Once upon a time, there was a boy.

Now, this might not surprise you, because there have been many boys in the world, all of which started their lives at 'once upon a time.'

However, this boy happened to be very special. Not special in the way your first-born child is, nor special in a way that requires large doses of medication and a quiet, padded room. No, he was special because a spectacularly egotistical madman who chose the rather unusual moniker 'Lord Voldemort' went out of his way to mark this poor boy for death. This, of course, did not sit well with his parents or their friends, and so they went out of their way to protect this boy. Unfortunately [as many of these things turn out], it was of no use. The boy's parents were murdered, and the child, barely a year into his life, was shunted off to a household where he would spend the next ten years being treated rather shabbily. As luck would have it, the boy- Harry- turned out to be a rather nice child, as far as young boys go.

One day, this skinny lad received a letter, which he was not allowed to keep. And another, and another, and another, until his uncle, who was quite corpulent and purple with rage, dragged him to some remote island in the Isles and held him there until an even more corpulent- but not nearly as angry- man came and scooped him up. With one swish of a pink umbrella and a psychologically scarred cousin behind him, young Harry Potter started off on the adventure of a lifetime.

You, however, know all this, and I will not attempt to lump together seven years of events in a few paragraphs. Suffice it to say that aforementioned megalomaniac, Lord Voldemort, made it a habit of trying to off poor Potter, who would have much preferred to spend his days with his two best friends; a fire-haired boy named Ron, who, despite being rather thick at times and was in occasional need of anger management, was generally kind and loyal, and a bushy-haired girl with more brains than you could find in the Department of Mysteries and a penchant for bossiness. Harry was content with his two best friends, his superb Quidditch team, and attending Hogwarts and filling his brain with magical knowledge.

Seven long years at Hogwarts taught Harry- who is now a man- quite a few things. Most of them are basic steps for magical folk- how to fly a broom, how to do a proper Lumos charm- things of that nature. However, because Harry spent a good portion of those seven years dodging death and things along those lines, he and his friends had a few more lessons, the culmination of which are the following:

1. If one class goes through a professor a year, there may be something fishy going on.

2. Books that talk to you are generally not good for one's health.

3. Werewolves can be quite pleasant, unless they're actually in full transformation.

4. The Ministry couldn't find their bottoms from a hole in the ground.

5. The Hero business is highly over-rated.

6. People who go looking to be heroes tend to end up in rather bad predicaments, such as sudden death or loss of limb.

7. Most heroes wind up dead.

With these seven rules in mind, our three heroes- and now their friends and respective spouses- have come across The Golden Rule for People Whose Lives Are In Perpetual Danger:


Eternal Glory is for Suckers. With a capital S.

Now, that isn't to say that Harry and his best friends- Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger- aren't heroes. They are, of course, and as much as they loathe the title, it's stuck on them. The main difference between them and other heroes is that they didn't want the title. What they wanted was a little peace and quiet.

Voldemort was defeated- because, after all, that's what heroes do best, defeat the bad guys- and there was much rejoicing in the Wizarding World. The Trio, as they are known, had survived with relatively little physical damage- at least as far as the public knew- although Ron spent a few months at the bottom of a bottle before Harry threatened to hex him to an ancient Mayan civilisation. What surprised many people is how quickly they retreated.

Harry, for his part, made it VERY clear that he was over and done with the hero business. Now, this may sound strange to you, but when you consider that Harry, Hermione and Ron had been at the 'saving people from Mortal Peril' industry since Harry and Ron were eleven and Hermione was twelve, eighteen seems like the right age to retire. After all, once you've saved the world, everything else is going to be small turnips, now isn't it?

So our story beings a few years later, when all praise and rejoicing has died down. Harry is happily retired, married and living off the fortune his parents left him and the money he received as a reward from the Ministry. Ron has been partners with one Draco Malfoy- stop fussing, his story will be explained- since halfway through his eighteenth year. They are raising two children, war orphans, together.

Hermione, for her part, got married when she was eighteen to one very famous International Quidditch Star from Bulgaria, the first of the war-time weddings. To everyone's surprise- but her friends- the marriage has flourished. She has been in recovery from severe injuries sustained during the War, and hopes to return to work soon. Viktor is planning his comeback as a Star Seeker.

