Chapter 2
Both wizards turned towards the source of the voice, and there stood Harry, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. The weight of the revelation hung in the air, suffocating the room with an almost tangible tension.
"What did you just say?" he repeated, his voice a mixture of disbelief and urgency.
James glanced at Sirius, a silent exchange passing between them as they both realized that the moment they had been avoiding for years had finally arrived. There was no turning back.
"Harry," James stammered, his hazel eyes darting between her and Sirius. He hadn't anticipated this moment.
The room seemed to grow still, the air heavy with anticipation as the teenager waited for an explanation. Sirius, his expression a mix of concern and regret, remained silent, letting James take the lead.
James took a deep breath, the weight of decades of secrecy lifting and crashing down upon him simultaneously. "I'm not a normal portrait, son. I’m trapped in here.I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner but we made an unbreakable vow."
The words hung in the air, a profound revelation that reverberated through the room. Harry’s eyes widened in shock, his mind struggling to process the enormity of what he had just heard.
"What?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Sirius, unable to meet his godson’s gaze, shifted uncomfortably. "It's true. When your parents went into hiding, we used black magic to protect you in case something went wrong. But something went wrong and your dad ended up trapped in the portrait and your mu—Hermione ended up, well you’ve seen it. We all made an unbreakable vow—Remus, Lily, James and Hermione—you were not supposed to find out like this."
Harry, despite the shock, took a deep breath, his Gryffindor courage steadying him. "So, I'm... Hermione’s my mother?" he repeated, as if saying the words aloud would make them more tangible.
James nodded solemnly, his gaze never leaving his. Sirius, sensing the weight of the moment, stepped forward. "Harry, we're sorry for keeping this from you. We wanted to spare you the pain and the danger. It was—it’s complicated."
A mix of emotions played across Harry’s face – confusion, anger, sadness, and finally, a steely determination. "Complicated?" his voice wavered between disbelief and anger. "You think finding out my best friend is my mother is just 'complicated'? Why the hell didn't you tell me earlier?"
James's eyes reflected the pain of years of silent observation and longing. "We made an unbreakable vow, Harry. We thought it would protect you, keep you safe. "
"Protect me?" Harry scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Protect me from what? The truth? I've been living a lie, and you think keeping this from me was protecting me?"
Sirius stepped forward, his expression earnest. "Harry, we know it's a shock, but you have to understand—we did what we thought was best for you. We wanted you to have a normal life."
Harry, his frustration boiling over, shot back, "A normal life? Do you have any idea what my life has been like? Voldemort, Death Eaters, the prophecy—none of that screams 'normal' to me!"
James, visibly pained, replied, "We didn't anticipate the return of Voldemort. We wanted you to grow up without the constant threat of his presence. We wanted you to have a chance at a life. A chance we didn’t get."
Harry's eyes, a reflection of the storm within him, flickered between the two men who had shaped his life in ways he never could have imagined. The room seemed to close in on him, and he felt a deep sense of isolation, caught between the present and a past that had been deliberately hidden from him.
Finally, after a heavy silence, Harry spoke, his voice a mix of resignation and vulnerability. "I need time to process this. I need to be alone."
Neither James nor Sirius argued. They understood the gravity of the revelation and the impact it had on the young wizard who stood before them, betrayed by the secrets that had long been kept from him.
As Harry turned to leave the room, his footsteps echoing in the silence, he couldn't shake the feeling that his entire world had shifted, leaving him adrift in a sea of unanswered questions and shattered illusions. He couldn't escape the overwhelming sense that everything he thought he knew had been a carefully constructed facade.
After a few moments, James broke the silence, his voice carrying a note of concern. "Do you think we did the right thing, Sirius?"
"Oh, definitely. Nothing like dropping a bombshell on the poor kid and then asking if it was the right thing to do."
James scowled at his friend. "This is serious, Sirius. We've put a strain on our relationship with Harry, and I can't help but wonder if we made the wrong choice."
Sirius leaned against the wall. "James, you both did what we thought was best. Give him time to process it all."
