Prologue. 2
We're so busy watching out for what's just ahead of us that we don't take time to enjoy where we are - Bill Watterson
December 1966
On the outskirts of Godric’s Hollow, nestled in the surrounding mountains, stood a manor overlooking the town, its back garden bordered by a forest and within walking distance of a lake. Most people walked by it every day on their way to the village, though none dared to look towards the house for fear of what they might see
Although the owners were nice enough, and their family claimed to have lived there for centuries, they had the strangest aura and the strangest names.
Fleamont Potter was often seen leaving his home early, dressed in deep purple robes, with a smile on his ageing face. His eyes, a strange blue-green colour, contrasted starkly with his pinkish skin and jet-black hair, seeming to look right through people. Despite his unusual appearance and middle-aged looks, he still had the ladies swooning at his feet.
Yet his eyes remained fixed on his beautiful and equally strange wife, Euphemia. She was often found in the garden or walking to the market with their son. Her skin was darker than Fleamont’s, more tawny. Her hazel eyes shone as brightly as her smile when she spoke. Her hair, tinged caramel from her work in the sun, was lighter than her husband's.
Their son, James, resembled his father in many ways, except for his eyes and skin, which he inherited from his mother. He was cheeky and seemed obsessed with a sport his parents believed he had made up—yet at seven, it seemed too detailed to be a mere invention of his own.
He had promised to show the local kids one day, but no one had ever set foot inside the Potter house or garden. No one had seen the strange creatures or plants that lived inside – or the wrinkly little creatures that wore clothes far too big for themselves and spent their days cleaning and cooking.
And no one saw the girl that landed by the trees with a loud thump and a thousand stories.
James
That stupid cat was going to end up being the death of him, almost seven years old and already on his way to a grave because he had decided that Crookshanks being outside in the snow was perfectly fine and didn’t at all go against the rules that his mother had given him.
A groan left his mouth as he thought about how he could be back inside eating biscuits and drinking Poppy’s beautiful hot chocolate, instead he was searching for a five month old cat who was grumpier than his dad without coffee. Really it was the cat’s fault, it hadn’t stopped crying and hitting the door, so who was he to stop it from getting what it clearly wanted.
His feet stomped in the snow and his bottom lip stuck out as he walked around his mothers many plants and towards the trees that led to the lake, he could only go so far unless he wanted to be sliding down the cliff edge which wasn’t so fun if you didn’t have a broom with you.
“Crookshanks!” He shouted into nothing, grumbling under his breath when he heard nothing. "Come on you stupid cat!" He added as he took a few more steps towards the trees, pausing when he heard the familiar purring and small cry of his cat. “You know I can’t - “
James stopped as his eyes locked onto the big ugly yellow ones of the animal, his breath stripped away from his as he looked down to the small girl Crookshanks was sat upon in the middle of the trees.
Everything about her seemed vaguely familiar, like they had met once before or that she looked like someone he knew. Except the kids he knew didn’t wear long dresses that covered them from neck to feet, nor was their hair a mess of black curls and their skin the colour of the snow they lay upon.
He cringed as he noticed the wet that seemed to be clinging to her, kneeling down beside her and pressing two fingers to her ice cold neck and sighing when he felt the steady beat of her heart below before a frown made it’s way to his face and his hands itched towards the crest on the necklace she wore, something so familiar about it…
“James Potter, are you out here?”
“Yes, Ma – come here quick.” He didn’t move away, didn’t even look as he heard the soft sounds of his mother running over to him, her wand in her hand and her wide eyes going even wider as she took in the girl before him. “I just found her here.” He explained quickly, watching as his mother knelt on the other side, passing Crookshanks into his arms.
Her wand waved and the girl breathed in a deep breath, eyes snapping open and sitting up with her hand to her chest as though waking up from a bad dream. It took her a few seconds and then she was scrambling away, her chocolate brown eyes more focused on him than the elder woman with the wand, something registering that he couldn’t even begin to understand.
“What...where…” Her eyes finally drifted to his mother and they widened in recognition, though she seemed just as confused as he was when the words left her mouth. "Aunt Euphemia?"
“Hermione, I’m guessing.” His mother asked softer than she had ever spoke to him before, moving forward and clutching Hermione’s hand in her own, her other hand coming to rest against the girls forehead. “Are you hurt, dear?”
