xxxii.
i miss you in the morning and in the evening rain
(If I Can't Have You by Sara Bareilles)
__________
October 1, 1978
Hermione was awake before seven am on that bright, Sunday morning. Since she was studying often with her Ravenclaw classmates, Hermione thought it would be more convenient to sleep at the Ravenclaw Tower, stealing brief moments of silence tucked against the mahogany desks in their Common Room.
She could tell her roommates were still sleeping, after a quick scan around her dormitory. With Hermione's rigorous studying last night, her other Ravenclaw friends had had no choice but to keep up with her, especially if they didn't want to get left behind on their strict schedule.
"You're bloody insane," Alex had told her last night as she kicked off her shoes haphazardly and plopped down on her bed without bothering to change her clothes. Not even a few minutes had passed by and Alex was already lightly snoring on her bed.
"Tell me if I'm being too laborious," she'd said with a sheepish smile at Dorothy and Michelle.
The two exchanged amused glances. "You've always been laborious, Hermione, dear," Dorothy said as she pulled Hermione into a quick hug. "And we don't want you to ever change."
"Good night," Michelle chirpily said, smiling brightly at Hermione as she disappeared behind the door to the loo.
The brunette smiled sheepishly at the slumbering forms of her housemates as she got ready for the day. She knew she'd been extra rigid this year for their NEWTs. Hermione had gone through six years at Hogwarts twice, so she already had an idea as to what to expect during her lessons. But Hermione had never been a seventh-year student before, so all her lessons were quite new, and she had to work extra hard this year just to maintain her grades. With her added Head Girl duties that demanded too much time from her – now, she understood Lily's lamentations – Hermione couldn't afford to slack off.
But despite all the academic and student leader duties, Hermione never strayed away from her true priority this year – to hunt for the horcruxes. Regulus had contacted her at a minimum this year, no doubt too engrossed with his own NEWTs and perhaps even his own Death Eater duties. It frustrated her immensely how he had no other choice but to wait until Christmas to retrieve Riddle's diary. The only good side was that he constantly reassured her she didn't have to get herself involved and that she just had to continue being the prim and proper, responsible Head Girl she was.
Their plan to start practicing their duelling skills had been their lowest priority in the first month, as they tried to adjust to their last year at Hogwarts. It was only last night when Regulus had owled her, asking if today would be a good day for them to start their duelling lessons. Since Hermione had nothing else to do, she agreed almost immediately.
As Hermione donned some fresh, breezy Muggle clothes that could help her move freely, she chanced a glance at the shimmery Invisibility Cloak inside her trunk. She planned on turning into her Animagus form today, but hesitated when she saw the Cloak.
A small, fond smile flittered over her face as she lifted it from her trunk and started to smooth down invisible creases. She remembered scurrying away from a dangerous three-headed dog and angry caretakers with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. She remembered all the adventures she had gone through with this Cloak blanketing them safely from harm. She still thought it wasn't wise for James to let her have his Cloak for this school-year, but she didn't bother insisting on returning it anymore, knowing James would be stupidly stubborn about it.
Having decided to use the Invisibility Cloak instead, Hermione donned it over her body. In the mirror, she saw how her body instantly disappeared.
The Cloak smelled faintly of James, which made her heart flutter a bit. She would be lying if she said she hadn't thought of him during her first month at Hogwarts. James still constantly wrote to her about his Auror training and his friends. He sometimes hinted about Order stuff, but had been vague about it, as writing such information through letters would be dangerous.
Hogwarts really wasn't the same without him and his friends. There were no sudden boisterous noises over at the Gryffindor table or pranksters with mischief in their eyes being chased away by Filch. In fact, the happiest of them all was perhaps Filch, who'd been loudly proclaiming his relief that James Potter and his friends had graduated from Hogwarts.
With her heart a tad forlorn, Hermione finally tiptoed out of her dormitory, passed through the students who woke up early, and into the corridors of a silent Hogwarts.
Hermione took her time to admire Hogwarts on this quiet, Sunday morning, letting herself pass through secret passages and dark alcoves only a true prankster would know. By the time she reached the seventh-floor corridor, her legs were slightly sore and her nerves already awake.
"I knew you'd be early," she called out upon seeing Regulus keenly observing the prancing Barnabas the Barmy, his lips curled in disdain.
The Slytherin whipped around in the direction of her voice, but then knitted his eyebrows. "Pettigrew?" he called, grey eyes scanning the whole corridor.
Realising she was still hidden underneath the Invisibility Cloak, Hermione pulled it away and grinned when Regulus softly yelped in surprise. "Hi," she greeted.
He warily eyed the Invisibility Cloak clutched in her hands. "You own an Invisibility Cloak?" he asked, striding towards Hermione to brush a finger against the rich material of the cloak. He knitted his eyebrows. "It doesn't look like an ordinary Invisibility Cloak."
"It's James', actually," she corrected. "A family heirloom."
"Family heirloom?" he asked, his eyebrows now shot up to his hairline. "Normal Invisibility Cloaks only last for fifteen years at most. After that, its magical properties will fade. Think of a botched-up Disillusionment Charm."
