I would like first to wish a happy 3rd birthday to my baby…my pride and joy…to "Mine"! Three years of this saga and it still continues! I seriously cannot believe I started this "what if" fic three years ago. I had no idea how it would be taken or how long it would go on. I want to say thank you to everyone who follows the journey and for all your kind words over the last three years!

I'll continue with more "Mea Culpa" in the next couple of days, but I just had to pump out a chapter of Mine to commemorate this day! On to Chapter 48 ?

"It is hard to really think about the future. But I do anyway. And I like what I see."

Hermione chuckled. "Using your inner eye, are you?"

"Oi!"

"Tell me, Ronald Weasley, what do you see in your future?"

"You."

She stopped laughing and gazed up at him. It took her a while to find her voice, but she finally cleared her throat and said, "Tell me more."

"Alright," Ron settled further back against the pillows and brought Hermione's hand to his lips to kiss it before putting it down. He then rubbed both of his hands against his temples dramatically.

"Alright, let's see...there's us...a lot of cuddling and kissing–no, snogging really." He grinned at her as she shook her head with a huff. "You're well on your way to being the bleeding Minister of Magic, I'm a senior auror–probably not head auror or nothing...I'll save that for Harry Sodding Potter. Otherwise...I see lots of warm days together outside, cold evenings in front of the fire, both followed by snogging and...oh...shagging." Hermione snorted. "Date nights in Muggle London, shagging, weekends in Paris, shagging...blimey, more shagging…there's some...small people running around with curly red hair–not sure what that's about," he shrugged and Hermione laughed again. "Oh, Merlin, more shagging!" He dropped his hands and turned to her with a serious expression. "Hermione, you seem to want to shag all the time."

"Me?!" Hermione guffawed. "I'm sure that's you, Ron!"

"You don't seem to be complaining," he whispered as he placed a kiss on her temple.

Hermione sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder, their bodies close on the small hospital wing cot. "Well," she started, "we all know that so much shagging can usually lead to those 'small people with curly red hair' that you mentioned."

Ron nodded with a chuckle. "Yeah, I was there for that really awkward class last year."

"Is…that what you want?" Hermione asked. "One day?"

"I mean…it's not something I think about a lot at sixteen."

"Seventeen," Hermione reminded him.

He laughed. "How could I forget? Seventeen."

"Seeing as how you spent the majority of your birthday…well, never mind. But, yes, it's still young for us to think of such things." She shook her head. "Forget I said anything."

Ron eased down into the bed and turned to lay on his side. Once Hermione had followed his lead and was comfortably facing him, he smiled shyly at her. "I said it's not something I think about a lot…not that I've never thought about it."

"You…have?"

Ron nodded. "I've thought about how cute you'd look carrying my child," his fingers rested on Hermione's belly, over her robes. "I've thought about how our kids would look. What they would like. How much of me and you they would have."

Hermione attempted to blink away her tears, but one leaked out anyway. Ron deftly swiped it away. "I have to," she whispered. "And I'm looking forward to those days."

"Me, too."

Hermione pulled her traveling cloak closer to her body and pulled her wand out, strengthening the warming charm she'd cast around her. The snow was falling over the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, and the view from the back porch of her parents' new cottage was perfect. It was Christmas Eve and she couldn't think of a better way to spend it.

The door behind her opened and shut and soft footsteps followed. Hermione didn't have to turn to know that her mother was joining her.

"Aren't you cold, my dear?"

"Not too cold," Hermione scooted over on the wide cushioned bench and patted the empty space beside her. "Come sit." She smiled as her mum stepped into the perimeter of the warming charm and sat.

"Oh! Oh, well that's just lovely. Remind me that you can do that next time we're out, will you?"

Hermione laughed. "Will do, Mum."

"What are you thinking about out here?" Jean asked. When Hermione glanced at her she said, "You just look very contemplative."

"I was thinking about a conversation Ron and I once had a couple of years ago…about," she hesitated, biting her lip. "About our future and…children."

