These Dreams
These Dreams - Epilogue
By Jeconais
Dear Hermione,
The morning after the night you spent with us at the cottage, Harry announced that he was going to build another boat. The boats he’d built with Ginny had been sold or damaged in a storm, so he decided that we’d build another one. I was initially crushed when I saw that he was using the plans for the original boat, a tetchy little thing that’s basically a one-man craft. I thought it was his way of letting me know that he was going to send me away as soon as the boat was finished.
It never dawned on me that he was trying to tell me just the opposite. We finished the boat and then went out for dinner and dancing to celebrate. When we came back to the cabin, I packed my bags, hoping to leave before dawn, trying to put on a brave front, notwithstanding the fact that I cried myself to sleep that night. Fortunately for me, Harry’s a pretty early riser, and he questioned where I was going before breakfast. He got the shock of his life when I answered his question by telling him that I was going back to England. The dialogue that followed was classic:
"I thought you’d go sailing with me, Sam," he said, looking at me like a child who’d just been told that Christmas was cancelled.
"The boat only has a berth for one, Harry," I countered.
"I thought we could work that out," he relied with a warm smile.
And so we departed.
We’ve been sailing the islands of the Caribbean for the last year, so it’s been hit-and-miss as far as sending letters in reply to our incoming post. We got married in Bermuda. The rector of St. Dismas’ chapel was willing to post the banns on a Saturday and marry us Sunday afternoon. Another example of how little rules get bent when Potters are involved.
As you may have heard, I’ve resigned from the Aurors. Tonks wasn’t surprised, and she wrote that if I ever came back, she’d have a job waiting for me. I don’t know if we’re ever going to come back to England for good. If we do, and if I do return to the Aurors, I’m not going to be Ginny Mark II, I’m going to be Samantha Mark I. I owe that to myself, and I owe that to him.
Oh, Harry says I should tell you that you’re going to be an Aunt again, sometime in September. As a Healer I can tell you it’s a very normal pregnancy. As a mum, I can tell you it’s a girl, and I’m really going to be glad to move back to shore, as the tight confines of this boat are not well suited to a pregnant sailor.
I appreciate your help and encouragement. The old Harry is back — the whoop he let out when I told him we’d conceived should have been audible in England. I don’t have to use that charm every morning to banish my dreams from my memory any more. My life is beginning to look a lot like those dreams, or is it the other way around?
As ever, I remain your friend,
Samantha Potter
Dear Samantha,
I don’t know whether to congratulate you, or on behalf of your extended family to throttle you!
If I were you, I would expect a few Howlers in the next few days, as your mother and grandmother are rather upset with you. The idea of you and Harry getting married in secret had them horrified. Your mother, in particular, was, well, peeved would be the polite word.
Apart from that, congratulations on your pregnancy.
But more than anything else, thank you for bringing Harry back. His communiqués have been happier over the past few months (although the news that you two were married and now expecting somehow slipped his mind).
Hermione
Dear Auntie H,
It wasn't a secret wedding - the Bahamian Minister of Magic, Chief Auror and the master of the grounds for the Bahamian Quidditch Team's stadium all witnessed the wedding.
Remind me to tell you why we got married like that at some time.
Gotta run, Harry’s feeling frisky.
Love,
S.P. (How I love these initials)
Dear brat,
Sophistry: soph ·is ·try, noun, a plausible but fallacious argumentation.
While I admit that, semantically, and canonically a secret wedding is impossible, you are deliberately interpreting my previous letter a little too literally.
A marriage that your mother, father, grandparents, extended family, and friends did not know about until (well) after the fact, is a secret wedding, even if it was witnessed by the entire French National Gobstones team!
That being said, I will not mention the subject any further — you will pay for your sins, I’m sure — many times over if I know my mother-in-law and your mother.
Oh, and consider this letter a reminder for your story on just why you decided that a secret wedding was so important.
Love,
H.W. (I always thought I’d end up with these initials, I just started with the wrong brother)
Dear Hermione, Fleur and Molly,
First off, please do not send Howlers to my wife. I’m sure I don’t need to remind any of you of how you felt when you were pregnant, and for reasons that should be obvious, I’m feeling particularly protective right now. The fact that you are family and well intentioned is not particularly relevant to me at the moment.
