So, this is kind of a plot bunny that just wouldn't let go. It's a good deal different from my other story in that I am following canon for the most part, although I've thrown part of the epilogue out the window; (it's easy to see which part once we get started).

At six years old, Rose was already taking after her mother. Once she had learned to read, she had every single book that she could get her hands on. This was of course helped by the small children's library that her mum had created in her room. She had read every one of her books already, and was waiting on the next Dr. Seuss book that her Uncle Harry would send her.

In the meantime, Rose had taken to reading her cousin Victoire's copy of Witch Weekly. Many of the words were too advanced for Rose, but she took to the magazine like a champ as she noted down on a separate sheet of paper the words that she didn't know. When Rose found a disturbing article about her Uncle Harry, she knew she needed to speak with her mum.

Mum was sitting in the kitchen, clutching a mug of tea while she stared at the clock on the wall.

Like Grandma Weasley's special clock, this clock did not tell time. Instead, there were five hands that would point to words like: Home, Travelling, Shopping, Work, Hospital or Rose's least favorite: Mortal Peril. Four of the clock hands had names on them, one each for Father, Mum, Rose, and her cousin Teddy. Right now, Father's hand was pointing to work, while Mum, Teddy's, and Rose's hands all pointed to Home.

The name on the fifth hand had been scrubbed off before Rose had learned to read. Right now, that hand was pointing at Mortal Peril. This was nothing new to Rose however, as that hand was always pointing at either Mortal Peril or Travelling.

Seeing as how this was a normal occurrence in the house, Rose was unconcerned as she tried to get her mum's attention. It took a few tries, and more than a few repetitions of the word mum, before Hermione tore her eyes from the clock.

"Mum," Rose said, "Can I ask you a question?"

Hermione happily picked Rose up and set her in her lap.

"Do you mean 'May I ask you a question,'?" Mum said teasingly.

Rose rolled her eyes, "yes mum, MAY I ask you a question?"

Hermione nodded for Rose to continue, although her eyes strayed back to the clock a few times.

Rose squirmed hesitantly in her mum's lap for a moment before she decided to just ask what she wanted to know.

"Why isn't Uncle Harry married?" she asked.

Hermione startled so much that she spilt some of the tea from her cup. Mum flicked her wand to get rid of the spill before she looked back at Rose.

"Why do you ask?"

"Victoire had a copy of Witch Weekly the other day, and I saw a new article on Uncle Harry."

"Oh?" Hermione said, not in the least surprised, after all Harry had been voted the Wizarding Worlds most eligible bachelor every year for the past nine years. Although, she would have to have a word with Fleur about making sure that Victiore took her magazines home with her.

Rose nodded, "Yes, and the article was saying that it was time for Uncle Harry to settle down and stop travelling the world."

Hermione's eyes slid back to the clock again, the fifth hand was still pointed to Mortal Peril. With a soft, tired sigh, Hermione turned to regard Rose closely.

"Your Uncle Harry is a very important man baby." Hermione said, "You know that what he does helps a lot of people."

"I know mum," Rose said, "if it wasn't for Uncle Harry things would be a lot worse everywhere. But… why isn't he married?"

Hermione's fingers drummed the table for a moment while she thought, "Well," she said, "your Uncle Harry hasn't found anyone he wants to marry yet. You have to realize that Harry is still a young man. Just because your father and I married so young, doesn't mean your Uncle will make the same mist… decision. Besides, I don't think the wizarding world realizes, but they demand too much time from him. Harry wouldn't have time to date, let alone marry someone."

"But, mum," Rose said, "doesn't Uncle Harry need someone to come home to? Aunt Hannah says that Uncle Neville would be lost if he wasn't able to come home to her every night And I have seen the way that Uncle Bill's eyes always light up when he sees Aunt Fleur. I've seen him come home from work looking like the goblins had beat him, but he smiles right away when he sees her. Uncle Harry needs someone like that, someone that makes him happy to come home."

"Well what about us?" Hermione asks, as with a small smile, she pokes Rose in the belly "Your Uncle Harry is always so happy to see you."

