

"Don't worry. I know it."

"What do you know, Daddy?"

They all look up to see Sophia standing in the doorway.

Roland beams as he spreads his arms wide. "That I'm the luckiest daddy in the world, with the most wonderful children. Look at you!"

Sophia is wearing her Hogwarts school uniform. Hermione notes with a rush of warmth that she has already perfected the tie. That was probably what had kept her so long.

"And you have the most wonderful wife and parents in the world," Sophia adds.

"Of course I do. I'm a very lucky man." Roland nods before striding forward to give her a hug.

When she releases him, Sophia rushes up to Hermione and Severus.

"What do you think?" She beams, her eyes shining with excitement.

"You look ready to take on the world." Hermione smiles wistfully, reaching out and taking her hand. "You're really going to love it. I know Professor McGonagall is very much looking forward to your arrival."

Sophia's smile grows even wider. "What do you think, Grandpa?"

Severus is unusually quiet. He takes her other hand and just gazes at her for a long moment before murmuring softly, "So grown up."

"Of course I'm growing up," Sophia giggles. "But I'll never be too big for this." And she instantly collapses onto his lap.

Severus puts an arm around her and she rests her head comfortably on his shoulder. It had never been any different. Throughout her life, Sophia had always sought the solace of her grandfather. He had read her hundreds of books as she'd rested against him exactly as she was now, told her stories of the past which, unlike her father, she'd lapped up tirelessly, and simply held her when she was upset or had had a bad dream.

Sophia's younger brother, Gabe, was much more likely to seek out Hermione and so she and Severus had spent many evenings, as their parents attended functions or went out to visit friends, sitting before the fire, a child each, smiling contentedly.

Now Sophia absently tugs at one of the buttons on Severus' coat.

"Grandpa?" Her voice holds a note of uncertainty.

"Yes." He tilts his head toward her a little.

"Which house do you think I will be sorted into?"

Severus pauses to consider her words. "Any house would be extremely fortunate to have you. Do you have a preference?"

"Well . . ." She chews her bottom lip for a moment. "I think I would like to be in Gryffindor but . . ."

She doesn't continue.

"But?" Severus prompts.

She sighs and sits forward to look him in the eyes. "But a Gryffindor has to be brave. And . . . I don't know if I am."

Severus stares at her. Then his face pinches with pain, his brow furrowing and his eyes turning glassy. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse with emotion, barely a whisper. "You, Sophia, are the bravest person I've ever known."

Roland gives him a quizzical look but Hermione nods reassuringly at her son before reaching over to grasp Severus' hand.

"Grandpa." Sophia slaps him gently on the chest. "You're being silly . . ." She continues to look at him intently, sensing the depth of his emotion but not understanding it. "But thank you anyway."

Sliding her arms around him, she tucks her head under his chin. "I'll do my best to make you proud."

"Don't worry," he murmurs, stroking her hair. "You already have." Hermione feels him squeeze her hand and finds herself loving him even more. Then his eyes move to his son who has his hands in his pockets, a small contented smile on his lips. "All of you," Severus continues, addressing him directly. "You've made me prouder and happier than you can ever know."