I cannot believe that this is the end of the story. For six months, I've poured so much into it and I am beyond emotional as I close this final chapter to Fourteen Thousand Galleons. Thank you to everyone who read, to those who commented and reviewed, those who recommended the stories on their blogs and in their groups, to the readers who have been with me from the beginning and the new readers who just started binging this story recently. I appreciate all of you and I cannot tell you enough how you've lifted my spirits over the past six months.

What comes next? I am planning and have started to write a Dramione chaptered fic that will be a tad darker than this. I anticipate starting to post it in April, so please check back and join me for that adventure if you're so inclined. Between now and then, I have several fest pieces to write and reveal, so stay tuned! And there is a small, small chance that I've got a plot bunny for an FTG sequel, because I want to explore Hermione's life as an Unspeakable researching triad magic/magical influence... but that might not happen until later in the year. For updates, you can subscribe here or follow me on Tumblr (Frumpologist).

Thank you, again, for all you've done – every single one of you.

—One Month Later—

She still hurts in places she can't name. If she moves a certain way, coughs too hard, or tries to use too much magic in one go, the ache deep in her muscles can stop Hermione dead in her tracks. There are things that make up for it, though. Watching Draco wrestle with five hyperactive and insatiable Potter-Weasley-Malfoy children—usually to be outnumbered and outwitted—is a highlight of her evenings when everyone is home.

Home. It's come to mean something entirely different to her than it did only months ago. When Harry works late nights, she snuggles up to Draco in their bed and falls asleep peacefully still. When Draco is in a mood over some devious ploy by his father in the board room, Hermione curls up with Harry on the sofa and draws incomprehensible patterns on Draco's back while he works late into the night to undermine his father's influence. They're a unit, all eight of them, and the home they've built not only harbors their family, but their memories as well.

It's over coffee that she reminisces about how far they've come, what they've fought for in order to get here, to this moment. Her own past flits through her thoughts—Ron, and everything he took from her, Harry and Draco, and everything they gave to her. It's almost like a full circle; the Hermione Granger after The War returned and she's evolved in a way that promises she'll never be the naïve girl she was before.

"Children still asleep?" Harry yawns as he enters the dining room. His hair sticks up all over the place and the stubble on his face has grown far too long for her liking. Less shadow, more beard. She makes a face as he runs his hands over it and he smirks at her expression. "You're the one who told me not to shave it, love. You can't have it both ways."

"Liar!" Hermione indignantly huffs into her coffee and kicks a chair out across from her for Harry to fall into. "What I said was, 'you look like a child with no hair on your face'. I didn't ask you to grow out a full beard in an attempt to be Father Christmas by winter."

Harry shrugs his shoulders with the hint of a laugh rumbling in his voice. "It's not even long enough for Rose to braid. Or, don't you remember the way she tried to tug the hair from my cheek when she tried?"

"The least you could do is trim it, Potter." Hermione grabs the wand at her side and whips it above her head, silently summoning Harry a cup of coffee. The fact that it splashes at him when it lands is entirely by cosmic, karmic accident.

He sips at the black liquid and pulls a face. "Now he's got you calling me Potter."

"Don't you dare—" Draco slips into the dining room and summons his own coffee. He bends to give Harry a kiss on the temple and then mimics the same action with Hermione. "I can see it in your eyes, Potter, and if you—"

"Maybe a beard is the only way I'm ever going to be hairy again."

The grin on his face is wide and ridiculous. Hermione snorts into her mug and Draco rolls his eyes dramatically.

"Very clever, Boy Wonder."

A comfortable silence overtakes them. It's something Hermione appreciates more than anything else. She's not made to be busy, not forced into small talk. Sitting between her two paramours is as magical as the other activities they get up to when the house is otherwise empty and quiet. Hermione allows them to wake and when she's sure they've made it through at least their first cup of coffee, she clears her throat and stands from the table to present the idea she's been working on for ages.

"I have something I want to talk to you both about." She chews the corner of her bottom lip and watches Draco eye the habit with darkening gray eyes. The skin pops from between her teeth and Hermione offers him a small, apologetic smile. "It's—I don't know if you're going to like it."

Draco's shoulders are tense. Harry's eyes follow her pacing nervously around the dining room. She glances at them as she organizes her thoughts. She can do this, has practiced it for days. Ever since their overprotective concerns faded away and Hermione realized she needed something more, something worthwhile, something hers.