Days passed since the revelation, and a heavy tension lingered in the air of Grimmauld Place. The awkwardness between Harry, James, and Sirius persisted, each grappling with the aftermath of the hidden truth. On one particular evening, as Harry wandered through the darkened hallways of the old house, he found himself standing before the enchanted portrait of his father. The hazel-eyed wizard turned his attention toward his son, a mix of guilt and regret in his gaze. Harry sighed, bracing himself for another difficult conversation.
"Harry," James began, his voice tentative, "I know you're going through a lot. I want you to understand that we never meant to keep this from you. Theoretically you weren’t supposed to find out."
Harry nodded, acknowledging the sincerity in his father's words. "I get it, Dad. It's just a lot to process. Does Hermione know?"
James, a hint of sadness in his eyes, responded, "No. She doesn't know. If someone finds out, she could be in a lot of danger and I’m not willing to let her go through that. Not when I’m not there to protect her."
Harry ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his posture. "I guess you’re right. But she’ll find out eventually. She’s the brightest witch of her age."
Before James could respond, Harry's expression shifted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know, you’ve got a lot of work to do."
James, catching on to the teasing tone, raised an eyebrow. "Work? What kind of work?"
Harry smirked, ready to get back at him. "Oh, you know, the kind that involves keeping two certain blokes away from Hermione."
James's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
Harry leaned in, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Ron and Viktor. They've been showing a lot of interest in Hermione lately. Viktor’s more aware than poor Ron, but you know."
James's expression darkened, a protective instinct surging within him. "They're after her? What do you mean?"
Harry chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the dramatic turn of events. "Oh, you know, Dad, the usual. Trying to impress her, Viktor asked her out, that sort of thing. But don't worry, I've got it under control.”
James's temper flared, his protective instincts colliding with a surge of jealousy. "Under control? What do you mean by that?"
Harry, still grinning, decided to push his father's buttons a bit more. Sweet revenge, he thought. "Well, you see, Dad, I've got this plan to keep them at bay now that I know about you and my best friends. It’s quite disturbing if you think about it really, but I’ve decided to take the high road. So, on to my great plan, I've been dropping hints about her having a 'secret admirer,' and they're eating it up. Ron's convinced it's some bloke from Ravenclaw, and Viktor's been trying to outdo whoever it is. It's quite entertaining, really. A little competition never hurt anyone."
The twinkle of jealousy flashed in James's eyes. "Competition, huh? Those boys are no competition for me, Harry."
Harry leaned back, adopting a casual demeanor. "Relax, Dad. It's all in good fun. Besides, it's not like they stand a chance against the legendary James Potter. Right? Is that how you won Mum over? With your unparalleled charm and irresistible Quidditch skills?"
James, his jealousy thinly veiled, retorted, "I'll have you know, I had to work hard to win her heart."
Harry chuckled, enjoying the rare moment of levity amidst the tension. "Sure, Dad. Maybe you should focus on getting out of that portrait first."
Just then, Sirius entered the conversation, wheezing with laughter. James shot a glare at Sirius. "You find everything amusing, don't you? Padfoot, get me out of this portrait right now! I need to talk some sense into that boy."
Sirius, still chuckling, managed to gasp out, "I can't. It's not that easy. Oh, Prongs, you haven't changed a bit."
James's frustration reached a new height, and he bellowed, "I swear, Sirius, if you don't—This isn't funny. Get me out of here!"
But Sirius, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle, continued to wheeze with laughter. "You're on your own, mate. I haven't had this much fun in years."
Harry, still amused by the entire situation, grinned, "Alright, Dad, I'll leave you to your portrait drama. Need to help Hermione with her date. Maybe I'll set you up with a nice portrait lady. How about that?"
James's expression shifted from irritation to horror. “I'm only interested in one woman, and she's not in any portrait. Did you just say date—Harry James Potter, don't you dare!"
