CHAPTER THREE:

Third Person Narrative:

December 25th, 2009

"Mummy! Daddy!" came the excited thrills and shouts of four little children, each of them charging into their parents' bedroom and jumping on the bed at the crack of mid-morning. "It's Christmas! Wake up, wake up! Father Christmas came!"

"Happy Christmas, my babies," yawned Hermione, smiling, as she sat up against her headboard to embrace her children endearingly. Then, as the bedsprings creaked once more, she turned her attention to her second eldest child, whispering, "Be careful, Ellie! If you keep jumping, you'll wake your father —"

"Bit late for that," groaned Charlie, burying his face back into his pillow and stretching slightly, as his wife giggled at him and placed a gentle kiss on his head.

"Daddy!" came the excited voice of six-year-old Scarlett Julianne Granger, her knees digging into her father's back as she jumped on top of him. "Daddy, wake up! We've got to open our presents!"

"Presents! Presents!" cheered the youngest and newest additions to the Granger-Hawthorne family; Hermione gave birth to twin boys three years ago, and Arden and Tobias were the spitting image of their father. "Santa left presents, Mummy! We saw them!"

Hermione shook her head with a laugh, her gaze shifting between her four children. "Come on, you know the rules. Breakfast first, then we open presents."

"But breakfast takes too long!" whined Eleanor, her arms crossed over her chest in similar fashion to that of Hermione during her first year at Hogwarts.

"Don't worry, Ellie," Scarlett told her younger sister, grinning mischievously. "We just have to eat faster so we can open our presents sooner."

"No, you will not," scolded Hermione in a warning tone, shaking her head to hide her amusement. "Your father and I will not have you choking just because you want to open presents."

"But the twins always eat so slow," Eleanor rolled her eyes. "It'll be ages before they're finished!"

"They're only three, El," laughed Charlie, making his presence in the conversation known, as he rolled over and rubbed his eyes. "And just because you can eat like your Uncle Ron doesn't mean we all can."

"That's not fair! I want to open presents now!" Eleanor whined. "Why do I have to wait to open presents just because the twins can't eat faster?"

"Because we're a family, and we'll open our presents together or not at all," Hermione pointed her finger sternly. "If you don't quit complaining, we won't open presents until after lunch."

Eleanor gasped, "You wouldn't!"

"I would."

"Okay, I'll be quiet, I promise!"

"Here," Charlie sat up against the headboard of the bed, conjuring a children's book in his hands. "Why don't we read while your mother makes breakfast?"

"I think that's excellent idea," Hermione smiled at her husband, slipping out of the bed as each of the children made themselves comfortable around their father, angling their heads to see the pages.

"There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight . . ."

And Hermione stopped at the doorway of their bedroom, sparing a smile in the direction of her family cuddled up on the bed, each wearing an expression of the utmost concentration, and she felt overwhelmed to realize just how perfectly her life had turned out...

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Christmas had come and gone as the sun set beneath the horizon, though large flakes of snow still fell from the night sky and landed softly on the ground outside. It was late by the time Charlie had managed to put his four children to bed, and the exhaustion was visible in his golden eyes as he finally crept back into his master bedroom and closed the door behind him.

"Hermione?" he called out, unbuttoning his shirt to get ready for bed, as he looked to the en-suite door. "Love, the kids are asleep now. Merlin knows Eleanor was the last one to close her bloody eyes..." and when his wife didn't answer, he said again, "Hermione?"

Then, as he walked over to the door, Charlie smirked to himself as he heard the water running, a mischievous glint in his eye as he made sure to lock the bedroom door, before entering the en-suite silently. The warmth radiating from the shower had fogged the mirrors, creating a mist that hung in the air. The only sound besides the water running was that of Hermione humming a song to herself, her back facing her husband as Charlie reached his hand beyond the shower curtain and swiped the bottle of shampoo.

"What the — ?" he heard Hermione mumble under her breath, her expression showing confusion as she realized the bottle had disappeared.

"Looking for this?" Charlie's voice rang through the air, and Hermione turned to see her husband stood behind the half-opened curtain, her pink shampoo bottle in his hand, smiling cockily as she didn't bother covering herself up in front of him.

"Give me the bottle, Charlie," Hermione said sternly, reaching for it but he pulled it away, shaking his head, opening the curtain more and walking in a little.

"Come and get it, my love," Charlie whispered, and with that challenge, Hermione jumped on him with a low, animalistic growl, her mouth on his as they let the shampoo bottle crashed to the floor. Without hesitation, she pulled Charlie under the water with her, unbothered by the fact that his trousers were still on. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, sending little bolts of electricity to flow through her body as their tongues danced and water poured overtop of them. Before Hermione could even gasp in shock, his lips covered her in a rough, bruising kiss that literally made her heart stop with ecstasy.

(A/N: watch wattpad flag me for this lmfaooo)

Hermione was tugging him by the hair when Charlie spun them around and pinned her up against the tiled wall, their bodies dripping with the water as her legs wrapped around his waist. Both of them were completely oblivious to their rising heart rates, forgetting that they were no longer lustful teenagers; the only thing either of them could think about was the ecstasy that filled them whenever they touched.

With a groan against her lips, Charlie's strong and rough hands held his wife as they kissed messily, their teeth clashing and tongues tangling in a passionate kiss, their bodies grabbing at one another as they desperately let their hands roam as though exploring new territory. His hands reached for her breasts, his touch roughening as she moaned into his mouth. Hermione's hands latched tighter onto his head, pushing his mouth harder against towards breasts as he trailed trailed his lips down her throat to latch onto an aching nipple, sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her.

"Ch... Charlie..." she moaned, throwing her head back against the tile wall as ecstasy overwhelmed her.

Charlie suckled on her nipple while one of his hands squeezed her other breast, his hums of satisfaction rumbling in his chest and sending sending electrical jolts of need through Hermione's body. Her fingers tangled deep in his hair, she desperately squeezed her thighs around his hips, pushing his head more into her skin. Her heart stopped beating and time itself seemed to come to an unexpected halt.