"I'm going to cast a full body bind in a second, Hermione," Harry warns her with a tight smile. His hands wrap around his coffee and she watches him share a look with Draco.

"I want to go back to work."

The words hang in the silence that follows and Hermione fidgets nervously with her fingers while the speed of her pacing increases. She can't look at them, can barely breathe at the thought that they'd hate the idea and ask her to remain home as the caretaker of their horde of children.

"Brilliant!"

It's Harry that breaks through the quiet. He's standing just in front of her within second and scoops her into a crushing hug. She winces, still sore around the middle at time, but wraps her arms around his neck and breathes a shaky, relieved laugh into his ear.

"You think so?" Her hands press his shoulders back so she can look into his brilliant, proud green eyes. "You really think it's a good idea?"

"I've been waiting for you to spit it out for ages, Hermione, really," he tells her excitedly, so earnestly Harry that it almost makes her snort through her nose. "You've had that look in your eye for weeks now, ever since—"

"What is it that you want to do?" Draco hasn't moved, has merely sipped at what's left of his coffee, and watches the other two hold onto each other lovingly.

Harry's hand squeezes hers, out of solidarity or to give her strength, she's not sure. Hermione gnaws on her lip again and takes a sharp breath through her nose. Draco rises from the table as if in slow motion and she closes her eyes to garner strength.

"Why are you worried?" Draco's fingers glide along her jaw as he towers over her. He's gentle, his tone light, as he catches her gaze from above. "I can feel it—right here."

The palm of his hand rests just over the soul mark on her chest. It thrums under his touch, almost sings at the contact. She feels Harry shift next to her and the thrill that engulfs him shoots up her spine. It still takes some getting used to, all these new sensations and experiencing the reactions and emotions of the two men who crowd her now.

"I know you wanted to give me a place at Malfoy Consulting," she whispers as he plucks her lip from between her teeth. His thumb remains behind and he swipes gently across her bottom lip. "But I was thinking—"

"Salazar's snake, Hermione, don't tell me you want to be an auror." Draco's eyes are considerably darker now as they dart to Harry.

"Oh, heavens no, Draco!" She laughs and then adds, "Sorry, Harry, not that being an auror isn't a fantastic job and entirely noble—no, Draco, not an auror. It's not for me, I'm afraid."

"Thank Merlin." And while she thought that it would be Draco's reaction, it's actually Harry who sighs with relief beside her. " Not that I don't believe you would be wonderful, of course, love, it's just—"

"I'd make a shite auror." She lets him off the hook because she knows that they worry. "However, I'd make an excellent Unspeakable."

"An Unspeak—" Harry breathes out the word.

Hermione's not worried about him, though. Her eyes seek out Draco who is staring down at her once again, but instead of a serious, nervous frown tugging his lips as she expects to find, instead there's a brilliant, full smile on his face.

"Yeah?" She asks him, not bothered that he hadn't uttered a single word of support. She can feel it.

"Yeah."

His lips are on hers, pressing against them as he walks her backwards into the wall. Draco's fingers curl into her hair and tilt her head back and then his tongue is in her mouth and they're deepening the kiss and she's on fire . It's scorching and her breaths are getting stuck in her throat even as she breaks apart from his lips to chug oxygen into her lungs. His lips find her pulse, just below her jaw, and pepper her skin with open-mouthed kisses.

"Harry—" his name is ripped from between her lips on the breathiest of sighs. She reaches for him with one hand and when he finally comes to her, she wraps his shirt in her hand and drags him forward.

—One Month Later—

"You need to have patience, love." Harry smooths a wild curl behind her ear. "Kingsley gave you his word that he'd talk to Saul Croaker. You're a shoe in for the program."

She sighs and shifts on his lap. The pains she's been feeling for nearly two months are finally starting to dissipate completely, but after the experimentation they did in the bedroom the night before, her arse is sore.

"Croaker doesn't like me, Harry." Hermione runs her fingers through the flyaway hair atop his head and frowns. "He made it very clear that he thinks I'd be a hindrance to the Department of Mysteries."

"That's not what he said," Harry reminds her gently, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. "Draco, tell her."

