A/N: Happy New Year, darlings! One of my resolutions is to write more (20k a month, to be exact) and so I'm starting here, with this story that's captivated me so completely I have trouble writing anything else. Remember to send all your gratitude to Oblivionbaby and Shayalonnie, who keep this story going.
The Granger Residence
31 July 1999
"Look. I know sometimes life is hard. We don't always get what we want, do we? But when times are hard, we have two options. We can either throw in the towel, or we can push through and achieve some truly amazing results. You're at a crossroads, you see. Now's the time to make a choice and move onwards and upwards, not to wallow in distress or anger. So come now, show me that you won't let this moment rule you."
"No!"
Hermione sighed. "Open wide, darling. Its porridge, not poison."
"Won't!"
"Delphi, please. If you don't eat, you'll be hungry later, and godmummy Hermione has plans."
"No, thank you."
Hermione sighed once more, setting the child sized spoon back in the bowl and pushing it toward Delphi. The girl sat at the Granger's cozy kitchen table atop a stack of books, tied by the waist to the back of the chair with a scarf in lieu of an actual high chair, and shaking her head determinedly. With every shake, her wild, unbrushed curls swept over her cheeks and the tops of her shoulders.
"Well, at least she's polite," came a voice from across the room. Her mother had come in unseen and was perched by the kitchen island on a tall stool, her elbows propped on the counter in front of her. "Your manners were atrocious at that age."
"I just don't understand why she won't eat," Hermione said, ignoring her mother's remark. "She loves porridge!"
"Does she?" Helen wrinkled her nose.
"Harry said so."
"Well, if Harry said so, it must be true."
Hermione looked up at her mother with an arched brow.
"Have you tried a bit of sugar?" Helen continued. "I can't stand the stuff without it. Maybe a touch of molasses."
"Are you trying to rot the poor child's teeth out of her head?" asked Frank, sticking his head in through the doorway as he spoke and then sliding into the room.
"Just because you like a bowl full of flavorless mush, doesn't mean the rest of us don't know how to brush our teeth after breakfast," said Helen, dismissing her husband and moving to sit at the table beside Delphi. She leaned forward and smiled at the girl, patting her head affectionately before reaching for the bowl at the center of the table. "Do you like sugar, sweetheart?" She said, her tone high and familiar as she spoke to Delphi. Hermione had the vaguest memory of being a toddler as well, and of her mother speaking to her in exactly the same manner.
"Helen," warned Frank. "She'll start bouncing off the walls if you give her that stuff."
"Nonsense. Two year olds are built for sugar."
"Sugar," Delphi repeated, and she was smiling now.
Hermione watched helplessly as Helen deposited a teaspoonful of the stuff onto Delphi's formerly nutritious breakfast. The girl smiled widely and grabbed her own spoon out of the bowl, bringing it to her mouth and licking it clean of the sweet stuff before scooping out another granule covered bite of oats.
"There, see? Sugar." Helen smiled in satisfaction and Frank, who had taken her spot by the kitchen island, rolled his eyes.
"Where is Mr. Potter today, anyhow?" He asked, looking at Hermione now. "I was under the impression he would be lunching with us this afternoon."
And of course, that had been the plan, but evil doers never slept, least of all on weekends.
"Work owled him early this morning. He said he'll most likely be done by two if we don't mind pushing things back a bit." Hermione watched for her parents reactions anxiously. Things had finally been going well between the three of them. Less awkward, at the very least. She attributed a huge part of that to Harry and Delphi and the glowing feeling they brought with them when they visited—which was happening now every other evening. The last thing she wanted now was for her parents to form a poor opinion of the man as a boyfriend or as a father.
"Sounds lovely," Helen said with a smile. "It'll give us a chance to spoil this little one more flagrantly, in any case."
"I am still here, you know," Hermione said, watching disapprovingly as her mother ladled another half teaspoon of sugar over Delphi's now half devoured bowl of porridge.
"Oh, and we should be worried about that, should we?" Asked her father, his voice teasing.
"Hermione, you've really got to become more familiar with what this godmother business entails," added Helen. "You're supposed to spoil the baby, not smother it. Honestly, where did we go wrong?"
"That's quite enough," said Hermione, snatching the silver spoon from her mother's hand as she dipped it back into the sugar for another scoop. Helen and Frank both giggled like children, and Delphi, who watched them for several seconds before seeming to draw her own conclusions, began to let out great gales of full bellied laughter at the sound.
"Harry's going to have our heads if we send her back high on tea sweetener," said Hermione. Delphi pushed the rest of her porridge away and began to wriggle precariously atop her stack of dictionaries, phone directories, and anthologies. Hermione flicked her wand to untie the scarf restraining the girl and levitated her onto her own lap.