There are others involved, of course, and their stories will be told as well. For now, we shall start from a new 'once upon a time', a time where everything finally seemed to be returning to normal after years of chaos and mayhem.

It all started one beautiful October afternoon; Harry Potter was sitting on the porch of Hermione Krum's house, having a cup of tea, when a letter arrived.

---

A/N: The entire story will not be told in this fashion- I just wanted a more humorous way to bring everyone up to speed.

There was nothing quite as refreshing as a cup of Irish Breakfast on a cool fall afternoon.

Harry rocked gently in Hermione's swinging chair, watching Clara and Fritz run around the Krum residence. Hermione was napping in her spare room; Malfoy and Ron were both at work, Viktor was attending to paperwork in his and Hermione's den, and Harry knew that his wife would be returning soon.

Surely, life could get no better than this.

Such was Harry's mind-set when the post arrived. Hedwig circled down towards him, hooting softly. Harry continued to sip his tea, enjoying the sheer laziness of the day. He could check his mail later.

'Harry?'

Hermione padded out onto her porch, slippers gently thudding on the creaky wooden planks as she settled into a comfortable chair across from Harry.

'Hey, Hermione,' said Harry, putting his tea down. 'Feeling better?'

'Much,' she said. 'Viktor rubbed some potions onto my legs, and they're not cramping nearly as badly anymore.'

Harry sighed; Hermione was still recovering from over a year's worth of physical injuries sustained during the War. She still occasionally suffered fits of agony, when her nerves would seem to catch on fire and she'd have to drink sleeping elixirs.

The War was won, but it never seemed to let go.

'Oh, get over it, Harry,' groaned Hermione, propping her feet up on a small bench. She was still always able to read what was on his mind. 'I'm recovering nicely. I should be able to go back to work.'

'You're the only person I know who looks forward to work,' Harry commented, watching Clara beat Fritz over the head with a rubber wand her uncle George had given her.

'She really is Malfoy's daughter,' Hermione mused. Harry laughed and nodded, letting his mind wander back to their first days at Fawkes Court.

It had been decided, after the War first ended, that Harry, his then girlfriend Susan, Hermione and her husband, Viktor, Ron, and Draco would find a nice, quiet, non-Dark Lord infested area to settle down to. With Hermione's injuries as severe as they were, the boys all went into over-drive, but it was Susan who eventually discovered Fawkes Court.

It was not nostalgia or any old ties to the past that lured them to Fawkes Court. What attracted them was the fact that it was in a remote part of Wales, the Death Eaters were few and far away, and best of all, no-one had a clue as to who they were. As far as the locals were concerned, they were a bunch of odd but good-natured neighbours who preferred to keep to themselves. Besides a few incidents where Viktor accidentally switched the 'a' in Fawkes to a 'u' sound, the group as a whole were well-liked and respected by the other towns-folk.

It was peaceful at Fawkes Court, which lay at the northern-most tip of their little village. Viktor and Hermione had a lovely old Victorian home, Ron and Draco had redecorated their house, and Harry and Susan were quite happy in their large cottage. The perfect ending to an imperfect beginning.

Of course, Harry should have known that things never ended that easily for the Boy-Who-Lived and his friends. No, life never handed him those kind of breaks.

---

'Susan?'

'Hey!' Susan Potter, formerly known as Susan Bones, tottered into her house, laden with groceries and wobbling in her high-heels.

'How can you stand to wear those things?' Harry asked, pointing at the pair of rather dangerous looking stilettos.

'They make my legs look nice,' Susan said, breezing by him after setting down the bags of food.

'They look plenty nice without them,' Harry offered, grinning.

'Nice try, Potter,' smirked Susan, looking over her shoulder as she moved to the cupboard and started rifling through its contents.

'Nice try?'

Susan turned to look at him, fists on hips and stilettos tapping a dangerous tattoo on the floor. Harry paled. It wasn't their anniversary- that wasn't until... oh... bloody hell... April! Their anniversary wasn't until April! Right?

'We're having everyone over for supper. You have to make the mash.'

Harry let out a breath of relief. 'Right,' he said, smiling. 'Mash. Let me go get some milk.'

'Has the post come in yet?' Susan asked, her voice muffled as she dug deeper and deeper into the eternal abyss that was their food pantry.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Haven't opened it yet. After supper?'

