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There was something magical about Christmas at Hogwarts.
The way snow would decorate the castle's curves and edges, forming icicles that glitter above the window sills, becoming the owls’ favorite little treat to nip at during the hols. How every window glowed with warmth, a sparkling tree hidden in the room somewhere, surely gathering gifts underneath it for an eager student to open.
The castle practically hummed with an excited, ancient magic, and Harry could have sworn the castle loved the holidays as much as her inhabitants.
It was magical how his boots would crunch on the frozen bits of grass, the castle grounds starting to succumb to the icy air, and soon enough be coated with a thick layer of snow that would be sprinkled with snow angels, maybe even a lively snowman or two.
This year marked five after the Final Battle. The castle held an intimacy that kissed the dark that lingered goodbye, and allowed the dim light to pull forward. One could say it was a Christmas miracle, turning down a hall and instead of being assaulted by flashbacks, being comforted by blissful laughter from a cluster of witches and wizards who knew nothing but joy.
It was so comforting it hurt, and he knew the students could practically see their Professors and their home healing.
Harry turned his eyes from the castle towards the Forbidden Forest, a grin tilting at his lips as he caught sight of the trees shivering in the wind, a fresh flutter of snow beginning to fall. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realize there was a tiny witch looking up at him, stomping her booted foot until she caved and tugged on his cloak.
“Oh!” He looked down, pulling the little witch’s hood back slightly so he could see who demanded his attention. “Hello, Miss Emma, how may I help you?”
“I absolutely have to know when Professors Granger and Lupin are getting together, sir,” Emma threw her mitted hands in the air before they fell with a feigned annoyance at her sides.
“Whatever gave you the inclination that Professor Lupin fancied Ms. Granger,” Harry questioned, quirking an almost knowing brow.
“Sir, he just conjured her a blanket because she was cold. She’s quite a capable witch, I’d say! Didn’t you say she took down V-Voldemort herself?” Emma shook at the name, the little first year straightening her shoulders when she saw Harry smile softly.
“Quite right, she did, and capable of conjuring a blanket she is.” He gave out a tiny groan as he knelt down to her level, ignoring the growing wet patches on his knees as he looked up at Emma.
“I haven’t the slightest clue on when our favorite Professors will realize how perfect they are for each other,” When he caught a glimmer of mischief in her icy blue eyes, he could only scoff. “But I believe you do?”
“You’re not opposed to a little mischief, are you, Professor?” Emma asked, her head tilted curiously with a little smirk, causing Harry to laugh in disbelief.
“Not in the slightest, Emma. In fact, count me in.”
A mischievous Christmas it was, then.
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Christmas was hard for Remus Lupin.
Having gone from a home filled with laughter and warmth to quarters in a Castle that had been home for his entire life nearly, it was a shock to his senses. He no longer had his wife— ex-wife, if he were to finally accept his reality, or his four-year-old gripping his trousers with sticky fingers, demanding his attention.
Instead, he had enchanted witches and wizards running around the halls creating absolute mischief, a very nosy Harry Potter, and then there was Hermione.
Remus would have considered himself a lucky man to have those two if their friendship didn’t come at the expense of Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy.
“Oi! You absolute dog, who’re you trying to impress? McGonagall? Come on, we're going to be late for breakfast!”
Remus cringed at the sound of Draco yelling through his door, the incessant banging causing Moony to whine in the back of his mind. Storming across the room he threw open the door, glaring at the smug wizard who leaned against the wall.
“I hope you know you’re alive because of your aunt,” Remus snapped, his eyes narrowing at Draco’s chuckle.
“I’m alive because you’re all bark, no bite, Remus.” Draco sighed, righting himself before looking the wizard over, “Is that what you’re wearing?”
Remus glanced down at his outfit before looking back up at Draco who shook his head, nodding to go back into the quarters and try again. However, he had spent thirty bloody minutes picking out this outfit and was quite content with it, but decided to indulge him nonetheless.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Great, glad you asked— come along now,” Draco pushed past Remus and strode over to his wardrobe, throwing the double doors open as he looked its contents over, “It’s so predictable and you , Rem. Really, you in a cozy knit sweater, worn button-up, and loafers ? Time for a change.”
Remus didn’t move from his spot, his arms crossed as he watched the young wizard throw articles of clothing out of the closet and behind him, his floor disappearing before his very eyes. “There are better ways to be a nuisance in my life,” he muttered, stepping further into his room and around the mess that was in mid-creation.
When Draco had whipped around, he wore what Remus would consider a wolfish grin and shoved the outfit into Remus’ arms. “Change into this, everyone will love it.”
“Who’s everyone ?” he questioned, holding out the pieces in front of him, eyeing Draco’s choices.
“You ask too many questions, Rem. We’ll have to change that this year too.”
At the sound of Remus’ huff, Draco swatted at the trousers that blocked his view of the wolf and poked a finger into his chest, giving off his very best Black glare that he could muster. “I don’t want to see that fucking sweater in the Great Hall, Lupin. I mean it. Change.” He spun on his heel to leave, and right before he left the room, with a snap of his fingers, he sent the fallen clothes rushing back into the wardrobe, snickering at the wolf’s startled yelp.
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Remus smoothed down his button-up, feeling rather exposed for the chill in the air, but he could
already hear Draco asking if he was a wizard or not and cast a warming charm over himself. He would give the young wizard credit; Remus felt rather festive with the outfit he’d picked out. The emerald green dress shirt bright against his dark trousers, the slight shine of his belt and boots pulling the entire look together.
For over a year, he could hear Tonk’s comments haunting the back of his mind that he aged himself and he should try a little harder, presentation wise. When Remus had gotten with her, he knew she was young and wondered if one day she would see the old man she looked past, but he never thought it would be after they had a child together.