"Fuck, fuck..." she moaned between breaths when Charlie began to nip at her skin, his lips leaving a burning trail on her skin as he kissed down to her breasts, marking love-bites along her skin before taking her nipple into his mouth once again. "Charlie... please," she begged in a tone of fake annoyance, growing impatient as Charlie teased her nipple before finally setting her down on her feet.

"You're beautiful, Hermione," his lips ghosted over her ear as he spun her around; Hermione's palms sprawled out on the tiled wall behind her and her back arched against his hips. "So fucking beautiful."

"Go on then, Charlie," Hermione riled him up, grinding against him, and Charlie undid the button of his trousers and slipped them off in a single move, kicking off his boxers as his hardened, well-endowed cock sprung from its confines.

"I want you," she practically begged.

It was not, in this moment of passion, as they kissed passionately, touching and further arousing each other under the hot spray of the shower, did Charlie realize that his sexual desire had overpowered the exhaustion in the back of his mind. Without breaking the kiss, he moaned at the sensation of his hard cock pressed against his wife's soaked entrance. Her head, a moment later, fell back as she broke the kiss to let out a low, mewling sound of delight at the feel of his thick length pressing against her more sensitive part.

"Fuck me, Charlie," Hermione cocked her head back, taking his earlobe into her mouth, suckling and nibbling on it. "Fuck me hard and fast..."

And as she let out a sound that was a mixture between pleasure and pain, Charlie slammed his hips against hers, sliding his entire, full length into her depths. Hermione felt her muscles clench around him, her pussy soaking my wet around him, and it took every ounce of sheer willpower not to come undone.

"You naughty minx," Charlie groaned, pressing her against the wall for support, sliding out until only the tip rested in her depths. "You want it hard and fast? I'll give it to you hard and fast."

With no hesitation, he surged forward and lifted her up, slamming his hips against hers, filling her once again, and Hermione let out a shrill cry of ecstasy. Charlie kept repeating the process, sliding out before roughly pumping back into her, showing little to no mercy in his thrusts. Soon enough, his pace increased and his wife's nails dug deep into his flesh as an unbelievable amount of pleasure rippled through her.

"Yes! Oh fuck, yes!" Hermione screamed out, her cheek pressed against the tiled wall, the hot water pouring down on them as Charlie continuously rocked her against his cock, the sound of their skin slapping mingled with that of the water trickling down. He growled against her throat, biting and sucking at the skin, bruising her flesh as his hands bruised her hips, his cock moving harder and faster in her tight core. Not long faster, Charlie felt Hermione release around him, not once, but twice, in a drawn out orgasm that made him almost roar with ecstasy.

Hermione screamed his name, throwing her head back, arching her body up against him. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, nipples beyond hard, and her legs clenched tighter around his hips. Over and over again, Charlie pushed her over the precipice, causing her to land in a world of ecstasy so powerful it drew incoherent, sobbing screams from her mouth. With her arms clenched around his neck, Hermione held onto him for dear life as he filled her again and again. The initial pain had already ebbed away seconds into the sexual act, replaced by a pleasure for powerful that she felt she might die from it. Instead, she kept falling into the sea of pleasure, drowning in it only to rise up and fall again.

"Charlie! Yes! Oh my God!" she screamed, capturing his mouth in a searing kiss as he surged into her again, giving her another hot, powerful orgasm that shook her to the core.

And with a hiss under his breath, Charlie couldn't hold back anymore. The feel of her bare, wet muscles flexing around him, milking him constantly pushed him closer and closer to the edge. He knew that he wouldn't be able to last much longer; he was too close to the edge.

It all felt too good.

It felt so... perfect.

"I'm going to fill you," he growled into her ear, pressing her back harder against the tiled wall, plunging harder and deeper into her.

Hermione let out a loud gasp as she came again, moaning his name as her muscles clenched and unclenched around his hardened cock.

"Come with me, baby," she begged, bouncing on his member. "Please... Charlie, cum in me."

"Jesus fucking Christ..."

And with that, Charlie threw back his head with a primal growl, listening as his wife whispered those sexy words, hearing her voice lower to a seductive pitch, and he doubled his pace and aggression. He slammed her hips against his, lifting her from the wall to have her ride his cock. With each passing second, he slid slid in and out of her faster and harder, surging in deeper and rougher. Hermione let out an endless barrage of high-pitched screams, sobbing his name as pleasure took over her body again and again, bringing her to and over the brink.

Then, as Hermione came undone over her husband's length as she squirted for the second time, Charlie shouted her name as his cock twitched, pulsed, and then filled her aching depths with his ejaculation. He became animalistic, biting at her throat, bruising her hips, and fucking her harder and faster for those few seconds, acting as though ecstasy had overwhelmed all of his senses and turned him into a wild animal.

In response, Hermione screamed into his ear, eyes shut as pleasure consumed her entire body, causing her mind to shut down as everything went from a bright white to black. Moments later, the married couple realized they'd somehow fallen to the floor of the shower; Charlie leaned against the wall with her nestled between his legs, her face cuddling his chest.

Their eyes opened in unison and met.

Warm amber and golden brown.

Hermione smiled up at him and Charlie returned the grin, wrapping an arm around her in the utmost loving, protective gesture.

"God, Charlie... this is why we have so many children," Hermione breathed out jokingly, her chest heaving as the water ran cold above them. "You just can't keep your hands to yourself, can you?"

"I don't hear you complaining, Mrs. Hawthorne," Charlie pointed out with a laugh, placing a kiss to her forehead endearingly. "In fact, I vaguely remember you begging for more —"

"Well, that's because I'm hopelessly in love with you, Mr. Hawthorne," his wife responded with a playful giggle, leaning upwards to place a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Believe me, I had no choice."

"Neither did I," Charlie tilted his head down and pecked her lips, smiling as he pulled her closer. "I love you, Hermione."