"Did you hear that, Helen? Our heads."
"A terrifying prospect. I'm positively quaking with dread."
"You two are the worst." Hermione stood and Delphi wriggled in her arms, throwing herself backward until her godmother relented and set her on her feet in the kitchen. At once, the toddler darted away and toward the living room where her bag of toys had been deposited earlier that same morning by her father.
"Mymee! Play!" she shouted over her shoulder. Hermione glanced back at her mother, and the older woman only waved her off before glancing at Frank and then falling into another fit of giggles.
The rest of the morning was spent in motion. They played for just half an hour before Hermione was forced to cut the fun short, or muck up her schedule for the day completely. She packed several snacks and a lunch for Delphi—this time of foods she knew for certain the girl would eat—and added them to the already bulging bag filled with changes of clothes for the newly (and barely) potty trained toddler, and other trappings Delphi never traveled without. Thankfully, their errands today were in the wizarding world, and so Hermione shrank the bag and stuck it in her own purse, ready to be summoned and enlarged at the first sign of trouble.
Their first stop was Grimmauld Place. Hermione made her way through the floors, waving her wand this way and that and tidying as Delphi followed with a toy wand Hermione had given her the week before. The little girl swished the short stick from side to side, imitating Hermione as the little toy vacillated between emitting bubbles, twinkling stars, and miniature prancing unicorns which ran off in every direction, disappearing only when they bumped into something.
"Lovely," Hermione told the child, who preened and then waved her little wand around so forcefully that it flew out of her hand and hit the wall.
After number twelve, they took the Floo to The Burrow, where preparations for the evenings affair were already well underway. Molly had broken out the giant white marquee again, and it dominated the orchard. Hermione, with Delphi trailing behind her and pointing out every shrub along the way, made her way into the tent in search of the redheaded matriarch. Instead, all she found was Ginny sitting astride Theo Nott, her hands in his hair and his hands up her shirt.
"Christ Jesus," Hermione swore, turning quickly and scooping up Delphi so that she couldn't see. "Sorry! I didn't see anything! Only, do you know where your mum is?"
Theo murmured something Hermione didn't hear, and Ginny giggled.
"No," the other girl said. "Probably in the kitchen."
"Right. See you later tonight then," Hermione acknowledged without turning back around, and then she marched straight into the house. As it happened, she did find Molly in the kitchen.
"Is Ginny still snogging her boyfriend out there?" the older woman asked. Hermione blushed, and Molly made a disapproving sound. "Well, just two more minutes and I'll put a stop to it. I'm not sure I like that boy."
"He's decent enough," said Hermione after clearing her throat, and then passed Delphi into Molly's waiting arms.
"All the same, he reminds me a bit too much of someone I used to know."
Hermione remembered what Molly had told her the summer before, on the night she and Ron had ended their relationship.
"I don't think he has those sorts of sympathies. At least, I've never heard him say anything," Hermione assured.
Molly made an noncommittal noise and smiled brightly at Delphi. "And how are you, my little love? Has daddy been giving you everything you want? He should, you know. Merlin, you're an angel."
"Hi Granny," said Delphi in response. "Daddy work."
"That's right, poppet. Daddy's at work with Uncle Ron. But did you know today is Daddy's birthday? Would you like to help Granny make Daddy a cake for his party?"
"Cake! Want cake!"
Molly laughed. "Then cake you shall have," she promised. Hermione tried to do a quick calculation to see how much sugar that would be in one day before dismissing the idea and deciding that for today, she really didn't care.
"Molly," she said as she helped pull down mixing bowls and measuring cups for the baking. "Would it be terribly inconvenient for you if I were to run to Diagon Alley for an hour or so, and leave Delphi with you? I haven't had a chance to pick up Harry's birthday present you see. It's just waiting at the shop."
"Inconvenient? Do I look like the sort of woman who would be inconvenienced by a single child in my kitchen?"
Molly shot her a half exasperated look and Hermione grinned. "Thank you," she said. "I shouldn't be more than an hour. I can help setting up when I get back."
"Go on then," Molly ordered, and then levitated Delphi onto the counter where she could help to mix the batter that was currently assembling itself. Hermione dropped a kiss on the child's forehead and obeyed.
Diagon Alley was crowded. It always was on weekends in the Summer. Hermione pushed her way through the throngs of people quickly and made her way to the shop where Harry's gift was being held. She thanked the proprietor profusely for wrapping it, and then stowed it away in her handbag.