Rose smiled shyly up at her mum, "I am always happy when he comes home too. I miss him when he's gone. I only see him on special days anymore."

Hermione shook her head, "That's not true," she said, "Your Uncle Harry was just here last week."

Rose sighed in that adorably exasperated way that only a child can, "Uncle Harry only stopped by because he knew that we had seen the news, and he wanted us to know that he wasn't hurt. He left before father even got home from work."

"Well," Hermione said, "He got that call from the U.S. remember? He had to go look into that Dark Coven business."

Rose saw her mum look to the clock again, this time Hermione sighed in relief and all the tension that Rose hadn't even noticed, finally dissipated. The fifth hand had switched from Mortal Peril to Travelling.

Rose nodded solemnly, Uncle Harry was always travelling and fighting evil. The world demanded too much of his time, and there was no one for him to come home to other than Rose and her mum.

Rose's chocolate eyes shone brightly for a moment as an amazing idea formed.

"I know," she said, "I'll marry Uncle Harry."

Hermione laughed before she could stop herself. Before she could respond however, there came a voice from the doorway to the kitchen.

"Well if you're going to marry me, then who will be my beautiful niece?"

Rose dropped from her mother's lap in a flash as she practically flew to the doorway.

"Uncle Harry!" she screamed gleefully.

The-Boy-Who-Lived, The-Man-Who-Vanquished, The-Slayer-of-Olliges, Oster's Bane, Hunsberger's Folly, Lord Potter-Black, He-From-Whom-Dark-Lords-Flee.

All of these titles were meant to refer to one single man. Everyone in the entire wizarding world knew his story; from his humble beginnings as a baby who slew He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, to his most recent defeat of a dark coven in the United States. Nearly every nation in the world had given him a title of some sort. Some even lacked the hyphens.

Hermione Granger-Weasley would always know him as her best friend Harry; her daughter's godfather, the man who had saved her life so many times before, and the man whose friendship she would always treasure.

An hour ago she had just sat down with a cup of tea and a bit of paperwork that needed to be filled out before she returned to the office on Monday. Her intention had been to finish up all the extra work that she needed to do before Ronald came home from his game. That had all gone by the wayside when she spied the fifth hand on the clock. Pointing, once again, to Mortal Peril.

She had added each one of the hands personally when Molly Weasley first gave her a copy of this clock ten years ago. Originally there had only been four hands; one each for her, Ron, Teddy and Harry. Rose hadn't even been home for a week after being born before her hand was added. For five years each one of those hands had proudly displayed their owner's names.

Until the day that Ron made her get rid of Harry's hand.

Harry's hand on the clock, more often than not over the past ten years, would point towards Mortal Peril. Each time, Hermione would sit vigil at the table hoping against hope that this time would not be the time that that hand would point to death instead of travelling immediately after.

Harry would always pull through however. Even when he badly needed to go to the hospital, he would always stop by the Weasley house to let them know that he was okay, and he would see them after his trip.


As Harry's accolades piled one upon the other, Ron became more and more jealous. Ron had been the star keeper for the Chudley Cannons at the time. One year, he led them through a winning season and he felt that for once his name would be on the front page of the Daily Prophet. He had come home after that final winning game to Hermione sitting at the table with their two year old daughter Rose. Hermione had her eyes glued to Harry's hand on the clock. Once again pointing to Mortal Peril.

Except this time Harry's hand hadn't moved from Mortal Peril for two days. Clutched in Hermione's hand was the paper that should have celebrated his win. Excited, he ripped the paper from her grasp to look at the front page.

Man-Who-Vanquished, Captured by Dark Lady Hunsberger in Germany

That had been the last straw for Ron. He made Hermione remove the hand from the clock and told her he didn't want to see it returned.

That night, Hermione placed a Notice-Me-Not on the hand keyed specifically to Ron. With tears in her eyes she had carefully removed Harry's name from the hand just in case. From then on, the only one who knew about that specific hand was Hermione. She made it a point to not look at it when Ronald was around.