"Like I said, family heirloom," the brunette said with a shrug. "The Potters are famous inventors. I don't doubt James' ancestors may have invented an Invisibility Cloak that would last a lifetime."
Regulus brushed his finger once more against the cloak, this time with interest in his eyes. "And he lent you this treasure?" he asked, surprised.
"Yes."
The Slytherin snorted. "So, Potter may actually be in love with you. Look at that," he said as a petulant frown tugged the corners of his lips downward.
"He's not in love with me," Hermione hotly interjected, her cheeks now flaming red. Regulus quirked an eyebrow. "I mean— never mind that. I thought we were supposed to be practicing our duelling skills, not discussing my relationship with James."
Regulus rolled his eyes and gestured at the bare wall. "By all means," he drawled.
Hermione lightly glared at him and walked towards the wall. 'We need a place to practice our spells,' she mentally thought as she walked thrice in front of the bare wall. The familiar wooden door of the Room of Requirement materialised and wordlessly, Hermione pulled the door open and walked inside.
A huge beam immediately appeared on her face. The Room provided a familiar set-up to when Dumbledore's Army frequented it. The floors were spelled with a Cushioning Charm and the whole room was devoid of furniture. The ceiling was as high as the one in the Great Hall, enough to send a person spiralling up without hitting him against the roof. There were also practice dummies scattered around. There were a few bookshelves pushed against the walls too, with brimming books about Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, and even Duelling itself.
"Holy shite," Regulus breathed beside her as he strolled inside. Hermione glanced at the bewildered Slytherin, amused at how his grey eyes were alit with wonder and excitement. "This is still the same room, isn't it?"
"Yes," she said, keenly watching as Regulus started touring around. "The Room shifts to accommodate whatever you need as of the moment."
The wizard beamed widely and pulled out his wand. "What should we practice first?" he eagerly asked.
"The Disarming Spell, of course," she stated without much thought.
Regulus frowned. "Pettigrew," he ground out, "that's a basic Defence spell. Even a second year could cast it with his eyes closed."
Hermione's lips twitched upward, expecting that reaction from him. "But you see, Duelling isn't about casting the most complicated spells that require ostentatious wand waving," she started. "In order to survive in a fight, the most basic spells can save your life. For example, 'Expelliarmus' will disarm your opponent immediately, leaving him defenceless. Then, you'd have the upper hand."
He frowned, begrudgingly understanding what she meant. "It's still too basic," he insisted. "I can cast it without batting an eyelid, Pettigrew."
"Can you?" she asked with a challenging glint in her eyes. "Show me, then."
His frown deepened when Hermione deftly pulled out her wand from her robe. "Go on," she urged.
"Expel—"
But before he could even finish his spell, his wand had already flown out of his hand. Hermione caught it with a small smirk on her face. "Too slow," she said.
"Did you just disarm me nonverbally?" he snapped, his expression a mixture of awe and irritation.
"If you must know," she started, "the Disarming Spell is one of my strongest spells." Memories of running away with Harry and Ron flashed in her mind's eye as she deftly shot a well-aimed, silent 'Expelliarmus' against the Death Eaters, making them defenceless.
Hermione had feared that the skills she'd developed after being on the run as Hermione Granger would be forgotten in her new body. Admittedly, she had to practice a few times herself, just to perfect a spell Hermione Granger could cast without much thought. Her young body was still accumulating the magical reserve her previous counterpart had gained from years of experience. But despite these struggles, Hermione could still perform a nonverbal Disarming Spell within seconds. The brunette hazarded it was because she had used it so much in her past life - her magic was working on muscle memory.
"Again," she said, throwing Regulus' wand back at him. "Disarm me again."
Looking more resolute, Regulus squared his shoulders and aimed his wand at Hermione once more. "Expell—"
And once more, his wand flew out from his grasp and into Hermione's awaiting hand. "Too slow," she repeated. She threw his wand at him again and positioned herself properly. "Again."
Regulus' cheeks grew red as his eyes dangerously flashed.
Hermione beamed in return.
Now, he was taking this seriously.
__________
October 20, 1978
They had just finished practicing the Reductor Curse and Hermione was spent. Regulus was becoming a decent Duelling partner, and although nobody could beat Harry Potter's prowess with Defence Against the Dark Arts spells, Hermione thought Regulus was becoming a better opponent.
Ever since their first meeting and practice of the Disarming Spell, Regulus had been rigorous. Hermione had told him countless times they still had NEWTs to focus on, but his newfound fervour to continue practicing spells surprised Hermione greatly.
"There may come a time when you have to use as many well-aimed basic spells as possible," he had told her one time. "And that time may be sooner than what we've hoped for."
Although she agreed with his sentiments, Hermione still wanted to focus on her NEWTs classes. So, during break times, she'd urge Regulus to read a chapter of their textbook before resuming their Duelling lessons. Regulus kept on owling her to meet him at the Room of Requirement, but Hermione had still promised to sometimes study with her Ravenclaw roommates. She had to ditch him quite a few times, much to his disgruntlement, but Hermione always made up by tiring Regulus to the bone during their other duelling sessions, until both of them could barely walk.
