The Power of Pain

Epilogue

Four Years Later

Early morning peeked over the horizon, illuminating a wonderfully elegant, yet simplistic two-story home.

A soft high-pitched voice roused Hermione from her blissful sleep, causing her to groan softly as her bedmate also shifted to the soft disturbance. As the fog of sleep gradually lifted, she found her voice.

"Before coffee, he's your son." Hermione didn't think she could move even if she wanted to. A late night combined with an early start did not suit the witch's internal body clock one iota. Her heart was calm as she knew the child wasn't in distress, he was merely announcing to the world that he had woken to a brand new day. She felt her lover groan and shift pulling his heated frame from hers. She heard a soft mumble before the bed creaked as he came to his feet.

"Clothes..." She lazily reminded letting out a deep yawn before turning her head toward the door. She shifted onto her stomach her hand reaching out. She registered soft fabric press into her fingers and sighed softly pulling it under the covers with her to warm it before she put it on.

Watching with sleep heavy, dilated eyes, her companion leaned down with an almost silent yawn. Hermione's eyes peeked open a little more to admire his form as he retrieved his lounge pants and tank-top, slipping them on before dragging his feet towards the door.

Rubbing his face, he pushed his hair back before pushing open the cracked door to the nursery. His heart softened when he looked down at baby struggling to stand at the bars of the crib. His bright smile filling the room with unbridled joy.

It felt like it was just yesterday they were bringing him home for the first time but already nearly two years had passed since his miraculous birth. His hair had grown wild in that time, a dark, almost black, brown that fell nearly to his shoulders when it was sorted properly. With eyes of his mother and a face of his father's. He was the perfect blend of their most striking features. He would never have dreamed of the day when he would have looked into the eyes of something more perfect than the woman who shared his bed.

The boy bounced with excitement on his wobbly legs reaching towards the man he called father. His little hands opening and closing with earnest until he was finally lifted from the crib.

Pulling him against his chest, the man allowed the squirming child kick his growing legs. He felt a hand take a fistful of hair and sighed as the boy pulled it into his exploring mouth.

"Must you?" He asked with a scowl and a raised brow. The boy just giggled and pulled it from his lips waving his trophy happily. The mock scowl disappeared instantly and he harrumphed in the back of his throat.

"I bet Mummy's hair tastes better." He said with a very Slytherin smirk on his lips, "Shall we go find out?" He raised his brow to him grinning as the boy squealed in delight.

It had taken months of coaching for the aged man to even attempt to interact with the child. Months of carefully supervised feedings and coddlings. He hadn't known the first thing about babies and the fear of becoming his father had been great.

Though as the time passed and with Hermione's gentle encouragement, the two of them had created a bond. A sort of communication all their own. His various scowls and sharp tongue had no effect on the boy's bubbly nature, he was relieved that he took after his mother in personality and found it easier to just be himself around him.