Four days later the hand finally moved to Travelling. Twenty minutes later there was a knock at her door. Ronald was out with his teammates creating new plays for the following season's games. Rose was down for a nap, so that left Hermione alone for the time being.

Answering the door, Hermione sobbed, half in relief and half in horror at the sight of Harry standing there. He had burns over his face, his right arm hung at an awkward angle, he was standing only on one leg with blood running down the other and chunks of his hair were missing, leaving a bloody scalp, as though it had been ripped out. When he spoke, it was in a hoarse whisper.

"Hey gorgeous," Harry said in a strained voice, "please tell me my beautiful niece is taking a nap."

Hermione had to restrain herself from grabbing Harry in her customary tight hug. It looked as though a stiff breeze would hurt him.

"She's asleep, Harry," Hermione said through her tears, "Come in and let me help you."

Harry's face fell as he grimaced in pain, "I'm heading to St. Mungo's now," he said, "I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay."

"Oh Harry," Hermione said, "please hurry. I want you to come back as soon as you're done."

Harry nodded to her and she watched as he lifted his good hand to her for a moment and then dropped it just as quickly. She was surprised to see his eyes tearing up just before he bussed his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Sure, Mione," he said. He hopped back one time on his good leg, and began to turn away. He stopped though and turned back to her again. For the first time since the Battle of Hogwarts, she saw the little boy she remembered from the train.

"Can…" he started, "can I have a hug? I know Ron doesn't like me much anymore, but it's been a hard couple of days and you and Rosie are the only ones who hug me anymore."

Hermione sobbed as she stepped forward again. Careful of the burns on his face, she softly grabbed the side of his head and hugged his cheek to her own cheek as tightly as she dared. What had he gone through in the past week for him to actually ask for a hug? How horrible must it have been in Germany? Harry grunted in pain at the contact, but did not try to pull away from her at all.

Finally she released him and stepped back. She watched as Harry stood there for a moment with his eyes closed, she found herself more concerned for her friend than she had ever been before.

A moment later, Harry opened his eyes. As he turned to apparate away, Hermione couldn't help herself and said, "Be careful Harry,"

Harry flashed a ghost of his usual roguish half smile.

"Always," he said. Then he was gone.

Two days later, Harry made the headlines again:

Boy-Who-Lived: Hunsberger's Folly

End Flashback

Now here she sat, having a totally insane conversation with her six-year-old daughter about Harry needing a wife. Something she had agreed with for years now, but she felt that there wasn't a woman alive who deserved Harry. He hadn't so much as dated anyone for the last ten years, not after the disastrous end to his relationship with Ginny.

Not that Ginny had ever been worthy of him anyway.

As she finally saw Harry's hand move from Mortal Peril to Travelling, she felt herself calm. She listened with half an ear to her daughter, and half an ear expectantly for the door. If Harry was too hurt, he would knock on the door, a way they had devised to keep his goddaughter from seeing him in too bad a shape. If he wasn't hurt too badly, then he would walk right in.

Nearly sobbing in relief at the sight of him, she still had to hold in a laugh at his comment, and subsequent tackling by his goddaughter. She stood from her chair and went to greet her oldest friend, noting as she approached the tightness in his face, and the way he held his right side away from Rose.

Sighing fondly, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, noting that it must have been several days since his last shave.

"Hey," he said, "if you ever get the chance to see a coven perform a demon summoning ritual… don't."

"Oh Harry," she whispered, "please tell me you didn't fight a demon."

"Okay," he said, "I didn't fight a demon."

She relaxed and melted into his side, it always felt too good to be held by Harry, and she knew that she would have to back away in a moment for proprieties sake. She did finally let go when Harry said: "I shot it with a Rocket Launcher."

A/N: I decided that since some other authors have a story saved one their sites that contain a whole bunch of one shots, that I might do so myself. Not that I have even half of the talent as those other authors, but I do have a lot of one shots rattling around in my brain. Therefore, I consolidated chapters one and two of this. I am not certain that I will be continuing more of this precise storyline; but we'll see further down the line.