There were sessions too when Regulus would teach her a particularly Dark spell that would be useful on the battlefield. Once upon a time, Hermione Granger may have been wary about using these spells. But after going through war and numerous battles that had almost cost her life, Hermione begrudgingly admitted these Dark spells could be of use, if she only used them with good intentions in mind.
"Every spell is a Dark spell if your intention is to hurt, you know," Regulus had told her. "Even a simple Reductor Spell. Imagine if you used that on a person."
Hermione didn't need to imagine because she already knew the effects of using the Reductor Spell on a person. The image of Dolohov, blood and innards bursting everywhere after Harry had used 'Reducto' on him during one of their runs, resurfaced in her mind.
"Pettigrew, did you know?" Regulus suddenly asked.
She shook her head free from her thoughts and glanced at the boy lying beside her. Regulus had one of his arms tucked underneath his head, his eyebrows knitted together in deep thought. "Know what?" she asked, adjusting herself on the floor to find a more comfortable position.
"You duel like a warrior."
Hermione froze at his comment, unsure how to reply.
When she hesitantly looked back at Regulus, his grey eyes were boring straight into her soul. "And why do you say that?" she softly asked, barely breathing as her heart thudded wildly inside her ribcage.
"You fight as if you've fought before," he continued. "Which is preposterous, because we've spent seven years in this school together and there hasn't been any opportunity to duel. I know Flitwick tried to organise a Duelling Club before, but it was dissolved almost immediately when one student almost lost his life and his parents complained. Pity, really, because it would have been a fun way to exercise your Duelling skills. I at first thought it may be because you have an older brother, incorrigible at best, which is why you had to defend yourself most of the time if he was being annoying. But this is Peter Pettigrew we're talking about."
"What does that mean?" she asked in annoyance, taking offense.
Regulus rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean," he snapped with a sigh. His grey eyes landed on hers once more and added, "You've done this before, haven't you? Fought in a battle."
He looked genuinely curious, not entirely suspicious, but the way his grey eyes glinted determinedly under the poorly-lit Room of Requirement meant he wouldn't drop this subject at all.
"Yes," was her simple answer.
In spite of her loudly beating heart, she smiled when Regulus' eyes widened in disbelief. "Don't you think—" He paused, frowning deeply again. Hermione could practically see how his thoughts raced in his mind. "Don't you think it's time I learn how you know all things you're not supposed to? Voldemort, his horcruxes, complicated warding spells a seventeen-year-old shouldn't know at all, your weird, fighting stance... everything."
"Regulus..."
"Aren't you tired?" he blurted out, cutting her off. "Of keeping everything to yourself? You've dropped numerous hints. I've noticed them all, but I can never piece them together until you tell me what's really going on." His eyes bore into her blue eyes once more. "I'm risking my life for this bloody cause and you seem to know everything. I want to know everything, Hermione Pettigrew. I want to know what I'm getting myself into, why you're willingly helping me bring down a monster when you can hide behind your annoying Gryffindor friends." A wry smile appeared on his face. "With everything that's been happening so far, I sometimes think you were Sorted into the wrong House."
Tears prickled in her eyes as she gazed heavenward. Hermione could make out numerous scorch marks from their various spells on the high ceiling.
She wondered whether it was wise to tell Regulus everything. She trusted him, more than she wanted to actually, but she wasn't entirely sure if he would believe her when she revealed the truth.
But he was right: she was tired. So very tired of keeping everything to herself, of watching how some things she knew should happen in the past, had never come into fruition. There was no one to share her great burden of the possible future and it sometimes drove her mad.
Perhaps, it was already the right time to reveal everything to Regulus.
"I'm not... I'm not from here."
She refused to look at Regulus after her claim, wondering what expression he was making. A few tears escaped from her eyes and she shakily lifted her hand to brush them away.
"A little elaboration would help, Pettigrew."
His voice sounded strained, a tad disbelieving too, and Hermione was forced to glance at him. Regulus' grey eyes were still intently latched onto her form, looking as if he'd be able to figure her out just by staring at her.
"You're not going to believe me at all," she pointed out with a soft, shaky laugh.
Regulus sighed. "After everything we have gone through these past few months," he started, "I think I'm already immune to whatever bomb you're going to drop on me."
Hermione chuckled in spite of herself and brushed a few more wayward tears away. "It's... it's bloody weird and complicated," she started. "But, for starters, I came from a time when there was an unending war between the Light and Voldemort."
He looked mighty confused. "But... but there's an unending war between the Light and Voldemort right now," he claimed.
"No, this is just the First Wizarding War," she revealed. "What I'm talking about is the Second Wizarding War."
The Slytherin looked gobsmacked. "You mean to say," he deliberately continued, "Voldemort will still be the villain of this story once again, when the Wizarding World enters its second war?"
Hermione dumbly nodded her head.
A deeply disturbed look settled on his face. "So... you're a time traveller?"
The brunette frowned. "Well... yes and no," she said with a dubious smile.
"What the fuck does that even mean?" he cried incredulously.
Hermione sighed. "Where I came from – when I came from – I was on the run with my best friend, trying to unearth the remaining horcruxes of Voldemort. But the war dragged on for years, and my best friend – the beacon of all light and hope – grew tired from all the fighting, especially when it was obvious that everything was so hopeless. And so... we wanted to... we wanted to escape. From our reality. From everything."
Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw how surprise flitted in Regulus' grey eyes. "It was perhaps the most cowardly thing we'd ever done," she confessed, more tears slipping down from her blue eyes. "But my best friend... my best friend was so tired and if he'd lost hope, then... then so had I. And so, he found this dark book and pointed out a dubious potion, which spoke of sweeping us away from our current reality. It was a very vague potion, with not enough description to assure us of when or where we'd be going. I was sceptical of the potion, but he was persistent, so we spent the next few weeks brewing the potion until it neared its completion. But when we only need the last ingredient, the Death Eaters found us and—"
Her tongue turned thick and it started getting difficult to breathe.
"This best friend of yours?" Regulus softly asked. "What happened to him?"
Hermione tightly closed her eyes as the memory of that fateful day came crashing back to her. "He was shot with the Killing Curse before he even had the chance to drink the potion," she brokenly whispered, the grief of Harry's death engulfing her whole. "I – I, well, I knew I was hit with at least three Killing Curses, but I was able to drink the potion as instructed. The next time I woke up, I was a baby, bearing a different name."
"You weren't Hermione Pettigrew?" This time, Regulus sounded genuinely surprised, as if among all the things she had revealed so far, that was the most preposterous thing of all.
This brought a small smile out on Hermione's face. "No," she replied. "My name was Hermione Granger. I was a Muggle-born, you know. With dentists as parents and born as an only child. Trust me, it was a huge shocker for me too. I didn't know the potion would give me a new life. I half-expected it would be a Time-Turner of some sort, bringing me to a different timeline as myself, as Hermione Granger. But the potion stayed true to its word – I was brought as far away from my reality as possible. It gave me a new identity, a new appearance... a new family. So, to answer your question, no I don't think I time travelled. Because if I time travelled, I would still have been myself." She took a deep, shuddering breath and glanced back at Regulus. "Reborn seems more fitting, I think."
The wizard now stared at her with unfiltered disbelief. "Blimey," he groaned, lifting his fingers to start massaging the bridge of his nose. "I stand corrected. I'm not immune yet to all of your revelations. Holy shite, Pettigrew— hell, is that even your name?"
Hermione wryly laughed. "Always will be, I'm afraid," she said. "Hermione Granger seems like a distant dream to me now. I still have most of her memories. I know how to procure the horcruxes, or... or what the future of the people in this timeline will be..." She trailed off as she uncertainly looked at Regulus, wondering if he'd ever thought he might not survive this horcrux hunt at all. "But, I'm starting to forget my first visit to Diagon Alley, or what grades I got on my essays during fifth year. I've never really thought about it before, because they're just small things you easily forget. But recently, I started forgetting what exact shade of brown Harold Granger's eyes were or... or what image I always saw on Ron's freckles – it's—"
Her breath hitched and she was reduced to silence, grieving once again of the memories Hermione Granger had left behind.
"But I remember all her principles, her dreams, her feelings, her... her priorities," she continued. "Above all else, I remember how much she truly wanted to bring Voldemort down to make everyone she loved happy. We share the same sentiments still, you know. Which is why, despite my initial desire to turn a blind eye, to let everything unravel just the way it should be and to stand on the side-lines, I realised that I can't. Not intervene, that is. So, here I am now, helping Regulus Black, of all bloody people, to gather all of Voldemort's horcruxes and to destroy him once and for all."
She watched as a myriad of emotions flittered through his grey eyes. Regulus seemed undecided on what expression he would show, so instead, he hid behind his indifferent mask.
"Tell me," he rasped out, his voice cracking a bit, "you were a Gryffindor, weren't you?"
A laugh bubbled out of her lips. "Seriously?" she asked. "After everything I've said, that's the question you want to prioritise asking?"
"My mind still cannot grasp all the fucking information you just unloaded on me, Pettigrew," he said, a crazed smile now stretching on his lips. "Honestly? I think my brain's melting right now. So please, please, for the love of all good things and holy, tell me: were you a Gryffindor? This Hermione Granger? Was she a Gryffindor?"
"Yes," she laughed. "A recklessly brave, bleeding Gryffindor."
"That explains your insane plans," Regulus pointed out, matching her laugh. "Only a truly brilliant, albeit idiotic, Gryffindor could come up with those." The Slytherin laughed once more, the sound coming out from his lips sounding more panicked and maniacal. "Holy fucking hell, I mean— I can't believe— so everything you've said—" Hermione watched in amusement as Regulus clammed up and took a stuttered breath. "Does... does anybody else know? Besides me?"
Hermione sadly shook her head. "Nobody knows I'm fraternising with you and hunting Voldemort's horcruxes," she said.
"Not even Dumbledore?" Regulus asked. "I mean, he's the poster wizard of the Light Side. I'm sure if he heard whatever you just told me, he'd be able to help."
She shook her head.
"Your friends? Your brother? Potter?"
She continued shaking her head. "You're the first one to know, actually," she said. "Consider yourself special."
Regulus clutched his head and breathed through his nose. This was the most rattled she'd ever seen the usually composed Black heir.
"So... so do you have any means of going back?" he asked.