"I don't think so." She answered slowly, taking her hands slowly from his mothers to place on the floor and flinching when they touched the snow. He couldn’t help the snort that left his mouth when her eyes widened almost comically before they turned to glare at him, only to be subdued by the shiver that ran through her body.
“Let's get you inside and warmed up, I'm sure Jamie has some clothes that you can borrow for this evening." Euphemia spoke without question, sending a look to her son who nodded his head in agreement, turning to look at the girl as his mother helped her from the floor.
He couldn’t help but wonder who she was. His mother had been an only child and his father rarely spoke to his brother and never his nephew. It didn’t make sense why she would be calling his mother auntie unless she had some relation, perhaps it was distant.
“Who are you?” James asked suddenly as his mother moved to open the back door, hazel eyes narrowing at his rude tone but Hermione just frowned, tongue turning over in her mouth as though she had to think about the answer.
"I'm Hermione Gr...Potter." He couldn’t help but frown at her stumble, though he pushed it to the back of his mind for now and stepped into the house, all but throwing the annoying cat onto the ground and watching as his mother began to bustle around.
"I figured as much."
"I'm Hermione Potter, daughter of Octans Potter and Marie Felipe, granddaughter of Charlus Potter and Dorea Black, I..." It was a practised speech, one most Purebloods had for when they met people of the same class and honestly it was boring, he could figure out the rest for himself.
"Merlin, I didn't need a whole family tree."
"James." His mother hissed, shutting the door they had left open behind them and glaring at her son as though he had something out of the ordinary but Hermione seemed amused, her lips curling up at the corners as though she too wanted to say something but wasn’t quite sure on what she could.
Neither of them spoke as they followed the woman to the entrance hall, Hermione’s eyes flicking to look at the frozen family portraits, making James wonder if she even knew who these people were or if she had just been surrounded by her Grandmothers family. Judging by her attire she was all too familiar with the Black customs.
"Euphemia, have you seen James...Oh hello." Fleamont spoke as he rounded the corner, purple robes undone and prepared to take off for the day, but his eyes focused on Hermione, stern and unsure about the small girl in their house.
"Yes father?" Grinning when his fathers eyes turned onto him and Hermione’s shoulders relaxed slightly. He couldn’t say why but he knew the girl felt uncomfortable, seemed to have too much happening in her head than she understood. "How may I help you?"
"I want the cloak back." His father spoke, his tone tight as his eyes flickered to Hermione again. James couldn’t help but stand his ground, giving his father a grin and sighing when the man tensed up more. “I won't ask again, James." He sighed under his breath before turning and heading towards the stairs, taking them two at a time.
“Oh James, dear, grab some clothes for Hermione please...Flea, this is -“ James stopped at the top of the stairs, peeking his face through the gaps and watching as his mother places a gentle hand on the young girls shoulder while his father made a noise of understanding.
"I know who she is." In short amount of life James had never heard his father speak with such sharpness, cutting off his wife before she could properly introduce someone but Hermione seemed to expect it, her face scrunching up like Crookshanks did. "You look like your mother, except the hair."
Hermione seemed to blank herself, seeming confused, her hand reaching up to touch her hair and seeming surprised at the perfect black ringlet she found there before sadness and wonder took over her face. "You knew my mother?"
"We met her a few times, I suppose we never got to say sorry for what happened." What had happened? James wondered to himself as Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, teeth clenching loud enough that he could hear them from the second floor. His father seemed to understand though, reaching forward to lay a hand on her shoulder.
“Well, now isn’t the time for this – why don’t we get you something to eat while Poppy prepares you a bath before bed.” Euphemia spoke softly, shooting a look to her husband and turning to raise her eyes at her son as her hand gently stroked the soft curls on Hermione’s head. "We can discuss everything tomorrow."
James didn’t wait to hear more, turning on his heel and heading off to find the cloak and some clothes before his father could come upstairs. He was eager to speak to Hermione and find out all he could about why his family would have to be sorry.
...
Hermione
To say Hermione was confused was an understatement. Biggest fucking understatement of the year.