But his son just winked at him over his shoulder as he walked away, leaving James seething in the enchanted portrait and Sirius rolling on the floor with laughter. James, his frustration palpable, turned to the painted ceiling with a muttered curse. As the room echoed with Sirius's laughter, James couldn't shake the feeling that his son had inherited more than just his eyes and his name—he had also inherited the knack for stirring up a bit of trouble.
"I swear, Sirius, if you don't get me out of here, I'll hex you into the next century! Hermione is my wife, not Ron's, not Viktor's! Get me out of this damn portrait!"
But Sirius, still caught in the throes of laughter, managed to gasp out, "You can’t. Left your wand on that couch, remember?"
James's painted face turned a shade of red that rivaled his Gryffindor tie. "Enough with the jokes, Sirius! This is serious!"
Sirius, still reveling in the situation, laughed heartily. "Serious? I’m Sirius."
James's frustration transformed into resignation as he realized he was at the mercy of Sirius's relentless mockery. "Find a way to get me out of here, you insufferable mutt."
Sirius, relentless in his teasing, couldn't resist pushing James's buttons further. "You know, Prongs, it's quite a coincidence that both Ron and Viktor are Quidditch players. Seems like Hermione has a type. Save a broom, ride a Chaser, was it?"
James's eyes flashed with anger, and his jaw clenched. "Watch your words. Hermione has only one type, and that type is me. She's not interested in some 15-year-old virgin boys playing Quidditch or otherwise. I know her better than anyone, and I won't let anyone else take her away."
"Viktor’s like 18 I think. But seriously, Prongs, you might want to work on that jealousy issue of yours. It's not a good look."
James scowled and shot Sirius a glare that could rival the intensity of a Hungarian Horntail. "I'll work on whatever I want.She's my wife, and I'll be damned if I let anyone forget that."
Sirius erupted into a boisterous laugh, a hearty sound that echoed through the room. "Merlin, James, if Hermione hears you talking like that, she's going to hex you just like she didn’t after winning the House Cup in our sixth year.”
James's annoyance deepened at the reminder. "That was a one-time thing, and I had every right to be upset. It's not like I was used to seeing someone else flirting with her. Besides, Goldstein should’ve known better."
"The good old days. You were such a possessive git back then, and you still are. It's a wonder she put up with you."
James shot Sirius a glare, his irritation apparent. "I just knew what I wanted, and I didn't want anyone else getting in the way. And besides, she liked my possessiveness."
“I remember when you realized you were head over heels for her, always finding an excuse to be near her and she was so oblivious. Just as she is now, endearing really. And now, you're stuck in a portrait, unable to sweep her off her feet. How the mighty have fallen."
James, resigned to his current predicament, sighed deeply. "Get me out of here. I can't stand being stuck in this portrait while my wife is out there, and my son is playing matchmaker for her. That’s little shit."
Sirius, still chuckling, couldn't resist pushing James's buttons further. "Well, Prongs, do you really think you still have the charm to make her fall for you all over again? After all, it's been quite a few years since you last swept her off her feet."
James, his patience wearing thin, shot Sirius a glare. "You think time has changed anything? I know her like the back of my hand. I can make her fall in love with me in every lifetime. And I’ll be damned if I don’t do it in this one. Get me out of this portrait before I lose my sanity."
Hermione stepped into the library, the soft creaking of the door drawing James's attention. He looked up from where he had been lost in thought, his eyes widening as he took in her appearance. She wore a Quidditch t-shirt which he prayed would be from Harry, low denim shorts, and the white chucks all painted a picture of casual beauty. The tanned skin spoke of days spent under the sun, and for a moment, James forgot how to speak.
"Hermione," he greeted, his voice tinged with admiration. "You're back. Where have you been? You look... different."
Hermione, busy scanning the shelves, finally noticed James. "Oh, hey, James. Australia, with my parents. Needed a break. And different? What do you mean?"
James gestured vaguely, a charming smile playing on his lips. "I mean... you look great. That tan suits you. I didn't realize Australia had such an effect on people."
Hermione chuckled, her cheeks coloring slightly. "It's just the sun. And please, don't make a big deal out of it."
