Rating:
PG-13
House:
The Dark Arts
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Harry Potter Hermione Granger
Genres:
Action Romance
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix
Stats:
Published: 10/23/2005
Updated: 10/23/2005
Words: 10,045
Chapters: 1
Hits: 376

I Do (Cherish You)

Kelsey Potter

Story Summary:
"Just remember: the most important part of a wedding is that, at the end of it, you're married. It doesn't matter what happens before that, as long as that's how it finishes up." ~Elsa Larson to daughter Karen on her wedding day

Posted:
10/23/2005
Hits:
376
Author's Note:
Written before HBP.


"You may kiss the bride."
I lifted the misty white veil, bent over slightly, and kissed Carine. A cheer went up through the hall.

We turned and beamed at the hall. The left side of the church--the bride's family--was full almost to overflowing; the Zabinis were an extensive and close-knit family. On the right side, however, my guests barely filled the first rows. Mother, of course, sat front and centre. Father was, thankfully, still in Azkaban. A few of his aunts and uncles and cousins sat in the front row with her.

Behind them, however, were the people who really mattered to me: my friends, old and new. Vincent. Gregory. Pansy. Theodore. Harry. Hermione. The entire Weasley family.

Two years before, I would have never imagined the Weasleys at my wedding, let alone Potter and Granger. But the Gryffindors and I have been getting along much better over the past year. It was Blaise--Carine's brother and my best friend--who had met them through a Ravenclaw friend, introduced them to me, and insisted on a reconciliation. Harry had agreed readily; I suspected he was as tired of fighting as I was.

As my friends, like the Zabinis, rose to their feet, applauding and smiling, I noticed a flash of sunlight off of Hermione's left hand. I caught Harry's eye and beamed him a silent message: You wait till it's your turn. Harry mouthed "Christmas"--either that or "Crispin", but since I couldn't remember when St. Crispin's Day was I figured it was Christmas. Blaise's friend Lisa, the Ravenclaw, struck up a recessional, and Carine and I hurried down the aisle.

At the reception a little later, I led Carine over to where Harry stood with Hermione, talking to Lisa and her fiancé George (which was part of the reason the Weasleys had come). "Hello."

Harry looked up and offered the couple a half-smile. "Oh, hello. Congratulations, you two."

"Thanks," Carine beamed. "Nice to meet you all."

"Nice to meet you too," Lisa said with a smile. "Your brother speaks quite highly of you."

"You looked wonderful, but I imagine you must have been nervous," Hermione told Carine. Despite the fact that she was younger than both Hermione and Lisa--Lisa had turned seventeen in February and Hermione would reach it in September, while Carine was barely eleven--Carine was the first to be married. The three soon entered into a conversation about weddings and wedding plans.

George chuckled. "While they're trading bridal secrets, perhaps you'd care to share a couple groom tricks with those of us gearing up for the plunge?"

I laughed. "Don't oversleep." My alarm hadn't gone off and I had only woken up about two hours before the wedding, which is not enough time to get ready properly.

"I figured you'd just rolled out of bed when you turned up," Harry teased. Then he sobered up. "You never answered my question, you know. Why's the wedding so soon?"

"To cut down on the possibility of infidelity and illegitimate," I explained. "Old wizarding tradition...as soon as one of us comes of age, we take the plunge. Since I'm seventeen now, it doesn't matter that Carine is only eleven."

"Mum'd've done the same for us, if she'd managed to find anyone for us," George added. "She actually had one arranged for Ron--he was going to marry Luna--but...well, you know."

Harry and I nodded soberly. Luna had gone missing over Easter holidays that year. Ginny had found her three days later behind Hagrid's hut, where she had obviously just been left. And she was dead. Ron, who had grown to like Luna even if neither knew they were engaged, had been devastated.

George shook his head and studied Carine for a second. "Has she been sick sometime recently?"

"Diagnosed with rhadomyosarcoma three years ago. Went into remission a year later after surgery and several rounds of chemo. Don't worry about her--she's stronger than she looks. She'll make it through."

George raised his eyebrows. "Family got you going the whole hog?"

I shrugged. "They're cutting us a little slack, but not much."

"Huh?" Harry asked, looking confused.

"More wizarding traditions," I sighed. "The families--both sides, hers and mine--will expect her to be pregnant by September. Some stricter families expect the first child to be male, but ours say it's okay if it's a girl. If there's no baby by September, it's her fault; a year after that, if there's still no baby it's my fault." I glanced half-worriedly at Carine. "Hope she can handle it. First year at Hogwarts is stressful enough when one isn't pregnant."

"I hope you can handle it," George interposed. "The last year's twice as stressful, even if your wife isn't pregnant...or you're not," he added as an afterthought. "I mean, there's no guarantee Lisa won't be pregnant by September herself."

"Or that Hermione won't come back pregnant after Christmas," Harry added. "I know what you mean. There's more to all this than people make out when you're younger. And of course no one mentions the dangers in bringing a child into the world at all--to the mother and the child."

I knew what he was talking about. The previous summer, his aunt had discovered she was pregnant again. The pregnancy was a difficult one--his aunt had been about forty--and when she went into labour there had been several complications. I still remembered the day when Professor McGonagall came rushing into our Potions class, spoke to Snape, then to Harry. A look of fear had come over his face, and he immediately abandoned everything--his cauldron, his books, even his wand--and hurried after her. I found out later that his aunt's labour had been so difficult that she wasn't expected to live out the week. She didn't. She died that afternoon. Harry stayed home for a week, to take care of the baby, but eventually had to return to Hogwarts. His uncle took over caring for the baby; despite the fact that he hated Harry, he had loved his wife and was determined to raise his new child. I never saw anyone so broken up as Harry was when he came up. Even when he'd lost his beloved godfather, he hadn't been that crushed. Matter of fact, I think that was when Blaise got us to reconcile. That's probably why I agreed.

"How's your little cousin?" I asked Harry now.

"Calla's fine," Harry answered, his face lighting up a little. "She's started trying to talk already. Smartest child I've ever seen."

"How many children have you ever seen?" George teased. "You sound like a proud father. You're going to make a wonderful dad one of these days, so I hope you and Hermione have a family in your plans."

Harry gave a low chuckle. "We do, providing I survive that long."

I cast an amused glance at Carine, who was twirling a lock of her still-rather-short blonde hair around her finger; Hermione, who was twisting her engagement ring on her finger; and Lisa, who was telling some sort of story. "You watch. By January all three of them will be sitting around knitting baby booties and complaining about morning sickness and swollen ankles together."