Out on the street again, she let herself watch the crowd of people for a moment, her gaze skating over the families she knew would be starting their back to school shopping. She spotted two different muggle families there, each with an eleven year old and accompanied by an official looking witch or wizard. She smiled, remembering her first trip to Diagon Alley. Her parents had been awed, and the ministry witch escorting them had delighted in playing the tour guide.
"Hermione Granger."
She froze. Her back stiffened. She felt her wand pressed tightly inside of her fist.
"You," she said, whirling around to face the blonde witch in emerald green robes. "Stay away from me. I've nothing to say to you."
"Not even to keep me from telling the world everything I know about dear Harry and the muggle girl he's ruining?"
"You bitch," Hermione hissed, and her wand was out and pressed into Rita Skeeter's abdomen before the beetle could say another word.
"I'll have you arrested," the blonde spat. "And then I'll tell the world about—"
"About what?" Hermione asked, her voice a low, dangerous dare. "You know nothing. And you've no proof. All you have is the bitter ramblings of a washed up old hag. I will bury you, Rita. If you so much as print Harry's name, I will put you so deep underground they'll never find the pieces."
"I don't believe you," Skeeter breathed as the crowd moved around them, not noticing Hermione's wand or the reporter's wild eyes.
"Then believe this," Hermione hissed, "I love that little girl more than I've ever loved another human being in my life. I would do anything, anything to protect her. And if I find that her name is being bandied about in the Prophet with wild, unsubstantiated claims attached to it… you won't have to track me down again Rita. I'll find you. I'll come into your house while you're sleeping, and I will make you deeply regret crossing me before I end you."
Skeeter stood stone still, the pulse point on her neck thrumming and her eyes wide with fear.
"Do you understand me, Rita? Or do I need to repeat myself?"
The woman's eyes widened even further and her lips pressed into a tight line before she said, "I understand," her voice hoarse.
Hermione stepped back, her wand slipping into her pocket again unseen.
"Good," she said, and then left the witch standing in the street.
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The Burrow
31 July 1999
Harry had barely made lunch with Hermione and her parents that afternoon, arriving in his work uniform and a layer of sweat and dirt that he hadn't had time to wash off. Gratefully, the Granger's hadn't seemed to mind, though the waiter at the restaurant they had met at had shot him several disapproving looks during the meal. Hermione's mother and father had delighted in turning the lunch into a celebration, ordering a chocolatey dessert and insisting on singing to Harry as it was presented. Hermione had joined in, and Harry had relished the high sweetness of her singing voice. It wasn't something he had the opportunity to hear often. Even Delphi joined in, and though her rendition of "Happy Tu-tu" was perhaps not the most easily understood, it was appreciated and fawned over.
When the meal had ended, Harry had hugged both of Hermione's parents goodbye with a warm glow in his chest. Being with them was nearly as easy as being with the Weasleys, and ever since the awkwardness of retrieving Hermione for their date weeks ago, the older couple had taken to treating Harry much the same as they did Hermione.
Afterwards, Harry had kissed Hermione goodbye and taken Delphi to the Burrow for a nap. Hermione would join them when the party began, but Harry had promised Ron a game of Quidditch. Unfortunately, the orchard where they normally played was taken up by the great white marquee Molly had taken to using for every large gathering. Harry had showered and changed into a spare set of clothes he kept at the Weasley's, and then they had played chess instead. Ginny had joined them at one point when Theo had taken himself to the loo, but the visit had been short lived and when the dark haired slytherin had emerged she had jumped out of her seat and joined him for a trek up the stairs. Harry tried hard not to imagine why they could be going up there, because frankly, what Ginny did with her boyfriend was none of his business.
Finally, the guests had begun to arrive. Neville had arrived first, and by the way he glanced up the stairs every so often during their conversation, Harry guessed that he was not as zen as Harry was about Ginny snogging Theo in her secluded bedroom. Soon after, the house was near to bursting. Hermione had slipped in beside Andromeda, pecking Teddy on the cheek and then sliding down to sit beside Harry on the sofa.
"Alright, you lot," Molly called as she emerged from the kitchen, platters of food hovering in the air behind her. "Out to the tent!"
Everyone trooped together to the orchard. Bill and his family, Charlie with an unfamiliar young man's arm draped around him, Ron with his date for the evening (a busty blonde who worked at St Mungo's), Neville beside Ginny and Theo, Luna with George and Angelina. Even Percy had come for the evening, and was standing next to Kingsley and Minerva. Beyond that, several mates from Harry's work had been invited, and the Granger's had been brought by Floo. Arthur was monopolizing the both of them, but they didn't seem to mind.