The day someone asked if Teddy was his grandson, he bought a new button-up.
“Remus, wait!”
He turned back to see Harry jogging to catch up to him, the wizard stopping short to look him over. “Damn, Remus. You’ve put me to shame, and I thought I would Draco proud with this one,”
“Still might, Harry, considering this was entirely his work.”
Harry smiled, “It’s a good look, Remus,” he murmured as he clapped his back before shoving his hands in his pockets, following him to the Great Hall.
“Hello, Professors!” At the sound of small feet smacking the ground, they both turned around to see Emma rush over, nearly falling over from her bag. She righted herself when she abruptly stopped in front of the two of them, plopped her bag down, and started digging through it viciously.
“Miss Emma, you’re nearly falling into your bag. That’s not charmed with an extension, is it?” Remus asked, peering over the young girl who struggled to come out of the bag.
“Professor Hermione said if you have quips or questions, her office hours are from noon to one.” She huffed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes before handing her two professors a decorated envelope.
“What is this?” Remus asked, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his lips at Emma’s excited claps.
“It’s what we want for Christmas! Ms. Hermione said if we wish really hard, it might come true. So we’re passing our wishes out that way, the Professors can help! Open them!” Emma shifted happily on her feet, her eyes widening with excitement as Harry opened his.
Harry grinned, his hand covering his mouth partially as he deciphered the child’s writing. When he was sure he wasn’t translating Latin, he met Remus’ curious gaze. “I wish I could play against Professor Harry in a quidditch match.” He said aloud in between small chuckles, it was such an innocent thing to wish for but the fact he was included in it made him feel quite smug.
“I don’t know, Emma, are these wishes from all the students here or just first years? Would be dangerous to have a first year on a broom.”
Remus scoffed, “That didn’t stop you from playing,” he stated matter of factly as he slipped his finger under the envelope’s edge and opened it, expecting a silly comment about petting him in his wolf form, but instead was taken aback by a wish he swore he kept to himself.
He eyed the delicate scrawl, determining it not to be years one through four, but fifth and on were true contenders, but it was the lack of quill ink that threw him off, wondering which of his students were fans of a muggle pen.
I wish Mr. Lupin could see how much Ms. Granger likes him.
“What’s yours say Remus?” Harry asked, trying to look over the tall wolf’s shoulder who just shoved the letter into this pocket, shaking his head.
“It’s nothing I can help make come true.”
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When Remus entered the Great Hall, he waved off Harry who went and sat by Draco, and took his seat next to Hermione who was laying on top of her book, her curls spilling over her arms. He cleared his throat gently, placing his hand on her shoulder to soothe the startle that would happen when he pulled the loud, heavy chair out.
“Hello, Remus,” She murmured, turning her head slightly to look up at the wizard from under her lashes. “How’re you standing upright this morning?”
“I told you not to try and outdrink a wolf,” Remus chuckled, brushing fallen curls from her eyes.
“To be quite fair, I did, in fact, outdrink you— you fell asleep first therefore owe me a date to Honeydukes.”
“I would have treated you to Honeydukes regardless. I do it every time,” He propped his jaw on his fist as he looked down at the witch who only shrugged in response, “What’re your plans for the day?”
“I have a few last minute decorations to do. Some classrooms somehow managed to escape my touch.”
“My classroom is fine, Hermione Jean, and everything you put up will just have to come down after Boxing Day.”
“You wouldn’t do such a thing,” She sat up and wiggled her fingers in the direction of the coffee, grinning when Remus obliged and passed the pot over, “If I work hard on your decorations, you will leave them up until after the new year.”
Remus swallowed a laugh, he was always amused at how Hermione would hold an authoritative tone with him. He found it rather endearing, but gods, it was more attractive than anything.
“Yes, darling ,” He teased, relishing in how her little mouth parted and her cheeks flushed ever so slightly before hiding behind her chocolate colored hair as she began to fix her plate.
“Could I have your chocolate croissant,” Remus went to snag it off her plate, letting out a small yelp when she smacked the tops of his fingers.
“Are you mad? Those are my favorite!”
“It’s not my fault the elves never bake enough, Mi!”
Hermione pursed her lips, trying to hold back her grin before she tore off a small piece for herself before handing over the rest of the croissant. “Only because I like you,” She mumbled, pushing her book aside, the words making her feel even more nauseous.
“How on earth did Theo even rope you into the chaos of that drinking contest, and with firewhisky nonetheless.” He finally asked, taking a sip of coffee, his eyes finding hers.
“Because he’s best friends with Draco Malfoy, potioneer extraordinaire who has the best hangover potion on the marker.”
“I resent potioneer extraordinaire. I am a Potions Master, not a Knockturn Alley act!” Draco hissed from further down, his eyes narrowing playfully at the curly-haired witch.
“Where was my potion, Draco?” She snapped back, meeting his glare with equal mirth.
“Ask Potter. He was supposed to give it to you.” Draco simply said as he turned back to interrupting Theo and Harry’s conversation, the two men blankly staring before laughing at whatever he said.
“Looks like I’ll be the one nursing you back to health,” Remus sighed, swatting away her hand that went to smack his arm, “Don’t injure the help!” He whined as he looked down at her with the same wolfish grin Draco had taught him.
At the sound of her asking what she’d do with him, he fought the urge to reply truthfully.
Anything.
She could do anything with him.
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“No, Remus- oh fuck that’s not right, a little higher, yes! Right there!”
Remus was absolutely certain if one more breathy moan came out of her mouth, he was going to Avada himself before his body betrayed him and showed how much he loved what he was hearing. “Are you sure you’re not still drunk ‘Mi? You’ve had me adjust this garland twice.” He grunted, tacking it up just the way she’d asked.