"You don't get morning sickness and swollen ankles when you're only a week or two along," Harry disagreed.

"Wanna bet?" George challenged. "I remember when Mum was pregnant with Ginny...she was three days along and puking in the bathroom."

"Aunt Petunia was a month along when she found out she was pregnant, and she didn't start having morning sickness for another week," Harry countered.

I held up a conciliatory hand. "And Mrs. Zabini was exactly two months along with Carine when she started. It depends on the mother--and how many children she's had. Mrs. Zabini and your aunt had only had one before. George, your mother had had six. Hence, earlier onset."

Harry managed a half grin. "Makes sense to me."

I could sense he was worried. "Something wrong, Harry?"

Harry sighed, glanced over at Hermione, then said in a low voice, "It's just...I do want children, really I do. Helping with Calla has made me really want children of my own. But I can't help but remember what happened to Aunt Petunia...I don't think I could stand it if that happened to Hermione. And even if she doesn't have any complications, pregnancies can't be comfortable, and labours have to be painful. Why would I subject someone I love to that? Moreover..." He hesitated, then dropped his voice further. "What with Voldemort and the Death Eaters running around, I can't help but wonder...who would bring a child into this kind of a world?"

I put my hand on Harry's shoulder. "Your parents and mine. Molly and Arthur Weasley. The Turpins. The Woods. Plenty of people. Harry, as little as sixteen years ago we were in the exact same situation, with no hope in sight. We're much better prepared this time around--we know what You-Know-Who is capable of." (Despite my father being a Death Eater, I can't say the Dark Lord's name.) "Besides, we've got you. Everyone knows you can beat him."

"So no pressure or anything, Harry," George said with a wink.

Harry managed a smile. "You're right. I guess...I guess I'm just worrying a little too much. I do that a lot."

"No, it's understandable. I worry about Carine the same way, and maybe a little more--I mean, she was so sick before. It's only natural for you to worry. But it's like Dad told me once--about the only useful thing he ever told me: women have babies all the time and they come through fine. Sarah was a hundred when Isaac was born. Elizabeth was past childbearing age when she had John the Baptist. Mary was only fourteen--did you know that? And she walked a good part of the way to Bethlehem, and had Jesus in a stable. Both of them were fine--mother and child. Hermione will be fine too. So will Lisa. So will Carine."

None of us said anything for a while. Then someone yelled out that it was time to cut the cake. I took my wife's hand and led her over to the elaborate cake. Together we cut it, fed each other the first bite, then let my mother take care of cutting and serving.

"This," I said to Carine, "is excellent."

"Wonder where it came from," Carine agreed.

Mrs. Weasley, who had just accepted a slice, looked pleased. "I made it myself. Glad you like it."

"You made it?" I asked in amazement. "That's amazing. My mother can't make cakes like this."

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips; I could tell she was reserving her opinion of my mother. Part of me was glad. The other part wanted to tell her to just blurt it out--that I didn't care, now that I no longer had to live under my mother's roof. My rational part won out and I continued eating my cake.

~~~

Carine and I returned to England from our honeymoon in France on September first, just in time to go back to school. As I'd hoped--or maybe feared--my Carine was by then one month pregnant with our first child.

As we approached the platform, I spotted a thatch of red hair and waved. Mrs. Weasley was shepherding Ron and Ginny towards the platform. George and Lisa were behind them, arm-in-arm, beaming at us.

"Hello, you lot," I said cheerfully. "How was the wedding?"

"Sorry we missed it," Carine added.

George grinned. "Wonderful. Spain was great, too--thanks."

Carine and I grinned at each other. As we couldn't be at the wedding ourselves, before we'd left on our honeymoon I had given Harry a manila envelope with instructions to present it to George and Lisa as our wedding present. We'd put together a honeymoon package for them in Spain. "Glad you liked it," I answered.

"How was France?" Lisa asked. Ron, Ginny, and their mother had already gone ahead.

"Fine," Carine answered, placing a hand lightly on her stomach. "Guess what?"

"You're pregnant," Lisa guessed. She slipped an arm through George's and beamed up at him. "So am I."

Carine grinned. George and I exchanged a look.

"Look, we'd better go," I said, glancing up at the clock ticking away the minutes. "We've got to be on that train by eleven o'clock...and I really don't think you two ought to be running to catch up with a train." The last thing I needed--the last thing George needed--was for one of our wives to have a miscarriage then and there from chasing the Hogwarts Express. I don't know about Lisa, but I knew Carine wasn't strong enough, physically or mentally, to handle that.

Harry and Hermione were heading towards the train when the four of us came in. They grinned and beckoned us over.

"Honeymoons good?" Harry asked.

"Honeymoon excellent," George nodded.

"No complaints here," I added.

Hermione glanced at Carine, who was leaning on my arm, looking dead on her feet. Even one month of pregnancy was taking its toll on my Carrie. I was sure that all nine months would kill her. "Carine, you're pregnant, right?"

Harry and I gave Hermione a startled glance, but Carine nodded. "One month along. How could you...?"

"You look like you're ready to drop in your tracks," Hermione explained. "You should probably sit down."

"I'll get her settled," Lisa offered.

I was grateful. I was a prefect, and I had to go up and listen to the spiel from Harry and Hermione, the new Head Boy and Head Girl. "Thanks, Lisa. I'll catch you up in a while. You can trade home remedies for swollen ankles," I added lightly. They laughed and headed off. Hermione looked quizzically at me, then at George.

"Lisa's pregnant too," George explained. "Two weeks. I, personally, am ecstatic. And she's more thrilled than I am."

I laughed. "I can imagine. Carine and I are probably equally thrilled, but I'm more than a little worried. You saw how exhausted she was--and she's only a month along. Nine months is going to kill her."

"Women have babies all the time," Harry murmured, "and they come out fine."

I chuckled, recognising the wording. "I know, I know. It's probably Expectant-Father Syndrome. I'll be all right once I've got schoolwork to bother me."

"And it's your N.E.W.T. year," George added, "so you'll have your hands full."

"And you're a prefect," Hermione added. "Speaking of..."

"I know, I know. See you around, George."

"See you at Christmas, you three."

~~~

I shifted nervously in my seat as McGonagall finally called, "Zabini-Malfoy, Carine!"