"The potion didn't offer any antidote," Hermione said, brushing away the remaining tears in her eyes. "And, I don't think I can ever go back. Usually, the effects of a dark potion are irreversible. Besides, I'm not... I'm not Hermione Granger anymore." She clutched her light brown hair and forlornly smiled. "I'm Hermione Pettigrew, with a buffoon for a brother and a sweet witch for a mother. If I ever attempted to go back, I guess I'd be dead anyway." She resolutely looked at Regulus. "I have no one to return to. Which is why I'm doing everything I can to save the people I've grown to care about in this world and for future generations."
A sardonic smile appeared on Regulus' face. "And you're so sure you can save them all?" he dryly asked.
Hermione's blue eyes – so clear and bright like the blue sky, as opposed to Hermione Granger's earthly dark brown – pierced him unwaveringly.
"Yes," she said. "I'll make sure of it."
__________
November 25, 1978
Hermione hastily secured a booth inside the crowded pub, relieved that she was able to easily spy an empty booth. Merlin forbid if James suggested they go to Madame Puddifoot's instead of the Three Broomsticks, if it was too packed with people.
Today was the last Hogsmeade weekend before the Christmas break and James had owled her three days ago, wondering if he could drop by and buy her a few rounds of butterbeer and have lunch with her.
'Aren't you busy with your training?' Hermione wrote for her reply.
'Don't worry about me, Whiskers. Worry about yourself more, blimey. You worry too much about other people,' was his reply.
She agreed to meet him in the end, because truth be told, she'd missed him terribly. His letters were starting to become scarce because of his training. From what she gathered mostly from Anya, Peter was barely home and when he arrived, he'd instantly pass out due to exhaustion. Hermione worried deeply that Moody might be over-tiring his trainees, but Anya assured her that Peter always bounced back onto his feet after a well-deserved nap and a scrumptious meal. James and Sirius often dropped by too, just to be fed by her mother, and from what Anya wrote, it seemed like she was growing awfully fond of the two boys. She did say Sirius had attempted to prank her behind her back, but Anya caught it immediately and let Sirius endure an entire meal with a shiny, bald head as punishment for his audacity.
Hermione grinned at the thought, quite disappointed she hadn't been there to witness it. Sirius had been very careful with his hair, always claiming it was his best asset, and surely, he would have been horrified when it was tampered with. Hermione hoped they now knew that Anya shouldn't be trifled with.
Her eyes then magnetised towards the scenery outside the pub, noting that it had started to drizzle. The weather forecast that morning had predicted there would be a downpour soon. Hermione hoped James would arrive before the torrential rain came.
"There's my Head Girl!"
Warmth instantly spread in her heart when she heard James' voice. A silly, little smile appeared on her face and she swivelled around, excited to see him after so long.
But then, her eyes widened in surprise at the sight she beheld.
James was once again wearing a handsome three-piece suit, with his tie loosened around his neck. This time, though, instead of the Auror-in-training midnight black robes, James was wearing the official deep maroon robes of an Auror, with the Auror insignia proudly displayed on his breast pocket. She distractedly glanced at his hair and was mildly amused that it was tamer today, marvellously tamer in fact, since his hair was stylishly parted like a proper Pureblood.
His smile brightened at her unabashed staring. Belatedly, Hermione noted she wasn't the only one staring, as the other students crammed inside the quaint pub had also stopped whatever they were doing to stare wide-eyed at the newly appointed Auror.
"You made it!" she floundered as James slipped in the booth beside her.
"Well, I did say I was coming today," he cheekily replied.
A laugh slipped out from her lips when James wrapped an arm around her waist. "No, you buffoon, I mean you're an Auror now!" she exclaimed.
James beamed proudly and puffed out his chest. "I look like a proper Auror now, yeah?" he said. "Finally, if you ask me."
"But – but how?" she asked, her eyebrows now knitting together at the middle. "It's only been five months since the start of your training. I thought the standard length of Auror training was at least eight months."
Before her eyes, the wizard beside her suddenly looked older than eighteen. "Ah, well," he said, hazel eyes darkening as he frowned at the wooden table. "With the climate today, the ministry thought it'd be best if the training of incoming Aurors was hastened." He absentmindedly lifted his hand to ruffle his hair, but then he remembered it was impeccably styled today. James scowled and placed his hand back on the table, curling it into a tight fist.
Hermione noticed it and immediately held his fisted hand and rubbed his knuckles with her fingers until he relaxed.
James gave her a small smile. "Moody's been rigorous since then," he continued, voice softer and calmer. "Almost killed us from all the training, that bloody git."
"And Sirius?" she asked, worry clouding her yes. "Peter?"
His lips stretched wider into a full-blown smile. "They made it too," he said. Hermione laughed in relief. "We just found out today, actually. I'm sure Wormy's going to send you a letter soon. Your brother was hilariously trying not to cry when Moody gave him the official maroon robes. Honestly, I think Moody has this soft spot for Peter. I swear he looked quite proud when Peter donned the robes."
"I thought Aurors didn't really have a uniform?" she asked, eyeing his attire once more with an appreciative gaze. "It's usually worn for ceremonies and official events, isn't it?"