The tent was glowing with little lights that twinkled overhead, and the pleasant hum of conversation as yet more people seemed to arrive. His birthday party was not as well attended as Bill's wedding had been, but Harry did recognize every single surviving Gryffindor from his year, as well as several from Ginny's. Even Oliver Wood was in attendance, though he seemed nonplussed and kept throwing dirty looks in Charlie's direction. The older people seemed to congregate in one corner, thoroughly entertained by the babies and conversation with one another. Harry spent nearly half an hour there chatting with Andromeda, Neville, and Minerva. Neville had, apparently begun working as an apprentice under Professor Sprout the week before, and was animatedly relating the story of how he'd nearly been poisoned by a mature Venomous Tentacula.
"Harry," said a deep voice from behind him, and Harry smiled as he looked up at Kingsley, a glass of butterbeer in the older man's hand.
"Minister, it's good to see you."
"I'll never miss an opportunity to experience Molly's hospitality," said Kingsley. "Congratulations, by the way. Robbards told me you did excellent work this morning."
Harry blushed but was pleased to hear it.
"And where is your Hermione this evening?" Kingsley continued.
Harry let his gaze rove over the occupants of the tent until it landed on Hermione standing beside her parents and chatting animatedly with Percy.
"She's making sure her parents are comfortable," he answered.
"I look forward to seeing her at the office on Monday. So does Kettleburn, from what I've heard him say."
"Kettleburn?" Harry asked, surprised. The name was familiar but he couldn't quite place it.
"Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Animals," Kingsley explained. "He used to teach at Hogwarts, but that might have been before you took the class. He came out of retirement for me, and thank Circe he did. The cretin handling the department before was barely worth the knuts that rounded out his pay each week."
"Care of Magical Creatures, that's right," Harry said, remembering. He'd seen the old man walking around outside sometimes when he'd visited Hagrid in first and second years.
"He's very hands off," Kingsley continued. "I don't think he has plans to stay for much longer, to be honest."
Harry filed the information away for later. He thought Hermione might be interested to hear it.
"What about you, Harry? What are your plans?" Kingsley peered at him. They were almost the same height now, with the Minister just an inch or so taller, and Harry felt very grown up suddenly.
"To learn lots and keep the bad guys from making too much of a mess, Minister."
"Kingsley," the older man reminded, and then patted Harry on the back.
"You've got quite the future in front of you, Harry. I can't wait to see where it takes you. Happy Birthday." And then he turned away, catching Minerva's eye and winking before heading toward the food table.
"Harry!" He looked up at the sound of his name and spotted Ron waving at him from the other side of the tent, his arm around the blonde he'd been flaunting all night. Beside them, Hermione now stood with Neville, and she was smiling in an unrestrained way that Harry knew meant she was content.
She looked gorgeous tonight. She was wearing a new skirt, or at least one he had never seen before, because if he had seen it—and the acres of smooth, tanned leg below—he would certainly have remembered. It was short and pleated, and above it she wore a simple sleeveless blouse that tucked into her waistband and left just enough buttons undone that he could see a hint of the valley between her breasts. Harry felt his cock give an eager little twitch in his trousers and bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't know how, or when, but at some point tonight he was going to snog her senseless.
He crossed to join them, stepping between Ron and Hermione and slipping his arm around her waist. His hand settled on her opposite hip, and she hummed contentedly as she leaned her head against him.
"Harry, you've met Dahlia, haven't you?" she asked, motioning with her other hand toward Ron's date. The woman must have been at least twenty five, but she seemed happy to be on Ron's arm. Whether it was due to his fame or the fact that he'd put quite a bit of muscle on his lanky form in the last year, Harry wasn't sure, but he hoped for Ron's sake it was his personality that had attracted the medi-witch.
"I have," he said. "Pleasure to see you again."
"Pleasure's all mine," said Dahlia, fluttering her lashes and grinning.
"Enjoying yourself, mate?" asked Ron, his fingers idly stroking his date's bare shoulder. The woman seemed to shiver and looked up at him with wide eyes. Harry bit the inside of his cheek again and looked down at Hermione, who had one brow raised at the scene and was sipping what looked like elf wine.
"Absolutely. Loads better than this morning, for sure."
"What?" said Ron, a smirk on his face, "don't you like being tossed across the room by angry old women?"
"What?" Hermione looked up. "Who tossed you across a room?"
"No one," Harry soothed. Beside him, Ron laughed. "It was just an exceptionally strong shielding charm."
"That our dark wizard's mum cast when she realized we were about to bust in. Harry didn't have time to duck and got knocked on his arse."
"Yes, well," said Harry, "good thing it's a shapely arse then. I barely feel it now."
