It was currently 4 am and there was someone knocking on the bedroom door. And from the loud ramblings of the clearly drunk man, I knew exactly who it was. Really, I had half a mind to leave him in the hallway. He could sleep in the hallway for all I cared.

I would've made him sleep in the corridor any other day, except I couldn't let him do that today, not when tomorrow was such a big day.

Heaving a sigh I rose from the bed and made my way to the door. Waving my wand at the door to unlock it, I opened it to the sight of my highly intoxicated husband leaning on the shoulder of my much more sober brother-in-law. The same brother-in-law who had just returned from his stag party.

"How in Merlin's name is he the drunk one?" I asked aloud, stepping out of the way so my brother-in-law could help Oliver into the room. "I thought the boys planned to get you drunk?"

"I promised the future Mrs Wood that I wouldn't get smashed," he explained, helping his older brother onto the bed. "And well, you know what Oliver's like, ever the noble Gryffindor."

"He drank for you," I muttered with a roll of my eye, helping to take Oliver's shoes off and pulling the blanket around him.

Oliver protested loudly that he didn't want to go to bed and I ignored him, casting a silencing charm over him. At this rate he'd wake Damien up and Damien, like his father, was extremely cranky if he was woken in the middle of the night.

Once he'd make sure Oliver was fine, my brother-in-law tried to leave the room but I called after him.

"How are you feeling?" I asked quietly, standing by the doorway to our room.

"I'm kind of nervous," he admitted. "But I'm excited as well."

"It's hard to believe that you're getting married already!" I said thinking back to the 10 year old I had met when Olly and I had just started dating.

"Well you know what us Wood men are like." He shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. "We find a girl we like and then try to make her ours as soon as we can."

"Tell me about it," I muttered under my breath, remembering when Oliver had suddenly, on our second anniversary, become crazy about marriage. Smiling up at my brother-in-law, I reached out to squeeze his arm. "You should hurry up and get some sleep; you've got a big day tomorrow."

When he left the room, I shut the door and looked back to the drunk man on the bed. He was already watching me. When I made eye contact with him he grinned and patted the space next to him. Waving my want I lifted the silencio.

"Wife! My wife." He gestured wildly for me to come to him. "Come here – we need to discuss something."

"We do, huh?" I went to his side anyway, sitting down with my back against the headboard.

Oliver laid his head on my thighs, looking up into my face. Lifting a hand, he ran his fingertips over my lips.

"What do we need to discuss Oliver?" I asked quietly.

"Were you always so beautiful?" He wondered aloud, his hidden dimple coming out. "Merlin, I don't tell you that often enough, do I lass? You're so beautiful that sometimes, it, it, sometimes, it –"

"Was this what you wanted to discuss Oliver?" I ran my fingers through his hair as he shook his head. "What was it then?"

"Damien – let's talk about Damien." He gestured towards the crib in the corner of the room. "My son, my boy, my –"


"Don't you think he's bored?"

"Bored?" I repeated. "He's only two Oliver."

"But I was thinking lass – right hear me out," he started with a pout. "Maybe if –"

"I swear Oliver, if this is about starting a quidditch team of some kind."

"Oh!" He said suddenly becoming more excited and sitting up. "We should do that lass!" He took me by the shoulders and shook me slightly.

"Do what Oliver?"

"Have enough kids to start a quidditch team!" He laughed giddily, ignoring my wide eyes. "Doesn't that sound like a good idea?"

"I'll tell you what Oliver," I reasoned, making him lie down again. "If you bring this up when you're sober then I'll consider it."

That was all he needed to convince him; he was out like a light and snoring like a train.

The next morning I was up the moment Damien had started crying. Normally Oliver took the early morning shifts and I got to sleep in, but something told me that he'd have a killer hangover and a screaming child wasn't what he needed right now. Besides, I thought, looking at the clock, he still had time to sleep before we needed to get ready for the wedding.

Oliver eventually woke up an hour later and sat up, groaning when he'd moved to fast. Walking towards the bed with Damien on my hip, I held out the hangover potion for him to take. He took it gratefully, tipping the entire thing down his throat. Once the potion had started to work, he held out his arms for Damien who went straight into his father's arms.

I watched my boys playing when Oliver met my eyes over Damien's head.

"So lass," he said with a smile, "When can we start making our quidditch team then?"

"Excuse me?" I spluttered; he'd been completely smashed last night – how could he remember?

"I'm sober now." He held Damien against his chest, smirking at me. "So when can we start?"

"I didn't think you'd remember," I admitted.

"How could I forget something that involves repeatedly making love to my wife?"

"Oliver!" I gasped, leaning forward to cover Damien's ears and trying to play off my blush. "How many times have I told you not to say stuff like that?"

"It doesn't matter because I'm going to keep saying it." He leaned towards me, bringing his face closer to mine. "I'm definitely not going to stop when the result is so beautiful."