Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't own, No money.
They said he was a lucky man. He liked to argue the point.
She was a vision, glowing with happiness and pride, her dress softly flowed to her ankles and had a trail of green leaves embroidered up one side, her hair flowing around her shoulders gently as she beamed at him.
Him, the sarcastic, grumpy git, who was feeling so happy and full of love he thought his heart might leap out of his chest and plant itself right next to hers.
He couldn't remember exactly all of what was said, but he said 'I do' with the most sincerity he had ever said anything with, her corresponding reply caused the widest smile he had ever shown to appear on his face.
He whisked her off on their honeymoon without adieu after they had spoken to and thanked their friends for attending their small ceremony and reception, Ginny had worn a shapely burgundy dress, delighted to be Hermione's maid of honour and Harry and Neville had both been delighted to stand beside Severus, Ron and Lavender had commented how perfectly suited they were to each other, but none of that mattered much to him as he had stood gazing with absolute adoration at his new wife.
If there was one thing he never, ever thought he would have if he had been asked, a wife would have been it, not that he never wanted one, but he never thought a woman would ever be able to tolerate his manner or his ugly face, but here she was, a gorgeous female, naked before him, her belly well rounded with the child he never thought he would sire, somehow finding his looks endearing, sharp and 'sexy' and bound to him for life.
He took her to all the places she had wanted to visit, a week in Tibet, (andhe acquired some nice ingredients for himself, too!) then to the China and they visited the Forbidden City and finally to Machu Picchu before they headed home, to prepare for the birth of their child.
Then she was screaming at him, calling him all kinds of colourful names, some he would have to look up later, and after a loud whimpering wail, she was telling him how much she loved him and how beautiful their son was and what a wonderful husband he was.
He didn't care who laughed or talked about him behind his back as he strode through the halls, robes billowing behind him as he carried his little son around in the front baby carrier, or how much she moaned that the pram had been a waste of money as they never used it, he was going to be the best damn father he could possibly be.
And as he sat, in his wingback chair on Christmas morning, watching the love of his life smile, and holding his 3 week old son, Quintus, in his arms and looking at his 4 year old daughter, Rowan, and her 5 year old brother Mathias opening their gifts, he decided one thing.
They said he was a lucky man.
They were right.
A/N Thank you all for reading and for your wonderful reviews, I decided not to draw the story out much longer so I can work on my new one, I hope I rounded things up for you nicely.