It hadn’t taken her five seconds to figure out where she was. The young boy who looked like Harry except for the eyes, someone who she had only ever seen pictures of when he was taller and older kneeled before her with a very familiar cat in his hand and a frown on his face.
That wasn’t why she was confused. No she was confused because why was she a little girl again? Time traveller depicted that you went backwards in time not in age – she should have landed in Dumbledore’s office herself and not at all with another persons memories in her head and a prominent name on her back.
"How come you weren't named after a constellation or a star?" Hermione jumped as she turned to look at Euphemia, stood on the other side of the island with a frown between her eyes and a soft smile on her lips.
“My middle name is Dorea.” Hermione couldn’t help but frown herself, searching through the new memories. They were even more clouded and dim, from years ago. A tall woman with a soft face and an accent falling from her lips as she explained the reason she went against the tradition. "Maman loved Shakespeare."
It seemed true enough but Hermione couldn’t help but see her other mother too, Jean Granger, saying the same thing thought in English and clearer. And yet her heart hurt for both of them, stuck in the body of a seven year old, thirteen years before she was even born, in the family of her best friends father who she had never met.
It was rather irksome.
"Your mother was a brilliant witch." Euphemia spoke slowly, placing a bowl of steaming soup in front of her and offering a gentle smile as though she knew what Hermione was thinking. Hermione couldn’t help but sigh and frown. "Very beautiful too."
What she would give to agree, to confess that it was too confusing to think about a mother she had never known and the other she would never know again. That this Hermione was a bigger shit show than she was, and now she was here and there were questions being asked in Euphemia’s eyes and Fleamont had left the house in search of answers.
Hermione wondered what answers he would find at the ministry, whether they weren’t as corrupted as they would be in a few years.
Hermione let out a cough as she turned back to face Euphemia, gulping down the anxiety as it settled in her stomach. “Our house was attacked, I don’t know what happened to Grandmother but Grandfather told me to come here and see my uncle - “ Hermione stopped, frowning as she tried to remember, despite the fact that it had only been a few hours ago. “ - he gave me this necklace and I ended up here.”
Her eyes stung and her chest tightened. It shouldn’t have hurt like it did, almost like telling a story that wasn’t hers, but it was like there was a part of her eager to cry over the fact that she probably would never see her Grandparents again.
"It's alright dear, you are safe here." Warm motherly arms wrapped around her, pulling her in tight and rubbing her back when the tears finally hit her and her body sagged with exhaustion. Her life had suddenly become ten times more tiring and relentless.
...
Two lives was something Hermione had never thought she would have. In all honesty she thought that she wouldn’t even make it to the end of the war, let alone be the last one standing and the only hope left to fix the Wizarding world, and yet here she was.
Two sets of memories wrapped around each other like thickly twined ropes and blending together uncomfortably around her. She knew who she was, who she should be and what was real but it was hard to fight the feelings threatening to consume, the panic at every loud bang as James ran around in the hall outside the room she was staying in.
They had left her alone for the most part, only asking her to eat and checking in, but it had been two days of silence on her end and staring out of the window at the fresh snow and chirping birds. For once, enjoying the thrill that for now she was safe, not running or hiding, but in a house that she didn’t have to watch.
“Hermione dear.” The voice was followed by a soft knock and Euphemia sticking her head through the crack with an unsure smile. She didn’t hesitate to slip further into the room, seeming to smile at Hermione’s choice of clothing, James’ jumper and jeans. “I know you probably wish to be alone, but Professor Dumbledore has asked to see you.” The words were spoken lightly, hands tightened around the front of her robes.
There was a rush to run downstairs, to ask the millions of questions flooding through her head, and yet something holding her back, not willing her to move until Euphemia was all but dragging her along, holding her steady on the stairs like she was scared the girl might fall down.
Her hand gripped her aunt’s tightly, and a worry much different from her own sank into her skin. Why would the Headmaster of Hogwarts want to meet with a seven year old? What had she done wrong?
And yet is eased when she took stock of the old man sat on the armchair usually vacated by Fleamont, a steaming cup of tea in his hand, twinkling blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles and more auburn in his hair than she had ever seen before. He grinned at her, beckoning her to sit before him and ignoring the frown he received instead and the look from Euphemia as she turned and left them alone.