James' hazel eyes twinkled with amusement. "Yes," he answered. "But then, if I didn't come here wearing this, I wouldn't have been able to see how starry-eyed I made you." A teasing smirk grew on his face when Hermione flushed. "How do I look, Whiskers? And don't you dare say 'really good' because your reaction a while ago says otherwise."
"Berk," she grumbled with a light glare.
He boisterously laughed and pulled her closer to his side. "I really missed you," he said, placing a kiss on the side of her temple. "You haven't broken any rules whilst we haven't been watching over you, have you?"
"Please," she scoffed, "I'm Head Girl. I uphold the rules."
"Ah, iron fist," he teased as he fondly squeezed her hip. Humour on his face slightly fell as he neared his face closer. "There hasn't been any shady business here in Hogwarts over the past few weeks?"
She smiled and shook her head, noting how he sagged with relief. "What's happening outside?" she asked. "The ministry? The" – she surreptitiously looked around – "Order?"
His face darkened once more, all the humour completely disappearing. "You've read the news," he clipped.
"But everybody knows the ministry lies," she insisted. "What is really happening out there?"
"Hermione—"
"James," she cut off. "I'll be graduating soon and you're being ridiculous if you think keeping me in the dark will be for the best. You know I won't stand aside if the war becomes full blown. You know that."
A small smile, one of fondness and sadness combined, appeared on his face. "Of course," he said, reaching forward to brush a curl away from her forehead. He then expelled a deep sigh and held her hand. "The Daily Prophet isn't lying, though. Death Eater attacks are increasing. The Dark Mark's been seen at various locations in the country all in a span of a week. Voldemort's getting rigorous and even the ministry cannot contain the truth anymore. Bagnold is getting ready to become the Minister soon because the Wizengamot agreed Minchum's not fit to rule anymore."
"And... and the Muggle-borns?" Hermione thickly swallowed as she thought of Lily. She knew that Sev would fight tooth and nail to keep her safe, and the redhead wouldn't go down without a humongous fight, but Hermione still worried for her. She'd experienced first-hand how Muggle-borns were oppressed during the Second Wizarding War. It horrified her that the situation for Muggle-borns seemed to be more dangerous during the First War, since Voldemort was at his strongest, and his army was the largest and most invincible it had ever been.
James' lips thinned as he suddenly looked grim. "It's – they have it worse," he said. "I know you worry for Evans, but I can assure you she's fine." Disbelief appeared in his hazel eyes. "In fact, she recently joined the Order."
"Of course she did," Hermione said with a soft chuckle. "Lily's too fiery to just hide away."
"Snape too," he continued. Her eyes widened, prompting him to wryly smile. "Wherever Evans go, Snape follows, right? As an Unspeakable, Lily's been valuable to the Order. But of course, we're not privy to whatever task Dumbledore has given her. And Snape, well, he's a Potions prodigy, so that's where Dumbledore assigned him. He's been brewing nonstop for medicinal supplies, Veritaserum – any potions deemed to be important for this war." Warmth seeped into his eyes as a resolute smile grew on his face. "Everybody's doing their best just to fight. The pinnacle is approaching. That's what Dumbledore's been hounding on and on about, every time he has called for an Order meeting. The pinnacle is approaching and we must all get ready."
A shiver ran down Hermione's spine. If Voldemort was becoming persistent, then she and Regulus had to work double time to gather all of the horcruxes and find a way to destroy them all.
Then, to her surprise, James expelled a low chuckle, a sheepish look on his face. "Merlin, now we've made everything depressing," he claimed. "I actually imagined this day more differently you know. Less talking, more kissing and touching..."
Her cheeks flushed once more at his suggestive smile.
"Berk," was all she could say.
-ooo-
They stayed for a few more hours, this time exchanging harmless anecdotes and never again breached the topic of war or the Order. Hermione would have loved to have known more, just to gauge whether she was running out of time, but she didn't want to see James wear such an expression again. They seldom saw each other anyway and she'd rather bask under his warmth and brightness for as long as she could.
"Oh shite, I almost forgot."
Hermione watched curiously as he pulled out a small envelope from his Auror robe that he'd long shrugged off.
His cheeks reddened when he passed the letter to Hermione. "It's not as stuffy as you think. I promise," he quickly reassured. "But Mum insists it's some Pureblood shite. Just... just see for yourself."
She turned the letter and quirked an eyebrow at the Potter insignia embedded on the wax seal. She daintily removed the seal, highly aware how James' nervousness seemed to increase tenfold. Curious, and a little nervous herself, Hermione finally pulled an expensive-looking parchment from the envelope and read its contents.
The Potter family cordially invites
the Pettigrew family
to a formal Christmas dinner
to be held on
Monday, twenty-fifth of December, at 6 pm
Dining Hall, Potter Manor
Wearing formal dress robes is highly encouraged
Please RSVP to James Fleamont Potter
Hermione snorted in amusement and tried to stifle her bubbling laughter behind her hand. James by then had turned a brilliant shade of red.