But James couldn't help himself. "Well, I can't help it if I'm impressed. Did you have boys competing for your attention down there? I can imagine they couldn't resist your charms, especially with that tan."
Hermione rolled her eyes, accustomed to James's flirtatious comments. "James, you've been spending too much time with Sirius. I went to some parties, but nothing special."
James's jaw clenched imperceptibly at the mention of parties and other boys. "So, how did the date with Vicky go?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant. “Harry told me.”
"Vicky?” Hermione raised an eyebrow but then rolled her eyes, “What is it with you Potters and not calling people by their names?"
James played it off with a charming grin, effortlessly deflecting the scrutiny.. “I care about you and if Harry doesn’t like the guy, I don’t. So, how was the date?"
Hermione sighed, closing the book she had been inspecting. "It was okay. Viktor is sweet, and he's trying to get me on a broom."
"Sweet? I'm sure he was more than sweet, considering he got to spend time with someone as stunning as you.” James's ears perked up at the mention of flying. "Wait a moment, are you afraid of flying?" he asked, genuinely curious.
Hermione nodded,her eyes revealing a vulnerability. "I don't like it. Harry tried to teach me once, but it was a disaster. I couldn't even get on the broom properly."
A flirtatious grin adorned James's features as he leaned casually against the portrait frame. "Well, with me, you wouldn't have any problem. I'm an excellent flyer, you know, dolcezza. I'd even let you hug me around the waist if you're that afraid."
A deeper shade of red flushed Hermione's cheeks, and she rolled her eyes again, attempting to conceal the fluttering in her chest. "I’d doubt you’d make any difference."
James, though maintaining his playful demeanor, couldn't ignore the pang of jealousy that gnawed at him. The idea of Hermione on a broom with Viktor, even if just for a lesson, didn't sit well with him."Oh dolcezza! I'd make sure you’d enjoy every moment of it. No need to fear when you're in my arms, if you know what I mean."
Hermione raised an eyebrow, her reproachful tone making him remember all the time he had been subject to those scoldings. "James Potter, you are a married man.” She scrunched her nose, “Are you trying to win me over with your smooth talk because you need my help?"
James, ever the charmer, maintained his smirk, the twinkle in his hazel eyes undeterred. "I don’t know, is it working?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Flattery will get you nowhere, James. But if you need help getting out of that portrait, I suppose I could lend a hand but I can’t guarantee anything."
"I believe in you. You’re the brightest witch of your age, right? There’s nothing you can’t do," James said, his eyes softening. Despite the playful banter, there was a genuine warmth in his voice.
"So, Australia, huh?" he continued, changing the topic. "Must have been an exciting trip. Tell me more."
Hermione's eyes lit up as she began speaking, her animated gestures drawing James's attention even more. As she spoke, James couldn't help but marvel at the woman standing before him – the same woman he had loved for years, now even more radiant and captivating. He was determined to find a way back to her side, back where he belonged.
Hermione found herself lost and confused. The air in the Gryffindor Tower was filled with laughter, the soft glow of enchanted lights, and the joyful chatter of students. However, something felt different – the decorations were not as she remembered. Suddenly a voice pulled her out of her trance.
“Why don’t you and I go find a quieter place?”
She turned her attention to find a boy standing in front of her dangerously close to her. A sense of discomfort crept over her, and just as she was about to respond, a strong arm wrapped possessively around her waist. A deep growl resonated from behind her, causing her heart to skip a beat.
"Goldstein, get the fuck out of here," the voice declared with an edge of warning.
Startled, Hermione turned around to find James standing there, his hazel eyes flashing dangerously at the Goldstein boy. The room seemed to freeze, and the party noise dulled as James pulled her to his side.
"James, what?" she stammered, her eyes widening in astonishment.
James's gaze never wavered from Goldstein, his expression fierce and protective. The grip on her waist tightened. "I said, get out of here. She's not interested."
Goldstein, clearly drunk, was taken aback by the unexpected intervention, mumbled an apology and quickly retreated from the scene. Once he was out of earshot, James's demeanor softened, and he looked down at Hermione, concern in his eyes.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle.