“Good morning, Sir.” Her back straightened and her hands folded on her lap, as though it had been practised everyday. Perhaps it had, she was after all Pureblood now and more was expected of her.
"Hello Miss Potter, or should I call you Miss Granger?" He almost smirked as he took a sip of his tea, eyes full of mischief as Hermione turned her head around to make sure no one was listening to the conversation. “I must say I was rather surprised to find a letter two days ago from myself, in my office, about some woman called Hermione Granger.”
“Sir -”
“I’ll admit it took me a second to long to figure out who Miss Granger could be when the only Hermione I was aware of was yourself, who on the same day as the letter landed in her aunt and uncles garden.” Dumbledore explained, placing the tea to the side as Hermione opened her mouth to speak only to be cut off. “You are younger than I described.”
“It came as a shock to me too, Sir.”
“I can imagine it did.”
There was a silence, hanging around them as Dumbledore seemed content to just sit with his tea while Hermione went over everything. She hadn’t even known about the letter, couldn’t even begin to fathom how her own Dumbledore had managed such a thing and yet this one sat before her didn’t even seem concerned in the slightest.
“Sir, this isn’t the part where you throw me in Azkaban, is it?” Her voice wavered as the older man look up in shock, not seeming to understand wherever she would come up with such an idea. “I illegally time-travelled and I am...well I might as well be committing identity fraud.” Her voice raised higher as he let out a little chuckle.
“Child, from what I have gathered, the war we are about to face is going to be long and ugly – you have a way to fix that and to give yourself a new life.” His words buzzed in her ears as he supped the last of his tea, placing it on the coffee table before them and giving her a gentle smile.
“I’d rather it was without taking someone else’s.”
“Did Hermione Potter exist in your time?” It was an honest question, one she could see he was curious about and one that she herself had to think about, shifting through foggy old memories that seemed far too distant at this moment in time.
“Not that I was aware… I feel like she would have been mentioned.” By Sirius or by someone who would have had a connection or relation to her but nothing in her previous life had ever given them any clue that there was another Potter out there, except for Harry. “What does that mean Professor?” She asked after a second.
“The universe, or fate, often places us exactly where we should be with the abilities we will need.” As usual his answer seemed to be in some from of riddle, a direct answer unavailable for the pair of them. “Well, I think that is enough for today.” He spoke softly, standing from his chair and moving towards the door.
“But Sir, there is so much we have to talk about.”
“I am sure there is but we are in no rush and you, my dear, should take this chance to be a child again, the grow and find happiness before times grow dark.” Hermione gritted her perfectly straight teeth as she followed after him, tiny fists clenched and sockless feet slapping against the smooth wood.
“What about the Horcruxes?” Dumbledore stopped for a second, turning to stare down at her with an expression that could only scared. Hermione felt her own mouth open like a fish, this wasn’t something she had just wanted to spring on him but something that should have been carefully planned and explained.
“They will be there when you are older, when you have spent a childhood the way one should, for now we will leave them as a distant memory.” He didn’t wait for her to answer, didn’t announce his departure to Euphemia as she came bustling down the stairs looking between the pair of them but simply exited the house without another word.
July 1967
"How about these dresses?" Hermione cringed as she stared at the beautiful and yet outdated dress before her, Euphemia beside it with a large grin on her face that quickly fell when she took one look at the girl before her. “You can’t keep wearing Jamie’s clothes.” Followed by a stern look.
Hermione bit her lip in protest. James’ clothes were something of a comfort, despite the fact that they hung off of her much smaller body and part of her mind seemed to long for pretty dresses and more girly things. The Pureblood side, she imagined, a side she had embraced without even really realising when she caught herself longing for the outfits the girls on her street wore.
Hence why she was at Madam Malkin’s instead of spending her day people with James. It had been seven months of Euphemia’s concerns and insistence that they have a girls day, now that Hermione finally felt comfortable and at home with the family.
“I like them more than I liked the black dress Grandmother used to make me wear.” Hermione joked lightly, wincing when she remembered Dorea’s stern glare and the words she would use to describe the Muggle clothing.
Euphemia pursed her lips, moving over to another section of the shop with Hermione following behind her , hands reaching out to touch the fabric of some of the items and settling on some pretty summer dresses and robes that seemed to have Euphemia approving, the smile back on her face and her hand reaching out to rub Hermione’s back.