Draco's hands are on her feet, thumbs digging into the flesh between the heel and the ball. It was her first time in heels in so long and her feet ached. No amount of cushioning charm could take away the soreness of breaking in a pair of shoes by walking through The Ministry of Magic for hours. He smiles when she groans, and Hermione can feel Harry's immediate reaction pressing against the back of her thigh.

"Croaker is annoyed that the Malfoy name is so heavily involved," he promises her, eyes not leaving hers as he continues to apply pressure to her foot. "Malfoy Consulting is funding your work and it makes the Ministry uneasy."

"They wouldn't have funded my research otherwise! You were already funding it before I sought a job with the Unspeakables. Padma said—"

Harry pats her shoulder. "We know, love. It's not you. There's a lot going on politically and no one quite knows what this means."

"But that's what we're trying to figure out!" She yanks her foot out of Draco's hand and gently eases herself off of Harry's lap. "We have the orb, we have the books, the intimate knowledge, and there are so many triads out there and we're the only ones with this!"

She wrenches her shirt down to show The Valknut on her chest. It still gleams gold, an ethereal crackling around its outline. It hasn't been the same since Rabastan—that day. But then, neither has she. Hermione grabs her wand from her pocket and places the tip of it against her cheek. A glamour falls away and in its wake, her complexion morphs completely. She's covered in every visible slice of skin, in a golden glow. It never leaves her, never fades.

"Hermione—" Draco stands from the sofa, a strict, fierce look staring back at her. "Kinglsey will pull through for us. He still feels guilty about—everything."

"Andromeda doesn't know anything about this. Amadeus and his paramours don't have a soul mark, either. We don't know anything about what's happening."

She's panicking. Breaths are leaving her in sharp little gasps. Her chest heaves under the strain and her hands shake as she tries to fiddle with rogue curls at the nape of her neck. She's already been so different from the rest of the wizarding world; a muggleborn, the brightest witch, the underutilized housewife, one third of a trio. And now she has to be this… this, which no one can explain.

"Hey, hey, hey." Harry is behind her and his hands massage at her shoulders. His voice is soft and in her ear, a calming presence despite the anxiety that stabs at her stomach. "We know that it's not dangerous, yeah? We know that it's magic and that it makes us stronger. If Croaker says that he won't have you as an Unspeakable, you can do research for Malfoy Consulting Group."

"I don't want to do research under Lucius Malfoy!" She shakes Harry's hands off of her just as Draco stands in front of her. Her eyes narrow. "Imagine your father with his hands on all of this, Draco!" "She's not wrong, Potter." Draco's eyes flit past hers and land on Harry.

"Back to Potter again." Harry sighs. "Okay, fine. I'll remind Kingsley how important this is. Perhaps if we had a petition or something, from other triads or interested parties?"

"A petition to allow me to research with the Unspeakables?" Hermione lifts a brow and crosses her arms over her chest even while Draco is trying to coax her hands free. She's having none of it. "That seems counter-intuitive. Unspeakables are supposed to be mysterious. No one is supposed to know what they work on."

"Is there no winning this argument?" Harry asks, a notch between his brow furrowed in such consternation that it's almost not there at all.

She thinks Draco is chuckling under his breath, but she doesn't have a chance to scold him for it – nor Harry for his flippant attitude about something that so greatly affects their lives – because Draco's lips descend onto hers and they're lost in the feel of hands touching, lips kissing, and breaths tickling.

"We'll worry about it later," Draco whispers into her ear as Harry scoops up her curls and moves them to one side. Draco's lips move down the column of her neck, over her collarbone, and linger over the braille-like scar of her Valknut.

—One Month Later—

The green flame of the floo bursts to life before her. A mop of red hair flies through the grate and nearly tackles her to the ground.

"Mummy!" Hugo grips her legs hard and bounces up and down. "I missed you, mummy! Draco, Harry, did you know that brooms can go upside down!"

Her excitable ball of energy flings himself toward the two men standing at her side. They take turns greeting him and hugging him and entertaining the kilometer-a-minute words as they rush from his mouth.

Next through the floo is Rose, a small smile on her face as she grips tightly to a new book. Hermione hugs her around the shoulders and holds her close as the third body emerges from within the flames.

It's still not easy to be in a room with him. He's an imposing figure, tall and broad, with a sour expression as he fills the room with his gangly body. When Ron takes a step into the room, it's still hard for Hermione not to take a step back. But she's getting better, especially with Draco and Harry by her side.

