Chapter Fifty-Two
December 5th, 1985
The first year was the worst.
A new relationship was not easy to build when the rest of the world was watching. For the most part, the Wizarding world ignored Harry and James, only ever remembering them from time to time near the anniversary of Voldemort's destruction and Lily's death. Lily Potter, after all, was the hero.
Hermione and James settled into something nice and comfortable with an ease that had Harry happy, barely noticing how Hermione's hand slipped into his father's, or the way that James would kiss her cheek when they sat on the sofa together to watch Harry build new Lego creations only to destroy them later by throwing Exploding Snap cards at the constructions. As far as Harry was concerned, Hermione had always been a large part of his life; the fact that she slept over several nights a week at their house only meant that he occasionally got eggs for breakfast in the morning instead of porridge or pancakes, because eggs were the only breakfast food that Hermione knew how to cook.
The trouble came when a young writer began researching the Potters.
There had been an incident in Wales where a Voldemort sympathiser had kidnapped a Muggle-born witch and tortured her for a period of sixteen days. Unaffiliated with Death Eaters—or so Lucius had informed the Order—the man was a crazed, obsessed fan of the fallen Dark Lord, and died when he faced off against Aurors during their mission to rescue the girl; she hadn't survived her assault. In an attempt to remind the world what Muggle-borns were capable of, The Lily Potter Story was set to be published, due in stores for the third anniversary of Voldemort's destruction.
As much as they wanted to hide, the Potters were in the public eye once again, and Hermione was suddenly with them, refusing to leave in the face of the press. Despite the articles—and eventual published book—saying little about Hermione, putting all the focus instead on Lily's sacrifice for her family and the work that James had done with charitable foundations in her name, as well as his job working with the Department of Magical Games and Sports, rumours spread and gossip rags took over, labelling Hermione a harlot after the "Potter money and fame," eager to replace Lily.
A few magazines speculated over Hermione and James's relationship, wondering when, exactly, the pair had met, implying that James had been unfaithful to his wife. Reporters from those magazines usually ended up retracting their articles within the week. Alastor Moody looked the other way when reports were filed against Hermione for using disfiguring curses.
The second year passed much easier. As their search for Horcruxes began to stretch into periods with little to no information, Hermione devoted herself to her new family, moving her things into James's house and setting up a permanent residence, returning Allie's old flat in the same pristine condition to which she'd been given it. The bookshop continued to do well, and Remus and Hermione had even taken on several employees, including a recently graduated Gilderoy Lockhart who was determined to one day be a writer himself. To celebrate his new job, Hermione offered him a glass of laced firewhisky and watched carefully while Allie Obliviated the young man, removing all knowledge of Memory Charms from his mind.
"He has the potential to be a good person," Hermione said. "But some people just shouldn't be trusted with certain knowledge," she sadly admitted, offering a quickly sobering Gilderoy a handshake and a "Welcome to Lupin and Howell's".
Grateful for Gilderoy, Hermione was able to stay home most mornings, reserving her time at the shop for busy days and weekends. That weekend, in particular, she'd decided to stay home and host a sleepover for the children.
Hermione flicked her wand to clean up the scattered mess of toys and clothes as she made her way toward the kitchen, sighing as she saw Harry's brand new dragon, broken, at the foot of the stairs. After picking up after the boys, Hermione set the broken toy on the kitchen counter, leaving it for James to mend later. She smiled at the owl sitting on a perch near the window, accepting the morning mail and offering it a piece of bacon from the leftover breakfast that James made the boys.
It was the usual letters. A few from the press requesting interviews for one thing or another, one from Mary hoping to schedule a meeting later that week to talk about her latest potions research, another from Emmeline complaining about her vacation that she'd been forced to take for her own mental stability when, after her grandmother died, she threw herself into her work and didn't resurface from the Ministry archives for two weeks. There was a small letter in the form of a scribbled note from Allie and Frank, thanking Hermione and James for looking after Neville, and asking if they would be willing to watch Charlotte, their five-month-old daughter, the following Friday because "If I don't get out of this house, I'm going to go positively mental!"
Sitting down with a cup of coffee in hand, Hermione browsed the Daily Prophet, always looking for potential Death Eater sightings or something that might jump out at her and scream Horcrux—something that, perhaps, everyone else had overlooked. The thundering sound of children coming down the stairs caused her to set her cup aside, casting a quick Statis Charm to keep the temperature, while she flicked her wand at the cupboards, locking and charming them with protective spells.
"Mi!" Harry yelled. "Mi, tell Draco that he has to let me play with his dragon since he broke mine!"
She looked down at the wild-haired boy with a determined expression on his face. A year prior, there would have been tears shed over his broken toy. It wasn't the tears, however, that she was worried about; it was the accidental magic that Harry had been displaying for months. "Calm down," she said, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder.
"No," he whined. "When you say calm down, you always take their side."