Carine, looking relieved, stepped forward and sat on the stool. I think, at that point, she didn't really care what house she was in as long as she could sit down. And, while I hoped she'd be in my house, I knew she'd be okay no matter what house she was in. Harry had promised to look out for her if she was in Gryffindor, Lisa if she became a Ravenclaw. Blaise and I, obviously, would take care of her if she was in Slytherin. And if she was a Hufflepuff...well, they all look out for one another anyway.

But what was taking so long? Maybe the Hat refused to Sort her because of the baby growing inside her. Maybe it was getting conflicting house vibes. Maybe Carine wasn't magical enough for Hogwarts.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the hat yelled out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindors applauded. I still wondered what had taken so long...and then I caught a glimpse of her face and understood. As I mentioned, Carine was exhausted. The Sorting Hat had simply been allowing her to rest before heading to the house table. I felt incredibly grateful to the battered chapeau.

~~~

About half the school went home for Christmas, largely because of Harry and Hermione's wedding. Carine and I, obviously, went as well. Carine was now four months pregnant and beginning to show. As thin as she was everywhere else, it was incredibly conspicuous that she was pregnant. And she was incredibly uncomfortable. But the Sorting Hat hadn't put her in Gryffindor for nothing. My Carrie was brave.

The wedding ceremony was a bit different than mine. For one thing, neither the bride nor the groom had much family present. Hermione's mother had died in a car accident the previous summer; her grandparents were long dead; both her parents were only children. Harry's uncle wouldn't have come if he'd been paid--not that anyone wanted him there anyway--and Dudley had to stay at school straight through the hols for a boxing thing. Ironically, though, Harry had twice as much family as Hermione did in attendance. Hermione had only her father. Harry had Remus Lupin, who's a sort of surrogate father to him, and little Calla.

The wedding was really otherwise similar to my own ceremony. Again there was a standing ovation as the groom kissed the bride. As they turned to face us, both smiling, I was suddenly struck by the biggest difference between Harry and me. I was still a teenager, a tall, gangly kid, a jock who'd married his sweetheart without thinking. Harry was already an adult, a powerful, imposing figure, a hero who didn't make decisions lightly and had put a lot of thought into his proposal. I was a boy. Harry was a man. I had wondered once how George and Harry and I would handle raising children when we were still kids ourselves. No worries about Harry, I knew now. He wasn't a kid. He hadn't been a kid for years.

At the reception, after they cut the cake, the band struck up a slow dance. Carine and I tried to dance at first, but she was so obviously exhausted, and even the short few moments we danced hurt her a lot, so we sat out. I watched Harry and Hermione whirl about the room, marvelling at the grace with which they moved. They were obviously in love. Carine and I were too, despite the arranged marriage, but I don't think it was ever quite that obvious.

The dance ended. Harry leaned over and whispered something in Hermione's ear; she nodded, then walked over to her father and asked something. He smiled as the band struck up another slow song and started waltzing with her. Harry crossed the hall to where Remus Lupin stood, cradling a small baby. Harry spoke to Remus for a second, then smiled at the baby and held out his arms. Remus smiled as well and handed Harry the baby. She leaned her head on his shoulder and gazed up at him adoringly as he began waltzing with her.

I'd never met Harry's cousin, but I knew this was Calla. And I knew why Harry was so entranced with her, why he wanted children of his own. There was something about that beautiful little face with its rapturous expression that melts your heart. When the song ended, Harry kissed Calla on top of her head. Hermione came over and smiled at the baby. And then the three came over to us.

"Having fun?" Harry asked me, shifting Calla to his hip.

"Mmm-hmm." I was captivated by Calla's blue eyes, like chips of sapphires. She was adorable. All babies should have eyes like that. Strawberry-blonde curls like that. Teeny little noses like that. "Is this Calla? I can see why you love her so much."

Harry grinned and ran a hand over her fuzzy curls. "She's eight months old now." He looked suddenly over at Carine, who seemed just as entranced as I was. "Carine, would you like to hold her for a while? Get in practice?"

Carine's face lit up. Rapturously, she took the little baby. Calla looked up worriedly, then turned back to Harry and stretched out her arms. "Ha-wee," she begged.

I melted. I had a feeling that when our baby was born, I was going to be the biggest sucker in the world, evil and sadism or not. The sound of that sweet little voice, her perfect little curls, her beautiful blue eyes...Calla held my heart in the palm of her tiny hand.

Harry brushed her cheek lightly with a forefinger. "It's okay, Calla. This is my friend Carine. She's going to hold you for a little while."

Calla nodded, looked up at Carine, and smiled. Carine smiled back. And Harry and Hermione stepped into another dance.

~~~

Harry and Hermione returned from their honeymoon in Scotland at the end of the Christmas holidays. Both of them seemed happy--which is a big deal for Harry--and Hermione had this sort of look in her eyes like Carine had two weeks after our wedding, like she had some sort of hidden secret. I began to suspect she was pregnant.

This was confirmed two weeks later. I'd gone out to do some flying after the Gryffindor Quidditch practice and passed Harry twirling Hermione around on the lawn, his eyes sparkling. Hermione was laughing and hugging his neck.

"Something good going on?" I queried, passing by.

The two looked over at me, looking happy. Harry hugged Hermione tightly. "We're going to be parents."

I laughed. "Congratulations," I said, and meant it. But I felt a little subdued. I remembered the light in George's eyes when he told me Lisa was pregnant, noticed the evident joy on the Potters' faces, and wondered why Carine and I hadn't been so ecstatic. I had been happy, true, but not this happy.

I voiced my curiosity to Carine a little later on, having told her Hermione's news. I asked her what she thought the reason was.

Carine was quiet for a minute. Finally, she said, "I think...I guess it has to do with the fact that we were expected to have this baby. It was considered no more than our bounden duty. It's still a wonderful thing, and we did want the baby, but because we didn't have a choice in making this baby we aren't as thrilled about it. It's like...of course we're going to have a baby. We're supposed to have a baby. It wasn't really a surprise."