Hermione would never reveal the opportunity she took to have Remus on the chair, those dress trousers hugging his arse and thighs just right.
“Something like that,” She murmured, her head tilting slightly as she watched him step down, shaking his body out like he’d just transformed for the moon. Her eyes roamed from his arse and, before she realized, landed on his bulge before her eyes snapped up, having not expected him to turn around.
Remus cleared his throat, blushing furiously as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, what do you think?”
“You look remarkable,” She mumbled, her hand smacking over her mouth as soon as the words left.
“The garland, darling.” Remus flushed, his tongue in cheek at the comment and not all too sure how to recover them both from the accidental slip-up.
“That too,” She muttered behind her fingers, too afraid that if she were to drop her hand, more traitorous thoughts would escape.
“Hermione,” He asked, desperate to change the tide of the conversation, picked up a chain of paper garland and toyed with the ring. “Did Miss Emma swing by and give you a student’s wish today?”
She took the garland from his hands and used his shoulder to hoist herself onto the chair, her heart stuttering when his hand wrapped around her calf to steady her. “She did in fact,” Hermione murmured, trying to compose herself from not absolutely melting into his arms just from the warmth of his hand.
“Told me she wished Mr. Lupin would decorate his class.” At the sound of his chuckle she glanced down, seeing him looking up at her with dilated pupils. “I figured I could handle Mr. Lupin and his classroom.”
She’d never mention how the wish she was given was to see how much Lupin fancied her. There simply was no way he’d take a chance on another young witch, not with how his relationship with Tonks turned out.
She also couldn’t handle the sting of potential rejection.
“I can’t say I disagree,” He murmured, dropping his gaze and turning his attention to her stockings, his thumb ever so slightly moving along the silken fabric, “I’m going to grab more decor,” he cleared his throat, his hand feeling cold the moment it left her calf.
“So they really sent you here to spread some Holiday spirit?” He called behind him, his fingers pressing into the edge of the christmas star, the tree their next thing to tackle now his walls were draped with shimmering paper chains of various colors.
“I would have come regardless of a little student’s wish, Remus.” She murmured, dropping down from the chair, and taking the star out of his hands, a small shiver running through her at the touch of their fingers.
“You deserve to have a magical Christmas too, right?” She asked, looking up into his amber eyes, her heart softening at how kind they looked at her.
“Right,” He winced internally at the short reply, watching the witch give him a soft smile before she set the star down and picked up some icy cranberries.
“Help me with these?” She looked over her shoulder as she tiptoed, her mary janes only giving her a merciful few inches.
Remus was sure his face gave him away at how much he enjoyed the sight of her, so he allowed himself to stand behind her and help, looping the cranberries wherever her finger struggled to point.
The only thing he’d be wishing for this Christmas was mercy.
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“Hermione, get your tiny swots away from me!” Theo hollered from the hall, surrounded by what felt like a sacrificial circle of first through fourth years. All day he had tiny little witches and wizards chomping at the bit to go outside, and no matter how hard he tried to hide, they always found him.
“You lot are a bunch of nifflers I swear!” He cried, feigning injury when Draco and Harry rounded the corner, their eyes widening at the ritual happening in front of the DADA classroom.
“We should help him,” Harry muttered, glancing over at Draco, who just shrugged.
“I’m sure there’s a rune for this.”
“Fair enough, but he looks rather desperate,” Harry stepped to the gaggle of students who were all chorusing off how they wanted to go outside and met the knowing look in Emma’s eyes.
“I do believe there's about five inches of snow absolutely begging to be played in, don't you, Professor Malfoy?”
At the eruption of happy cries, Draco looked at him aghast, his brows furrowed. “Absolutely not, Potter.” Only when the door flew open to reveal a grinning Hermione Granger and Remus Lupin, did he finally understand why they were all going to be trolloping through the snow like a herd of hippogriffs.
“I would absolutely love a snow day,” Hermione grinned, patting the little witch’s back who had hugged her before stepping back, “Remus will grab our cloaks, and we’ll join you all out on the grounds, yeah?”
“I am?” Remus asked near the shell of her ear, noticing her slight shiver.
“You are.” She confirmed, looking up, her fingers itching to touch the slight scruff on his jaw, but remained wrapped in her vest.
“Well, come on then—” Harry started ushering them all forward, leaving Theo behind, clutching his chest at the absolute chaos he had endured. “I literally came to this class to hide, now I’m to be their little moving target for snowballs?”
“You signed up to do this now, come on,” Draco muttered, grabbing him by the sweater and dragging him down the hall after Potter.
When Remus came back to Hermione’s side, he helped her into one of his softer, warmer cloaks, turning her to face him so he could latch it together at the base of her throat.
“Are you having a magical Christmas yet?” She asked softly, her eyes looking up to try and catch his, her heart stuttering slightly at how his eye color was still so prominent under his thick lashes.
“It’s definitely something,” Remus whispered, stepping back and donning his own cloak. “I do have a little treat that’ll make this all the more fun,” he pulled out a flask, holding it out to her. “We have three very professional professors who are fully capable of handling a lot of students before you argue with me, and I’m also quite certain even our beloved Headmistress would look the other way if you were to sip what’s in this flask right now.”
Hermione eyed the container before taking it from his hands and resting it against her lips, “Are you trying to get me drunk, Professor?”
“Never, Ms. Granger.”
“How unfortunate,” She sighed before she tipped the flask back, letting the cinnamon alcohol coat her tongue and the back of her throat. She quickly tried to clear her throat, keeping her face as impassive as possible as the burn lingered before she held the flask back to him. “Your turn.”