She smiled and pulled him in close, wrapping him in her arms. He struggled, looking up while his friends snickered from the doorway. Hermione kissed the top of his head. "I am always on your side, Harry Potter, and don't you ever doubt that. But you know the last time you got upset, you shattered the windows and scared Crookshanks off for a week."
He sighed. "I know."
Hermione looked up. "Draco, did you break Harry's dragon?"
"No!" Draco said angrily. "It's not my fault. I was flying it, and Ron tried grabbing it and snapped its wing."
"Your turn was over!" Ron argued.
"Stop," Hermione said quietly but firmly, and all four boys, a still soft-spoken Neville included, frowned but obeyed. "Draco, would you please share your dragon with Harry until his can be fixed?"
The blond boy seemed to contemplate the question for a moment before looking up with a grin. "I will for a biscuit."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You'll do it because it's the right thing to do," she said and almost caught him scoffing at her, an attitude developed, she was certain, thanks to Sirius's influence. "And because you're a sweet and loving little boy, who wants to make me so very happy?" Her small smile turned slightly mischievous as she spoke, watching as Draco's eyes widened and his expression was overtaken by a horrified grimace.
"I am not sweet! C'mon, Harry, let's go play before she starts kissing all of us."
Harry darted out of her arms while Hermione made kissing noises at Draco, causing him to run back up the stairs as quickly as possible, followed behind by the others. She chuckled under her breath and released the charms on the room, reaching once more for her coffee.
"Interesting."
"Ahh!" Hermione jumped, catching herself from spilling her coffee. She sighed irritably, looking up at Narcissa who stood in the doorway. "When did you get here? I didn't hear the Floo. Coffee?"
"Tea, if you have it," Narcissa said and walked in, taking a seat at the table. "I stepped in when the hippogriff herd made their way down the stairs. How the pair of you manage in such a little house, I'll never know." She smiled, reaching out for the small cup as it was extended to her, watching as Hermione poured. "I wonder, do you ever see Draco as the boy you once knew? I imagine threatening to kiss him might be a bit awkward."
Hermione laughed. "I've not thought about the boys like that in years, Cissa. I imagine if the Draco I once knew had any idea I acted this way with him as a child, he would have jumped in the Black Lake and begged the giant squid to swallow him whole. Why're you here? I thought Sirius was going to bring Draco back to the manor later this afternoon."
Narcissa nodded. "He is, and I imagine it would be easy enough to pass along the information to my cousin, but I find I trust you with it more."
Blinking, Hermione picked up on Narcissa's tone and flicked her wand at the door, casting a one-way Silencing Charm. "Order news? Have you been contacted by—"
"No," Narcissa said sharply. "And considering not only my public stance against blood supremacy, but my reconciliation with Andromeda, I doubt Bellatrix will make contact, as I've said before. This is about Nott. When the Wizengamot denied Lucius early release—"
"You knew that would happen. It was all for show to try to drive the hidden Death Eaters out of—"
"Of course I am aware," Narcissa replied. "Thoros Nott, however, seems to have fallen for the ruse. When word reached him about Lucius's denial, he sought me out, just as planned."
Hermione's eyes widened. "Sought you out?"
Narcissa nodded. "I imagine it's as bad as what you're thinking. Some men are quite handsome for their age, but Thoros Nott is a number of years older than my own father, and even if I did have any intention of straying from my marital vows, I would not do such with his ilk. Thankfully, he's lonely enough to overlook the obvious."
"If he's so lonely, he shouldn't have murdered his wife," Hermione spat.
Narcissa gave her a quelling look. "That was never proven. Besides, this gives me the chance to invite myself to Nott Manor and . . . get the grand tour, shall we say."
Gasping in understanding, Hermione leant closer. "Do you think Helga Hufflepuff's cup was left with Nott?"
"Either with Nott or Bella, but unfortunately, your Aurors have not been able to get a word out of either Rodolphus or Rabastan. Without reason for a raid on the property, this seemed an easy in. Besides, it's been some time since I've seen the old place, and I've yet to offer proper condolences on Calla's passing." Narcissa sipped at her tea, her calm exterior and cold mask hiding away what Hermione believed might be actual concern about meeting with Nott.
"When?"
"Tonight," Narcissa replied. "I thought best not to let him think too much on the idea."
Hermione nodded. "I'll send word to Dumbledore."
Standing, Narcissa pushed her chair back beneath the table. "It would be greatly appreciated if you would ask Sirius to look after Draco for the night, unless you and James would be able to again."
"Of course," Hermione said and then stood to follow Narcissa to the fireplace. "Please be careful, Narcissa. He's—"
"A Death Eater?" Narcissa asked, the corner of her mouth upturned. "I'm quite familiar with them."
Sighing, Hermione pulled the blonde into an awkward and unreciprocated hug. "Just be careful."