She was right. It's not a surprise if you're expecting to get pregnant.

~~~

By mid-April, Carine was so dramatically pregnant I was afraid she was going to pop any second. Most of her teachers let her lighten her workload; Snape, despite the fact that she wasn't a Slytherin, let her out of Potions class--the fumes were making her violently ill, and we worried that she would hurt herself...or the baby.

Lisa, too, was almost due. I marvelled at how well she came through. She was just as cheerful as ever. Of course, she had fewer classes than Carine; she was only taking Arithmancy, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes, and History of Magic anyway. Probably she was less stressed.

Hermione, now in her fourth month, was beginning to show. She was more stressed than the other two put together; she was taking Transfiguration, Charms, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, DADA, and Herbology. On top of that, she was Head Girl. At least she had Harry taking care of her.

I didn't know how Harry managed to do it all. He was Head Boy, taking seven classes (he had to take Potions and History instead of Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, but other than that the same as Hermione's), taking care of Hermione, looking out for Carine like he'd promised, and captaining the Quidditch team. All the while carrying the weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders. Worried about my new friend, I wondered what it would take to get him to crack.

I almost got my answer one awful Thursday afternoon. During a free period right after lunch, Harry, Hermione, Neville Longbottom and I were relaxing on the grounds. Harry suddenly sat up and clapped a hand to his forehead violently. His eyes snapped closed for a second; when he opened them, he looked sick.

"What's wrong?" I asked urgently.

Harry hesitated, then said in a low voice, "It's Voldemort. He's killed someone himself. This can't be good."

"I wonder who Voldemort considered important enough to kill himself," Hermione mused.

"I don't think I want to know," I murmured. The bell rang, signalling the end of our free period, and we hurried up to the castle for our classes--Arithmancy for Hermione, Potions for us boys.

Harry, Neville, and I were bent over our group cauldron, discussing a tricky recipe, when McGonagall came in, looking pale and frightened. She spoke briefly and quietly to Snape, whose eyes widened and flickered briefly in our direction. This sounded horribly familiar, but I couldn't think why.

Harry, who was preparing to gently shake dried erumpent fluid into our cauldron, exchanged a bemused glance with me. Neville, with whom the penny had already dropped, reached over and took the jar out of Harry's hands. He looked up at me, and then I remembered. The last time this had happened, Harry's aunt had been dying of difficult childbirth. Had Hermione gone into premature labour? Had Carine?

McGonagall came over to our group. "Potter," she said quietly, her voice shaking. "Remus Lupin just contacted us. Your uncle...he--he's dead. Death Eater attack."

With a sudden, sick feeling, I remembered Harry's earlier comments. Harry, white as a sheet, gripped the table and asked the question I knew was coming. "How's Calla?"

"She's fine," McGonagall assured Harry. "Lupin has her...he promised to bring her by this afternoon. Apparently she was asleep."

Harry swallowed, then nodded. "Thank you, Professor."

"Harry?" Neville ventured, once Professor McGonagall had left. "Why do you think Voldemort wanted to kill your uncle?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted, continuing with the potion. "It might have to do with demoralising me, making me so upset I surrender, but I really don't know."

~~~

That afternoon, McGonagall pulled Harry out of Charms (we have all the N.E.W.T.-level classes combined). Ron looked slightly alarmed, but when the lot of us left class at the regular time, Harry was standing near one of the mullioned windows overlooking the grounds, holding Calla.

"Hi, Harry," I called.

Harry turned and gave me a troubled smile. "Hello, Draco, Ron, 'Mione." He gave Hermione a light kiss on the cheek.

Ron made a funny face at Calla, who giggled. "So, guess you'll have your cousin around for the rest of the year, huh?"

"Guess so." Harry hugged his cousin a little tighter. I noticed the worry in his eyes, but I said nothing.

Now, on top of everything else, Harry had the crushing guilt that what had happened to Vernon Dursley was Harry's fault--even though it wasn't really--and full responsibility for Calla. She had quickly entranced the whole school; if Harry couldn't take her to class, there was no end of people willing to watch her. I still couldn't see how Harry was going to last out the school year. He looked horribly strained.

The morning of April sixteenth--in the middle of another Potions class--a very excited-looking first year burst into the room.

Snape looked up irritably. "What?"

"Please, sir," the first year stammered, "I'm supposed to take Draco Malfoy up to the hospital wing right away...it's his wife, Madame Pomfrey said."

I tensed. Snape dismissed me immediately. Not bothering to gather my things, I immediately shot off after the first year.

As I had suspected, Carine was going into labour. She looked tortured, and as I reached for her hand she squeezed it helplessly. It was a long and difficult labour, and I did begin to get worried. What if something awful happened to her?

Twelve hours we were there. Twelve hours I held her hand, encouraged her. Twelve hours she struggled, cried out in pain, squeezed my hand so hard I thought it would break. But finally, at ten-twenty-six that evening, the labour ended. Carine lay back, exhausted. Madame Pomfrey handed me two tiny bundles.

Yes, we had twins. A boy and a girl. I was entranced. They were perfect, with beautiful blue eyes and duck-feather blonde hair lying in little wisps. I'd never seen anything so wonderful.

"Gosh, Carrie," I breathed, staring down at them. "They're beautiful!"

Carine smiled up at me. "What are we going to call them?" she asked softly.

There was no doubt in my mind. "Mariah Carine and Albus Henry."

Carine smiled. "No Draco?"

"Or Lucius," I said strongly. "I wouldn't doom another child to either of those names for the world."

"Oh. I understand Albus, then, but why Henry?"

"Original form of Harry."

"Gotcha."

Madame Pomfrey came over to us, hidden behind the silencing privacy curtain she'd set up so Carine couldn't hear what was going on and no one outside could hear her if she screamed (which she'd done a lot of; it hurt a lot). "You have a visitor," she told us, sounding uncertain and surprised. "Should I let him in?"

"You up for it, Carrie?" I asked Carine.

She nodded. "Talk to whoever it is first, okay? I think the twins are hungry and I'd like to feed them first."

Mariah was quiet enough, but Albus was squalling, so I handed them over to Carine and ducked out of the curtains.

Harry was standing just inside the door, holding my bag in his left hand and looking worried. When he saw me, he held out my bag to me. "You left your things...I thought I'd bring them up." He studied me. "Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine." I took my bag and set it on a chair. "In fact..." I glanced back at the curtains. "Come here. I need to show you something."

I poked my head in the curtains. "Ready?"

Carine nodded. "Who is it?"

"It's Harry. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not. Bring him in."

I turned back to Harry and beckoned him through the curtains. Carine smiled up at him with a tired expression of pride bordering on smug. "Hello, Harry."

"Hello," Harry answered with a small smile. "How are you?"

"Fine. Better than." Carine glanced over at the bassinette Madame Pomfrey had conjured up for her.