While I apologise for marrying Samantha without involving the rest of the family, it was the best thing for the two of us, and as much as I love the rest of you, this was about us.
There will be a party here next weekend — and you are all invited this time. Portkeys and the like have been arranged, and word has been spread for those that have to work that I really want them here, so they should get the time off.
There will be a ceremony of sorts, blessed by the local vicar, so you will be able to witness a ceremony even if it was not the ceremony.
While I finish of a few changes to the cabin to accommodate everyone, Samantha will be flying home on a Muggle jet (no Portkeys or Apparating for her while she is pregnant) on Monday. She has full access to my bank accounts, and I expect sizeable withdrawals by the time you, Fleur, Molly and Samantha have ordered whatever it is that you lot think is necessary for such an occasion.
Love,
H.J.P.
Hermione,
Be a dear and tell Ron that if he ever threatens my wife again, I’ll remove his teeth with a pair of pliers and give them to Sam as a necklace.
Love,
Harry
Harry,
Ha, bloody, ha.
If I thought you were even slightly serious, I’d be sending you a Howler right now.
As you’re not, I’ll explain something for you. Ron likes Sammy, but thinks that she’s a hell of a tease and an immature brat. While he’s forgiven her for her 'practising’ he hasn’t forgotten. He, and I, just wanted to be sure that she knew what she was getting into — and that she wasn’t just reacting to those hormones she was releasing.
Love,
Hermione
Hermione,
I was serious — about the pliers, if not the necklace.
I guess I never thought about what Ron was going through when Sam was playing; I just presumed that, as he never mentioned it, he wasn’t that upset. I’ll talk to him later, explain a few more things.
As we’re explaining things… I was the one who asked Fleur’s mum to come up with that charm that got Sammy to stop. If she hadn’t, I was going to take things a little further — and I don’t think Fleur OR Sammy would have liked my back up plan.
Love,
Harry
Harry,
Do tell.
Hermione
Hermione,
Let’s just say that common sense, and the remembrance that Sammy was fifteen and nicely past puberty, persuaded me that the idea, however satisfying, was inappropriate.
Harry
Harry,
You were going to give her a spanking!? I think half the family would have paid to see that.
Of course, I would have spent a good few minutes pointing out the child abuse issues involved.
Love,
Hermione
Hermione,
Only a few minutes? You would have approved as well?
Harry
Harry,
Can I plead the fifth?
Hermione
Hermione,
No. You’re not American. Don’t worry, I won’t ever tell.
But moving on, can you do me a favour?
Take some money from my account and make sure Sammy gets a whole new wardrobe. At some stage, I’m going to have to go back to work, and I’m not doing it alone.
Love,
Harry
Harry,
Of course, it will be fun.
Love,
Hermione
Ron,
I understand why you said what you did to Sam. Do me a favour and don’t do it again — she was biting her tongue all during the time you were waxing wise and avuncular.
Harry
Harry,
Gee, thanks. I love you too, mate.
Go on; let me know what she was going to say…
Ron
Ron.
It was along the lines of ….
"If you three are so tight, where were you when Harry was going to drink himself to death?"
She was also going to point out that unlike your sister, she was not suicidal, not depressed, and not fertility impaired.
Harry
Harry,
1) I’m guessing you’ve told her now?
2) Ouch
Ron
Ron,
Yeah — she understands a bit more — and I think she was a little embarrassed that she really thought I was going to drink myself to death. Into a stupor — yes — that was the plan, after all, I’ve done that what, four times now? You know, I really need to come up with a new way of handling my grief. Murderous rampages and being inebriated to the point of a coma are all well and good when you’re young, but I’ve got a kid on the way now.
Any ideas?
Harry
Harry,
A few. One, talk to Sam. Obviously you’re happy with her, so let her be what you need. Two, try physical activity. Tire yourself out the only fashioned way. I’m sure Sam will have some suggestions. Three, rant and rave at your friends — we do it to you enough.
Personally, I prefer three — why? Because it will give us a few chances to have embarrassing memories of you.
I’ll see you at the weekend; Sumi and I are looking forward to it.
Ron
Ron,
By that time, I should have our private Floo hooked up.
Harry
Harry,
I love you, man, really, I do.
Ron — just grateful not to have to use public transport
Hermione,
Okay, I’m going to tell you just why we got married when and how we did. This letter is charmed — only you and Auntie G can read it — and her only by your permission.