Donning that damn wolfish grin again, she watched him take a shot of whisky before stowing it away and offering his arm.
“I didn’t take you one for mischief, Hermione Jean.” He murmured, leading them down the halls towards the grounds.
“You’ll learn soon enough, Remus.”
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When the two professors stumbled out onto the grounds, their eyes narrowed suspiciously at the silence that was graced upon them.
“This definitely has Harry James Potter written all over it,” Hermione hissed, her gaze drifting around, trying to spy a puffball from a snow hat that would give away a student’s location, even looking for tiny footprints in the snow.
“The man fought in a war,” Remus muttered, “actually, we all did, but nevertheless, Harry is rather frightening when he wants to be. Even gives Moony a startle sometimes.”
Hermione stopped near a small snowbank and looked up at Remus, her hands on her hips. “You mean to tell me you, an actual werewolf, get startled by Harry! I don’t believe it. He’s absolu-”
Her words were caught in her throat when she felt Remus snatch her cloak in his hand and pull her to him, the sound of wet snow splattering against the wall behind them as he tossed her down onto the snow, his body hovering over hers as an eruption of war cries sounded out.
“Those little buggers nearly took my head off, didn’t they!” She gasped, her fingers curled against his clothed stomach, Remus letting out a tiny gasp at the direct contact.
He looked down at her, how her dark curls spilled against the white snow, little snowflakes crystalizing in small strands of hair. He was absolutely mesmerized by the smattering of freckles that danced along her flushed cheeks, her plump mouth rouged from the winter air, and her little nervous nibbles. “Hermione, I-”
“There you two are- oh,” Theo stopped, his eyes wide as he looked down at them before up again, dropping quickly to the ground as well. “Sorry to interrupt your… rendezvous here, but the witch hunt has ceased for a lunch break. Shall I let the table know you two are… indisposed?”
“Theo, respectfully, fuck right off,” Remus muttered, rolling off of Hermione and onto his back, reminding himself that Azkaban does not discriminate against Lycanthropy, therefore, he could not Avada Theo.
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Emma drug her chair next to the bench next to Professor Malfoy, her little grunts and huffs causing the Professor to look up from his book.
“Miss. Emma, is there a particular reason why you’re making yourself comfortable at the Professors’ end of the table?”
“Did you get your wish, Professor,” She asked with a feigned innocence, getting comfortable on the chair before looking up at him, “Professor Nott said if he granted the wish he got, he’d have to resign and go into hiding before Headmistress McGonagall found him.”
“Really,” Draco hummed curiously, looking down at the tiny witch. “You don’t happen to know what this wish might have been?”
“Someone asked him to buy a hundred of the joke shop’s caroling toads but to only have them croak the same Twisted Sisters’ ‘Have a Witchy Winter’ song throughout the castle, for the end of time.”
His mouth dropped, the image of thick toads croaking all over the castle, the same tune at different times and throughout the year, was enough for him to question who they had pissed off.
“Don’t tell me that was your wish, Emma?” He teased, a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips when the little witch scoffed.
“No!” Emma sighed, “Which is why I need to know what your wish was, Professor.”
“Do you intend on assisting in making sure it comes true?”
Emma shook her head fervently, sitting up straighter when Draco pulled his envelope from his pocket, trying to lift her eyes high enough to see what his parchment said.
“I wish that I could experience a muggle Christmas,” He murmured, his thumb running over the edge of the parchment, “Miss. Emma, I must shamefully admit I don’t know the first thing about a muggle Christmas, do you?”
She shook her head but lifted her hand to tug on his sleeve, waving her hand for him to lower himself down to her level so she could whisper her idea to him.
Draco, who thought the tiny raven-haired girl adorable, obliged and lowered himself slightly so she could share her little secret. There was a magical wonder that children have, that he could admit now, he was robbed of.
He’d never take a child’s opportunity to be young away from them.
So when Emma whispered that Granger would most definitely know about muggle Christmas traditions, and she would probably need some help from Lupin for some heavy lifting, he couldn’t help but pull back and grin.
“Miss. Emma, I cannot believe you fool everyone with those wide, innocent eyes of yours. You happen to be a mischievous, cunning little thing for a Hufflepuff. Are you sure you’re in the right house?”
“Well, to be honest, sir, I was a hatstall.” Emma smiled, wiggling off the chair and bidding her newest conspirator a farewell.
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“Granger,” Draco sighed, meeting the curly-haired witch’s eyes. “The mandrakes have asked you to show them what a Muggle Christmas looks like.”
“Draco, I’ve told you a million times the students are not screaming herbs.”
“You haven’t had to watch my seventh years’.”
“Also, I remember how mesmerized you were by the colored lights and glittering ornaments, are you sure you don’t want to help me?”
Draco could feel his cheeks heating because it was true; he really did love how muggle Christmases looked more than Wizarding, but she didn’t have to say it so loud .
“Afraid not, Granger. This is Acromantula silk,” He sighed, brushing off his shirt before standing up. “I’m taking Lupin’s shift on the grounds. Though, you two could handle it, yeah?” He asked as he backed away, and when he saw the formation of an excuse start to form, he spun on his heel to escape before she could make one.
“Well, I did plan on–” He could hear her push the chair back, and over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of her sitting there, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.
“Good talk, Granger! We’ll bring the kids around to decorate once you’ve got the tree! Send your otter, stat. Have to make sure Theo isn’t spelled into a sacrificial circle!”
Hermione sighed before she turned to Lupin, who was nose-deep in a book about using Potions as a defense.
“Remus,” She slipped his bookmark over the page he was on, her heart leaping when he peered up at her over the rim of his glasses. “Would you mind helping me with another wish?”
“You ask as if I would tell you no,” He murmured, closing his book and meeting her gaze, “what wish are we granting next?”