"I love you too," she told him with sincerity, intertwining their hands. "Happy Christmas, baby."

"Happy Christmas, my love."

So perfect... unbelievably perfect...

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(A/N: innocent beans come back loll)

September 1st, 2017

Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first of September was as crisp and golden as an apple, and as the little family bobbed across the rumbling road towards the station, four large cages rattled on top of the laden trolleys the parents were pushing; the cats and owls inside them purred and hooted indignantly, and the little girl with bushy brown hair hair trailed tearfully behind her brothers and sisters, clutching her father's arm.

"It won't be long, and you'll be going too," Charlie told his youngest daughter, Clarissa Rose.

"Four years," sniffed Clarissa. "But I want to go now!"

The commuters stared curiously at the animal cages as the family wove its way toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Tobias's voice drifted back to Charlie over the surrounding clamour; his twin sons had resumed the argument they had started in the car.

"I won't! I won't be in Slytherin!"

"Well, you definitely won't be in Ravenclaw!"

"Arden, give it a rest!" Hermione said in a warning tone, chancing an amused glance at her husband.

"I only said he might be," defended Arden, grinning at his twin brother. "There's nothing wrong with that. He might be in Slyth—"

But Arden caught his mother's eye and fell silent. The seven Granger-Hawthornes approached the barrier. With a slightly cocky look over his shoulder at his younger brother, Arden — his messy brown hair already out of the shape Hermione had attempted to get it into earlier that morning — took the trolley from his mother and broke into a run. He vanished a moment later, disappearing between the platforms.

"You'll write to me, won't you?" Tobias asked his parents immediately, capitalizing on the momentary absence of his brother.

"Every day, if you want us to," smiled Hermione, placing a quick kiss to her son's forehead endearingly.

"Not every day," Tobias shook his head quickly. "Ellie said most people only get letters from home about once a month."

The second-eldest Hawthorne child stopped in front of the barrier between the platforms, glancing back at her little brother with her mouth agape in shock.

"I did not!"

"Well, let's hope not," chided Scarlett, giggling at the expression on her sister's face. "Because I remember Mum writing to you three times a week at first."

"And you don't want to believe everything your siblings tell you about Hogwarts," Charlie added in a whisper to Tobias, watching as his two eldest daughters pushed their trolleys through the barrier at last. "They like to have a laugh, you know. Besides, if you ever need me, you can always visit my office."

With a reassured nod from Tobias, he pushed the fourth trolley forward alongside his father, gathering speed. Once they reached the barrier, Tobias winced, but no collision came. Instead, the Granger-Hawthorne family emerged onto platform nine and three-quarters, which was obscured by thick white steam that was pouring from the scarlet Hogwarts Express. Indistinct figures were swarming through the mist, into which Scarlett, Eleanor, and Arden had already disappeared.

"Where are they?" asked Tobias anxiously, peering at the hazy forms they passed as they made their way down the platform.

"We'll find them," said Hermione reassuringly, brushing the loose strands of hair from her son's face as Charlie picked up Clarissa, their youngest daughter, and carried her the rest of the way.

But the vapour was dense, and it was difficult to make out anybody's faces. Detached from their owners, voices sounded unnaturally loud. Charlie could've sworn he heard Percy Weasley discoursing loudly on broomstick regulations over the telecom, and was quite glad of the excuse not to stop and say hello...

"I think that's them, Tobi," muttered Hermione, pointing.

There was a group of people that emerged from the mist, standing alongside the very last carriage. Their faces only came into focus when Charlie, Hermione, Clarissa, and Tobias had drawn right up to them.

"Hi," waved Tobias, sounding immensely relieved. Amber Lily Potter, who was already wearing her brand-new Hogwarts robes, beamed at him.

"It's so good to see you!" came the pleasantly surprised voice of Elaina Dumont-Potter as she engulfed Charlie in a hug. "We thought you might've been too busy getting ready for the start of term."

"And miss this?" Charlie nodded towards his children, who were in deep conversations with the Potter and Weasley offspring. "Not a chance in the world."

"You parked all right, then?" Harry asked Charlie as Elaina and Hermione hugged each other. "It took a bit, but I managed. Elaina thought the examiner must've gone mad when I passed my test."

"Well, it's certainly a possibility," said Elaina with her mischievous smirk. "Hello, Ron," she added swiftly, hugging him and his wife, Lavender Brown-Weasley, as a means to avoid any further accusations.

"Yeah," Charlie laughed, before adding, with a smirk to Hermione, "better than when I took mine, Hermione was convinced I'd have to Confund the examiner."

"No, I wasn't!" gasped Hermione defensively, smacking her husband's arm. "I had complete faith in you."

"As a matter of fact, I did Confund mine," Ron whispered to Charlie as, together, they helped Harry lift Tyrion Potter's trunk and owl onto the train. "I only forgot to look in the wing mirror, and let's face it, I can use a super-sensory charm for that."

Back on the platform, they found Clarissa, Flora and Elijah, the youngest three of the core four's children, having an animated discussion about which House they would be sorted into when they finally were old enough to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"If you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you," said Ron with glance to his daughter, "but no pressure."

"Won-Won!" Lavender scolded, her eyes narrow.

"Oh alright, I suppose Ravenclaw's not that bad either," Ron added with a grin. "Your Auntie Luna was a Ravenclaw and she turned out alright, I guess."

Clarissa, Flora and Elijah laughed, but Tyrion and Tobias looked suddenly solemn, sharing a glance.

"He doesn't mean it," assured Hermione and Elaina simultaneously, but Ron was no longer paying attention. Catching Charlie's eye, he nodded covertly to a point some fifty yards away. The steam had thinned for a moment, and four people stood in sharp relief against the shifting mist.

"Look who it is."

Draco Malfoy was standing there with his pregnant wife and children, a dark coat buttoned up to his throat. His hair was receding somewhat, which emphasised the pointed chin. His boy resembled Draco as much as Arden and Tobias resembled Charlie. Draco caught sight of Charlie, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Elaina, and Lavender staring at him, nodded curtly, and turned away again.