Jean nodded with an inquisitive hum. "And…is that something that you think will happen soon?" When Hermione didn't answer, she went on. "Because I know that you and Ron are married and I could not have chosen anyone better for you. He is lovely and so is his entire family. And I will be the happiest grandmother when the time comes…but I do hope you both plan to wait just a bit. At least to finish school right? Unless you're already—"

"I can't have children, Mum."

Jean sucked in a breath, her eyes wide as she stared straight ahead. After a moment, she turned in her seat to face Hermione, her hand cupping Hermione's cheek and turning her to face her. "You're certain?"

Hermione nodded, tears now leaking from her eyes. "I've been to the healer and am under the care of a specialty healer now. It could possibly happen for me one day, and if it does it could be really hard…but…I might not ever…"

"Oh, love." Jean pulled Hermione into her arms as they cried together. Hermione was tired of crying over this but knew that it was inevitable once she drew up the courage to tell her mother. Somehow, this was ten times harder than telling Molly. Molly Weasley was not her mum, even if she was as good as. Molly Weasley had six other chances to be a grandmother. Molly Weasley understood the magnitude of the spell Hermione had been hit with.

Jean Granger was her mum and thus had spent all of Hermione's life coming up with her hopes and dreams for her daughter. Her only daughter.

Jean Granger had no other chances to be a grandmother—she had only been given one chance to be a mother.

And Jean Granger, though learning as much as she could about the magical world her daughter was submersed in, would never understand all that Hermione faced. And they both knew that.

"How long have you known?" Jean asked Hermione. They released each other and sat back on the bench, but Jean kept her arm around Hermione's shoulders. Hermione thought she needed that sense of connection.

"Since, well, since the summer."

Her mum nodded. "I had the feeling there was something…I just couldn't—well I thought maybe it was nerves from being a newlywed or going back to school. Or just whatever you were going through after…"

Hermione gave her a small smile, excusing her from saying the words. The war. It was still a bit of a sore subject with her parents—the war their daughter had fought in, had been injured and tortured during.

The war she'd protected them from.

"So…it happened…then?"

Hermione nodded. "I told you about the torture…Bellatrix Lestrange."

Jean took a deep breath in through her nose and her fist clenched. Hermione was surprised to see the anger in her mother's eyes.

"She's gone," Hermione reminded her.

Jean huffed. "And a good thing too. Hermione, if I wasn't a muggle…I'm just grateful that Molly could do what I couldn't."

When they'd told their parents the whole story, Hermione's mum was ready to go to Azkaban herself to see this witch who hurt her daughter. It was Molly who told Jean that Bellatrix was dead—having met with the end of Molly's wand.

After several moments, her mother seemed to have calmed down. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Hermione shrugged. "Honestly, there was so much going on. I've still been processing this information myself, even over the last six months. I go through phases where I don't even want to think about it, let alone talk about it." She sighed. "But I knew I could never lie to you about it and that it would come up sooner or later."

"So if I hadn't said anything about children tonight…?"

Hermione chuckled. "I wouldn't have chosen Christmas Eve as the time to bring it up myself."

"I suppose you're right," Jean laughed softly. "Not the best time for news such as this. Not that there is a good time."

"I'm going to be doing some research of my own though," Hermione said. "Into magical healing when it comes to infertility and the sort…and into the spell itself."

"Into the spell?!" Jean jumped and looked at her.

"Think of it from a medical standpoint, Mum," Hermione said. "When you want to fix something, where do you start?"

Jean nodded. "You start with the cause of the problem. But still…isn't that dangerous?"

"I won't be doing the spell, Mum," she rolled her eyes and her mother sighed in relief. "I can study the theory behind it and the makeup of it without even lifting my wand."

"I guess that's true." Jean looked out over the falling snow in thought. "There's muggle treatments as well," she said tentatively. "I don't know how they would work given the scope of the issue—given the magical aspects. But maybe as you learn more about the spell and its effects, you'll see that maybe what you need to correct it isn't magical at all." She glanced at Hermione hopefully.

