Marauder House
February 1979
The weeks continued on.
January bled into February and still, Dumbledore had not agreed to a time to meet. She'd written her note in a rather casual tone, unwilling to sound like a complete and utter fool when asking about the plausibility of the existence of the Deathly Hallows. Still, she'd expected him to treat her mission here with some urgency. From the Basilisk problem to him putting off their meeting, she couldn't help but feel like an afterthought.
She filled her time with potions and helping Alice and Molly around headquarters. Molly looked as though she was about to deliver Ron with a well-timed sneeze, and Alice's slender frame was finally boasting the first signs of a swollen belly. Together, they'd started fussing out in the greenhouse when Alice felt up to it, putting Marauders to work with the heavy lifting.
Hermione could have easily used magic but there was something delightful about watching James toss a bag of soil over his shoulder and saunter about the tiny glass room. Sirius, Peter, and Remus didn't seem as keen to help but they were a family; once in—in for life. They were a bit broken, quick to snap and push each other's buttons, but brothers nonetheless.
The greenhouse was nearly ready to be planted, the boxes finally constructed and the supporting panels repaired. The space itself was lovely; tucked on the east side of the property, flanked with a tiny pond and a few angry geese.
A few light knocks against the door behind her dragged Hermione from her thoughts, and she turned to find Alice there with a grin and a hand splayed protectively over her stomach. "It looks good!"
Pride swelled in her chest, and Hermione nodded, surveying the space. This was something small and at least somewhat consequential that she'd managed to accomplish in her time here. They'd found one Horcrux; Lily had left—perhaps forever, and she'd gained the suspicions of Lucius Malfoy and Theodore Nott. But seeing something broken repaired, teeming with the possibility of new life come spring eased the ache in her chest.
"I think she's about ready," Hermione said with a grin, turning back for the boxes. "Before you get too—well, too pregnant, I'll need you to show me how in the world not to murder well-meaning plants."
Alice laughed and came up to stand next to her. "I'll be happy to help! It's only a matter of time before Moody tries to knock me down to desk duty because of this little one," she said, pointing to her belly.
"You seem to be feeling a little better."
"Yes, quite! Molly on the other hand…" Alice grimaced and lifted an envelope before them. "It's a howler, so I'll save you the headache, but her healer has demanded she go on bed rest until the baby arrives."
The space between Hermione's brows crinkled, her gaze snapping hard to her left. "Bed rest? Is she alright?"
"Well, Molly thinks she is." Alice shrugged. "The twins arrived about six weeks early and while she's certainly made it farther with this one, they have concerns. It will be her sixth baby."
Ron would be fine, Hermione reminded herself, but it did nothing to quell the anxiety rolling in her stomach. "Well, I can help around here more. I'd have done before but she always shooed me away… I'm not a good cook but I could probably manage a bit."
"That'd be lovely, Hermione. Thank you. Molly is most worried headquarters will fall into shambles in her absence. I've no idea what she planned on doing when she actually had the baby."
"I can tell you now that time does little to change Molly Weasley. She is a force to be reckoned with." Hermione tucked her chin and smiled.
From the corner of her vision, she saw Alice shuffle and squirm. "You've never mentioned me."
A silent question wrinkled Hermione's brow and when she turned, she found Alice with pink cheeks and a tight jaw. "What do you mean?"
"I just mean… you've mentioned off-handed things about a lot of us. Molly and Moody, the boys. But you've never mentioned me or Frank. Or—"Alice's words cut off as both hands moved up to cradle Neville.
"Oh, Alice…" Hermione didn't think twice as she caught her friend in a fierce hug, releasing her only when she decided on something to say. "I try not to say much about anything, really. The reality that I know won't exist anymore, so it feels wrong to tell people things that won't happen."
"Is our baby okay?" Alice breathed, unable to lift her gaze from the dirt-packed floor.
A slow smile spread over Hermione's face, and she nodded quickly. "Yes. Yes, of course. Your child was my first friend on the train to Hogwarts and is one of the bravest Gryffindors I know."
Finally, Alice looked up, her toffee coloured eyes rimmed with unshed tears. "And Frank and I? Do we make it out of all this alive?"
She didn't have to lie but still, her tongue went dry and heavy in her mouth. "Yes."
Grinning genuinely, Alice nodded and hugged tighter around her torso. "Okay. That's all I need to know."
xXx
After a while longer fussing around in the greenhouse, James arrived. "There you are," he'd whispered into her curls, nuzzling and curling around her as she was wrist-deep in soil.
"Hello." A smile broke out over her features, and she peeked back at him over her shoulder. "Did you have a nice day?"
"I had a terribly mediocre day. When I volunteered my time to Moody and Kings last month, I thought it'd be a bit more thrilling than standing on street corners looking for suspicious activity. The most exciting thing that happened in London today was that a boy pulled a girl's ponytail to get her attention."
A laugh erupted from her belly, and she pulled a face as she looked back at him. "That sounds exactly like something you'd have done."
"Maybe." Wagging his brows, he grinned before kissing her deeply. "What else do you need to do here? I'll help."
"After your long day of mediocre productivity you now want to help me here?"
James shook his head sharply. "Absolutely not. But I do want to take you out for dinner and hopefully get you in a compromising position or two."
Folding her lips in, she fought a grin and swatted at him with her soiled hands. "You're incorrigible… but fine. Dinner, but then I really need to read up on some of these so we can plant them. You'll have to keep your nefarious intentions and compromising positions to a minimum."