"So that's little Scorpius," mumbled Ron under his breath before turning back to the children. "You lot make sure you beat him in every test. Hopefully you Hawthornes have inherited your mum's brains."

"What, ours aren't enough?" Harry quipped, with an eyebrow raised towards his wife. Charlie laughed, shook his head, and gave his friend a pat on the back.

"Ron, for heaven's sake," said Hermione, half stern, half amused. "Don't try to turn them against each other before they've even started school!"

"You're right, sorry," said Ron, but unable to help himself, he added, "Don't get too friendly with him, though. Granddad Weasley will never forgive you if you marry a pureblood."

"Hey!"

Before anyone could tell Ron off again, James and Scarlett had reappeared; they had divested themselves of their trunks, owls, and trolleys, and were evidently bursting with news.

"Teddy's back there," James said breathlessly, pointing back over his shoulder into the billowing clouds of steam. "Just seen him! And guess what he's doing? Snogging Victoire!"

Scarlett then gazed up at the adults, evidently disappointed by the lack of reaction. "Our Teddy! Teddy Lupin! Snogging Victoire! And I asked Teddy what he was doing —"

"You interrupted them?" gasped Hermione, shaking her head. "You're just like your uncle Ron!"

"Oi! What's that supposed to mean?" Ron cried, feigning a look of hurt, as the children laughed at him.

"— and he said he'd come to see her off! And then he told us to go away. He's snogging her!" James added, his brown eyes big and wide, as though worried he had not made himself clear.

"Oh, it would be lovely if they got married!" whispered Flora ecstatically. "Teddy would be part of the Weasley family then, too!"

"He has a family with us anyway, though," Elaina reminded the young girl. "You know that."

"Yeah, he already comes round for dinner about four times a week," said Harry, laughing. "Why don't we just invite him to live with us and have done with it?"

"Yeah!" exclaimed James enthusiastically. "I don't mind sharing with Tyrion — Teddy could have my room!"

"No," stated Harry firmly, "you and Tyri will share a room only when I want the house demolished."

"Reckon it might be us that end up related in the end," Ron said out of the corner of his mouth to Harry, with a sideways look at Elijah and Flora.

"Merlin help us all if that happens," Charlie laughed and checked the battered old watch that had once been Fabian Prewett's. "Alright, it's nearly eleven, you'd better get on board."

"Don't forget to give Neville and Ginny our love!" Hermione told Arden as she hugged him, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Mum!" the eldest Granger-Hawthorne twin whined, "I can't give my professors love!"

"But you know Neville and Ginny!"

Arden rolled his eyes.

"Outside, yeah, but at school he's Professor Longbottom, isn't he? I can't walk into Herbology and give him love! And if I gave Madam Weasley love, the entire Quidditch team would tease me!"

"I'm not sure how knowing one of the best Chasers of her generation is anything to be ashamed of!" Charlie told his son, ruffling his hair teasingly. "Besides, you'd better not act that way when you see me strolling about. Because I'm fully prepared to embarrass you in front of all of your friends."

Shaking his head at his parent's foolishness, Arden vented his feelings by aiming a kick at his younger brother. "Come on, Tobi. Watch out for the thestrals."

"Thestrals?" Tobias went wide-eyed. "I thought they were invisible? You said they were invisible!"

But Arden merely laughed, permitted his mother to kiss him once more, gave his father a firm hug, then leapt onto the rapidly filling train. They saw him wave, then sprint away up the corridor to find Scarlett and her friends.

"Thestrals are nothing to worry about," Charlie told Tobias, watching as Harry and Ron kissed their children goodbye in the near distance. "They're gentle things, there's nothing scary about them. Besides, you won't be going up to school in the carriages, you'll be going in the boats."

Hermione came up close, kissing Tobias goodbye. Clarissa was now standing with Elaina, fascinated by one the toys young Elijah Potter had brought with him; his superhero action figure soared through the air with a flick of Harry's wand, entertaining the children on the platform with outstanding ease.

"I'll see you at school, Tobi," whispered Charlie as his youngest son hugged him tightly. "Don't forget Hagrid's invited us to tea next Friday. Don't mess with Peeves. Don't duel anyone till you've learned how. And don't let your siblings wind you up!"

"What'll happen if I'm in Slytherin?"

The whisper was for his father alone, and Charlie knew that only the moment of departure could have forced Tobias to reveal how great and sincere that fear was. Scarlett had inherited all of Charlie's confident side, while Eleanor remained headstrong and intelligent, just like her mother. Arden had become quite a compelling charmer, and little Clarissa Rose was just beginning to develop the characteristics that would set her apart from her siblings. Tobias Hawthorne, however, was different. He was much quieter than his twin brother, more reserved and contentious; much more akin to Hermione in how he thought logically, rather than Charlie's rashness.

Charlie crouched down so that Tobias's face was slightly above his own. Out of Charlie's five children, Tobias had inherited his father's golden brown eyes. He was almost Charlie's double, though without the scars from the final battle, and had definitely had Hermione's prominent front teeth until he had demanded his mother reduce them in size — like she had done years previously to herself — that summer.

"Listen to me, Tobias," Charlie said quietly, so that nobody but Hermione could hear, and she was tactful enough to pretend to be waving to Eleanor, who was now on the train, "you and I are alike in so many ways. Because when I was your age, there was a part of me that was terrified about my Sorting, just as I know you are right now. But, over the years, I've realized the truth: not all Ravenclaws are wise, not all Hufflepuffs are weak, not all Gryffindors are brave, and not all Slytherins are evil. In all honesty, my dear boy, is it is our choices that show us who we truly are far more than any given title."

"But what if —"

"— then Slytherin House will have gained an excellent young wizard, won't it?" Charlie said with a proud smile, "It doesn't matter to us, Tobi, as any House would be incredibly lucky to have you. But if it truly matters to you, the Sorting Hat will take your choice into account."

