the lucky one

epilogue

Miranda heaves an exhausted sigh, leaning back against her husband, who gently kisses the nape of her neck, and presses another to her cheek. Her lips crinkle upwards at the face she knows better then her own, head nestled into his chest.

He wraps his arms around her, eyes sleepy but filled with evident adoration. Miranda McGonagall is still as beautiful as the day he met her, all golden hair and blushing cheeks. Harry has practically memorized the sequence of freckles across her nose, and yet he has never tired of gazing at her. He doesn't think he ever will. And certainly not here, her irises lit by the warm glow of the fire flickering in the hearth, curls falling like a curtain over her ear.

"I finally got Junie and James down," murmurs Miranda. "They're so excited for Santa, they told me they wanted to stay up all night."

Harry yawns widely, absentmindedly playing with the ends of her hair. "What time is everyone coming over tomorrow?" he asks fondly.

"9:00," she answers, mind already turning at the thought of the schedule she's planned out painstaking earlier that day. "We'll open presents at 10:00, and Evelyn and Sirius are bringing Teddy over for our late lunch at 4, and the rest of the lot's coming then too."

Harry grins in his very particular Potter way that still manages to fill Miranda's stomach will a million butterflies. "It's amazing how sexy I still find it when you slip in and out of your American accent," he notes.

Miranda shakes her head, smiling, "Haven't I earned my Brit badge yet?"

"Not until you start drinking tea love." Harry teases, poking her cheek.

"Never," she whispers back, pulling him in for a kiss. "Oh," she remembers with a sudden start, sitting upright, "make sure to put all the breakables high up. Mateo says Ethan and Evie are still in that phase where they're grabbing everything, and you just know Nessa and them are bound to get into trouble."

Harry with a petulant pout, pulls her back into his side. "Rosie will keep them in check," he reassures with a chuckle. "Hermione's blood runs strong in that one."

"We finally got everything we dreamed of," Miranda reminisces dreamily. Though their years of fighting have weighed on both her and Harry, forcing them to grow up faster than typical, she is still barely twenty five. She's still a young woman, with girlish hopes and wishes. "Our warm house full of love, full of our kids and our friends."

"I want another one," Harry states suddenly.

"Sorry?" Miranda chokes on her tongue, eyes wide. She must have heard him wrong.

"I would like another one," repeats Harry, kissing her.

"You're mad," Miranda is aghast. "Harry we have three toddlers, we can't possibly-"

Harry cuts her off with another kiss, looking at her with his trademark puppy dog eyes, "Please Mandy, look how good the other ones turned out." Vanessa's cry resounds through the house.

Miranda shuts her eyes, pressing a finger to her temple as she moves to get up, but Harry stops her in her tracks, "I'll get her."

"No, Harry," protests Miranda. He's just as tired as she is. "I'll--"

"Sleep, Mandy," Harry commands with a stern raise of his eyebrow. "I've got it." He tucks a blanket around her and pecks her gently on the lips, "I love you."

"I love you more."

"Mummy! Mummy! Daddy! Daddy!" Juniper and James run into their parents room on Christmas morning and jump up and down on the bed like tiny, raven haired jack in the boxes. "Wake up! Wake up! It's Christmas!"