Epilogue – Eleven Years Later

The dragonologist and the Irish pyromaniac lasted less than a year in Romania, from the day they left, after the Hogwarts memorial service.

Six months after William Weasley was born in France, his mother paid Charlie a visit, the chubby baby with red hair that was streaked with Veela-gold highlights sitting astride her hip as she watched him work.

"You came back," he choked, when he finally noticed her.

"I 'ad to be sure, Charrrlie," she replied.

"And now you are?"

"Oui. I am sure."

Seamus loved working with the dragons, and could often be found trying to teach the tamer ones how to blend and control their fire, with varying degrees of success. When his mother had visited from Ireland, he'd worn a long-sleeved jumper and told her he worked in the office, doing the ledgers.

He had followed them when Charlie and Fleur returned to England, taking a job at the dragon reserve that Charlie opened in the rolling hills behind the Burrow, with a case of dragon eggs that had mysteriously gone missing from the Romanian sanctuary and a large scale Muggle-repelling charm. Seamus also took Fleur's sister, romancing Gabrielle with a speed that defied convention.

The last remaining Weasley raised his brother's son as his own.

Seamus and Gabrielle created a separate extension to the Burrow, and started their own family.

The current score in the crowded, joyful house that backed on to the dragon reserve was four to Charlie and Fleur, and three to Seamus and Gabrielle.

The Burrow was filled with seven children, and with life and laughter, once again.

-xxx-

The werewolf had lived quite blissfully within the walls of Hogwarts castle for the last eleven years, his condition managed by the ingestion of Wolfsbane, that the obliging Potions Master brewed fresh for him, every month. It still tasted like fermented dung beetles, but was worth it, considering the freedom that Wolfsbane represented.

Each month at the full moon, he would simply turn into a harmless wolf, retaining the sanity of his own mind, and although he still felt the physical pain of transforming, it was much reduced. The most important thing was that he was no longer a danger to himself, or others.

A couple of years after they moved in, his young wife had arrived in the study to find Teddy riding an enthusiastic wolf around the furniture, like a kind of miniature cowboy.

The wolf had been less impressed a few years later, when Hope had tied a pink bow to his tail, and sprinkled glitter in his fur.

Professor Lupin taught Defence Against the Dark Arts with gusto, showing the same passion for his subject and respect for his students that he first had, all those years ago. It was the castle's worst-kept secret that he was everyone's favourite teacher, although he always pretended he had never heard such rumours.

The Irish girl with the look of a Malfoy was now a qualified Healer, working part-time in the school infirmary alongside Madam Pomfrey whilst raising Teddy and Hope, who had soon been joined by Harry, his sandy-blond hair and kind eyes making him his father's double, and finally Saoirse, the only one of her children who shone as pale as herself.

There was not one drop of lycanthropic blood between them, for of course, it was a curse that infected only the bitten. The children grew healthy and strong. Teddy had just been sorted into Hufflepuff, this last September.

Andromeda Tonks now lived in Hogsmeade, and would delightedly take any or all of the children when both parents were working, where she would indulge them with sweets from Honeydukes and furtive Butterbeers in the Three Broomsticks.

Hope, Harry and Saoirse would play in the Hogwarts grounds as Teddy studied, the sprawling land forever a giant graveyard, but would always stop at the Memorial Willow, and place their small hands on the trunk, that continued to thrum with the magic of those who had died long before they were born.

The werewolf had not taken long to fall madly and passionately in love with his new wife.

Minerva had expanded their quarters to create the extra bedrooms, with a raised eyebrow and a muttered instruction to 'control themselves', although there was little chance of that.

As the cycle of each full moon reached its completion, and the werewolf revealed his frantic, feral side, his wife developed a liking for his animalistic urges, and they both indulged.

It was unlikely to be long before a fifth baby presented itself.

-xxx-

It glittered in mid-air before them, in the cold night air, and they looked at one another.

"Shall we?" he asked.

The Potions Master had regained his dungeon, although now he was not trapped here, it was merely where he went to work each day, although his attitude in the classroom had not changed.

The stern wizard was still a fierce educator, striving to get the best out of every student, insisting that nothing but perfection would do. He was still terrifying, still interminably moody but Merlin, his exam results spoke for themselves.

The Transfiguration professor had passed her private NEWTs with a flurry of Outstanding grades, years before, after which she had opted to take an apprenticeship with McGonagall, at which she excelled, along with everything else, really.

Professor Granger had been teaching Transfiguration for eight years now, although to him she was still the curly-haired little witch that he had deflowered, over a decade ago. He desired her as much as he did then, although now he felt no guilt. That had been washed away, bit by bit, as she reassured him of her love.

The two professors had travelled the world during school holidays, content to spend time only with each other, both thankful for every year of life that had been gifted upon them.

"I think we should," she answered, taking the golden quill and signing the Ministry certificate that had appeared in the air after their bonding ceremony, that they had completed at midnight in the Forbidden Forest, magically concealed from dangers or from prying eyes.

Passing the quill to her new husband, he signed his name next to hers with a satisfied flourish, and the quill dissipated, leaving the scroll hanging in mid-air, awaiting the action that would confirm their bond, and magically send the scroll to the Ministry archives.

"Come here, wife," Severus instructed, in a gruff voice that puffed with a white mist in the cold night air.

Hermione stepped towards him, and he cast a warming charm over them both, before opening the front of her cloak to reveal her nakedness.

"Ye gods, witch, you are magnificent," he breathed, gently backing her against the solid trunk of a huge oak tree, and smoothing his hand over her swollen belly, grown full with their child.

Their first baby.

His son.

"I love you," she replied, lifting her chin to meet his kiss, that he delivered with passion as she gasped into his mouth, as she always did.

She opened the front of his cloak as he kissed her, seeking him out, encouraging him to press against her. As he seated himself inside her warmth, thus consummating their bond, the golden scroll rolled itself up and disappeared, but neither of them noticed. Severus continued to push his love inside her, again and again, driving them both towards the completion they sought, jumping over the edge together as they so often did.

He, and this remarkable witch, had overcome the darkest of curses, replacing it with the brightest of lights.

Any compulsion they now felt was purely the result of their all-consuming love.