"Hullo," he says quietly, eyes barely able to meet hers. His hand rises and fingers dip in greeting before he glances to each of his children and swallows so thickly that she can see his throat bob. "I'll see you lot next weekend? We'll go to the joke shop and see Uncle George."

"Yes!" Hugo pumps his fist in the air.

"Actually, Ron." Hermione's fingers tighten minutely against Rose's jumper and she feigns a smile as if to appear pleasant and strong. "I'd like to keep the children next weekend. We're planning a trip the Magizoo and since I've started working in the Department of Mysteries, I only have the weekends to spare."

"But—" A scowl forms on his face as it heats up under an angry flush.

Draco stirs at her side and Harry's chest knocks against her shoulder. Things have been tense with Ron and they haven't allowed him to be in a room alone with her since Rabastan Imperioused him, but she can't allow them to protect her any longer. Hermione needs to show them that she's capable of protecting herself. She speaks up before they can act.

"It isn't a negotiation, Ron." Hermione smiles, determined to keep the atmosphere pleasant even if it's fake. "Please arrange your plans with the children accordingly."

He glares at her. "Fine."

"Excellent, thank you." Hermione grins, knowing she's pushing her luck but unwilling to back down. "Now children, would you like to join James, Albus, and Scorpius in the playroom? I daresay they've missed you for the past two days."

Before Hermione can say goodbye to Ron, he's gone with a whoosh of the floo. A part of her feels freer now, a loosening of knots inside her stomach.

"I'm going to show Albus just how many flips I can do on my broom and—"

"No brooms in the house," Draco reminds the spitfire redhead as he rounds the corner running as fast as his little legs can take him. All he gets in response is an "Aw, man!"

—One Month Later—

"Technically, I'm still training." It's the third time she's had to tell them this in as many days. But, they insisted on celebrating anyway. "I won't be a full-fledge Unspeakable for another six months at least, this is just a small step—"

"Hermione, love, you're underestimating your achievement." Harry raises his hand in the air, curls his fingers, and signals for a drink. "At least let us enjoy a night without the children and celebrate the success you had today."

"It wasn't really my success, though." She peers over at Draco who is sipping on a tumbler of whisky with a small, proud smile on his face. "Draco, maybe you should explain to Harry what it is you've done."

"I still maintain that I've done nothing." Draco shrugs and catches the new drinks as they soar through the air towards their table.

Hermione peeks up and mouths a thank you to Amadeus as he wipes at a dirty space on the bar top. She hopes Harry's tipping him well. Rumor has it that his wife is pregnant and she's sure he can use all the spare galleons he can find.

"That's not true, Draco." Hermione brings her attention back to him and grins as his hand finds the top of her thigh underneath the table. "Croaker specifically said that you demanded—"

"Requested."

"Fine. That you requested my attention to the study of triad magic and magical influence." Hermione finishes her drink and knocks her shoulder against his. "You can't deny that you have a bit of authority over how the money from Malfoy Consulting Group is spent."

"I wouldn't presume to inform the Ministry how to spend—"

"Pardon me?" Harry interrupts with high eyebrows and his drink held just an inch from his lips. "Wouldn't presume to—do you remember what it is your father implied we do with Rabastan Lestrange after he learned of his attempt on Hermione's life?"

Draco sighs and rolls his eyes. "You're being dramatic, Potter. My father believes that it's improper to challenge the mortality of a future Dark Lord and—"

"Are you seriously allowing your father to believe that we are some dark trio, destined to subjugate all of wizard kind and—"

"He's more comfortable with us that way," Draco says, nodding his head. "Can you imagine how insufferable dinner would be on Sunday if he believes we're only a triad because it makes us happy ?"

"Everyone else is getting over it." Hermione argues before slipping her fingers to the bottom of Draco's glass and tipping the contents into his mouth. "We don't even have one journalist here to cover our night of debauchery."

"A step forward." Harry holds his glass out and tips it towards them before tossing back the amber liquid with a hiss.

"Bollocks to that." Draco knocks his glass against the table and wipes the corner of his mouth with the pads of his fingers. "To debauchery."

His grip around Hermione's wrist is tight as he pulls her from the table and out the door. Harry is on their heels. She's not even able to enjoy the balmy weather of early summer before she's wrapped in their embrace and apparated from the spot.