---

Harry had just finished putting out the silverware as the first knock came from the door. Harry trotted towards the door, one hand shoved into his trouser pockets. Constant vigilance.

'Who's there?' he called out from behind a rather tattered looking umbrella stand.

'The Ghost of Voldemort, Potter,' came a rather snide voice. 'And Auntie Bellatrix as well. We were hoping for some buttered scones, have any?'

'Good to see you too, Malfoy,' sighed Harry, opening the door. Draco stepped in, clothing immaculate, smirk fixed in its permanent position, and hair in disarray, mussed by his daughter Clara.

'Uncle Harry!' shouted Clara, clutching Harry's knees. 'I missded you!'

'I missed you too, Clara,' chuckled Harry, patting her on the head. He looked up at Malfoy. 'Where's your better half?'

'FRITZ EMRYS MALFOY-WEASLEY! You take that out of your mouth THIS INSTANT!'

A very sheepish looking, sandy-haired boy of five wandered into Harry's hallway, his chin covered in bits of leaves and petals. At his heels was a very tall, very freckled, and fairly annoyed Ron Weasley, his hair mussed from pulling out patches with his own hands.

'Nice to see you too, Ron,' said Harry blandly, raising an eyebrow. He looked over at Fritz, who blushed and scurried into the kitchen.

'Is Auntie Herm-my-me here?' he asked Susan.

'Not yet, Fritz,' said Susan from in front of the stove. Harry heard her stop and sniff. 'Fritz? Have you been eating the dandelions again?' There was a heavy sigh, and a resigned Yes, Auntie Susan.

'They've been insane, the both of them,' grumbled Ron, taking his jumper off. 'First Clara managed to spill marmalade ALL over the bathroom floor, then I find her covered in jam and running through our room, then Fritz decides to go and fall into the pond- I'm going to have to find our own Giant Squid and install in there, I swear to God- and now, Clara has decided her name is 'Princess Pink' and won't respond to anything else, and Fritz has decided that dandelions are culinary delights. I'm going to go mad.'

'Fritz must get his taste from you,' said Draco, wrinkling his nose.

'And Princess Pink got her title from you,' Ron shot back, before stooping to buss Draco on the cheek. 'Long day at work?'

'The idiots must have spawned like mad during our generation,' Draco grumped, slipping his shoes off. 'Everywhere I turn, it's a 'what should I do about this, Mister Malfoy?' or 'shall I run this off to the printer then, Mister Malfoy?' I swear, they'll be asking me how to wipe their bottoms before the end of the year.'

'And on that pleasant note, we're having mash and roast beef for supper,' said Harry, ushering Clara in. They all turned to walk to the drawing room, Harry chuckling over Ron and Draco's fervent arguments over who was going to sleep in the jam spot that night.

'Good one, Harry!' rang a female voice. 'Just leave the doors wide open for the bad guys, why don't you?'

'Food's up!' shouted Harry. 'Did you bring Viktor with you?'

'As if I vould haff had a choice,' came the deeper voice of Hermione's husband. 'Hermione vould haff had my head if I had not come back on time for food. Plus, Susan said you vere making mash?'

'Yeah,' said Harry, poking head around the corner. 'Come and get a seat, we're ready to go.'

Hermione and Viktor hurried into the drawing room, sitting between Draco and Harry. 'Are Neville and Padma coming?' asked Hermione as she settled in.

'Not tonight, unfortunately,' said Susan, bringing in a huge platter of beef. 'Neville popped into the tavern for lunch; Padma's got some sort of business meeting.'

'Poor woman,' muttered Draco, tucking Fritz's napkin into his shirt. Ron brushed a stray dandelion petal off of Fritz's chin and pulled Clara's wild red curls into a bun.

'Gentlemen!' said Susan loudly, standing next to Harry. 'Prepare to eat!'

'More like inhale,' said Draco snidely, shooting a look at Ron. Ron muttered something about jam spots and sleeping on the couch. Viktor merely chuckled.

'Pass the gravy, please,' he said politely. Clara managed to pour the entire contents of the gravy boat into Draco's lap, and thus dinner was served.

---

The adults gathered around Harry's fireplace, warning their feet and winding down their day. Ron and Draco were bickering good-naturedly, Hermione was getting a foot massage from Viktor, and Susan was safely ensconced in Harry's lap, her cheek on his forehead.