"I have thought of that. And I'm hoping you can help me when it comes to gathering information about muggle infertility."

"I would love to. And it may open up options for you! IVF, hormonal treatments, and even surrogacy if it comes down to it. I did consider surrogacy once…when we couldn't…before we were finally blessed with you."

"I think that if anything, I would consider adoption before surrogacy," Hermione sighed. "I think it would be too hard to watch another woman grow my baby. Ron's baby."

"I understand," Jean said. "I had that thought too."

"I could change my stance on that one day," Hermione shrugged. "And like you said, there's no rush to have a baby now. We have time. Time to research and plan and weigh our options…or time for a miracle," she added wistfully.

"Oh, my love," Jean leaned back on the cushions and pulled Hermione into her. "One thing I have learned is that there is always time for a miracle."

Christmas at the Burrow was a bigger affair than in the past years. The Weasley family was already quite numerous with nine, and over the years there had always been an extra friend or two…or four. But even then, it had never been like this year. The Burrow was bursting at the seams what with all nine Weasleys, six significant others, the Grangers, Andromeda, little Teddy, Neville, Augusta, Hannah, and even Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Arthur had placed extension charms on the sitting room and kitchen as best as he could, and chairs and couches had been duplicated, yet still, bodies were hanging out on the staircase or outside under warming charms.

Gifts were given with much enthusiasm. Molly, as usual, made sure that every family member—and soon-to-be family member—had a Weasley jumper of their own. Ron and Harry were elated to receive new brooms from Ginny and Hermione, which the girls had planned. Ginny and Hermione, in turn, both received owls from their boys, which was not planned. Everyone had a good laugh about that.

"I'm naming him Pooch," Hermione declared as she lovingly stroked her Scops owl. He was smaller than Ginny's Tawny owl, but nowhere near as tiny as Pig.

"Pooch?" Ron laughed. "Why Pooch?"

"Pooch and Pig," she said simply. "I rather think Pooch goes well with Pig. Plus this may be the closest you get to having a dog in the house Ronald Weasley." Hermione gave Ron a pointed look, as he'd been hinting about wanting a puppy over the last month or so.

"And you?" Harry asked Ginny.

Ginny thought for a moment as she fed her Tawny owl bits of treats. "Hart," she said. "No 'e'…it's another word for a—"

"Stag," Harry finished, his face slightly flushed.

Ginny looked at him and smiled. "Yeah."

The gift-giving continued, and everyone watched as Fred and George presented Katie and Angelina with massive boxes to open together. As each box was opened to reveal a smaller box, Hermione sat back against Ron amused. She had the feeling she knew where this was going.

When they opened the final, small boxes together, Katie gasped and Angelina yelled out "No way!" as Fred and George each took to one knee in front of them.

"Blimey," Ron whispered, his arm tightening around Hermione.

"Saw that coming," Hermione whispered back as cheers went up around the Burrow. Both girls had answered with a very adamant yes and were hugging their respective twin as Molly practically danced around them in excitement.

"So that's two of you married," Hermione counted on her fingers, "two engaged, and two in relationships." She smiled at Ron. "And still four years to go."

Reminded of their bet, Ron laughed. "You left Charlie in the bet though." They glanced over at Ron's bachelor brother who was congratulating the twins. He'd already regaled them with the tale of the Ukranian Ironbelly he'd come in with a team earlier in the week to rescue from the Scottish Highlands—the dragon taken from the depths of Gringotts by Hermione, Ron, and Harry just a few months before.

"You never know," Hermione sang as they rose to congratulate the newly engaged couples.

It was some time before the excitement settled and the sleepy calm of filled bellies and warmed hearts took over the Burrow. Hermione found herself walking through the garden where she found Harry sitting on the bench near the gate. Hart was on his shoulder, and Pooch was flying overhead with Pig. Hermione stood beside Harry and watched the owls for a moment, happy that they seemed to get along well. Pooch was patient with Pig…something Hermione could only hope would continue.