They land with a loud crack in the den of their home and she's immediately crushed between their bodies. Harry moves her hair over her left shoulder and Draco takes her mouth against his. Harry's lips attach to the sensitive spot of flesh south of her earlobe.

"Do you know what the worst thing is about you going back to work?" Draco whispers as his mouth leaves hers to kiss down the length of her neck and up again. She feels him meet Harry's lips against her skin and it sends shivers cascading through her nerves.

"What?" She asks breathlessly.

"We never got to play naughty nanny and the overworked-single dad." He pulls away from her neck and from Harry and he's staring down the length of his nose into her eyes. "Seems a shame to waste such a perfect opportunity."

Harry is hard against her bottom and she grinds backwards to let him know she feels him there. Her hands run up the outside of Draco's thigh and end over the bulge in his trousers. She squeezes it gently and smiles at the way his lips part over a heavy breath.

"Unforgivable," she whispers, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth before she shoves him away and onto the sofa.

Draco stumbles back and can't catch his fall. He's planted on the furniture and his pupils are blown wide as he watches her approach. Their magics are sparking, a slight buzzing noise fills the room that she wouldn't have heard had she not been listening for it. She's so in tune to what their magic does now; the feel of it inside and out is unlike anything she'd ever experienced.

"Remove your glamour." Harry's behind her, still so close, and as she does what he says, he groans with his lips pressed against her neck. "It's so sexy to see you like this. I wish you wouldn't hide it."

"We're not playing triad now, Potter. Let the naughty nanny make the overworked single dad feel better." Draco loosens his tie.

"Well, what am I to do while the naughty nanny makes the over—you know, this is ridiculous." Harry's warmth is further away, but his hands are still holding onto her hips. She can feel his annoyance at Draco, can practically imagine the way his eyes narrow the slightest bit and brow raises pointedly over one eye.

"It's not ridiculous if you're also an overworked single dad." Draco's lips twitch and he doesn't pull his gaze from Hermione.

"Right." Harry's word is barely a breath and then he's sitting next shirtless next to Draco on the sofa. "I'm also an overworked single dad and, er, need to feel better."

The ridiculous pout of his lips makes her snort. Harry winks at her and Draco rolls his eyes.

"You're ruining the entire role play, Potter."

"Sorry, love." Harry motions over his lips like he's zipping them up.

"Lovely, thank you. Hermione, you're up." Draco slips his shoes off and kicks them to the side.

They've never done role play, so she's not sure what they're looking for. Naughty nanny – she'd roll her eyes if Draco wasn't currently expecting each of them to play a very specific role in his sudden fantasy. So, she steadies her breathing and squares her shoulders. She can do this – she can be the naughty nanny to Draco and Harry's overworked single dad.

"Oh, Mister Malfoy." Hermione quirks her lips and places her fingers against the top button of her blouse. "You look so tired, sir. Is there anything that I can do to make you feel better?"

She bats her eyelashes, an exaggerated motion, and plucks several buttons of her blouse so that it flutters open and exposes her breasts and stomach. There's fire in the mark on her chest and she knows he's enjoying the show even if she feels silly putting it on.

"Why don't you remove the rest of your clothes," he suggests with a throaty voice. She watches as he pops the buttons on his shirt open.

She does as he suggests, slowly removing each article of clothing and tossing it to the floor behind her until she's standing in nothing. Heat rushes to her face as both of them take all of her in. It's not new; they've seen her naked many times, but it never gets old to have their dedicated focus on every curve and dip of her body. Hermione turns around in a circle to give them a good look at every part of her and then chews her lip as she faces them again.

"Are you feeling better, Mister Malfoy?" She's winded when her eyes meet his again and Draco's irises are consumed in black. "Mister Potter, what can I do to make you feel better?"

"You—" Harry chokes around his words and clears his throat. "Why don't you come here and help me remove my clothes?"

Draco, by his side, is already divesting every piece of clothing he's wearing. Hermione walks to Harry with a purposeful sway in her hips and drops to her knees when she reaches him. Her hands rest on his knees and then slowly run up the length of his thighs until she reaches the clasp of his trousers.

"Mister Potter, your muscles are so tense! I should help you relax." Hermione rips the trousers from Harry's legs and he maneuvers around so that she can pull them clean off. He's left only in his pants, but she has them removed in a beat.

