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Epilogue. Thea's Outro
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ROSES, TULIPS AND daisies wave at them as they make their way up the vibrant garden path. Thea's hair is being tugged rather hard by the excited toddler in her arms, and it takes everything within her not to wince as he giggles loudly. She huffs, and Harry knocks on the curved, blue door, and it swings open within seconds, to reveal a beaming Desmond Cindercroft, who pulls Harry into his arms and into the house, babbling excitedly about the Chudley Canons, she thinks.

"Nice to see you too, dad!" she snaps, following after them and shutting the door.

"Pa!"

"Yes, Nicholas, grandpa," she mutters, as she makes her way into the kitchen.

Her father rushes forwards, and kisses her cheek, before he takes the child in his arms. Thea allows herself to relax, and flicks on the kettle.

"I'm going to have no hair left," she mutters, pulling her hair up into a ponytail.

"I'd still fancy you," Harry grins, earning himself an eye roll as she pours out the boiling water into three mugs.

"You know," she says. "My dad likes you more than he likes me."

Harry looks at her. "What can I say?"

"Nothing. Don't say a word," she hisses, flipping him her middle finger.

"Charming, love," he muses. "Didn't you say he's got a girlfriend now?"

"Yep. She's a Muggle, I think she's called Lucia, Lucy for short. She's nice, actually. She works at the hospital."

"That's nice for him."

"Yeah. He's..." she frowns at the ground, and her stomach hurts as she carries on speaking. "...he's been missing Remus a lot, it's been getting him down. I hate how hard this must all be for him."

Harry sighs. "We're all getting through it. How are you, anyway?"

"I've never felt so sick in my life, I was nowhere near as bad as this with Nicholas." She groans, her hand going to her stomach. "But it'll be worth it. As long as you don't suggest we call her Bellatrix –"

"We're bringing this up again?"

"Harry, you asked me to name my child after Snape and Dumbledore! How could you not know that would go down like a lead balloon?"

She glares at him over her steaming tea cup as she takes a sip.

"We're never ever going to agree on those two, so we might as well just forget about them, OK?" Harry says, rather nettled.

"That's the smartest thing that's ever come out of your mouth."

Harry rolls his eyes.

"So, do you have any names in mind?"

She looks at him, her mouth pulling into a smile, and her face warms with a glow.

"I really love Clara. So then we'd have Clara Lily and Nicholas James."

She sees Harry smile. "I love it too."

Her radiant beam fills her face. "Good."

The sky is melting into a pale scattering of pink and orange when they finally reach home. They take the train, neither of them wanting to risk Apparating with Nicholas, even though Thea is finally able to do it confidently on her own. This prompted her to write to Professor McGonagall, to let her know she was right about not letting Thea take the Apparation classes. And about the baby. McGonagall had asserted that, of course she was right, and congratulations, and Thea felt a strange mix of warm and cold. Her mind had filled with the still-clear memory of those sad, caring eyes and maternal embrace that picked her broken heart up off the floor of a battlefield, and started to put it back together, even if it will never be fully healed.

It had taken Thea exactly three months, four weeks and six days after the Battle to pick up her wand. Potions became her past-time, so she was still doing magic, just not with a wand, to distract her until Harry finally got home, when she wasn't working in the Three Broomsticks for Madame Rosmerta. Thea was elated when the owner promised her the pub once she retired in a few months.

She needed a job, one she could do without magic as she learned not to hate herself every time she touched her wand, the reminder of what she was capable of. She returned to Hogwarts to take her N.E.W.Ts, and it was her determination to absolutely kick their arse that forced her into picking up that wand, and it was so much lighter, so much more comforting than she had anticipated, and she realised just then how much she had missed it, how much she had ached for the warmth of it surging through her veins.

As they enter their house, Harry holding Nicholas, she almost steps on the pale blue envelope at her feet, and stoops down best she can to pick it up.

She peels it open as she takes a seat on the sofa with Harry and her son, Nicholas starting to rip up the envelope when she puts it down, passing every small piece of paper to Harry, who takes them all with a thank you. She smiles at them.

Dear Thea,

We hope you're well! We're sorry we missed Nicholas' birthday, we'll drop him a gift and a card in next week when we're home and unpacked.

Paris is the most beautiful place, and I hate that we have to leave in two days, but this has been quite honestly the most brilliant, spectacular, amazing, wonderful experience, and I'll not forget a second of it.

We'll see you soon,

Eden and Luna x

Thea traces the small, pink heart around their names, and smiles. She picks up the moving polaroid that falls out of the card, of Luna and Eden smiling in front of the Eiffel Tower.

"It's off Eden and Luna! Aren't they so adorable, look! – Nicholas, we don't eat paper!" she exclaims, snatching the piece of envelope away from his mouth, and earning a wail from him as he hides behind Harry's side.

"Tell me why you're stealing my dad and my child?" she glares at him.

"He's my child too! You don't need to be jealous, T, you'll always be my favourite," he teases, rather loudly to be heard over the screaming child, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She huffs, but she can't prevent the smile breaking out on her face, and before she knows it, the three of them are laughing.

"Thea, I still can't believe you ate all of that chocolate," Harry says finally, "That was for all of us, you know."

"Losers," she says, sticking her tongue at them both. "Baby wanted some too," she adds, pointing to her stomach.

"Mummy, you're silly," Nicholas says, giggling at her.

Her heart bursts and she thinks she might cry as Nicholas crawls into Harry's lap, and wraps his tiny arms around his neck.

"Not as silly as you, sweetheart."

Her son turns his head to look back at her, and offers her a shy smile, which widens to a sunny beam, as his hazel eyes peer through his shock of blond curls.

"Dada, read that story again please."

"Surely you get tired of me reading you the same story again and again, Nicholas?"

"Nope. Brothers story."

"You're like your mother," Harry mutters, teaching to the side for The Tales of Beedle The Bard.

"There were once three brothers, travelling along a road, at twilight..."

She meets Harry's eyes, and the small, permanent tightness in her chest is brought to the front of her mind. They'll have a lot of heaviness to share, her and Harry, and sometimes it'll be too much, but they'll get through it. She'd get through anything with him by her side.

So maybe she'll have to try and stitch up these chasms that have been left within her. Maybe it'll take time to stop thinking about that psychological phenomenon, and perishing. Maybe she'll have to live in hourglasses for a while, and maybe she'll choke on the sand every now and then, but she realises that, maybe, she doesn't have to spring back to a perfect, pristine life, or wipe her slate clean. That wouldn't be natural.

She doesn't even want to do that.

Because, in the dark, there have been lights. Small ones, but they've been there, and they're what have gotten her this far. Two of her lights sit beside her on the couch, and another is growing within her.

And only as her bell-like laugh, rich and warm, fills the spaces of the room where she sits, with her Harry, and her Nicholas James, and her Clara Lily, she realises that she might not be alright, but she's learned to hold the light close, rather than let the darkness extinguish it.

She realises that she might not be alright, she might not ever be, but there is a small radiance that stretches from her heart all though her body, and for now,

that's enough.

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THE END
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