Chapter 4
Hermione stepped out of the Floo into her modest but cozy flat, arms laden with a precarious stack of books. A few tomes at the top wobbled dangerously, and she grunted in frustration as she managed to levitate the pile onto the nearest surface, a low coffee table crowded with notes, quills, and half-emptied mugs of tea.
She sighed, brushing soot off her cardigan, and muttered to herself, "Of all days to forget my beaded bag." Her irritation mounted as she remembered having to leave half her purchases at Flourish and Blotts for later pickup. The books she managed to carry were essential for her immediate research, and the idea of leaving them behind had felt like an act of betrayal.
Shaking her head, she moved toward the kitchen to start a pot of tea, the comforting ritual easing her nerves. The meeting with the Zabinis had been intense, full half-answers that left her with more questions than solutions. And then there was the unexpected—and frankly unsettling—return of Draco Malfoy to Britain. His reappearance, paired with the peculiar way Harry had whisked him off after their meeting, was gnawing at her curiosity. She just needed to get started researching anything. Unsure of how to help the situation just yet.
Hermione sank into her favorite armchair, summoning parchment and quill with a flick of her wand. Her thoughts strayed to Cambridge. Juggling her responsibilities as a visiting lecturer while tackling magical crises was becoming increasingly untenable. The Zabini affair would demand time and focus, meaning she’d have to reshuffle her schedule yet again. Her lips thinned in reluctant resignation as she drafted a letter to the head of departments, finally acquiescing to their offer of an additional research assistant.
“It’s a blatant budget grab,” she grumbled aloud, punctuating her signature with a sharp dot of ink. “But fine. If it means I can step away from time to time...” She folded the parchment and sent it off before turning her attention back to the stack of books, eager to lose herself in the comforting logic of research.
Her plans were interrupted by a loud, familiar voice echoing from the Floo. “Oi! Auntie Mione! Are you theeeeeerrrreeeeee?”
Hermione grinned as she stood and made her way back to the fireplace. There, in the emerald glow of the flames, was the bright and slightly soot-covered face of her godson, James Sirius Potter.
“Well, hello, James!” she said warmly, crouching to meet his eye level. “Have your parents found out yet that you’ve learned to use the Floo unsupervised?”
James puffed out his chest indignantly. “Apparently Teddy doesn’t understand Marualer code.”
Hermione couldn’t help but laugh, gently correcting, “Marauders, darling. And I suppose Uncle George has been regaling you with his stories again?”
“They’re the best stories!” James exclaimed, his face lighting up with excitement. “He’s here now! Mum wanted me to see if you’d come over for cebleration.”
“Celebration,” Hermione enunciated with a playful smile. “Why, certainly. What are we celebrating?”
James merely grinned mischievously. “Come and see!”
“Alright, take two giant steps back, and I’ll come through,” she instructed, suppressing a laugh as James dramatically leapt backward.
Stepping through the Floo into the familiar, bustling warmth of Grimmauld Place, Hermione was immediately greeted by the sound of laughter and cheers. Following the noise to the kitchen, she found herself enveloped by a sea of smiling Weasleys, glasses raised in celebration.
“Hermione is here!” chorused several voices.
Harry was the first to step forward, pulling her into a hug. “Hey, sorry I didn’t catch you earlier to give you a heads-up. You weren’t home.”
Ginny wasted no time pressing a shot of Firewhisky into Hermione’s hand, clinking her own glass against it before downing hers in one swift motion. “Cheers!” Ginny grinned, already pouring herself another.
Hermione laughed, shaking her head. “I was book shopping. Lost track of time, as usual.” She turned to Harry. “So, what’s the occasion?”
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. “Well, I’ll never understand it but…I’ve been offered the position of Head Auror. I accepted last night.”
“Harry! That’s incredible!” Hermione beamed, launching herself at him for another hug. As she stepped back, she swatted the back of his head lightly. “What do you mean you’ll never understand? You’re brilliant at your job, Harry, and no one deserves this more than you.”
Harry’s ears turned red, but he chuckled. “Thanks, Hermione. I just hope I can live up to it.”
“You will,” she said firmly, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze.
Before Harry could respond, a series of small explosions erupted near the ceiling, scattering sparks and colorful smoke across the room.
“George Weasley!” Molly’s sharp voice rang out at the same time Ginny shouted, “James Potter!”
“Oh dear lads, we’ve been discovered. Make haste!” George declared dramatically, scooping up a giggling Albus from his walker and making a hasty retreat. Teddy and James followed, their laughter echoing through the hallways.
Hermione’s heart swelled as she watched George’s antics. Seeing him smile again after years of grief was nothing short of a miracle. She glanced at Harry, who was wearing the same warm, contemplative smile.
“Mark my words,” Ginny growled as she marched after the culprits, “I am going to eradicate every last Weasley indoor firework from the face of this planet.”
Meanwhile, Ron was hovering anxiously over Daphne, who was seated in a cushioned chair and looking thoroughly unimpressed with his fussing. “Ron, I’m fine,” Daphne snapped, though her tone was affectionate.
Harry grinned. “I better give Ron a task before Daphne hexes him. Ron, come help me with something.”
Hermione slid into the seat next to Daphne as the men walked off. Daphne said abruptly. “Ask me how I’m feeling. I dare you.”
Hermione grinned. “Let me guess: Ron is driving you mad with his overprotectiveness, and you’d very much like to see your own feet again.”
“I love that man but if he tries to dress me one more time, it will be his death sentence! I am not an invalid.” The two shared another laugh. “He actually tried to dress you?” Hemione asked incredulously. “Well to be fair, he was the one who undressed me,” she smirked conspiratorially, “apparently he thought it was his duty to redress me after.” With that both witches laughed again. “How have you been Hermione?” The two caught up on the happenings in eachothers lives while the party atmosphere started to calm. George and James managed to shoot off two more rounds of indoor fireworks before Ginny found their hidden stash. Hermione knew that Ginny knew exactly where the stash was from the beginning. Ginevra Weasley has always been a fierce Gryfindor, a force to be reckoned with. But Ginevra Potter, as a mother, was awe inspiring. The way she allowed George to foster his relationship with his nephews and slowly heal his inner child, and the way she allowed James to have that safe outlet for his mischievous side, it was truly amazing to witness.
Hermione was the last guest and as she stood to leave Harry stopped her. “Can I get your opinion quickly before you leave Hermione?”
“Of course Harry, what is it?” Hermione said, noting the way he rubbed the back of his neck—a telltale sign he was nervous.
“I’ve accepted Malfoy’s transfer from MACUSA. He starts next week in Special Assignments.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Oh. That’s... promising. His track record in America was impressive if I recall from the papers. And I imagine this will probably be very helpful, regarding the Zabini’s.?”
“That’s what I’m counting on,” Harry said, nodding.
“And he’s staying in Britain for good, then? Not just visiting?”
“Yes, I’ve filed the paperwork right after my conversation with him, that's why I asked him to accompany me to the DMLE earlier. But, that's not what I wanted to ask about.”
Hermione tilted her head, curious. “Alright. What is it?”
“What’s your opinion on Theodore Nott?”