“How would you like to share a muggle Christmas with me?” She bit her lip, watching Remus’ smile lift just a tad higher, leaving her feeling featherlight.
“I would love nothing more, Hermione Jean.”
❄ ❅ ❄ ❅ ❄ ❅
Remus watched Hermione kneel to the elf’s level, Pip’s large ears starting to quiver. “Why does Miss ‘Mione not want the elves to make cookies?! Did Pip make a mistake?! Miss ‘Mione said Pip allowed mistakes!”
“No, no, Pip, I promise you’ve been such a good little elf. All of you! I just… the children want cookies made by hand, the muggle-born way! I also kind of miss it?” Hermione winced when she heard the tiny elf sniffle, knowing this wasn’t going to turn around in her favor.
She crushed the tiny elf’s spirit.
“Miss doesn’t like Pip’s cookies!” The tiny elf’s eyes widened and watered quicker than expected, and Lupin immediately stepped in, his hand on Hermione’s shoulder.
“Pip— darling,” when the little elf heard her name, she looked up, a tiny smile appearing.
“How can Pip be of service, Mr. Lupin!”
“I know for a fact the staff loves what the elves have been doing for the holidays. The cranberry tart you left me? Delectable,” Remus knelt down, watching as Pip squeaked, her hands clasped together as she shifted excitedly.
“That’s Pip’s most favorite recipe,” She spun, small claps erupting, “Would Mr. Lupin like more? Pip can make more!”
Remus steadied the elf when she began to lean over, shaking her ears to clear the disorientation.
He sighed, rubbing his hands against his trousers, “I would love it if you could make a serving of those tarts for me. I believe the other Professors would enjoy it and I’d like to gift it to them for Christmas.”
“You want Pip to make more tarts! Pip would love to make more for Mr. Lupin!”
“Only Pip, if I could borrow the kitchen today. After that? I shall not refuse you ever again.”
“Mr. Lupin promises to never tell Pip no?”
Remus held his pinky out, grinning as Hermione explained the importance of a pinky promise, and how he absolutely couldn’t deny the little elf if she wanted to do all her favorite things.
Even if she charmed his wash flannels into shapes of tiny mythical creatures that sometimes bite.
❄ ❅ ❄ ❅ ❄ ❅
“It says to bake at three-hundred and sixty degrees,” Hermione looked up from the scribbled instructions, her brows furrowed as she wiped her brow, smudging flour across her forehead. “Could you put those in? I believe the oven is about ready. Who knows, it’s a bloody wood-burning one, and Merlin— it’s bloody hot in here.” She muttered, her eyes narrowing at the offending kitchen appliance.
When she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, she looked up to see Remus offering her ice water. “Down this, you’re quite flushed.” He murmured, his fingers brushing hers as he passed the glass along.
Hermione had to suppress her shiver, but she was sure the wolf caught it by the tilt of his smile.
“This was rather sweet of you, Hermione,” He spoke as he set their fourth batch of cookies in the wood stove, hissing when the wood crackled, heat licking his skin. Recovering from the back-aching work of mixing all of the batter, he swiped a chocolate cookie and bit into it, an eyebrow raised at the echoing scoff.
“Those aren’t for you, Remus,” Hermione teased as she hopped up on the counter, grinning as the wolf let out a low growl. “I suppose the children wouldn’t mind sharing their chocolate if it kept your irritability at bay.”
“Irritability?” He scoffed, making his way in front of the witch, the urge to part her legs and nestle between them stronger than his willpower. “A wolf, irritable, who would have ever thought.” Remus brought the pad of his thumb to his mouth, his eyes catching how her little mouth parted as she watched his tongue lick the chocolate.
“You should taste your work,” Remus watched her scoot forward, her knees falling apart ever so slightly, and he was almost certain if he were to wrap her legs around his hips, she would melt like snow on a warm day, but they finally developed something, and he didn’t want to go back to being Professor Lupin. “Quite delicious. I can’t believe you’ve never made me these.”
“I wasn’t aware you wanted me in your kitchen, Remus,” She whispered, her head tilted as the wizard paused a piece of cookie midway to her, having not expected that comment at all.
“Not a terrible want– now is it?” He rasped, his heart pounding as she reached forward, her fingers deftly pulling the cookie from his fingers. Remus watched steadily as the cookie touched her little pink tongue, the blood rushing down to his trousers at an uncomfortable pace.
“Is that why you’re here, helping me bake cookies for the children?” Hermione murmured, the toe of her Mary Jane hooking the back of his calf and causing him to stumble forward a tad, the palms of his hands landing bruisingly on the top of her thighs. “So you could see what I could do for you?”
“What’re you doing?” Remus murmured, looking down at the witch who met his curiosity with a want he could finally see.
“I could ask you the very same,” She took her thumb and swiped at the corner of his mouth before bringing it to her lips and wrapping them around it. With a wet pop, she released her finger and Remus was sure he left ten bruises on her thighs from the act.
“I’m spending time with you, Hermione Jean,” Remus gasped a bit— and immediately flushed when she opened her thighs further, letting him nestle closer to her. “It seems everywhere you are, I want to be.”
When Remus heard her breath hitch, he took her jaw in his hand, his heart soaring at how she nuzzled into his touch, “Hermione, I have to let you know-”
“Are those bloody cookies ready?” Harry yelped, his eyes wide in the kitchen doorway when he realized he interrupted what looked like a rather intimate moment. “The children threatened to snap all the new StarChaser 3000s I just purchased for the new quidditch season in retaliation for not being able to decorate the cookies before dinner.”
Remus sighed, Moony even growling in frustration, and dropped his hand. He met Hermione’s chocolate brown eyes, who looked dilated and wondrous at him. “Come on, darling, the children are rioting.”