"Harry, you've got to be more careful," Hermione chided.
"That's nothing," said Ron. "You should have seen how disgusting his arm looked when it got dislocated."
"Dislocated?" Hermione's voice was shrill, and Harry threw Ron a dirty look.
"Ron popped it back into place right away," Harry assured her, trying to pull her back against him as she crossed her arms and stepped away so that she could glare at him properly.
"Ron? You should have gone to hospital, Harry!"
"No need," said Ron, shaking his head. "Something that minor? We all know basic healing for a reason, Hermione."
"To save lives," she hissed, "not to injure people further. What if there had been a fracture?"
"There wasn't," said Harry, and he grabbed her hand to prevent her from drawing her wand and running a series of diagnostic charms she'd insisted on learning after they'd found Delphi. He pulled her against him, trapping her hands between them and grinning down at her. She scowled up in return, but it didn't stop him from leaning down to whisper in her ear.
"I'm fine," he murmured, letting his lips brush the spot between her ear and her jaw. He felt her shiver in his arms. "I promise."
"You'd better be," she said fiercely, and then pulled away again, keeping hold of his hand and squeezing it tightly.
"If you two are quite done, I think it's time for a little dancing," said Ron, and he pointed his wand at the wizarding radio nearby, spinning the dials until a tune Harry recognized came on and Ron dragged Dahlia to the dance floor at the open center of the tent.
Harry, who felt self-conscious for the first time in a while, looked down at Hermione to gauge whether or not she looked interested in dancing. Apparently, she was, because when Neville spoke up and asked her if she wanted to dance with him, she smiled up at Harry, gave him a quick kiss on the lips, and then said yes. Harry watched as more couples filtered onto the floor. Molly with Frank, and Arthur with Helen. George and Angelina alongside Kingsley and Andromeda. The song on the radio was, thankfully, not overly sentimental, and the couples dancing looked as if they were having a great deal of fun.
"Fancy a dance, you?"
Harry smiled at Ginny when she held a hand out to him. "Where's Theodore?"
"Had to go early," she responded. "Some family thing. Do you want to dance or not, Potter?"
"As I seem to have been abandoned, I can't see why not," he told her, and then followed her. Dancing with Ginny turned out to be fun. He wasn't sure why he was surprised—she had always been fun—but dancing with her seemed to break down walls that had been erected between them after she'd broken things off. When the song ended and Hermione came to retrieve him, he was laughing, his long hair a mess around his face and caught in his beard in some places. Ginny had fallen silent and seemed on the verge of saying something when she spotted the other witch.
"Hermione," she greeted, shaking her head slightly and then grinning. "I've been keeping him warm for you."
"Thanks," said Hermione, and she sounded genuinely grateful. "Fancy dancing with me?" she then asked.
Harry took her hand and spun her out and then back into his arms, and Hermione giggled. Ginny faded into the background as they danced, and it wasn't until an hour later when Delphi came twirling onto the floor that he released the brunette witch and danced with his daughter instead. Hermione didn't seem to mind. In fact, she was busy pulling an ancient looking wizarding camera out of her purse and taking photographs of the event.
As the night came to an end and guests began to disappear, Hermione approached him again, slipping her hand into his and stepping close to whisper in his ear.
"I haven't had a chance to give you my present yet," she told him. Harry's whole body seemed to glow with warmth as she stepped yet nearer.
"Don't worry about it," he told her, and stroked his fingers over her hip, loving the way she smiled at his touch.
"Come with me," she said, and then stepped just far enough away from him that she could tug at his hand.
"Let me just get Del—"
"Molly's got her. I ran through the bedtime routine with her already. I gave Delphi a kiss and told her you'd be by to do the same in a few minutes, but that after that you'd see her in the morning."
"In the…" His voice trailed off, and he hated how confused he sounded.
"The morning," Hermione said again, and then she took a step toward him, pushed up onto the tips of her toes, and kissed him. Her mouth was hot and enticing—a sensual promise that if he were to do as she suggested, there would be many more drugging kisses in his immediate future.
"Okay," he said, voice hoarse, cock now standing at attention. "I'll be right back."
"See that you are," she whispered. "Your present needs unwrapping, Harry."
And then she smiled at him, a sexy, inviting smile that he wasn't sure he'd ever seen on her lips before. God, he wanted her desperately. Now. In a variety of ways. But she stepped back and nodded toward where Delphi sat on Molly's lap. Harry understood and took his first step away from her with a groan. He loved his daughter, but right now, the only thing he could think of was the present Hermione had made clear he would be getting in private tonight, and he wanted more than anything to find out what exactly it was.