I reached into it and lifted out Mariah. "Harry," I said proudly, "this is my daughter Mariah Carine."

A slow smile crept across Harry's face. "Congratulations, Draco. She's beautiful."

I handed my baby girl to Carine, then lifted Albus out as well. "And this is my son Albus Henry."

Harry looked justifiably startled, then smiled again. "Congratulations to both of you, twice over. You can't do much better than that, can you?"

I laughed, pleased. "Thanks, Harry."

~~~

Lisa went into labour a month later. George turned up, looking harried, and sat with her as I had sat with Carine (who, incidentally, was still in the hospital wing--the delivery had taken a lot out of her). She was in labour three times as long--thirty-six hours--but at the end of it, she and George had their first child, a son whom they named Arthur Lyam in honour of their fathers, as big as Mariah and Albus put together.

Blaise came up several times to visit Carine and his new niece and nephew. The Weasleys came up to visit Lisa and George and little Arthur, and all of them made a point of stopping by to see the twins and Carine as well, which I found to be a very touching gesture on their part.

Lisa was permitted to return to Ravenclaw a week later, but Madame Pomfrey made Carine stay put. I was still worried about her, but she seemed to be getting stronger.

Mid-June, just before exams ended, an announcement came for all the students to come to the Great Hall at once. Dumbledore stood before us, grave and foreboding.

The news rocked us all like a nuclear explosion. Death Eaters had been spotted in the Forbidden Forest. They would be at Hogwarts within minutes. All those unable to fight, all those under the fourth year, were to return to their towers at once and remain there until otherwise instructed.

There was a rush of students leaving the room. Harry handed Calla to Hermione. "Take her with you. Go on."

"Harry, no, I have to help," Hermione protested, eyes wide with fright.

"Hermione," Harry told his young wife firmly, "you're unable to fight. I know you want to help, but you have to get to safety" He placed his hand lightly on her swollen belly. "Think of the baby."

Hermione swallowed, took Calla, and kissed Harry one last time, then followed the throng out of the hall, looking back over her shoulder as though afraid she'd never see him again.

I saw Lisa go by holding Arthur, thought of Carine and my twins, and felt ill. I grabbed Harry's arm. "Harry," I said hoarsely. "Carrie and the babies...they're still in the hospital wing. I have to..."

"They'll be safe, Draco," Harry interrupted me, quietly but firmly. "I promise. I won't lie--I suspected something like this might happen. Remus and Professor Anders and I set up a ward around the hospital wing just after the twins were born. As soon as Dumbledore told us the Death Eaters were on their way, Anders and I activated it. The door to the hospital wing is gone. If anyone breaks the wall, all they'll find is a broom cupboard. Once the battle is over, we'll take the wards down and you'll be able to get to them. They'll be okay."

It was a long speech, especially under the circumstances, and I was grateful. "Thanks, Harry."

"No trouble at all."

~~~

That battle was my first ever, and it was awful. I was fighting my family, people I had once counted friends. Blaise and Gregory fought alongside me; together we stopped Greg's father and Macnair. The hardest part, however, was when we had to take down Vincent and Theodore.

I noticed Harry heading towards Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, after a man with a snakelike face that gave me the shivers, and rallied my friends to give him a smokescreen. I somehow knew he was heading for the biggest battle of the group--he was going to be fighting Voldemort--and he'd need a distraction to keep the Death Eaters from stopping him.

An hour later, I wound up down a corridor, by myself, following someone clad all in black. "Stop!" I finally yelled, determined to get this over with.

The man turned, and I froze. It was my father. "You--you--" I stammered.

"Ah, Draco," Dad said freezingly. "I suppose you're the same as ever, eh? Stupid, hopeless...probably incapable of producing any children."

"That's not true!" I burst out, pulling out my wand and pointing it at him. "I have two beautiful children and you have two wonderful grandchildren you'll never meet. And I'm going to make sure they never have occasion to meet their grandfather."

My father just laughed. "You? Draco Unferth Malfoy, kill me? You can't do anything right."

"Watch me," I gritted. "Necoritum!"

My father dodged. "Avada Kedavra!" he cried. Nothing happened. He looked surprised, then narrowed his eyes and shot a Sluicer at me. ("Sluicer" was the slang term for a nasty, unpleasant spell that riddled a person's body with holes, killing them slowly and agonisingly. It's what probably killed the Bloody Baron.) I dodged and tried a Necoritum again. Again I missed.

Getting desperate now, I located the keystone of the intricate network of bricks holding up the ceiling and aimed at it. "Depulso!"

The spell whizzed over my father's head and shattered the stone. He laughed, thinking I had aimed at him. "You missed."

I shook my head and dropped to a ball. "Nuh-uh."

And the ceiling crashed down around us. A chunk of rock hit my head and I knew no more for quite some time.

Gradually I became aware of someone pulling me free of the rocks...then of gently shaking me. "Draco! Draco, are you okay?"

"Uhn?" I groaned, opening my eyes blearily. Harry and Blaise knelt over me, concerned.

I sat up, rubbing my head. "What happened?"

"The battle's over, Draco," Harry told me, a small smile crossing his face. "We won. Voldemort is gone for good."

I grinned in spite of myself. "Carine? She's okay?"

"And the twins. The wards worked perfectly--credit Harry and Anders for that one," Blaise answered, cuffing Harry lightly on the shoulder.

"What happened here?" Harry asked, gesturing to the rubble.

I explained as briefly as I could. "How did we fare?"

Harry hesitated. "Like I said, we won...but we paid a heavy price. Lots of wounded. So far we've found twenty dead on our side...including Gregory. And Ron."

"And nearly Harry as well," Blaise added. "All things considered, we're pretty lucky."

I nodded. I knew that full and well. "Who else?"

Harry swallowed. "Molly Weasley. Snape. Mad-Eye Moody. Dennis Creevey. About a dozen more Hogwarts students, most of whom were in the D.A." His head bowed. "Dumbledore."

The names reeled through my head. Molly Weasley had made the cake for our wedding; I couldn't remember if I'd said thank you at some point. Mad-Eye Moody, or someone pretending to be him, had once turned me into a ferret for attacking Harry while his back was turned; all the same, I'd met the real Moody and I kind of liked him. Snape was my head of house, my mentor, like a father to me--better than my real one, in my opinion. Thirteen-year-old Dennis Creevey had been rather annoying, one of what Blaise and I had laughingly called "Potter's Boot-lickers" as little as three years before, but he had grown into an intelligent, capable wizard (which was more than could be said for his sixteen-year-old brother, who was headed for a career as a photographer for the Daily Prophet). He had proven himself more than capable of handling himself; I had been proud to fight alongside him. Dumbledore was...well, Dumbledore. I didn't see how we'd get along without him, especially Harry. And the twelve other students...wait.