"Oh, I knew you'd react like this," he whined. "I told Mum it was too much, but she insisted we uphold stupid Pureblood traditions. Mum knows you have Selwyn blood, so she wanted the invitation to be proper." Despite his embarrassment, a laugh escaped from his lips. "I told her a simple 'Hey, Hermione. Want to have Christmas dinner with my family? You can invite your Mum and Peter too' would suffice, but she stood her ground. I'm not sure what she placed on that invitation, but it sends her a signal once you've received it."
James scowled when she continued giggling behind her hand. "Stop it," he cried. "You're making this more embarrassing than what I originally wanted."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said in between chuckles. She finally removed her hand from her lips and held his instead. The humoured smile was still stretched wide on her face. James frowned at her smile, prompting her to squeeze his hand. "But yes, I'd love to. Have Christmas dinner with your family, that is. I still have to tell Mum and Peter, though, but I'm sure Mum will be over the moon."
"Yeah?" he asked, his cheeks reddening again but this time his hazel eyes shone with hope.
"Yeah," she said, fondly glancing at the ridiculously grandiose invitation. "It's been a while since I last saw your parents too. They've been stocking up on Dragon Pox cures, right?"
He snorted. "You've reverently sent them vials on every occasion, Whiskers," he pointed out. "I'm sure they have enough to last them a lifetime."
A sheepish smile bloomed on her red face. "It's better to be sure," she insisted.
"Of course," he said with an indulgent smile.
Hermione made a face at his teasing before chancing a glance at her wristwatch. "I have to go soon," she announced, apologetic.
Clear disappointment appeared on James' face. "Already?" he protested. "We still have a few hours to go before students are required to return to the castle."
"I'm sorry," she said with a sad smile. "I promised MacMillan we'd go over some Prefects issue at the dormitory later. We really have no other free time anymore, since it's NEWTs year and all."
He deeply frowned. "Fine," he snapped. "I can't believe MacMillan's the Head Boy, of all people."
"You had another wizard in mind?" she asked, shoving James out of the booth to let her through.
"Well—" His face stuttered in irritation and he sighed. "Well, none. I'm just bloody annoyed he gets to live with you for a year. Alone! In a dormitory." He narrowed his eyes. "He hasn't done anything shady towards you, has he?"
"Merlin, there's no need to get jealous over MacMillan," Hermione said, unable to stifle a laugh. "He's been nothing but decent. Besides, he ridiculously worships you, said he'd like to live up to your legacy and all that crap."
His face cleared as a pompous smirk grew there instead. "Good," he said with a firm nod. "Bloke needs to know his place."
Hermione hit him with her pointy elbow, prompting him to scowl. "I was hoping your ego wouldn't make an appearance today but there it is," she said with an exaggerated eye roll.
James expelled a pained laugh and slipped an arm around her waist. "You like that about me," he insisted. "I know you do."
The brunette sighed as she grabbed onto James' Auror robe to pass to him.
"POTTER!"
Both of them flinched and glanced at the source of the exclamation. Dirk Cresswell, a fellow seventh year Gryffindor, was making his way to them.
"Blimey, it really is you," he said, thrusting his hand forward while James good-naturedly grasped it in a handshake. "Look at you. An Auror!"
Hermione rolled her eyes when he puffed out his chest and grinned pompously at the younger wizard.
"All right, Cresswell?" he asked, thumping him on the back.
"Managing," he said with a deft shrug. "It's NEWTs year after all. Merlin, we miss your Transfiguration sessions. McGonagall's been teaching us some complicated shite again. The blokes and I wish the famous Transfiguration Master were here to tutor us, you know. Like the good, old times."
"Transfiguration Master?" she echoed, quirking an eyebrow in amusement.
James' face turned splotchy red, but it was Dirk who answered for her. "Potter's brilliant at Transfiguration. Didn't you know, Pettigrew?" he asked.
"Oh, I know," she replied. "But I didn't know he was called as such."
"It's just a stupid nickname," James claimed with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"But seriously, though," the Gryffindor continued. "Can't you make time for us? We promise to buy you a hot meal if you agree."
"Ah, sorry but I have to pass," he said with an apologetic smile. "I'll be sent on various Auror missions soon, so I cannot set a definite schedule - if ever." He frowned in deep thought, before his hazel eyes lit up. He then dropped an arm over Hermione's shoulder and pulled her forward. "She is brilliant in everything, though. She used to tutor us back in the day, that's why we managed to become Aurors."
Dirk's eyes glittered when they landed on Hermione. "Brightest witch of her age," he said with a brilliant smile. "You don't mind if you tutor us, do you?"
"Well..."
"She makes pretty colour-coded schedules too," James added.
Hermione snorted when Dirk's eyes widened. "I'm quite strict. Or so I've been told," she said, ignoring James when he vigorously nodded his head to concur.
"That's fine," the seventh year Gryffindor said. "You'll do it, though? Tutor us?"
"I don't see why not," she said with a kind smile. "I usually study in the library, so you can just approach me if you like."
"Brilliant," he exclaimed with a wide grin. "I'll tell the blokes." He glanced at James once more and thumped him on the back. "It's really good to see you, mate. Be safe out there, yeah?"
"You too, Cresswell," he said, as the younger wizard bid his goodbye and left the Three Broomsticks.
Once he was gone, he glanced at Hermione and smirked. "Poor bloke doesn't know what he just got himself into," he teased.