Hermione shimmied down the counter so she could stand, allowing the pressure of his body against hers for just a lingering moment before she nodded, avoiding Harry’s direction, not ready for whatever look he wore.
“Gather the children in the DADA classroom. It's big enough to house us all since the elves are prepping for dinner in the Great Hall.”
❄ ❅ ❄ ❅ ❄ ❅
“Absolutely not, Miss Emma- we cannot allow magical creatures into the castle because they’re cold , they’re bloody animals! They’ll be just fine.” Theo gritted out, his eyes closing when he saw the little witch’s eyes start to water. “Don’t give me that look. It works— that’s how Professor Granger gets whatever she wants, and I simply won’t stand for it anymore.”
“Theo, are you letting the children manipulate you?” Draco asked, giving an encouraging wink at Emma, who only huffed in response before spinning on her heels and joining the cluster of students who were drawing images on the frosty glass.
“She almost had me.. I almost went and wrangled a hippogriff.”
“That would have been a sight,” Hermione inquired, setting trays of cookies down on lengthened tables, Remus behind her arranging the icing in what Draco would only consider a swotty way.
All in a line, and all color coded.
“What, Granger, no sprinkles?”
With a snap of her fingers, the table was lined with edible glitters, colorful sprinkles, candies, and stencils they could use to decorate their cookies.
“Never mind that I asked,” Draco sighed, his eyes widening as he watched a third year start to float mid-air. “Good gods , I thought we banned the twins’ weightless bubblegum! Oh, Merlin . ” He ran over to Theo and Potter, who were both casting ill-timed Incarcerous Charms – the student escaping the thick ropes.
“The children are full of mischief this year,” Remus sighed as he sat next to Hermione, who only laughed. “What? You can’t deny it, absolute troublemakers.”
“This is coming from a Marauder himself?”
He looked over to see her pulling a sugar cookie onto her plate, tapping the golden edge before reaching over him to snatch up the shimmery green icing. He wanted to tell himself the warmth was from everyone in the room, and the vanilla he smelt was the icing she had started piping, but it was Hermione.
She was warm, sweet, soft, and everything he bloody wanted and just couldn’t have. He savored those stolen moments like the snow day, the kitchen— and that’s all they’d ever be.
Moments.
“Remus?” His eyes snapped to the witch, who looked up at him curiously, “Where did you go?”
He looked her over, trying not to give any reaction to how close she was to him. Remus could feel the warmth radiating off her thigh that was pressed against his, space between them nonexistent despite the bench space available. He could feel her shoulder pressed against his arm, and if she turned her head just quick enough, he’d be graced with her vanilla perfume again.
Somehow she still wasn’t close enough.
“Was just thinking,” Remus shrugged, snagging her iced cookie up and taking a bite. The sugar cookie was soft and delicious with the icing.
“You did not just bite my Christmas Cookie!” Hermione smacked his arm, laughing at his muffled yelp. “Well, at least share the bloody thing.” She reached over to take a piece, gasping when the wizard held the cookie away from her.
“Remus, please–” She begged, and Remus would be lying if he said the way his name sounded didn’t wake up something primal in him, wanting to lay her on that table and find out all the ways he could make her say his name like that again.
When the witch had practically climbed into his lap, holding his wrist tight as she bit the cookie from his hand— he was done for.
Hermione Granger was everything he ever wanted.
His arm wrapped around her waist to keep her from toppling off the bench, the witch taking a messy bite of cookie from his fingers before gathering the bit of icing that was in the corner of her mouth with her tongue.
He was sure he couldn’t stand up.
“You’re quite a handful yourself,” Remus laughed when the witch shrugged, her hand resting on the top of his thigh as she got herself comfortable again.
“Nothing you couldn’t handle.” Hermione shrugged, picking up another cookie and starting her decorating routine all over again.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Are you really going to make me say it, Remus?” Hermione looked up at him, seeing his earnest expression that he had no idea what she was talking about. “Remus, just—” She bit the inside of her cheek, not knowing if what she were to say would bring him closer or drive him further away, but Merlin, did she hope for the latter. “Please know that whenever you’re ready, there are witches who would love to live life with you.”
“Witches.” Remus deadpanned, propping his temple on his fist as he watched her. “What makes you think I have an interest in witches?”
“Don’t be daft, Remus. I hardly see you as a type to go for-”
He scoffed, waving a hand lazily to cut her off. “Hermione, I’m interested in a witch .”
“Oh,” She bit her lip, setting her decorated cookie on the platter. “Well, she’s quite a lucky one to have caught your eye.”
“You think so?” He asked, watching what felt like the smile she had all day fall.
“Of course, Remus, you’re quite the catch. Now decorate some cookies before we become a part of the rumoured sacrificial circle.” Hermione turned her attention to the task at hand, occasionally looking up to make sure there were no more students floating in the air.
There was a silence between them that felt cutting and gods, Remus wanted to fix whatever he had just broken, but he’d been told so often he never knew the right thing to say, and he had a tendency to make things worse. He went to ask her what she thought about the student’s wishes so far— a safe topic between two professors— when she had gotten to her feet.
“I’ve forgotten something from the kitchen. It’ll make this all the more festive,” Hermione mumbled, nearly tripping over the bench as she hurried to the doors.
“Hermione, wait!” Remus struggled to his feet, knocking his knee into the table and wincing at the sharp pain, rushing to catch her. He grabbed her wrist just before the door, the tiny witch turning to meet his eyes.
“Yes, Professor?”
“Oh, no— don’t do that, Hermione Jean,” Remus stepped closer, the witch stepping further back.