"Yes, please," Harry croaks. He reaches a hand out and caresses a finger down the side of her face. "Please help me to relax, Miss Granger."

As her hand wraps around his erection, Hermione feels the sofa next to Harry dip. Draco stands behind her and runs his hands through her hair. She lowers her mouth onto Harry and hollows her cheeks, guided by Draco's new grip at the roots of her hair.

"Look at how good you are at making Mister Potter relax," Draco whispers, slowly moving her over his stiffening length.

It shouldn't have the effect it does, but she can't help but rub her thighs together to seek out friction. She moans around Harry and looks up to find him staring back at her with flushed cheeks and heavy-lidded eyes.

"I don't have the patience for role play." Harry removes Draco's hand from her curls and encourages her to sit on his lap. He rakes his hands over her thighs and she has only a beat to adjust before he's sheathed inside of her and groaning her name through gritted teeth. "Whatever, you're naughty, you were a nanny. It's all very sexy. Now fuck me, please."

"Potter, you can't just—" Draco growls behind her and steps closer, but his words are caught off by one look from Harry. "You're the actual worst sometimes, you git."

Harry presses his lips so tight together that they pale. She moves experimentally over him, grinds down against his hips, and rises up only to drop back down quickly. "Just like that, Hermione, yes."

She moves with more confidence and drops her lips to his. Hermione's lost in the feel of Harry inside of her and she doesn't even feel the way that Draco is behind her, pressing her shoulders forward to Harry's chest. It isn't until he's slowly working himself inside of her as well that she pauses her movements and squeezes her eyes shut.

"If anyone is curious," Draco grits out hoarsely, "this overworked single dad is still fucking the naughty nanny and I don't care if you two play along."

Hermione opens her eyes and glances over her shoulder, her lips parted around a partial mewl and a breathy laugh. He's situated fully inside of her now and she's so filled with the both of them that she can hardly move over either of them. It's not until Draco moves that Harry also moves beneath her and she moans without being able to stop herself.

"Fuck me, Mister Malfoy," she breathes out coquettishly.

And so he does, with abandon.

—One Month Later—

A small black sphere is perched just out of hands reach at the dining room table, where there are stacks of papers and books surrounding her space. The golden sheen of her skin is dull, but the orb is slowly gaining its swirling gold colors back. It's taken her a month to figure out how to transfer her magic from herself to the orb, but now that she has, Hermione doesn't have to wear a glamour at all times when she leaves the house.

Seven bodies flood the dining room and take a seat at the once obnoxious, but now necessary, table.

"It's dinner time, Hermione," Draco tells her just before Tink pops in with a tie-dyed hat on her head. "Work later?"

She sighs and drops the quill she was using to take notes.

"I have something for you, love." Harry drops a kiss to the top of her head—to which James makes a retching 'ew' sound.

Hermione takes the small envelope and turns it over in her hand. A note from her solicitor, with his imposing seal upon the back.

"What is it, mum?" Rose plants herself in the seat next to Hermione and peers over to see what the letter says.

"Are those our new pencil crayons?" Scorpius asks curiously, sitting on his knees to see over the expanse of the table.

"Scorpius, that's not how we sit at a table." Draco lifts a brow at his son, who sighs and rearranges himself properly. When Hugo moves to sit up on his knees, Draco turns his gaze to him as well and Hugo pulls a face. "You're children, not trolls."

"If I were a troll, I'd have a big club and I'd—"

Hermione shrieks, completely cutting off their conversation. She jumps from her seat and she wraps her hands firmly around Harry's neck.

"I can't believe it!" Hermione bounces from foot to foot as Draco approaches and glances down at the note in her hand. He smiles, genuine and full, and allows her to pull him into a vice like hug around the neck.

"Well done, love," Draco whispers, pecking her on the cheek softly.

"You've done brilliantly, Hermione." Harry wraps an arm around Draco's shoulder and kisses him on the side of the head. She barely hears him mutter to Draco. "We're going to need an advanced silencing charm tonight."

Hermione snaps her hand forward and playfully hits Draco on the arm. The letter jumps from her hand and flutters down to the table. In simple script and a note addressed to Hermione Jean Granger, the words stare back at her:

Fourteen thousand galleons — PAID IN FULL.