Notwithstanding all the time I’d spent at the tiller of the catamaran, once we got out into deep water it took me a day to get used to it again. Veela or no Veela, it is impossible to look or feel sexy when you’re puking every thirty minutes. I’d forgotten what it was like to be at sea in a small boat — and believe me; I much prefer Harry’s usual sloop!
Apart from the motion sickness, the weather down here is always gorgeous, and like I said, the boat was built with but one berth. The problem at the beginning was that I was still unclear as to his overall intentions, and as there was a hammock on the deck, and I presumed it was for me.
So the first night was spent sleeping under the stars — after I’d cried myself out.
The second night I was prepared for more of the same, when Harry came out of the cabin and leaned against the mast.
He was gorgeous. Actually he is gorgeous, and I have every reason to believe that he will continue until the end of time to be gorgeous. He was wearing a thin pair of shorts and his skin gleamed in the moonlight, revealing those muscles I’ve dreamt about all my life. Did I tell you that he looks particularly good in a swimsuit?
'Is there a particular reason you’re sleeping there?’ he asked, and I gaped at him.
'Isn’t this where you wanted me to be?’
He shook his head. 'Nope, not at all, I built this boat with one bed for a reason.’
It took me a few seconds to work out what he meant, then I think any ships nearby could have navigated by the glow of my blush.
I made some comment, even now, I’m not sure what, but I think I was trying to be flippant.
He looked at me, and my insides melted, and my heart beat increased — and that was just from the look. He prowled toward me, and I remember gulping, thinking that he looked like he wanted to eat me — a prospect that was becoming more exciting by the moment.
I’d like to say that I did something suave and sexy, but I think I just squeaked.
And then he kissed me. He kissed me like he was planning on making permanent contact with my soul. Uncle Ron had warned me about Harry, and now, finally, I understood just exactly why he’d never had problems finding overnight company when he was younger — hell, I would have been happy with a one-night stand in exchange for more of those sort of kisses.
I’d been kissed before and even welcomed a wandering hand or two, but nothing like this. Nothing that dominated every sense I had, making me feel like I was drowning in desire.
I could feel his hands where I’d never had hands before. I responded accordingly.
When my mind came back from wherever it goes when it’s overloaded, he was looking at me in surprise.
'You’re still a virgin."
I nodded in agreement. 'Yeah — I never found a man I wanted to wake up next to," I said, panting lightly.
He kissed me gently, and said, 'Excuse me for a second.’ Then he dived over the side of the boat into the water.
Not exactly what I expected!
A few minutes, a dripping wet, and well, visibly diminished, Harry returned.
I didn’t know what to feel. One minute I was looking forward to seeing him naked, the next I was alone, my paramour having just jumped ship. If ever there was a moment that I doubted whether or not I was desirable, that was probably it.
'I’ve never slept with a virgin," he said quietly. 'Especially not one I’m in love with. If we’re going to do this, I think we need to do it properly: we need to get married.’
Well, first I was upset. I mean, I’d been waiting most of my life to do things with him, and here he was procrastinating again.
But then the rest of my mind kicked in. Harry - loved - me. Me. Samantha Weasley!
After blinking I looked at him, but he wasn’t there - he was on one knee before me. "Samantha," he said softly, 'will you marry me?’
I burst into tears and pushed him over backwards, crying and kissing and talking incoherently.
He picked me up easily (he is so strong!) and kissed me back, before he mumbled, 'I’m guessing that’s a 'yes’ then.’
I nodded, and well, the 'get things done immediately’ Harry Potter came out to play. Before I knew it, I was steering the boat toward shore, propelled by a magical breeze he’d created, and he was on the 'phone, making arrangements.
This was Friday, we were married on Sunday. And as for our wedding night… well, let me just say that it was well worth the wait, and every single female I know would give their eye teeth to be initiated in that particular fashion — it gives me goose bumps, even now, to think about it.
Lots of love,
Sam
My darling brat of a niece,
You appear to have broken Hermione.
I am impressed, in all the time I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her flush to quite that colour, or be that speechless.
Of all your other accomplishments, which are many, this one is truly the most impressive, my dear.
Now, having read your missive in detail, I’m wondering exactly why you didn’t do any studying beforehand. I thought we taught you to always research new situations?