"Really?"

Charlie nodded, adding, "It has before."

He had never told any of his children that before, even after all his years as Headmaster, and he saw the wonder in Tobias's face when he said it. But now the doors were slamming all along the scarlet train, and the blurred outlines of parents were swarming forward for final kisses and last-minute reminders.

With a final kiss on his cheek, Hermione guided Tobias to the carriage and closed the door behind him. The attention within the train had been caught, and students were hanging out from the windows nearest them. Both on the train and off, a great number of faces seemed to be turned toward Harry, Charlie, Hermione, and Ron: the heroes of the war.

"Why are they all staring?" demanded Tobias as he and Levi Weasley — his hair with the airy texture of Lavender's and the redness of Ron's — craned around to look at the other students.

"Don't let it worry you," Ron shrugged, smirking mischievously. "It's me... I'm extremely famous."

"And I'm also famous and incredibly good-looking," joked Charlie, smirking, as his wife swatted his arm.

Tobias, Levi, Flora, Clarissa, and Elijah laughed. Then, with a loud clanking sound, the train began to move, and Harry walked alongside it, watching his son's thin face, already ablaze with excitement. Charlie kept smiling and waving, even though it was like a little bereavement, watching his son glide away from him...

"I'll see you at Hogwarts!" he yelled after the train, his hand still raised in farewell, and after a few fleeting moments, the last trace of steam evaporated in the autumn air as the Hogwarts Express rounded a corner and vanished.

"He'll be all right," Hermione muttered in regards to Tobias, leaning up to kiss her husband on the cheek.

Charlie turned and beamed at her — his wife of seventeen years — and then at his youngest daughter, his sweet Clarissa Rose, who stood clutching her mother's hand. He lowered his hand absentmindedly and touched the faded Dark Mark scar on his arm.

"I know he will."

And with that, he placed a soft, loving kiss on his wife's forehead before they were joined by Harry and Ron at last; the four of them shared a glance, smiling, as tears welled up in each of their eyes. Together, it felt as though everything they'd been through had been leading them to this, to the moment where everything they'd sacrificed suddenly felt worth it.

"We did it," said Harry breathlessly, as he brushed his fingertips along the lightening scar on his forehead.

The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years.

All was well.

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After dropping his children off at Kings Cross,with promises to see them all later, Charlie Hawthorne Apparated to Hogwarts. In the hours that passed, Charlie readied himself in his Headmaster's quarters, pulling on his navy blue robes, as word of the arrival of the first years rang throughout the corridors.

With a smile etched upon his lips, Charlie walked into his office with a stride of satisfaction. He greeted the portraits of previous Headmasters and sat behind his desk, greeting his miniature owl, Fozy, and Fawkes the Phoenix, with a pat on the head.

"Hello Fawkes," he whispered to the mythical Phoenix, who was chirping soundlessly on his perch, as Charlie gave him a pat on the head. His eyes then shifted towards Dumbledore's portrait, and a rush of admiration washed over Charlie as he saw his grandfather's kind, blue eyes beaming back at him.

"Charles, m'boy," Dumbledore called for his grandson in his familiar, cheery tone. "It's almost time for the feast? Are you ready? Got your speech prepared?"

"I was kind of just going wing it," Charlie said sheepishly, a blush riding up his neck as not only Dumbledore, but Professor Snape looked down at him with amused grins. "What did you even say, Professor?"

"You should know I'm not usually one for making speeches, Hawthorne," muttered Snape, his lips twitching upwards. "However, I mentioned that the Dark Lord had ceased control of the school, and that should any wrongdoings occur, they would be dealt with... appropriately."

"Bit ominous, sir," returned Charlie, laughing slightly.

In the aftermath of the war, Charlie's old hatred for Snape had faded, and while he still wished he would have known the truth a long time ago, he couldn't allow himself to be upset at Snape after he'd defended them from Voldemort. Therefore, upon his enrolment as Headmaster, Charlie breathed easier once he insisted Snape's portrait be hung in his office, knowing the man could be returned to a state of dignity, not forgotten on his deathbed in the Shrieking Shack.

With a glance towards Snape's black eyes, the stairs to the Headmaster's office began to rumble, and when it stopped, Charlie called for the person to come in before they could knock.

"Charles, it's time for the feast," announced Professor McGonagall, shuffling inside the office, with her forest green robes and matching hat. Not long ago, Professor McGonagall was advised to retire from the school and use a walking stick after catching cellulitis in her left ankle, but being the woman she was, she downright refused on the spot.

"Lost track of time, Professor," said Charlie tiredly, cracking his fingers as he stood from the desk, placing his quill back in the original spot. "Shall we?" Charlie asked, offering his arm for woman he'd since thought of as a motherly-figure.

"Don't be daft, boy, I'm old, not brittle," McGonagall rolled her eyes, swatting his arm playfully; her eyes still held fondness for the sweet, innocent boy she once knew. Charlie was in his late thirties now, and the years of stress and torment inflicted upon him by his father could be shown in the few wrinkles on his forehead and the grey hairs peaking through.

"Yes, ma'am," Charlie chuckled, following Professor McGonagall towards the door. Once he reached for the doorknob, however, he cocked his head back and bid his farewells to Snape and Dumbledore. "I'll see you both later," he said charmingly. "Wish me luck."

"You won't need it, m'boy!" beamed Dumbledore, with the childlike glint in his eyes. "We're proud of you regardless of whatever happens!"

"I must be so inclined to agree, Hawthorne," added Snape, smiling in spite of himself. "Now, at least, it seems Hogwarts is in proper hands. Quickly now, go and live your life as we'd all intended. Merlin knows what the rest of us have sacrificed on your behalf."

"Couldn't have said it better myself, Severus," McGonagall looked towards her fellow colleague. "You know, I must say, I'm quite fond of your recent demeanour, though it is a shame it was only brought about with your death."