"Harry, I thought there were twenty people who died. Counting Ron and Greg, you've only named nineteen. Who else died?"

Harry raised his head. I was horrified to find his emerald eyes filling with tears. Harry Potter never cried--even when Sirius died, he'd just stood there looking helpless; even when his aunt died, when we'd all believed he'd never smile again. "Remus," he whispered hoarsely.

I felt a little like crying myself. "I'm sorry, Harry," I said lamely. "Really I am." It seemed so pathetic. The poor guy had lost almost everyone he loved and cared about. I couldn't possibly understand what that was like--I hadn't cared about my parents, either one of them. Carine and Blaise were the only two people I did love or care about--besides myself, and my children--and the three of us had come out fine. Harry had only himself, Calla, and Hermione left. And I suspected he didn't really care about himself.

I started to stand; Blaise and Harry each seized me under my arms and pulled me to my feet, then helped me out to where the main part of the battle had gone on. By then I was walking fine on my own.

I was appalled at the carnage around me. Black-clad bodies of Death Eaters lay scattered around. The masks and capes now looked like burial shrouds. Some, I noticed, were only wounded, groaning in pain, as were a lot of Hogwarts students. Colin was wandering around, pale and drawn, taking pictures of what was going on. People were carrying the injured off in pairs--the Death Eaters and the Hogwarts students both.

"What are they doing?" I asked, gesturing to a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff who were carting an injured Death Eater.

Harry looked surprised. "Taking them up to the hospital wing. They extended it to hold everybody who's been hurt."

"They're helping the Death Eaters?"

"Of course. Why deny them medical care? One, they can't testify unless they're alive, and two, they're--for the most part--people too."

"True." I scanned the hall. "What about everyone who went up to their common rooms? Where are they?"

Harry started to answer, but just then a little first year ran up to us, out of breath. "Harry...hospital wing...spell...Fat Lady...Hermione...come quick..."

Harry visibly paled. He turned and flew towards the hospital wing. Blaise and I followed, if only to see Carine.

When we got up, Harry was sitting next to Hermione, stroking her hair and murmuring comfortingly. A Death Eater's spell had ripped through the Fat Lady's portrait--thankfully, she wasn't there and whoever it was didn't get in--but pieces of portrait had flown through the room like shrapnel. Several students had been cut. Hermione had a couple slashes on her hands, deep gouges that had bled considerably and had to be wrapped in bandages even though they were mended. Worse, far worse, was that the spell itself had hit her belly, directly above the navel. Whether the spell had actually hit her full-on or if it had grazed her I didn't know. Either way, it was bad. Tears were running down her face as she rested her bandaged hands on her swollen stomach. She kept saying, close to hysteria, "The baby, oh, God, the baby. Harry, is the baby okay?" Harry just kept soothing her, but I knew he didn't know any more than she did if their baby was all right. He was close to tears himself, frightened as much for his wife as his unborn child. Calla, who had caught a piece of shrapnel across the arm and had a long (but thankfully shallow) cut just below her shoulder, sat in a crib someone had conjured up for her. She was fussy and frightened, holding out her arms and whimpering for Harry, and Harry was trying to comfort her as well as Hermione, despite his own terror. I marvelled at his strength. I certainly couldn't do it, especially not in that den of death and despair. The room smelled of blood and sickness and the sharp mix of potions being used to cure the various injuries sustained. I ducked into the privacy curtains that still sheltered Carine and the twins from the carnage without.

She was sitting up in bed, just finishing feeding the twins. She looked up as I sat down next to her (Blaise was aiding the medics). "Draco? What happened? The room...it smells horrible...I thought I was going to be sick."

Stronger she may be, but Carine never had a very strong stomach. "There was...a battle," I said hesitantly, and then I told her everything--the fight, Harry defeating Voldemort, the ceiling collapsing on my father, everything but the Gryffindor attack. She was shocked and horrified, held Mariah tighter. I did my best to reassure her that all was well, the battle was over. I couldn't help but feel that I had an easier job of it than Harry had in soothing his wife.

Several hours later, Carine fell asleep. I tucked the blankets around her, planted a light kiss on my daughter's forehead, turned my son onto his back (it's supposed to be bad for babies to sleep on their stomachs), and slipped out of the curtains into the darkened hospital wing.

Most of the visitors had gone; most of the wounded were sleeping, either naturally or permanently. Madame Pomfrey and a few MITs (Medics In Training) among the older students were circulating among the wounded, making sure they were comfortable for the night. A patch of moonlight came through the window, illuminating Harry, who was still next to Hermione's bed. She had fallen asleep with her head on his chest, and Harry was stroking her hair softly, looking at her tenderly.

"How is she?" I asked softly, coming over to Harry's side.

He looked up at me, his emerald eyes haunted. "She'll be all right. I damn near lost her, though."

"Is the baby okay?"

"The baby's fine, too," Harry nodded. "The spell only grazed her, really...singed her skin a little, but Madame Pomfrey took care of that." He lowered his head and looked lovingly at Hermione, still stroking her hair. "You're lucky, Draco. Carine didn't even know there was a battle going on."

I swallowed. "Thanks to you--you and Anders and Lupin."

Harry didn't seem to hear me. He was still looking at Hermione, but his eyes travelled briefly over to Calla, to the bandage on her arm because she was too little to heal magically. "Damn it, they were supposed to be safe!" he burst out savagely. "It was supposed to be safer for them up in the common rooms than in the thick of the battle. They weren't supposed to get hurt."

I knew Harry's anger was not at me, but at himself (however unfairly). "Harry," I said comfortingly, "it's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. They were safer up there--at least they all survived, which is more than you could say for the people who fought out here. And it all worked out okay."

Harry shook his head. "I should've thought to reinforce the barriers, but I was so busy thinking about the hospital wing and the Unforgivables that it never occurred to me that anyone would attack the portraits."

"The Unforgivables?"

"You know, the Unforgivable Curses? Anders and Dumbledore and R-Remus and I set up a ward a few days ago over the entire castle that stops anyone within the building from using an Unforgivable. It took a lot out of me--more than I expected, I guess."