So, the other package attached to this owl is an instruction book for you, containing the best advice one Veela can give another (I never tried to forget my heritage, and found out some interesting facts when I reviewed the book before sending it on to you). I recommend you pay attention to the physiological differences between humans and Veela, especially the chapter on breathing.
As crass as it might sound, I guarantee that if you study hard there will be no ghosts in your bed.
Consider this a delayed thank you to Harry for saving me all those years ago.
Gabrielle
Auntie G,
I didn’t even know that sort of thing was possible! It was the first time I took charge in the bedroom, and never have I felt so powerful — I had Harry under my control whilst giving him the pleasure he gives me all the time.
Thank you SO much, it has helped more than you can know. We are more equal now, no longer the teacher and eager student, but two adults expressing their love in every way possible.
Harry’s sending me home in a few days to do some pre-celebration shopping; will you please come as well?
Much love,
Sam (and you do look like my non-pregnant sister, not my aunt)
Darling Samantha,
Flattery will get you everywhere.
Of course I’ll be there!
Gabbi
"What are you doing, love?"
I still smile at those words. "Just looking over some old letters," I reply.
His arms go around me, caressing my distended stomach. I swear the sight of me pregnant makes him hornier than ever.
I rest against him and smile softly.
"Did I ever mention that I love you?"
"A few times," I allowed, teasing him.
It turned out that my parents and grandparents were not quite as upset as Hermione had reported although Mum was still sulking a bit by the time they reached the Caymans. I explained — in a LOT less detail — what happened that night on the boat and they swooned with the romance.
The celebration at our cabin was another success. It was a huge family reunion to start with, four generations of the family were there, and it was a lot of fun. Harry’s minor modifications turned out to be a little over the top in the usual Potter style.
He’d hired practically every wizard in the country to do the work, and the cabin was now big enough to easily hold everyone.
What’s more, our Floo was now officially hooked up to the international network — and, and I still don’t know how he arranged it — his private Floo with Ron and Hermione was there as well.
The vicar blessed us on the beach in front of our entire family and the setting sun.
I was in a full wedding dress which, notwithstanding my passenger, didn’t make me look like I’d swallowed a Bludger. Harry was looking gorgeous in his tuxedo — his recent work and sailing had helped him regain all his muscle tone, and I got weak at the knees when I saw him. Judging by the envious glares I got from some of my younger female relatives, I was not the only one to notice this.
I walked out to meet him, proudly holding Dad’s arm — he was looking good too, and I now recognised the look in Mum’s eyes that said I wouldn’t be the only Veela celebrating tonight.
I am a Veela, I have nearly always looked good in whatever I am wearing, but by the time Auntie Gabrielle finished with me, even I was breathless — literally and figuratively. The dress and under-garments were a little tighter than I was used to in places, but all of a sudden the curves I’d always been happy with were looking extra curvy — including the bonus curve out front.
I can’t remember much of what the vicar said as I was locked on Harry’s face as he smiled at me, and I finally accepted that this was it — Ginny was gone, and he was mine now, until the end of our days.
I thanked her then and there for her selflessness, for being my best friend, and for giving me the biggest gift of all — Harry. And I felt that the best way I could ever repay her was by making sure that Harry was happy.
I’ve worked hard on that promise.
"You’re pensive, love," he whispered.
"Just thinking about the past," I said, tilting my head to allow him access to my neck.
"Good things?" he asked, as he started to nuzzle me.
I sighed happily, nuzzling always makes me feel better. And now, with a son on the way, I have everything I ever wanted.
"Always," I reply.
"I love you," he whispers, and I crane my neck to kiss him.
"I love you back," I tell him, meaning every word with all my soul.
And this is it, proof that these dreams of mine couldn’t hold a candle to reality.
It hasn’t been all sunshine, wine and roses. There have been dry and terrible times, and I’ve gone without sleep more times than I can remember, but on the whole, I am happier than I’ve ever been, more loved and fulfilled than I ever dreamed I could be, and soon, with our second child, we will have everything we ever wanted.
But for now, my husband’s hands are wandering and I would rather pay attention to the present than remember the past.
I am a woman, a witch, a Veela, a healer, a wife and a mother. Of all the credentials, titles and awards, the one I’m most proud of is the simplest.
I am Samantha Potter.
Author Notes:
Uploaded by Kokopelli at Jeconais request
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