"Better later than never, Minerva," quipped Snape, scrunching up his long, crooked nose in something akin to laughter alongside Dumbledore and McGonagall. Then, after a few moments, McGonagall and Charlie swept from the Headmaster's office, their billowing cloaks following in their wakes as they climbed down the winding staircase.

The trek through the corridors was silent until they'd reached the Entrance Hall. Charlie could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right — the rest of the school must already be here — but Professor McGonagall escorted him into a small, empty chamber off the hall to greet the first years. They were crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

With a wave from afar, Charlie's eyes lingered on his two twins boys — Arden and Tobias — that stood amongst the crowd, their cloaks already unfastened, and he flashed them a charming smile before he walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Although he'd stepped foot into the Great Hall countless times, Charlie still marvelled at the strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets, and at the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. The hundreds of faces staring at Charlie as he walked up the middle aisle looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Then, dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver, including the comical poltergeist of Fred Weasley.

Charlie gave a wave around at the tables as he walked passed, flashing an extra wide smile towards Scarlett, who sat amongst the Ravenclaws, and Eleanor, who conversed with her fellow Hufflepuffs. Then, mainly to avoid all of the staring eyes, Charlie looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars, his mouth quirking into a smile as he remembered the infamous quote his wife had first spoke in first-year.

"It's bewitched to look like the night sky..."

And with a fond smile at the memory, Charlie reached the four-legged stool at the front of the Hall, on which sat the patched and frayed Sorting Hat. When he then got to the Headmaster's chair, he nodded in acknowledgement to Neville Longbottom, the Head of Gryffindor and Herbology Professor, and at Ginny Greengrass née Weasley, the new Flying Instructor and Quidditch Coach at Hogwarts, watching as Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up, marched the new First Years up between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff table.

The Sorting Ceremony came and went with miraculous efficiency, and Charlie clapped for every student, regardless of the House they were placed into. Once Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away, he got to his feet and beamed at the students, his arms open wide, as though nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome, all of you, to another year at Hogwarts," Charlie greeted, the candlelight shimmering on his beard, as his voice carried throughout the Great Hall. "Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words in honour of our late Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore — Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

And without explanation, as there would be time for that later, Charlie reclaimed his seat as everyone clapped and cheered for his words of welcome.

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October 13th, 2092

Hermione Granger knew she was going to die.

Death had been inevitable, and Hermione was not as bothered by that fact as she should have been. She had cheated death far too many times, even faced it alongside her friends more times, perhaps, than anyone else had ever had. In fourth year, she had seen the love her life endure the horrors of the Triwizard Tournament and had to cope with the reality of death for the first time. Then, only a year later, she'd battled alongside her friends in the Department of Mysteries, only to watch as Lord Voldemort slowly took control.

At sixteen, Hermione had felt the gut-wrenching sensation of heartbreak and was left completely alone. In the Battle of Hogwarts and the events leading up to it, she had lost more people and seen more friends die than she ever had before. But, alas, they had won the war, and Hermione had faced her own personal demons and fought alongside her best friends. Finally, in her eighteen years of life, Hermione Granger was free to embrace normalcy again.

In the aftermath of the war, they'd all started over, wedded their loved ones and created their families. Hermione married the love of her life, her best friend, and gave birth to five children, each of which brought such a joy in her life that she'd never known before.

By the time Kingsley Shacklebolt had retired as Minister of Magic, the entirety of Wizarding World had encouraged Hermione to take the job. Reluctantly, she had, and the Ministry of Magic functioned better than it ever had under her care. New, more inclusive policies took hold, and Hermione established an outstanding reputation in her position, with her husband relishing in his Headmaster position at Hogwarts all the same.

And then, as the years flew past, Hermione had grown into an remarkable, elderly woman. Her bushy brown hair had turned an iron grey, her face had lined with age, and she experienced more hardships and triumphs than she'd ever anticipated after the war.

Her and Charlie's children had all married and had children of their own, who were by now all in Hogwarts. Scarlett had taken after her mother, inheriting the position of Minister with her intellect, before marrying half-blood Sebastian Thorpe of Gryffindor House. Eleanor, the purest of hearts, had surprised Hermione and Charlie by falling in love with a Muggle while in London; his name was Alfie Dunham, and Charlie was sure to have engaged in casual Muggle conversations over American football whenever he had the chance.

The twins, Arden and Tobias, had took after their uncles and had become Aurors at the Ministry. Despite Charlie's better judgement, Arden had married Draco Malfoy's youngest daughter, Celeste, and tied the families together in the history books. Tobias, however, had married another half-blood by the name of Vanessa Starling, and rivalled the adoring nature of his father in respect to his partner. Then, last but not least, Clarissa Rose had finally graduated Hogwarts and married Muggle-born, Thea Cowen, an intellectual, young lady of Ravenclaw.

Thus, with all of their children romantically involved, Charlie and Hermione were pleased to know that each of their twelve grandchildren would continue their legacies.

However, with every triumph would come struggle, and Hermione had experienced the ever-so-unnerving prospect of death yet again. Even after their long lives, Hermione had not been so distressed to see Molly and Arthur Weasley, their lives reaching their natural conclusion as they were buried next to their son in Ottery St. Catchpole's cemetery. McGonagall was next to go, then Hagrid shortly after, and those two had by far been the worst.

By this time, at the age of one-hundred and five, Hermione began to suspect that her time — along with that of her closest companions — was drawing near. And so, she waited for Death to come to her as an old friend, spending the remaining years of her life with her husband, her closest of friends, and her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

Hermione had long since accepted the fact that her oldest friends, colleagues, and family members were reaching the end of their blissful lives. Though, with heavy heart, it had came as a shock when Ron was the first to go, and Hermione, Charlie, and Harry were devastated to know that their quartet was down to a trio; they'd known Ron was in a better place, yet could not help but miss him with each passing day.

