Fourteen Thousand Galleons

Epilogue - Paid In Full

—One Month Later—

She still hurts in places she can't name. If she moves a certain way, coughs too hard, or tries to use too much magic in one go, the ache deep in her muscles can stop Hermione dead in her tracks. There are things that make up for it, though. Watching Draco wrestle with five hyperactive and insatiable Potter-Weasley-Malfoy children—usually to be outnumbered and outwitted—is a highlight of her evenings when everyone is home.

Home. It's come to mean something entirely different to her than it did only months ago. When Harry works late nights, she snuggles up to Draco in their bed and falls asleep peacefully still. When Draco is in a mood over some devious ploy by his father in the board room, Hermione curls up with Harry on the sofa and draws incomprehensible patterns on Draco's back while he works late into the night to undermine his father's influence. They're a unit, all eight of them, and the home they've built not only harbors their family, but their memories as well.

It's over coffee that she reminisces about how far they've come, what they've fought for in order to get here, to this moment. Her own past flits through her thoughts—Ron, and everything he took from her, Harry and Draco, and everything they gave to her. It's almost like a full circle; the Hermione Granger after The War returned and she's evolved in a way that promises she'll never be the naïve girl she was before.

"Children still asleep?" Harry yawns as he enters the dining room. His hair sticks up all over the place and the stubble on his face has grown far too long for her liking. Less shadow, more beard. She makes a face as he runs his hands over it and he smirks at her expression. "You're the one who told me not to shave it, love. You can't have it both ways."

"Liar!" Hermione indignantly huffs into her coffee and kicks a chair out across from her for Harry to fall into. "What I said was, 'you look like a child with no hair on your face'. I didn't ask you to grow out a full beard in an attempt to be Father Christmas by winter."

Harry shrugs his shoulders with the hint of a laugh rumbling in his voice. "It's not even long enough for Rose to braid. Or, don't you remember the way she tried to tug the hair from my cheek when she tried?"

"The least you could do is trim it, Potter." Hermione grabs the wand at her side and whips it above her head, silently summoning Harry a cup of coffee. The fact that it splashes at him when it lands is entirely by cosmic, karmic accident.

He sips at the black liquid and pulls a face. "Now he's got you calling me Potter."

"Don't you dare—" Draco slips into the dining room and summons his own coffee. He bends to give Harry a kiss on the temple and then mimics the same action with Hermione. "I can see it in your eyes, Potter, and if you—"

"Maybe a beard is the only way I'm ever going to be hairy again."

The grin on his face is wide and ridiculous. Hermione snorts into her mug and Draco rolls his eyes dramatically.

"Very clever, Boy Wonder."

A comfortable silence overtakes them. It's something Hermione appreciates more than anything else. She's not made to be busy, not forced into small talk. Sitting between her two paramours is as magical as the other activities they get up to when the house is otherwise empty and quiet. Hermione allows them to wake and when she's sure they've made it through at least their first cup of coffee, she clears her throat and stands from the table to present the idea she's been working on for ages.

"I have something I want to talk to you both about." She chews the corner of her bottom lip and watches Draco eye the habit with darkening gray eyes. The skin pops from between her teeth and Hermione offers him a small, apologetic smile. "It's—I don't know if you're going to like it."