“Don’t do what, Professor Lupin. Help keep the students entertained? That’s what I signed up for.” Hermione could feel her eyes starting to burn with unshed tears, feeling silly forever thinking for a split second Remus would ever be interested in her. She went to turn back around, managing just a few more steps as she tried shaking her wrist free from his grip.
“Don’t run, dammit- Hermione, stop.” Remus kept following her, every step back she took, he took two forward until he ran into her practically.
“Oh no—” Hermione turned around, her eyes wide as she met his dark ones before she glanced up, the sight of Fred bloody Weasley blowing kisses down at her, the joke shop’s number one seller every winter hols being the damn mistletoe she was standing under.
She was going to Avada Fred the next time she saw him.
“Well, this is a problem, isn’t it?” Remus muttered, trying to take a step back but locked under the mistletoe with her.
“Ah, yes— because kissing me is so problematic, isn’t it,” Hermione sighed, her hands on her hips as she looked up at the wolf. “I hope you know you could be locked under here with Harry.”
“Truly problematic, that would be. You’re quite right.” Remus spun on his heel, facing the hoard of mischievous students, and apparently equally as bad professors, and crossed his arms. “Stop this now. You’re putting Professor Granger in a horrible position by making her kiss an old man like myself.”
“You’re not old, Remus.” She muttered, glaring at his back as he attempted to scold the students.
“Forcing someone to share a kiss takes away the specialness of it, wouldn’t you say?”
At the resounding ‘rules are rules’ and ‘just kiss her already’ from across the class, she closed her eyes and steeled herself for the embarrassment she was sure to feel when she’d meet whatever witch had caught Remus’ eye after sharing a kiss with him.
“I’m not being forced,” Hermione whispered, looking up when Remus turned back to her.
“You’re stuck under a mistletoe with me.”
“I know.”
Remus watched her, how her eyes grew red at the corners from holding back tears, but still looked up at him with an adoration he thought she shared with everyone but in that moment, it was just for him.
“Hermione, I simply—”
“Remus, I know you have another witch waiting for you, and it’s a simple explanation really. You just happened to get caught under the double doors and the WWW mistletoe—”
“I don’t have another witch, Hermione! Why do you keep saying that?”
“You said you were interested in a witch!”
“Hermione, darling— gods, it’s you! The witch I’m interested in is you. ”
“Well why didn’t you bloody say anything!” Hermione smacked his chest, her heart skipping when Remus caught her wrist and keeping her palm against him.
“I tried multiple times. There just was never the right moment.” He gave her wrist a gentle squeeze before his hand covered hers, stepping closer to the tiny witch, who shifted nervously before looking up at him.
“Remus,”
“Hermione?”
“I thought you were a smart man.”
“Have I told you I love when you remind me I’m more than my good looks?”
Hermione’s head tilted back as she laughed, his eyes following the curve of her throat, mesmerized by the way her curls seemed to dance around her shoulders like shivering leaves during a winter breeze. Remus decided seeing her eyes closed, faint crinkles in the corner showing years of laughter, was just as beautiful as snowflakes fluttering in the wind, but not as beautiful as her smile that warmed him on the chilliest of days, shining as bright as the stars he laid under during the full moon.
He never realized how someone could just be radiant — and all he wanted to do was bask in her.
Remus slipped his hands under her jaw, drawing her mouth to his and relishing in the tiny gasp that elicited from her when their lips connected. Every bloody wonder he had about how she tasted was nothing compared to the hint of sugar, laced with chocolate and desire.
He held back, scared for it to end but too nervous to push further, and wasn’t until he felt her small hands twist in his shirt he drew her closer, that same wolfish grin spreading when she deepened the kiss.
“That was better than what I wished for,” Hermione whispered as she pulled back, shivering as the magic fell that kept them locked in place, having fulfilled the mistletoe’s requirements, but she didn’t move.
She didn’t want to move.
When realization hit— and what she had just said finally settled in his weary bones, Remus swore his heart had skipped. “You wished for this?” He asked, his breath catching at her smile.
“I thought I was obvious enough,” Hermione shrugged, her smile widening when she caught a glance at his look of disbelief.
“If I told you, I thought I didn’t have a chance, would you laugh at me?”
“Merrily, Remus John Lupin.”
At the sound of eruption cheers and claps— Remus was sure he heard “about damn time" from a naughty Ravenclaw who was prone to a curse word or two— they broke apart to see the students and their own professors grinning ear to ear.
He was thankful for Moony and all he had to offer in this moment because Remus would have never heard Harry whisper “mischief managed” to Draco, the two friends high-fiving on the down low.
“Still need the kitchen, Hermione Jean?” He murmured in her hair, tucking her closer into his side.
“I think all the holiday cheer is here,” Hermione bit her lip, her eyes catching little Emma’s excited claps.
❄ ❅ ❄ ❅ ❄ ❅
Hermione found herself pacing outside of Remus’ quarters, and she was sure she wore a path into the floor in front of his door, but after that kiss and spending dinner next to his side, stolen looks, and flirtatious banter, she just had to be sure this was real.
All of what was happening was real.
She didn’t even hear the door open, startling slightly when Remus had cleared his throat, his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the door. “You could have knocked, darling.” He murmured, his fingers reaching out and grabbing hers, the witch growing still in front of him.
“Is this real?” Hermione asked, meeting his amber eyes, shivering at the sudden chill in the air. Remus took the opportunity to pull her closer, one of the perks of being a wolf was the fact he ran warm constantly.
He met her eyes, a brief flicker of worry crossing them before he tilted his head, his hands slowly ghosting her sides as he drew her into his quarters, shutting the door behind him. “Is what, real, Hermione?”
“You, me, us— how you feel, is it true?” She shifted nervously, crossing her arms as she dragged the toe of her shoe into the brick flooring.