“I think the blue would look lovely with your skin tone.” Euphemia complemented, handing the dress to Madam Malkin as she staggered towards them, a tense smile on her face and a pile of clothes floating behind her.
“I’ll get it myself.”
“Nonsense, what seven year old buys their own clothes when their guardian, who hasn’t had a daughter before and would love to spoil her, is standing right here.” Hermione let herself smile as the older woman pressed a kiss to her head and passed the money to Malkin, accepting the bag with a firm nod before turning back to Hermione. “Now, let’s go have a look at some books.”
This time she didn’t even bother to hide her excitement, fully revelling in the childish joy that someone accepted her love of books and was willing to spend money on it for her. Euphemia grinned down at her, gripping her hand tightly in her own and leading them towards the exit and avoiding the stares that were being sent their way.
The Potter’s hadn’t batted in an eye when it came to taking in Hermione despite the equal claim the Black’s seemed to think they had to her. They had signed the papers in a week and explained the adoption as though it was something they thought she would explode over but in truth Hermione had just grinned and thrown her arms around them.
These were people she knew would keep her safe, would make her closer to Harry and everything else in the long run. They were people she trusted and could...had grown to love in their short time together and people who would love her too.
A small gasp left her mouth as she stumbled backward, staring at the taller and familiar looking girl stood before her, kind wide eyes so much like her own and hair less crazy and lighter than her elder sisters.
Hermione didn’t think as she wrapped her arms around the elder girls waist, ignoring the scratchy feel of the familiar black dress, driven on instinct to hug the shocked thirteen year old as though she would never see her again. “Dromeda.”
Memories shone in front of her eyes, of promises that Andromeda would get them out some day, that they wouldn’t be like the rest of their family. Promises that grew further and further apart as Charlus rushed them to France in an attempt to get away from his wife’s family – only to ever see them two times a year for a couple of hours.
“Merlin, Hermione!” Andromeda Black cried as she pulled back, bending down to look her second cousin in the eyes, hands swiping over her face as though she couldn’t believe it was real. “I heard about the attack...I wish I could have – how are you?” She stopped herself short, eyes flicking to Euphemia and back straightening in an instant.
“I’m okay.” Hermione spoke softly, shrugging her shoulders and turning to look at Euphemia who raised her eyebrows and nodded her head towards the teenager. “I’m sorry, this is my cousin Andromeda, and this is Euphemia Potter.” Hermione explained, waving between the pair of them with a soft smile.
“Lovely to meet you Lady Potter.”
"Oh no need for all that, please call me Aunt Effie." Euphemia hushed, waving her hand at Andromeda’s curtsey, a small smile on her face as Andromeda blushed and nodded her head. “I am sorry though, as much as I am sure Hermione and you would love to catch up and chat, Fleamont is waiting for us and it wouldn’t do us any good to be late.” Hermione nodded her head in agreement, sending Andromeda a small smile as the girl moved out of the way of the door.
Euphemia spoke with a wave of her hand, Andromeda stood up at once, her eyebrows almost meeting together in the middle but she managed a small smile. "I'm sorry, dear, but we have to be off, your Uncle Fleamont is waiting at the Ministry." Euphemia spoke before stepping away to pay for the mountain of clothes, leaving the girls alone to talk.
“I’ll make sure to write, James has an owl that he will let me use.” Hermione reached out to grip her cousins hand as Andromeda lowered her head with a nod, her whole body seeming to shrink in on itself and her hair swinging in front of her face.
“Pish posh, there are no need for letters.” Both girls tensed as they turned to look at Euphemia, her hand waving about and a grin on her face. “Andromeda is welcome over anytime she would like, in fact, why don’t you come over this Saturday?” Her question hung in the air as Andromeda shifted from foot to foot, looking around and opening her mouth.
“I’m not sure my father would approve.”
“Never you worry about that, dear, I will inform your parents that we will be expecting you this Saturday and I will not be taking no for an answer.” Andromeda grinned wide, nodding her head and waving them away as Hermione reached up to take the woman’s hand, a happy smile on her face as she was all but dragged from the store.