'Anything exciting happen at work today, Bones?' asked Draco.

'Nothing spectacular, unless you count Hannah Abbott getting drunk and setting fire to Ernie MacMillian's trousers,' Susan said, shrugging.

'Accident?' questioned Hermione, lolling on the couch.

'That's what she said,' answered Susan, winking. They shared a good laugh, fueled by too much food and just enough hot toddies.

'Thank goodness tomorrow is Saturday,' said Susan. 'I'll be glad for a day off.' She suddenly frowned, her lips twisting in a grimace.

'What is it, Susan?' asked Harry.

'I just remembered,' she said sourly, looking at the fire. 'Ginevra came in.'

There was a moment of awkward silence. Ron's face turned a bit dark at the mention of his estranged sister. Draco appeared to be composed, but he glanced at Ron out of the corner of his eyes.

'Did she have anything to say?' asked Hermione sharply, swinging her legs onto the floor. Susan's eyes flickered over to the children playing happily in the corner, oblivious to the grown-ups around them.

'Fritz! Clara!' said Susan. 'I have some treacle tart on the counter. Why don't you two go have a piece or two?' The children scrambled to their feet and ran happily back into the kitchen, thoughts of sugar running through their minds. Susan sighed and wrapped an arm around Harry's neck.

'Mostly the usual,' she said resignedly, 'but a little more... acidly... this time.'

'What was it this time?' asked Ron darkly. 'I'm a traitor, or am I just a great big poof?'

'Both,' admitted Susan. She hated saying any of this to Ron, who she cared for deeply, and she knew it hurt both Ron and Draco, who had both gone to the ends of the Earth to make certain members of the Weasley clan understand and accept their relationship. Molly, Percy, and Ginny had not taken it very well, and thus Ginny was now Ginevra, who regularly haunted Susan's tavern to loudly and bitterly complain about her 'ex-brother, Ronald.' When it became known that Ron and Draco were raising two children together, the complaints had gotten even more personal, but Susan had stopped herself from mentioning them to Ron and Draco. Until now.

'What else was there?' asked Draco cagily, putting a hand on Ron's arm. Susan sighed and covered her eyes.

'That two of the biggest, most irresponsible twits in all the Kingdom were corrupting two innocent souls. And that maybe Clara and Fritz should be taken away, and she was going to speak to someone about it.'

Silence rang like a battered bell. Hermione's hands clenched into fists, and Viktor's face turned dark. Harry just bit his lip to contain the profanities that begged to be let loose. Draco and Ron fought like cats and dogs, and in truth, neither man had ever spoken on why Ron had chosen to trust Draco when he stumbled into a make-shift Order headquarters, or why the two had fallen in love. All anyone knew was that somewhere during the course of the war, the two unlikely allies had turned into two unlikely lovers, and they worked. They fought constantly, snapped insults and rude remarks across a room, were madly in love and partnered for life, raising two well-adjusted children together as well as any Molly Weasley could ever hope.

The silence lingered for a long while.

---

Viktor helped Hermione into her coat, watching Ron and Draco converse in a darkened corner of the hall. Even with the poor lighting, Viktor could see that the normal sneer was absent from Draco's face. Ron looked torn between anger and misery, and Draco held Ron's hands in his own, talking to him quietly. Ron merely nodded.

'I'm going to go home,' he said, rather un-necessarily, as he was back in his jumper.

'I'll be there in a few minutes,' said Draco. He leant up to give Ron a kiss. Ron stomped out the door.

'Father, is there something wrong with Daddy?' It was Fritz, hands wrapped around Hermione's fingers and worried eyes following his daddy as Ron slumped his way to their house next door.

'Daddy's going to be fine.' Draco picked up Clara and took Fritz's hand. 'Granger, are you sure you can watch these two hellions tomorrow?'

'It's not like I have a social-life to keep up with, Malfoy,' she said dryly. 'Eight?'

'Ten,' said Malfoy. 'I have a meeting at seven, but Weasley isn't due in until ten-thirty.' With a nod, Draco left the house.

Hand-in-hand, Viktor and Hermione walked towards their own house, silently pondering Ginny Weasley's words.

'Vould she be so cruel as to do that?' asked Viktor after a while. Hermione looked up at her husband, who was staring flatly into the distance.

