073. how we were happy

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EPILOGUE, chapter seventy—three :oh, my love, my one true friendoh, is this really the end?we were good with what we hadoh, how we were happy

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EPILOGUE, chapter seventy—three :
oh, my love, my one true friend
oh, is this really the end?
we were good with what we had
oh, how we were happy



ϟ


1 september 2016 — all was well.


Happily Ever After sounded so trite, but Lili supposed it was true enough.

They were so ridiculously happy that any other phrase would be a falsehood, a blatant lie that she couldn't fathom. The war grew faint in the rearview mirror, greying out as happier times took colour in the form of family and friends and endless possibilities. If time and distance didn't always heal, it certainly helped soothe the aches of old pains and traumas of a war fought by soldiers much too young. Now those years of strife seemed to blur all together, too ugly and too brutal. Layers and layers of faded memories weaving into one another.

Life began anew.

It was true that Lili had always wanted a family, but after the terrible things she had seen and barely survived, she had been terrified to ever consider having children. To bring them into such a world of Darkness, of such unpredictability and cruelty, seemed too dangerous. She slept soundly in Harry's arms, but became rife with terror at the thought of loving and losing anyone else.

It took years after those last terrible days at Hogwarts, after the victory of 2 May 1998, to feel truly safe.

By then, Harry had become the Head of the British Auror Office, and Lili was a proper Potions Master in her own right. Ron had retired from the Auror Corps ages ago to help with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes while Hermione decided upon a mastery in Magical Law before haunting the halls of the Ministry just as she should. Their best friends had two children of their own by the time Lili and Harry had even decided to (finally) have their first.

First, Holly, and then, almost eight years later, Evan.

They could have named their wonderful, beautiful children after those lost, those they still mourned day after day, but Lili put her foot down. She wanted her babies to represent new hope, new life, happiness after losses. They did not deserve to carry such weight as memories or legacies; having such famous parents would do that enough.

Though honestly, what were they going to name their poor children?

Griphook Albus? Sirius Dobby? Nymphadora Lavender?

No... Just no.

And in an instant, the moment they had been placed in her arms, Lili loved being a mum. Completely and utterly.

Before, her life had been defined by instances of pure terror — of spying and lying and fighting, of bleeding and dying, hiding in the wilderness or shivering in dungeon cells.

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