"See? That's more than anyone could have expected. I will say, though, you saved my life with that ward--Dad tried to use an Unforgivable on me."

Harry seemed to relax. "I guess I'm just tired and frustrated is all. I'll be all right in a couple of minutes."

I scanned the hall. "Hard to believe all this carnage was caused legally," I murmured to know one in particular. My gaze lingered on a young girl in the bed opposite Hermione's. She seemed to be tied to the bed with strips of white cotton, which she was straining against in evident agony. "What's wrong with her?"

Harry looked over at her. "Concerpsicorpus. The spell is ripping her apart from the inside out. Madame Pomfrey managed to force some potions into her and they're trying to counteract the damage, but she's in a lot of pain and shaking a lot. They had to tie her down to keep her from hurting herself further."

"Will she be okay?"

"Hopefully, if all goes well, but the first few days are really tough on her."

"What's her name? Do you know?"

"Rose McGowan. She's a fifth year Ravenclaw. Her younger brother Evan--a fourth year--died in the fighting."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I looked in on Calla and ran my hand over her curls. "Is it just me, or is she not as red-headed as she was at your wedding?"

A reluctant smile tugged at Harry's lips. "You should've seen it when she was born--she had jet-black hair. It's been lightening ever since. She'll probably wind up with blonde hair like her mother."

I smiled, adjusted the blanket covering the child, then turned back to Harry and Hermione. "I'm glad they're all right."

"So am I," Harry said softly. "You'd probably better go to bed...you'll be tired, no doubt."