"Shut up, Potter," she hissed as she pulled him out of the Three Broomsticks and into the streets. There was still a drizzle as they walked towards the thestrals, but Hermione didn't bother pulling out her wand to cast a makeshift umbrella. James didn't seem to mind walking under the rain either, already content with holding her hand.
A cold breeze brushed against her cheek and Hermione involuntarily shivered. She glanced at her jumper and frowned, annoyed that it didn't protect her enough from the frigid air.
"Cold, Whiskers?"
"A bit."
Hermione was about to pull her wand to cast a Warming Charm on herself, but James had already placed his heavy Auror maroon robes over her shoulder. "I'm soiling the hems," she protested, noting that, with her shorter height, the robes ended up hanging by the soles of her feet.
"S'alright," James said with a laugh, wrapping an arm over Hermione's shoulder to pull her closer to him. "Pokey can always clean that up."
The brunette sighed and didn't bother making another comment about abusing house-elves' kindness. Instead, she placed her hands inside his pockets to warm her hands.
But then, she paused as her fingers brushed against something familiar. Hermione grabbed a fistful of toffees and pulled them out. "You still have these in your pockets?" she asked, surprised.
James lightly blushed and sheepishly grinned at Hermione. "It has become a habit of mine," he confessed. "You've managed to make me love toffees too, you know. I don't leave the house without bringing some with me."
Hermione laughed and returned most of them to his pockets. She kept one and removed the wrapper before popping it inside her mouth.
The way the candy melted on her tongue instantly made her close her eyes and expel a soft, delighted sigh. Toffees always made her day extra better.
James suddenly halted, prompting Hermione to open her eyes. When she looked at the bespectacled wizard, James had this intense look in his eyes, his lips pressed into a firm, straight line.
"What?" she asked in surprise.
Before she knew it, James was already pulling her somewhere only he knew and Hermione had no choice but to stumble behind him.
"What? Where are you—"
They reached the back of the Shrieking Shack, completely hidden from the pathway near the thestral-drawn carriages. James pushed her quickly against the mossy, wooden walls of the shack and drowned her words by pressing his lips against hers.
Hermione stilled while James snogged her like there was no tomorrow. His hands were buried instantly in her hair, pulling her closer, pressing her harder against his well-toned chest. It didn't take too long for Hermione to snap out of her initial shock and furiously return his kiss.
She grasped onto his loose necktie to pull him closer. James huffed in surprise, but then chuckled against her lips.
His lips soon slowed down as his hands slid down to her waist, squeezing tight when she lightly bit his bottom lip. Warmth pooled in the pit of her stomach and embarrassingly, Hermione squirmed her waist against his just to dispel the uncomfortable feeling between her thighs. At the same time, she felt something hard poking against her hip, prompting her to freeze in horror.
James pulled away with an embarrassed laugh, knowing full well what had shocked her so much. "Ah yes, sorry about that," he said, shifting away from Hermione. "It's an inconvenient consequence after snogging you so..." He completely pulled away and awkwardly rubbed the back of his nape.
"Um," she muttered, unable to meet his eyes. "I wasn't... well. I wasn't expecting that."
"The erection?"
"WHAT?" she exclaimed shrilly, her face turning completely red. She tentatively glanced at James, whose eyes were already dancing with mischief. "No, I – I meant the furious snogging."
James snorted. "Well, it's your entire fault," he accused. "I was planning on being a proper gentleman today because we were near Hogwarts, and I thought it'd be mighty weird if an Auror is seen kissing a student. Granted, we were together even before I graduated, and you're of age already, but... you get the idea."
"My fault?" she echoed, eyebrows drawing together.
"Yes," he grounded out. "With the toffee."
"What does the toffee have to do with this?"
To her surprise, James expelled a deep sigh and gave her a withering glare. "Because when you eat toffees, you sound like you're having—" His face turned redder, but a frustrated look appeared on his face. "You always make these breathy, little sounds and— I mean, I've never seen anyone eat candies like that, with so much pleasure."
Hermione grew horrified, realising what he was trying to say. "You think that every time I'm eating toffees I'm having—"
Merlin and Morgana, Hermione wanted a hole to swallow her whole right there and then.
"Merlin's saggy bum, now you think I'm a dirty pervert," James cried.
"Because you are a dirty pervert, you berk!" she shrieked. "How could you even—" She thickly swallowed, too embarrassed to even form proper words.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," James said, laughing once more as he gathered Hermione in his arms. "I think we can both agree that you shouldn't eat toffees when I'm in the vicinity. Just to keep my sanity intact."
"Agreed," she grumbled under her breath, unwittingly melting against his warm embrace.
He softly laughed against her ear and brushed her hair away. "I'm sorry," he apologised again. "But you really moan, Hermione. Blimey. Have mercy on me."
"Shut up, Potter."
__________
A/N: Someone asked me before if the deathly hallows will be tackled in this story. The answer is no. To be honest with y'all, the deathly hallows kind of didn't make any sense to me because I think destroying the horcruxes to defeat Voldemort seems enough. So, I just made the Potters' Invisibility Cloak as one of their brilliant inventions. I think that makes more sense since they're a long line of inventors.