A/N: And we're done. This is it. The end. Forever. This story is finite-o. Thanks for hanging out with me during this long journey and for reading my silly little story. It's been fun!

A/N x 2: So almost four years later I am cleaning out my laptop and found this. I, admittedly, wrote the last chapter of this story as I was writing the body and had it sitting to help me drive the plot. Rather than leaving the story unfinished, I'll upload this and say: the story was intended to investigate a polyamourous relationship between Hermione/Sirius and Hermione/Neville/Draco, with everyone in-the-know of each other. These relationships became common, given the plague. Harry/Daphne, obviously, and Lucius remains decidedly single. Katie reconciles and ends up with the twins; Ron/Parvati, once she calms her tits. SHOCKER - Luna Lovegood ends up back in the UK after Snape develops a vaccine for pureblood women (thus opening up the country again) and her children with Charlie and Bill Weasley are the last pureblood kids in the country, which tickles Sirius and drive Lucius batty. The men create a small coven to cleanse Malfoy Manor and continue to practice magic in their coven throughout their lifetime. I think that wraps up most concerns that aren't broadly political from the fall-out of the plague. I wish I could've done story better justice, but I hope this provides any lingering readers with some resolution.

There were a number of things Lucius noted about the group of people around the Manor's dining room table. They were all dressed for Yule dinner, they were all talking pleasantly about their year, and they were all smiling.

Most importantly, they were all family.

Lucius had thought his heart would explode when Draco first placed Scorpius in his arms eighteen years ago. Since then—whether from the family Hermione had insisted on building or from the pull of the coven the men had built—Lucius had fallen in love over and over again with the various children she had born: Mira to a besotted Sirius, Nicholas to an awe-struck Neville, Lily to an overwhelmed Harry and teary-eyed Daphne.

When little Leo had come along, it had been a toss-up as to who the father was; Hermione had requested they not concern themselves with paternity, wanting to—for once—have some surprise in her life. They had agreed, but there had been no question when Leo emerged with the white-blond Malfoy hair. Neville had grinned ear-to-ear when he and Draco brought forth the babe.

"He may not be a Longbottom, but I'll make a Gryffindor of him yet!" the wizard announced.

Eleven years later, Leo had, in fact, been the first Malfoy in family history to be Sorted into Gryffindor; the night of September 1st that year saw Draco and Neville pissed at the Leaky as they commiserated and celebrated, respectively.

Lucius had thought, upon Leo's birth, that he could not be happier.

But the Yule after Leo's birth, Hermione had gifted him a small-batch whisky from a favored distiller and requested to join him for the first drink.

He had been sitting amicably with her in his study, sipping the amber liquid, when she had jolted him out of his pleasant complacency.

"I'd like my next pregnancy to be conceived in ritual," she said matter-of-factly.

"Neville will be thrilled," Lucius remarked. "Children conceived in ritual are magically powerful."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I've been reading everything I can get my hands on regarding ritual magic. It's a new venue of study I'm taking in my Runes research. But I was hoping that you would be the father."

Lucius paused for a moment. He had not expected that, though perhaps he should have.

"Hermione, there is no rush for me. Harry and Sirius both still need male heirs, and I know Neville is looking forward to another. We have time."

She shook her head. "No, Lucius, we don't. This next pregnancy will be my last until the ten-year mark. I have a few projects in the pipeline that I want to devote time to, and I would like to do so without an infant underfoot. I've spoken with Neville, and he agrees that I'm due a break. Harry and Sirius will understand." She placed her hand on his. "But more than any of that, Lucius, I want you happy. I want to see your face when Becca hands you a son or daughter—to see you light up like you did when Draco handed you Leo. Let me give you this."

That year, almost a decade after Bill Weasley first suggested it, the coven gathered for the traditional spring equinox celebration. The ritual precluded any Polyjuice or glamours, which was unfortunate, but had allowed for the use of a mild lust potion. Lucius requested both he and Hermione take some, as he had no desire to prolong the act, particularly in front of three of her lovers.

Given the fertility potions she was already on and the power of the ritual, no one was surprised when, just under nine months later, Hermione gave birth to Caelum John and Camellia Jean Malfoy. She had named the twins in honor of Narcissa's family practices: a constellation name for Caelum, and a flower for Camellia.

The two of them never spoke of the silent tears he cried with Camellia in his arms when Hermione explained her reasons behind the children's names.

To show his gratitude, he gave the children their middle names in honor of Hermione's parents.

Caelum, surprise of surprises, had taken after his mother's coloring—light brown hair and hazel eyes—but was in all other ways a miniature Lucius. He was a cunning child, and held his family—especially his twin—above all else.

Camellia—Lucius refused to call her by the silly family nickname, Cami—was his heart. He was grateful he'd had so many years to prepare for a daughter; his first instinct with her had been to lock her away in a tower where she would always remain his little princess. She had the coloring of a Malfoy, but her mother's head of curls, and she had all the men in her life wrapped around her dainty little finger.

But Camellia was no less cunning than Caelum. That she didn't use her powers for evil—only extra desserts at dinner and stories at bedtime—made Lucius briefly wonder if she'd be sorted into Hufflepuff.

His fears had been assuaged this past fall, when the twins both ended up in Slytherin.

After a three-year reprieve, Hermione bore three more children: Regulus Alphard to Sirius, James Remus to Harry and Daphne, and finally little August Franklin to Neville.

After ten children, even the restorative potions couldn't hid the effects of motherhood on Hermione. She was rounder—though she never achieved Molly Weasley girth. Her chest was full, though it had been years since she'd breastfed a baby. Her hips had spread wide, though that seemed to simply encourage Sirius to reach for her backside more often. She looked all of her 37 years, with hints of laugh lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes.

Lucius caught her eye across the table, and she smiled fondly at him. He recognized a mischievous twinkle, one he knew well from his own daughter. Hermione put down her pudding spoon, cleared her throat, and stood.

"We have an announcement to make," she said, smiling, as she took a grinning Sirius's hand in her own. He kissed her palm and shot a grin to Mira, who rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"I'm pregnant."

A/N: To be fair, I always knew this was how this was going to end. After all, this final child is special—it's the first that Hermione gets to have out of choice, rather than as dictated by the Procreation Law. (Even worse if you hate this ending? In my initial ending, when I thought Hermione might end up with Draco and Neville without Sirius, this pregnancy results in "bipaternal" twins, with Draco and Neville each fathering one of the twins. But I'm certainly not going to write that chapter. This is THE END.)