Epilogue - 3

"See, that's the shed where your grandmother keeps all your uncles' old brooms. Your mum used to nick them when they weren't looking," he told James as they walked past the shed behind the Burrow.

The baby was far more interested in chewing on the collar of Harry's shirt, but Harry really didn't mind. His son had the same bright green eyes as he did, but his untidy mop of hair was rust-colored rather than either red or black. Harry liked to say he was the perfect mixture of both parents.

He ran the pad of his thumb over his son's soft cheek, marveling at how someone so small could have him so completely wrapped around such a tiny little finger. It had been that way from the moment James had arrived in the world.

"Harry!" Bill called, trotting to catch up to him. Bill carried his giggling, now three-year-old son, Claude, on his shoulders. Fleur was due to give birth to their second child any day.

Hermione swore it would be just like Fleur to deliver on Hermione's wedding day, but Fleur was still the picture of calm serenity. Harry fondly remembered Ginny's pregnancy and how the two of them had been so overwhelmed by each new development, however small. Perhaps having a second one was easier since you had experience behind you?

"Mum said you were out here with James. The tension in that kitchen is unreal," Bill said, slowing his pace to walk with Harry.

"Hey, Bill. Hey, Claude," Harry said, reaching up to ruffle his nephew's hair.

His nephew.

He had a nephew – two of them, actually. The fact he was part of a big and loving family still amazed him sometimes.

"Bonjour, Unca Harry," Claude said, beaming.

"It's still rough in there, huh?" Harry asked, jerking his head toward the house.

"Hermione is having a meltdown because George told her he forgot to arrange coverage for the shop tomorrow, so he has to work. Of course, everyone knows he's just taking the mickey out of her, but Hermione had the screaming abdabs, anyway," Bill said, shaking his head.

"She's just nervous," Harry replied.

"Yeah. You'd know something about that, eh, mate?" Bill asked, gently knocking Harry's shoulder with his own.

Harry grinned sheepishly. He'd been a basket case before his own wedding. He'd been convinced right up until the moment he spoke his vows that something would happen to snatch it all away.

"Hermione doesn't like when she can't control everything. Despite knowing exactly what's going to happen tomorrow, it's never happened to her, so she's nervous. She'll pull it together, she always does," Harry said fondly.

"How's Ron?" Bill asked. "I haven't seen him."

"Fred and Charlie took him out to get a pint, hence the reason there are so many witches in there," Harry replied.

"And George," said Bill. "He's the sole male presence in the kitchen, and even he is looking rather overwhelmed."

"George is in charge of Loki, and I've got James, so we couldn't go to the pub. Charlie said it was only bachelor blokes allowed, anyway," Harry said, chuckling. It took a lot to overwhelm either George or Fred, so Harry was just as happy to be outside with James.

George and Shannon had been married right around the same time as Harry and Ginny, and their son, Loki was just over a year old. Fred and Iris were still together, but it was a constant on-again, off-again kind of relationship. Charlie usually arrived for family functions with a beautiful witch on his arm – but it was generally a different witch each time. It drove Mrs. Weasley spare.