Next was the infamous Harry Potter and his wife, Elaina Dumont, both passing away within a year of one another as though they'd never intended to live a life without the other. Charlie and Hermione, the last integral members of the Battle of Hogwarts, were struck with an grievance harsher than anything they'd ever experienced, despite the fact that they'd been willing to acknowledge that they would soon have to depart this life for another.

Then, as the moment of Charlie Hawthorne's untimely death came upon them, Hermione was crushed with a heartbreak far greater than anything she'd ever had to endure. Charlie and Hermione had been inseparable for over a century, living out the rest of their chaotic lives as an emblematic pair whose love never once strayed from each other. Therefore, when Charlie passed away at the age of one-hundred and seven, it took several years off of Hermione's already depleting life and left her alone to cry herself to sleep at night; she hardly left the house, and she often saw the pity in her grandchildren's eyes when they came to visit.

And now, a few years later, Hermione sat in her favourite spot next to the fireplace in her and Charlie's grand, empty house and held her gaze on the same photo-album from their time in the Forbidden Forest, though now it was complete with the newfound photographs of their lives after the war. From birthdays, to Christmases, to their children's first day at Hogwarts, and even to the random photos of the core four in-between their classes from years ago; the photo album acted as a timeline from the beginning to end, almost as though perfectly transcribed in words, in a multi-chapter chronicle...

(A/N: ...👀)

The moment of her death, Hermione knew, was only a few short hours away. Now, as much as it pained her to do so, it was time to say goodbye to those she loved and would be leaving behind. Her great-grandchildren with their parents came first, and Hermione loved that they were so young and full of life, and had, hopefully, long lives ahead of them. They had shed their tears, said their last goodbyes.

Now, in the last few hours of her life, her aging children surrounded him. Their hair was streaked with grey, their faces lined with age, yet Hermione saw only the small children they once were. Her three beautiful daughters, Scarlett, Eleanor, and Clarissa, and her handsome sons, Arden and Tobias, each had come to their childhood home to say their goodbyes.

Clarissa had started to cry, silent tears streaming down her face. Then, with a small smile, Hermione looked between them, her heart swelling. Scarlett looked devastated, but Hermione saw the hint of responsibility that came from being the oldest child; Hermione knew she would take care of her siblings. Eleanor was sad and mournful, anxiously playing with the hem of her skirt. Tobias and Arden paced the floor, unwilling to accept what was happening; Hermione knew they were holding back tears.

The youngest daughter, Clarissa, was the only one brave enough to not muffle her cries. Instead, she gripped her mother's hand tightly, sniffing quietly.

"Don't cry, my sweet Clarissa Rose," Hermione told her, placing a hand on her cheek. This, of course, only made her cry harder as she placed her hand over her mother's. "We'll see each other again."

The others were crying now too, unable to stop the tears from flowing down their cheeks. Tobias blew his nose into a handkerchief and collapsed next to his mother on the couch, reaching out for her desperately.

"You and your brother look so much like your father, Tobias," whispered Hermione reassuringly, her brittle hands wiping the tears from his handsome face. "I'm going to see him again, okay? I'm going to see your aunts and uncles, and your grandparents... all of them."

Tobias could not help but smile through his tears at her mother's happy grin.

"Mummy," Eleanor's voice broke on the word, sounding like the young child Hermione remembered, and on impulse, she turned to her second-eldest daughter and embraced her in a tight, everlasting hug.

"You know, your great-grandfather once said that to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure," Hermione spoke in hushed whisper, pulling back to look between each of her children. "There's nothing to be sorry for... don't cry for me. Because of the five of you, I have known a love far greater than any other, and for that, I am grateful."

The sobs of the children grew louder, though neither of them could manage to utter a word in response. Together, the five Granger-Hawthorne children merely huddled in close and stood together in solidarity.

"Scarlett," Hermione beckoned, and her eldest daughter came forward. "Please, remember me... remember what I did, so that others might learn from it."

"How could we ever forget you, Mum?" was Scarlett's response, and Hermione let tears of her own trickle down her cheeks.

Then, as silence fell upon them, Hermione smiled, and all of them were still, waiting, for a long time. Hermione's body racked with coughs, and her children rushed to help her or call someone at St. Mungo's, but their mother merely waved them off.

The time was too soon to worry about it.

Death was impatient.

Hermione's tired heart had already beaten a lifetime's worth of beats, though she was not afraid to admit it.

"My babies," she muttered, looking at her children, warmth filling her dying heart; they smiled, listening their mother without hesitation. "I love all of you so much. I'm so proud of each of you. Take care of each other, and be kind to each other. If nothing else, please know... I was so lucky to be your mother."

Neither of the children could hold back their tears, and they each grabbed hold of their mother — her hands, her shoulders — and embraced her with love.

"Ellie," said Hermione softly, and her second-eldest daughter looked up at her. "Will you read it to me?"

"Of course, Mummy," Eleanor responded, sniffling. From beneath her cloak, she drew a small, weathered, ancient-looking book — which Hermione so fondly remembered as an inherited gift — and opened it to the last story at the back of the book.

"There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight . . ."

They all listened quietly, tears streaming down their cheeks, and Hermione felt Death's gentle embrace. Death took his time, letting Hermione listen to the infamous story in her daughter's sad, beautiful voice. Her gaze trailing towards the photo album still in her hands as Eleanor read, Hermione was grateful that she couldn't see the grievance in her children's eyes as she began to depart this world for another.

". . . and then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, as equals, they departed this life."

As her brittle, bony fingers flipped through the photographs and the 'Beetle the Bard' story reached its conclusion, Hermione knew it was time for the next great adventure... as Dumbledore always said.

And so, Hermione Granger finally closed her eyes without fear and regret, dissolving into the darkness.

————————————————————

It felt like no time had passed at all.

The room was warm, alit by the flickering candles and the roaring fire to keep the Autumn breeze at ease. Hermione fluttered her eyes opened once more, and the torments of old age had seemingly dissolved into nothingness. She felt her body surge with a newfound energy, a forgotten youthfulness that she hadn't felt since she was a teenager. Her senses seemed to have heightened; the room flashed around her with a golden shimmer, beautiful and serene. She was in a silk nightgown, with a thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders to keep her warm and pillows behind her.