Summer 1968
“So…” Hermione rolled her eyes from where she sat in front of the coffee table, quill in hand and a parchment with the outlines on the homework from the Potter’s governess resting against the hard wood. It was useless now, once he decided to talk then nothing else could be done. “How did Andy convince her family that the heir of Black should join her on these little visits?”
Hermione let out a sigh, turning her head to see him laid across the sofa, a snitch in his hand and his eyes on her. She stopped for a second, seeing a much younger Harry before her, feeling her heart clench and her eyes close as she turned back to look at her paper.
In the beginning it had been hard to pretend to not know anything, to treat him as though he wasn’t her best friends father and she didn’t know what his future would become but after nearly two years of begin here, of managing to find a way to turn off her old memories and focus on her life instead, he had become to mean something else to her.
A friend. A protector. Someone who needed protecting. A brother.
Which was why she felt comfortable enough to hit him over the face with a pillow when his incessant prodding and calling her name got too much. He didn’t frown though, just simply let out a laugh and turned to lay on his side as he asked his next question. “So is he decent?"
“How would I know?” She answered with all her nearly nine year old sass, trying to focus on the memories only to come up short. Truth was she had always been closer to Andromeda and the past year had only cemented their bond that much further, even if it meant she had to go months without seeing her favourite cousin. “I think I last saw him when I was six.”
“Well what did he like then, I need to know what to talk to the kid about when you and Andy run off and leave me alone.” James pouted at her, sticking out his bottom lip as Hermione rolled her eyes again and pushed his face away from her, chuckling when he huffed.
“He’s older than you.” James let out grunt like sound as she smirked at him, he always had a problem with being the youngest. “And we don’t run off, we can just only listen to Quidditch for so long.”
“Does he like Quidditch?”
“How about you ask him when he arrives.”
“You’re supposed to be my sister, why are you being so mean to me?” James whined in her ear, pulling away for a second so he could lean back and shout down the hallway, a smirk on his face and his fingers reaching out to poke her back. “Ma’, tell Hermione to stop being mean.”
“James no shouting in the house, how many times do I have to tell you?” Both children sat up straight as Euphemia Potter appeared in the archway, her hands on her hips even though they left traces of dirt on the robes and her eyes glaring at her son as smirked back at her.
“Try one more time.”
“Don’t be cheeky -“ Euphemia began, letting out a sigh and slapping his hand away from Hermione’s back and pointing her finger in front of his face instead. “Leave your sister alone...better yet, sit beside her and do your homework too.” She pointed to the coffee table, clicking her fingers and raising her eyebrows as he sank beside Hermione.
His mouth opened to speak only to be cut off by the roaring of green flames before them and Andromeda’s bright grin as she stepped out, pulling the boy that had been behind her forward and shifting Hermione’s whole world onto a strange tilted axis in a way that made her head feel funny and her heart begin to pound.
Reality was she knew one day she would have to face someone she once remembered but she just hadn’t prepared for it. James was easy, he was his son and he wasn’t, she had never known him truly until she became Hermione Potter and Andromeda had barely been in her life, it was easy to get caught up in the good memories she had of her, the shared distaste and hatred of their family.
But Sirius...Sirius had been reckless, he had died and she had mourned him. In this life she barely even remembered him so there had been nothing to compare him to, nothing to feel like she had lost.
Yet here he stood before her, staring between the three Potter’s with an aura of arrogance and uncertainty in those silver like eyes, hand moving between the black waves and a smirk falling on his face as he watched his cousin and Euphemia greet each other with a hug and whispered words before he moved forward with his hand out.
"Nice to meet you, Miss Potter, and thank you for having me." Euphemia chuckled as though she had been given a present, shaking his hand and bending down to meet him eye level.
"Lovely to meet you too, Sirius." Euphemia answered back finally, letting go of Sirius’ hand to turn to her child and the one she considered her own with a smile on her face as the pair of them stood up and waited. “Why don’t you two show Sirius the gardens while I start preparing lunch?” She didn’t wait for an answer, moving from the room and leaving the children to start their own way.
...
None of them spoke as they moved through the trees on the edge of the property and Hermione couldn’t help the frown that made it’s way to her face as she wished for the billionth time that she could be inside with Euphemia and Andromeda, talking about Merlin knows what, but apparently it was important for her to connect with her family, no matter how distant and unfamiliar they were.