Hermione took a seat beside him as they watched in silence for a moment. After a while, she asked, "Will you get an owl for yourself?" A part of her knew the answer. Even she still could not shake the thought that there should be another with them, feathers as white as the snow that surrounded them.

Hedwig and Hart would have gotten along beautifully, Hermione thought as she passed a finger over the proud Tawny's head. His eyes closed briefly before he continued to watch the other two owls play. When Hermione's hand fell away, Hart gave a low hoot, then spread his wings to join his new friends in the sky.

Harry sighed. "I'm…not ready." Hermione nodded in understanding. "Is it weird that I feel like it's too soon?"

"No," Hermione answered.

"I thought about it," he continued. "When I was in Eeylops picking out Ginny's owl, there was this little snowy owl that could have been…could have been hers." Hermione placed a hand on his arm. He turned to her and shook his head. "I feel like I would be replacing her…like you would replace a quill or something."

"I get that," Hermione assured him. "I didn't mean to imply—"

"No, no I know you didn't." He sat back and put his arm around her in his own assurance. Hermione smiled and the gesture and how natural physical affection was to him now. "Like I said, I've thought about it myself. Maybe I will get another owl one day. But not now." He chuckled. "In the meantime, I have three at my disposal, should I need to borrow one."

Hermione laughed. "Anytime, Harry."

"Hands off my wife, Potter." The voice behind them was low and probably meant to come off as menacing if it wasn't for the hint of mirth.

Harry chuckled, then, to further instigate things Hermione was sure, he pulled her closer and kissed her temple before he stood to face Ron.

"Come now, Weasley," he said as Ron rounded the bench and took his vacated seat, "you know brunettes do nothing for me—no offense Hermione." Hermione laughed and waved him off.

Harry leaned in close to Ron. "It's redheads that do it for me." He started leaning even closer to Ron making kissy faces and in a matter of seconds, the two ended up tussling in the snow as Hermione halfheartedly told them to stop in between her laughter.

The boys had just straightened themselves out when Kinglsey joined them in the garden.

"There you are, Harry," he said as he approached them, his deep timber carrying in the wind. Once he was close, he dropped his voice. "I wanted to speak with you before I left. Do you want to go somewhere or can I speak freely in present company?" Kingsley's lips twitched and Hermione was sure he already knew what Harry would say, but whatever this was, it must be important enough that Kingsley felt the need to give Harry the choice.

"Whatever it is I'll just end up telling them anyway," Hary shrugged. "May as well save me the trouble."

Kingsley smiled and nodded. "I assumed that was the case."

Harry and Ron took seats on either side of Hermione and Kingsley leaned casually against the gate. "I didn't want to wait until we returned to the office after the holidays to tell you," he started, "but when we do return, we'll have to meet to go over the paperwork." He took a breath and eyed Harry. "As you know, we've still been sorting through so much from not only this war but from the first war as well. There's been much more than we thought left in the air or concealed or simply pushed to the wayside following the first war, and I come across something new each day." Harry nodded, and Hermione could tell that he was anxious for Kingsley to get on with it. She too was extremely curious as to where this was going.

"I came across some interesting paperwork just last night," Kingsley continued, "that made me do a bit more digging. A deed, specifically."

"To Grimmauld Place?" Harry asked. "I've already got that all—"

"No," Kingsley interrupted him. "Not to Grimmauld Place. To Potter Cottage."

"Potter Cottage?" Ron asked. Hermione, however, gasped.

"In Godric's Hollow," she whispered.

Kingsley nodded. "It's yours, Harry. As it was owned by your father's family, and you are the last in your family's line…the house and land in Godric's Hollow, is rightfully yours."

Hermione looked at Harry and wasn't surprised to find him pale and wide-eyed.