Hermione felt the smooth texture of cotton linen beneath her fingertips and gasped once the bed creaked beside her. She turned on her side slowly until she could properly the subject of her intrigue.

Charlie Hawthorne.

He was sleeping, burrowed deeply into the covers, as he always had been when it was cold. Hermione smiled gently as she remembered how messy and disheveled his hair became once his head laid upon the pillow. Her husband looked so innocent as he slept; his distinct features were as youthful as they had been at eighteen. Hermione felt her heart pound within her chest at the sight before her; it had been years since she'd been able to see him anywhere other than her dreams. The memories of their lifetime together came flooding into her mind, suffocating her with so much love and admiration. So many nights, they would fall asleep together, wound in each other's arms, keeping each other warm and shielding themselves away from the world outside.

Hermione ached to be reintroduced to his touch, the taste of his lips. With a deep breath, she nestled closer into his embrace. Charlie didn't wake, but he stirred ever so slightly, laying on his back. There was no finery around him; he looked like the young man he once was instead of the powerful Wizard he would've been once the sun rose over the horizon. Hermione watched him sleep for a moment, such love and hope in her eyes as she brushed a lock of hair from his face; she had forgotten what it felt like to have sparks of love ignite beneath her fingertips.

Unaware of her movements, Hermione slid her hand towards his cheek and cupped it gently, shivering at the warmth eliciting from his skin. There was a shaky breath that fell from her lips; it had been the first time she had touched him since he took his last breath. Hermione brushed her thumb across Charlie's cheek, like she had done whenever he needed to relax after a long day of work, and felt her body shiver at the sensation. Her hand guided her as she nuzzled closer and placed a kiss on the underside of his jaw, lingering.

Charlie reacted, rustling beneath the sheets. He leaned his head into her palm, still sleeping soundly. Hermione allowed herself to be reminded of the love they'd shared, the love they would always share. Even as he slept, Charlie was aware of his wife's presence. They were so in-tuned, so entangled, so connected.

Hermione was no longer in control of her ensuing movements, and she didn't know if she wanted to be. Their lips touched at last, slow and gentle. Her body ached to be closer to him, their kiss growing deeper as Charlie began to rouse from his sleep. Hermione didn't know what he'd do when he awoke, but she was so pleasantly surprised when he immediately returned the kiss, his fingertips tangling in her curls.

For the first time in such long while, Charlie Hawthorne felt completely and utterly awake. He was filled with such delight and warmth as he immediately recognized the taste of the lips pressing against his. His wife had met him in the afterlife, tangled herself in his arms, and kissed him of her own violation. He smiled deeply into the embrace, his arms wrapping around her petit frame and holding her close. The rest of the world faded away as they reunited, and they pulled apart only when loss of breath became powerful enough to tear them away from one another. Charlie's lip stretched into a boyish smile.

Their eyes met for the first time, admiring each other.

Hermione beamed at him, giggling sheepishly as though they were two teenagers caught snogging on the common room couch. They spoke with their eyes for a moment or two, both blissfully unaware that they'd now have eternity to do so. His heart content, Charlie hadn't been expecting her arrival, but he caressed her cheek with his index finger nonetheless.

"My love," he muttered softly, and Hermione felt tears fall from her eyes at the disbelieving sound of his voice.

"Charlie," she whispered, "I'm here."

"I've been waiting for you."

Hermione leant her forehead on Charlie's chest, then muttered, "This doesn't feel real."

"Nothing has ever been more real," he proclaimed breathlessly, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss. "I love you, Hermione," he added with his arms snaked around her waist. "I always have."

"I love you, too," responded Hermione, looking deeply into his eyes and admiring the youthful glint of golden brown within them. Her lips then elicited a soft, amused chuckle as she spoke, "I'd nearly forgotten how young we once were."

Charlie grinned at her once more, tangling his fingers in her rich brown curls as he sighed; the last time they'd seen each other, both of them had had silver hair and wrinkles that defined their features. He propped himself up on his elbows, staring at her face.

"Speak for yourself," he chuckled softly. "I've always preferred to think of myself as quite a handsome young man, no matter what age I might be."

Hermione smiled that smile again. She then leaned down to kiss him before her face fell with realization; her features became burdened with everything she'd felt before she had passed, everything she'd been forced to endure without Charlie alongside her in the years after his untimely death.

"Our life together seems like so long ago," she reflected, her voice clogged with emotion. "It's been so difficult without you, Charlie... so difficult..."

"Shhh," Charlie whispered, speaking it softly into her ear. "That's all over now, my love," and he kissed her deeply as though to remind her of the life they had yet to live. "I'm never going to leave you again."

With a small nod of reassurance, Hermione pressed the side of her head to his temple, relishing in his warm embrace. The afternoon sunlight had flooded into the room some time after, much more white and stark now, as it was no longer early morning. With the silence settling between them, it was a moment or two before Charlie managed to clamber out of the safe confinements of his loving wife's warm embrace.

"Come on," he whispered to Hermione, reaching a hand out towards her as he stumbled to his feet.

"Where are we going?" his wife returned, wearily interlocking their hands with a confused expression.

"There's someone I want you to meet..."

And together, Charlie and Hermione Granger-Hawthorne both greeted death as an old friend, embarking on their journey in the afterlife as though never to be separated ever again...

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Author's Note:
*this chapter was not proof read*

and there you have it, the end of an era...

congratulations! you have successfully reached the long-awaited end of the story of Charlie Hawthorne, or as you all know him as, 'The Boy Who Loved' :))

thanks for your continued support! it has truly changed my life and I cannot thank you enough for what you've done for me <33

love you guys SO much!! I'll keep this short, but I'll post a longer note of appreciation afterwards loll

until next time,

xo, selena