Hermione sighed as she stopped, turning to face the two boys and watching as they crossed their arms and refused to even look at each other. How had they even become friends the first time around? Perhaps it had been when they were a bit older, a bit more aware and she wasn’t here to force them to talk.
“Let’s do something.”
“What can we do?” James asked, glancing at Sirius before turning to Hermione with wide eyes, gesturing something that was either very rude for his age or was meant to mean something that she couldn’t quite understand.
“It’s cold, do you not have something to do inside, like chess?” Sirius asked, turning to James and frowning when the boy pinned his arms to his side and focused on the other boy with his own frown and a shrug of his shoulders as he turned to look at his sister for help.
Hermione rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips, tapping her foot against the wet ground. “James is banned from playing chess at the moment after he taught the pieces some rather colourful words.” Sirius let out a small laugh and James scoffed, mumbling something under his breath. “Though...I’m sure mother wouldn’t mind if you used your brooms in the garden.”
“I don’t have a broom.” Sirius mumbled under his breath, dragging his polished black shoe against the ground and crossing his arms over his chest.
“You don’t have a broom?” James asked suddenly, raising his eyebrows as Sirius turned to glare at him, mouth opening like he was going to say something only to snap it shut when James carried on speaking at though he hadn’t noticed. “That’s ok, I have a couple spare, you can even use Hermione’s if you want, it’s my old one but it’s still pretty fast and she…”
The pair didn’t even notice as they began to walk away from her and towards the little shed that held all things Quidditch and summer, leaving her staring after them with a large grin on her face. Her heart beat a bit faster in her chest as she watched them laugh over something, previous worries and tension gone in the slight breeze.
Her good mood following her as she finally managed to slip back into the house, placing her shoes to the side and sliding her feet into her slippers before skipping down the hall and sliding into the kitchen where Andromeda and Euphemia spoke between themselves.
“I did it!”
“Hermione, you know a lady never shouts.” Euphemia reprimanded her softly, raising her eyebrow when Hermione jumped to sit at the island beside her cousin, swinging her legs back and forth and grinning at her adopted mother. “Now, tell us, what is it you have managed to do?”
“Get James and Sirius to get along – they’ve gone flying.” Hermione explained slowly, wincing when Euphemia’s eyes widened and she shook her head as she slipped from the kitchen quickly and towards the back garden, leaving Hermione and Andromeda alone in the kitchen, mouths open and ready to speak only to be shut just as quickly.
“JAMES, INSIDE THE GARDEN!” Euphemia’s voice carried and Hermione let out a small laugh as she listened to the boy shout something back indistinctively. “I DON’T CARE, INSIDE THE GARDEN OR NO BROOMS FOR TWO WEEKS!”
“He always pushes buttons.” Andromeda commented, reaching forward to grab a biscuit from the plate Euphemia constantly had laid out and popping it in her mouth before looking down at her dress with a frown, brushing away the crumbs and letting her hands stay folded on her lap. “Father won’t be happy I ate something like that, he says I need to keep a good figure.” Her mouth snapped shut as though she had said too much.
Hermione didn’t know what to say, she was lucky to be young enough, although Pollux Black was married off at thirteen to a woman almost twice his age, and out of that that she hadn’t experienced what it must be like to be a Pureblooded woman almost ready to be sold to a man for nothing more than to keep blood pure.
It made her want to tell Andromeda everything, to share the details about the life she would have not that long away. How she would love her daughter and husband more than anything, but how could she say that without damaging the fragile structure around them and possibly ruining everything in the future.
“I swear that boy is going to bring me to an early grave – try to fly around the roof like we don’t have neighbours.” Euphemia muttered to herself as she entered the kitchen, shaking her head and leaning against the counter before smiling at the two girls. “Please tell me that Edward has more sense than my son.”
Hermione coughed on her biscuits, laughing to herself as Andromeda turned bright pink and hid her face behind her hair. It seemed she didn’t need to worry at all, as some things never changed. Sirius and James were friends, Andromeda was either crushing hard on Ted or in some form of relationship and for the first time in a long time, Hermione was actually happy.
She didn’t have to worry about anything, not for a while anyway. She could what Dumbledore had said and enjoy the second chance she had been given.