Hermione, still trying to process the surreal situation, nodded slowly. "James, what was that all about? I didn't need you to—"
James James cut her off, his eyes softening as he met her gaze as he relaxed his hold on her waist. "Protecting what's mine," he replied, the possessiveness evident in his tone.
Hermione couldn't help but feel a flutter of warmth at his words. "Yours?" she repeated.
James nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, mine. You're my girlfriend. And before you hex me, I know perfectly well you’re capable of handling yourself but I couldn’t stand him having his hands all over you."
"Girlfriend?"
James grinned, his arm still protectively around her. "Yeah, Hermione. Girlfriend. We’ve been together for nearly six amazing months. Are you okay?”
Hermione's mind raced, replaying moments in her head. What was going on? James was supposed to be in the portrait, so why did this feel so real? She felt a warm flush creeping up her cheeks as she stumbled over her words. "I... I suppose I’ve had a few drinks..."
"Wanna get out of here?" he asked, his voice low and laced with a subtle suggestion that hung in the air like a promise.His hazel eyes darkened as they locked onto hers, sending a shiver down her spine.
Nodding almost involuntarily, she found herself caught in his gravitational pull as he took her hand and together they weaved through the lively crowd. Congratulations and cheers accompanied James as they passed. They approached the younger versions of Remus and Sirius engaged in a firewhisky shots competition against Lily and Marlene
“We’re going upstairs,” James pointed at Hermione and himself before marching up the stairs.
Sirius, clearly intoxicated, boomed, "YOU DOG, GET IT PRONGS!" earning a smack from Remus. “FUCK THAT HURT, MOONY!” Lily, however, bestowed a knowing wink.
"WEAR PROTECTION, DON'T WANNA BE AUNTIE JUST YET!" The words hung in the air, causing Hermione's face to burn with embarrassment, while James erupted into laughter.
As they ascended, the distant sounds of the party gradually faded, replaced by the muffled echoes of their footsteps against the stone staircase. Reaching a door, James pulled her in, closing it with a wave of his hand.The air felt charged with anticipation as he turned to her, his eyes searching hers.
"You okay? Sorry about Pads, you know how he gets when he gets drunk."
She nodded slowly, her confusion and disbelief still lingering. "This... It's like a dream. How did I end up here?"
James chuckled, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. "Well, that’s how I feel everyday with you. What did I do to have the honor of calling you mine?"
"But this is impossible. I’m not—"
A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he leaned in, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss. Hermione's initial shock gave way to a strange sense of familiarity, as if they'd shared moments like this before.
Breaking away, he smirked. "Better?"
Not giving her a chance to react, James began to undress, pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his tanned skin and toned abs.
Hermione couldn't help but ogle for a moment before her sense of propriety kicked in, and she screamed scandalized, covering her eyes. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
James, shirtless and unashamed, stood before her with a lopsided grin. "You can look, you know, dolcezza," he said, the Italian endearment rolling off his tongue. "Nothing you haven't seen before. Plus, I know you like sleeping in my shirts." With that, he extended his shirt toward her with a smirk.
Hermione, flustered, accepted the shirt but then noticed a tattoo on James's lower stomach — two antlers with the letters 'H.J.G' between them. "That's not the only tattoo I have," James said, snapping her back to the present. He turned around, revealing a snitch tattoo across his shoulder blades.
"No Marauder tattoo?" she asked, trying to divert her attention.
"We're planning on it," James whispered, grabbing her by the hips. "Why don't you show me where you got your tattoo, huh? It's only fair."
Caught on autopilot, Hermione lifted her shirt slightly, and James zeroed his attention to her right hip where a little snitch and a 'J' could be seen.
"So fucking hot," he muttered before smashing their lips together.
Suddenly, Hermione woke up, her heart pounding. She was sweating, disoriented. The vivid dream lingered in her mind, leaving her breathless.
“HARRY JAMES POTTER, YOU ARE A DEAD MAN!”