“Do you believe in wishes coming true?” Remus asked, his fingertips dancing along her lower back as he circled behind her, curling slightly in her sweater.
“I was told if you told someone your wish, it wouldn’t come true,” Hermione murmured, stepping back into his space, soaking up his radiating warmth.
“Maybe that’s why it took so long for you to be in my arms. You never told me.”
“You would have granted it?”
“I can’t grant something that I also wished for.”
Hermione spun on her heel, the act disorienting in an exhilarating way that caused Remus to wrap his arms around her and pull her close to him. He wanted to howl at the feeling of their chests fighting to rise and fall together, but both their hearts rapidly beat in a race to who would fall first.
Remus was winning.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” He whispered, his nose brushing along hers, his eyes fluttering at the stuttered breath she let out. His fingertips danced up her arms, his fingers curling under the base of her jaw, “And if you let me, Hermione Jean, I’ll kiss you tomorrow, and the next day, and every day after that for as long as you’ll have me.”
Hermione wrapped her fingers in his sweater and pulled him down, her lips brushing against his, the tip of her tongue running along the seam of his mouth, her breath hitching at the low growl that reverberated from his chest.
There was a hunger in the way he kissed her, his fingers wrapping in her curls at the nape of her neck as he kissed her harder, deeper– and it didn’t matter that he ran warm. She wanted to warm him up in all the ways she knew how.
On the carpeted floor near the fireplace.
On the worn couch in his office.
In his bed, under his sheets, wrapped in his arms and skin to skin, hips to hips.
She wanted to breathe Remus in, his warm cologne mixed with him soothing an ache she had since the war.
Remus growled into the curve of her neck at Hermione trying to roll her hips against his, taking any kind of pressure and friction she could get. The smell of lilies and rain, mixed with her desire became delightfully disorienting. He pulled back and met her eyes. “If you don’t stop doing that, I won’t stop—” He rasped out, shivering when her nails began to leave half-moons into his flesh.
“Then don’t stop.”
❄ ❅ ❄ ❅ ❄ ❅
A Year Later;
“Buh-Bye ‘Mi-mi! See you tomorrow!”
Hermione waved at Teddy, who passed through the floo, his attempt to say tomorrow causing her to giggle, the sounding ‘woah’ leaving her feeling weightless.
There was something about Teddy being excited to see her that left her feeling whole.
“He truly adores you,” Remus murmured, reaching forward and grabbing his witch by her belt loops, pulling her down, and nestling her onto his lap. When her thighs straddled his, he let his palms map her out greedily, nearly purring at the shivers he still elicited a year later.
“You think so? His opinion means a lot, you know,” Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, letting out a sigh when her wolf quirked a brow, “I have to impress his father.”
“What if I told you, his father’s been impressed with you and there possibly isn’t anything more you could do.”
“There’s always more I could do,” Hermione shrugged, accepting his quick kiss to her lips before settling back.
“Do you think so?”
“Well, that’s not very reassuring, Remus.”
He met her eyes, still amazed at how Hermione looked at him so warmly and adoringly to the day, and it didn’t matter what they’d gone through. There wasn’t ever a hint of anything other than love.
They’d shared tears, shouts, laughter, and whispers in the late nights, every moment leading him to the deciding factor that he wanted every day with her, no matter what that day brought.
Remus was truly amazed that one day he had a Christmas wish to have Hermione be his, and now she was— entirely, body, heart, and soul.
Hermione Jean Granger was his witch.
But he had one more Christmas wish, and he prayed to whatever gods that favored him they’d grant it for him.
“There is actually something you could do,” Remus whispered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. “Could you read this out loud for me?”
Hermione gave a tiny chuckle as her eyes met his, her fingers plucking the paper and folding it open, “My Christmas wish is for Hermione Jean Granger to become Hermione Jean Lupin.”
Her eyes shot up to see Remus holding open a velvet box, the ring inside reminiscent of a snowflake. It was a silver band that held an oval sapphire, surrounded by tiny clusters of diamonds, and Hermione couldn’t help but let out a tiny sob, her eyes meeting his watery ones.
“One day, a student wished that I could see how much you liked me, and I thought it was cruel at the time, to wish for something that felt so unattainable. To have you be mine, Hermione Jean— was a wish I always had nestled deep in my heart, locked under the weight of the world’s standards, my insecurity from the divorce, and the idea that you deserved better than what I had to offer.”
When she went to speak, he gently covered her mouth with his free hand, shaking his head.
“I was foolish to watch you walk away, knowing I could give you everything you wanted. I know I can challenge you intellectually, make you laugh— I can wipe every tear and kiss away any fear or insecurity you might have.” Remus dropped his hand, his thumb gently swiping away the tears that slowly trekked down her cheeks.
“Over this past year, I’ve proved to myself that what I have with you is genuine—real. Gods, Hermione, if you let me, I’ll prove it to you every day that Christmas wishes do come true, and when it’s not Christmas, any want you have, I’ll try to fulfill. I will love you until my last breath and beyond if you let me because—” He cleared his throat, his own eyes burning with unshed tears as he sat up a bit further, meeting her watery gaze.
“I can do that, Hermione, give you that unyielding love. I won’t always get it right but if you let me-”
“Yes, yes. A resounding yes, Remus.”
“Yes—”
“I’ll marry you,” She laughed, nodding furiously as she held her shaking hand out, which Remus gladly kissed the top of before taking the ring and sliding it onto her finger, watching the ring size itself accordingly.
“Thanks for making my wish come true,” Remus whispered, his arms wrapping around the witch as she curled into him, murmuring into the curve of his neck that he didn’t have to wish anymore. He just had to ask.
Finite.