I was, but probably not as tired as Harry was. I hadn't set up a ward preventing the Unforgivables from being cast or defeated Voldemort single-handed. Besides, I'd had a nice long sleep under a pile of rocks. "Okay, but you try and get some sleep too. Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Draco."

~~~

"Uncle Harry! Uncle Harry!"

"Hey, kids!" Harry said with a huge grin. He swept the twins up in his arms and gave them a hug. Mariah giggled with delight. Albus tried to steal his glasses.

Our graduation was four years past. Carine and our children and I had grown very close to the Weasleys and the Potters; our children called those of our generation "uncle" and "aunt", and Arthur Weasley was universally known as "Granddad".

Calla came running out to meet us. "Uncle Draco! Aunt Carrie! Hi-hi!"

"Hi-hi, Calla," I said affectionately, ruffling her short blonde hair. Harry was right--her hair had lightened to gold--and she wore it in a short bob so it was easier to take care of.

Three more little children tumbled out, a trio of impish little boys with unruly black hair--Harry and Hermione's three-year-old triplets, hazel-eyed James, green-eyed Sirius, and brown-eyed Remus. They cracked identical grins at me, and I smiled at them in reply.

The twins had already hurried in with Calla; the triplets tugged Carine and me inside. I laughed--I couldn't help it. "Hello, Harry."

"Hi, Draco, Carrie," Harry answered, his emerald eyes dancing.

Hermione appeared in the doorway. "Hello, you two."

"Hi, Hermione," Carine said cheerfully. She was nearly fifteen now and taking correspondence classes at Hogwarts.

A soft, uneven gait was heard on the stairwell. A second later, a petite girl with big green eyes and reddish-gold curls appeared, then grinned at us. "Uncle Draco! Aunt Carrie!"

"Hiya, Lily," I called. Harry held out his arms to her, and the little girl slipped between the bars of the banister and jumped. He caught her deftly and turned, grinning.

"Guess what, Uncle Draco?" Lily said excitedly. "I got a new brace, look. It's red." She pulled up her robe and showed me a red brace on her left knee.

Lily was the baby Hermione had been carrying the night of the attack on Hogwarts. The spell that had grazed Hermione's belly--we still aren't sure what it was, even to this day--hadn't killed her or the baby, but it had done something to Lily's leg. Whether it was that a vital muscle was missing or that the bones didn't quite meet at the knee the doctors weren't quite sure, but her knee couldn't support her weight. It buckled every time she tried. To walk or even stand, she had to wear a very stiff brace at all times, even when she slept, or be confined to a wheelchair. Even with the brace, she walked with a limp. Didn't stop her for a minute, though.

"That's really pretty, Lily," I told her. She grinned with pleasure. Harry set her down and she limped off after her cousin and friends.

I smiled after her. Four years later, most of us had moved on from that awful night. I knew it would never be completely gone, though. Calla still bore a long, thin scar on her left arm. Lily had her limp. Hermione still had a burn scar on her stomach, which had caused her a little pain when the triplets were born. I had a jagged scar just past my temple where that rock had hit me. Harry...well, Harry had never fully recovered all the energy he'd spent in that spell that defeated Voldemort. He seemed...almost weary at times.

We were having a "family" get-together--the Weasleys, the Potters, the Malfoys, and the Zabinis. Blaise had married Ginny Weasley two years before, so I suppose indirectly the Weasleys were related to us. And Carine had traced our family trees and discovered that I was related to the Weasleys somewhere along the line. Harry was sort of Mrs. Weasley's adopted son, so we were a pseudo, Brady Bunch sort of family.

Behind us, the doorbell rang. Harry quickly opened it before his children could come running. The Potters owned a fairly large, comfortable house designed for large families such as the one they had or even bigger. This was a good thing when they had a lot of guests, which (surprisingly) they didn't terribly often, unless it was us. Point is that, by the time the little ones arrived, the door would be open.

There was quite a large crowd on the doorstep. George, Lisa, little Arthur and his two-year-old sister Holly; Mr. Weasley, his hair now more grey than red; Fred, his wife Angelina, and their five-year-old twins Graham and Eric; and in the foreground Blaise and Ginny and the reason for the whole thing. Two weeks before, Ginny had given birth to their first child, a little boy they had named Ron.

The group crowded into the house, chattering happily, giggling (in the case of the children), squealing over little Ron (in the case of the women), and rolling our eyes (us guys). Harry shepherded the small children out into the backyard to where our children were already playing and yelled out for Calla to keep an eye on Holly and a general warning to avoid the rosebushes, then returned to the room. "Everyone here?"

"Percy and Bill and Charlie are coming," Mr. Weasley answered a trifle absently, watching his grandchildren playing out back. The doorbell rang as he spoke.

Harry grinned. "Right on time." He opened the door before the little ones could come running, exposing three more redheaded men. I recognised one, Percy, who was tall, thin, wearing horn-rimmed glasses, and had his arm around a little girl who looked about eight or nine. The one in the middle, next to my cousin Nymphadora Tonks, was short, stocky, muscular, wearing short sleeves, and had a broad, weather-beaten, kind-looking face. The other looked like he'd just come from a rock concert and I began wondering what he did for a living; he had his arm around a blonde woman I recognised as Fleur Delacour. Between them were two children, one a young teen with long blonde hair like Fleur, the other a small boy with a shock of red hair and impish blue eyes.

"Hey, guys," Harry said cheerfully. "Come on in, everyone's here..."

"Took us long enough to find the place," Nymphadora said with a laugh. She caught sight of me and froze. "Um..."

"'Lo, Dora," I said cheerfully. I'd met her once--just once--and called her Nymphadora, as she'd been introduced to me. I spent a week in the hospital after she knocked me through a plate-glass window, and I wasn't eager to repeat the experience.

"I did tell you Draco would be here, didn't I?" Harry said, looking nervous.

"No, but that's okay--any friend of yours is a friend of mine." Nymphadora smiled. "Charlie, you've met Draco, right?"

"Er--no," the man admitted. He held out his hand to me. "Charlie Weasley. Nice to meet you."

"Draco Malfoy. Likewise," I answered, shaking the callused hand. I later found out he worked with dragons. (He quickly became a favourite with Mariah, who loved dragons.)

The tall rock-man was Bill, the oldest. He and Fleur had been married for six years; Charlie and Nymphadora were just approaching their first anniversary. Bill and Fleur's son was named Michael; the girl was Fleur's sister Gabrielle, who had been orphaned at some point. I didn't know the girl who had come with Percy, and as it turned out, neither did anyone else.

"Who's she, Percy?" Fred asked, nodding at the young girl. "Your new girlfriend?"

"Ha, ha," Percy said sarcastically. "This is Savannah. I've adopted her."

"Hi," Savannah said shyly. She had reddish-brown hair cut in a Peter Pan haircut, up above her ears, and huge, dark blue eyes.

"Hello," Harry said to her kindly. "It's nice to meet you." Turning to include Gabrielle and Michael in his gaze, he added, "Do you three want to go outside? The other kids are all out back...and actually, we were heading out there too."
"We were?" George asked, looking a little confused.

Harry nodded. "It's a nice day. We thought we'd eat outside."

"Oh."

We all herded out back, where the children had arranged themselves in two lines. Calla, Holly, Lily, and the triplets faced down Arthur, Mariah, Albus, Graham, and Eric. "Red Rover, Red Rover, send Lily right over!" the latter team cried.

Lily hobbled across the yard as fast as she could and made a dive for Arthur and Mariah's joined hands. It separated easily. Lily picked herself up, giggling, and tugged Mariah's sleeve. The two hurried back to Lily's side.

"I wanna play!" Michael yelled, running over.

"Fine," Calla said with a smile. "We'll start over...'Riah, you go back over there...and Mike, you go with them. That'll make it fair."

"I'll be on your side," Gabrielle said to Calla, taking her hand.

"But that doesn't make it fair," Mariah objected from the other line.

"We have Holly. She can't do squat," Gabrielle called back.

Savannah looked up hesitantly at Percy, then approached the group. "Can I play?" she asked tentatively.

"Sure!" Calla said brightly. "You go be on that team--that'll make the teams equal."

"I want to play, too," Fred said with a grin.

Calla put her hands on her hips. "You can't play, Uncle Fred. That'll make the teams inequal."
"Unequal, honey," Fred corrected her. "And that didn't stop you before."

I made a quick count of the kids and then totted up the adults. "If all of us play, it'll be fair," I suggested.

Carine brightened. "Oh, I haven't played Red Rover in forever."

"I'm game," Harry said with a grin.

Ginny set little Ron in a baby seat. "Let's play."

"How are we doing this?" Gabrielle asked, hands on her hips. "Girls versus boys? Adults versus kids?"

"How about we pick up two team captains and choose up the teams?" Hermione suggested.

Harry nodded and studied the group. "How about Fred and...Savannah?"

Savannah turned crimson, but nodded. Harry flipped a coin. "Call it," he said to Fred.

"Heads," Fred said quickly.

Harry caught the coin and turned it over on the back of his hand. "Tails. Savannah, do you want to pick first or second?"

"Second," the little girl said softly.

"Fred? Make your choice."

"George," Fred said immediately. Didn't surprise me. I expected Savannah to pick Percy first, but she studied the assembled crowd contemplatively, then pointed to Calla.

It didn't take long to pick up the teams. Percy did wind up on Savannah's team, but I realised she was picking people based on their potential as a player. I wound up on her team as well.

We lined up on opposite ends of the yard, holding hands in our lines. I wound up between Harry and Mariah. Since Fred had chosen first, we went first, and the whisper went down the line.

"Red Rover, Red Rover, send Holly right over!" we yelled.

Holly ran across the yard, straight for Harry and me. We squatted down so our arms were on her level and caught her across the chest. She fell to the ground, giggling, and joined the end of our line.

"Red Rover, Red Rover, send Calla right over!" the other team yelled out.

And so it went. I switched sides about twice, once because I didn't break the line and once because I was picked to go across to the other team. Finally, the teams were Holly and me against everyone else.

"Red Rover, Red Rover, send Lily right over!" I called hopefully, gripping Holly's hand tightly. Unfortunately, her hand slipped out of mine when Lily leaped on us. Holly joined the other side.

I stood, all alone, feeling like I was a soldier facing a line of tanks. "Red Rover, Red Rover, send Draco right over!" they yelled. Duh.

I ran across the yard, aimed, and dove for the gap between Harry and George, who appeared to be gripping each other's wrists. They held, but fell over, and the line broke in several other places as everyone fell in a giggling heap. We got up, still giggling, and dusted ourselves off.

Later that evening, ready to eat, we joined hands around the large table for grace. Looking around, I saw the faces of people I had come to know and love. I got a warm glow inside.

My mind flashed back to the weddings, births, and baptisms Carine and I had attended for these wonderful people. Then I thought about our own wedding, the birth of our twins, the night of that dreadful fight, and I was extremely grateful to them all.

I closed my eyes, thankful for more than anyone could possibly know, as Lily sang in her sweet, clear voice, "Back of the bread is the flour, and back of the flour is the wheat..."

~*~fin~*~