'Honestly? Right now, I wouldn't put it past her,' said Hermione softly, squeezing Viktor's hand. 'She's still sore over Harry and Susan getting married a few months ago. I mean, we've all gotten married.'

'And I am so very glad I married you,' said Viktor, a rare, warm smile crossing his face as he looked down at Hermione.

'Has it really been six years?' asked Hermione rhetorically. 'It still seems like yesterday.' Viktor continued to smile. 'But, yes, Ginny might do that,' she continued. 'Ron was her favourite brother, and he ran off with Draco. Then Harry, who left her, wound up with Susan. She blamed me for not stopping Harry or Ron.'

'Is she angry because Ron is vith a man, or because he is vith Malfoy?'

'I'm not sure,' she said. 'Molly knows that Ron fancies men and women, but she hasn't been able to grasp that he and Draco are in it for keeps. She always expected Ron to end up with me. And then one day she gets a letter: I've gotten married. Then Harry falls in love with Susan Bones. And then, of all things, Ron ends up with Draco. All her expectations were ruined.'

'Do you ever regret it?' asked Viktor as they walked up the stairs to their door.

'What, stepping aside when Harry went after Susan, or not stopping Ron and Malfoy? No, of course not. I love Molly, I really do, but Ron and Harry were my life. They're still a very big part of it. And it was war. They deserved to be happy. I still don't understand how Malfoy makes Ron happy, but he does. I honestly can't see them with anyone but each other. And Harry and Susan fit like two puzzle pieces.'

'That is not vot I meant, Hermione,' said Viktor. He took great pleasure in the fact that he could pronounce Hermione's name correctly now, and said it whenever possible. 'I mean, do you regret getting married to me?'

'What? Don't be stupid, Viktor, it doesn't become you,' Hermione said, opening their door. 'I meant what I said when we took our vows, and I mean them now. I love you. I love you a lot. You're the only man I've ever been with, the only one I want to be with, and the only one I'll ever be with.

Viktor slid into their doorway, keeping the door open so Hermione could enter. 'I am sorry, Hermione,' he said. 'I know you do not like these questions. But, I vill alvays vonder...' Hermione sighed. Who knew a world-class, first-rate, world-famous war veteran and International Quidditch Star could be so worrisome?

Viktor chuckled, looking at her consternated face, and swept her into a bruising kiss. 'I am just being silly, Hermione,' he smiled. 'I know you love me, but not as much as I love you.'

'Not this game again,' Hermione groaned, pouting at him. She paused. 'I love you more.'

Viktor laughed. She could never resist the chance to one-up him in their extremely cheesy game.

Hermione yawned. 'I don't know about you, Mister Krum, but I'm going to have two very rambunctious children here at ten tomorrow. And if I recall correctly, you and Ron have a meeting at the Sports department tomorrow. I suggest we go to bed.'

'Only if you're in it,' said Viktor slyly. Hermione rolled her eyes. They trudged up the stairs together and slid into bed, Viktor eventually lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of Hermione's heartbeats.

---

'Oh, the mail,' said Harry as he finished up the dishes. 'Susan! I left the post in the washroom, can you get it?'

'The washroom?' she asked, looking up from her comfortable seat in the sitting room. 'Why on earth- never mind, I have the feeling I'd rather not know.' She forced herself out of her chair and gathered the mail from the sink's edge. Walking towards the kitchen, she flipped through the parchment. Bills, notices, invitations- more fan mail for Harry. Wonderful, she had more starter parchment for the fireplace. The last parchment, however, caught her glance. Addressed to Harry and Susan both, there was no name from its sender. She unrolled the parchment, glanced over it once, and sprinted for the kitchen.

'Harry! Harry!'

Harry turned around to see Susan running towards him, letters tumbling towards the ground. She shoved the parchment at him. He scanned it, then grabbed Susan without a word and made for the door.

---

KNOCK! KNOCK KNOCK!

'What on earth?' mumbled Hermione, waking from a deep sleep.

'I don't know,' said Viktor, 'but only Ron knocks like that.' Groggily, they both made their way down the stairs. They opened the door to find a whey-faced Ron and an angry-looking Harry.

'What's wrong?' asked Hermione fearfully. From behind Harry and Ron, she could see a rather frightened-looking Draco, a worried Susan, and two sleepy children.

'It's Luna,' said Harry, holding out a piece of parchment.

'She's been kidnapped.'