"On my honour, love."
xXx
Hermione found that the longer she spent with James Potter, the more aware she was of him. Even after a short amount of time, it was impossible to bloody focus. After her third read-through of a single passage on the magical properties of different poisonous flowers, she was struggling just to keep her eyes on the page. Despite the seemingly droll topic, Hermione actually found it to be quite interesting—that is until James had settled behind her.
She was hyper-conscious of him, of the firm planes of his torso and the thick of his thighs pressed against hers. His hand was resting on her knee and while it didn't move—didn't so much as flinch—she couldn't stop thinking about it.
She was enamoured with his hands—large and strong, calloused from gripping a broomstick, and her mind wandered to what they would feel like touching her. Really touching her.
With a gulp, she shook her head free of daydreams about skilful fingers and hard grips, ignoring the ache between her thighs. Letting out a sharp exhale, she forcefully flipped the page and tried to read the following section.
The fingers lingering on her knee tightened, and his stomach rumbled with a deep chuckle behind her. "Are you okay, love?"
An angry tendon twitched in her throat, her mouth suddenly dry. "Yes."
Another laugh and he readjusted them just slightly, closing his book and bringing his lips to her ear. "Because you've been reading that page for close to thirty minutes…"
Hot breath fanned over her neck and a shiver skittered up her spine as he pressed his lips to the tender space just under her earlobe. She gulped. "Yes, quite alright. Just..." James' fingers migrated from her kneecap to the crook just behind it, and he squeezed gently. "Distracted."
Tightening her fingers on the cover of her book, she allowed her lids to flutter closed as his tongue brushed against her neck, followed by another kiss and another. "James?"
He hummed in response, the vibration reaching the apex of her thighs, making her squirm between his legs.
"I think…" He tasted her skin again, slowly and sinfully, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Her hand flew to the tops of his thighs, gripping what she could of him. "I think I want more."
"More?" he asked, smirking against her neck as his hand slid up the back of her thigh. "I need you to be more specific, Hermione." His book fell to the mattress, and his now free hand slid around her waist, fingers splaying over her ribcage.
A furious blush bloomed on her chest, inching up her neck and staining her cheeks. She was horrified to speak such things into existence but if she didn't, she was sure she'd combust. "You can…" The words stuck in her throat, and she wiggled her bum out of sheer discomfort. "You could touch me… if you wanted."
Sucking on her pulse point, his fingers drifted higher, and she choked on a breath.
"It's never been a question if I want to." His words ghosted along her skin, and she couldn't breathe.
His hands began inching across her clothing, and she swore he could feel her heart slam against her ribs under his touch. "I want you to," she breathed, the confession slipping from her lips like a prayer.
"Good girl," he praised her, lips brushing her skin. "Where?"
"I don't…" She screwed her eyes shut as his thumb grazed the side of her breast in slow rhythmic patterns. "I don't know. No one's ever—I've never."
Cradling her jawline, he met her eyes, and she couldn't help but think she must be the colour of an apple by now. But he didn't remark on it, instead studying her features with lidded eyes before pressing his mouth to hers, his hand sliding to her breast and palming her firmly. Her breath was shuddered and shaky, and the hand on the back of her thigh drifted to the front, gripping her firmly.
He drank her in until she was breathless and when she fell away to catch her breath, his hand slid down her torso. She braced herself, ready for someone to touch her just there, but he quickly changed paths, sliding his palm under the fabric of her shirt and again finding her breast. With his lips latched onto her neck she found herself desperate to move but terrified to break the perfect moment.
Her hand slipped around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, and she squirmed, gasping when he sucked hard on the tendon of her throat. Flexing his hips, the thick hardness of him pressed against her back. The onslaught of sensation left her dizzy and outside her body, able to focus only on his touch as it seared up the seam inside her jeans.
"More?" he breathed, tickling her neck, and she nodded eagerly, shifting her hips to encourage his touch. "Say it, Hermione. If you want more—"
"More…" She gasped as his fingers dug into her thigh. "More, James. I want more."
His lips demanded hers again, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as his hand cupped her sex. It was so much more—and nowhere near enough. With a firm touch, he rubbed mercilessly at her.
A broken cry fell from her lips as she rocked against his hand. "More."
Both of his hands worked furiously on the button of her jeans. She lifted her hips so he could tug them over her hips, quickly kicking them forcefully off. Massaging the tops of her thighs, he worked slowly towards her centre.
He slipped down the front of her knickers, and she whined as he slid easily through her drenched folds. Embarrassment wasn't sufficient enough for how she felt in this moment, at how wantonly aroused she was. He shivered as he found her centre, mumbling an unrecognisable expletive into the crook of her neck.
He swiped his middle digit along her throbbing bud, and she keened and broke. He was playing with her, long lazy strokes that did nothing but edge her higher. Her nails buried in his curls, head falling back as he circled her entrance. "James…" It sounded like begging, but she couldn't bring herself to care as he sunk one long finger inside her.
Merlin, how had she gone all his time not feeling this?
This was everything.
A second finger joined the first, and she couldn't help but splay her thighs to allow him access, melting against his chest as he rocked the flat of his palm against her aching core. His free hand lifted the hem of her shirt, baring her stomach and bra, and she felt almost like a stringed instrument in his arms. He knew where to touch her and how; how to brush the pad of his thumb over her tight nipple as he assaulted her neck, jaw, and mouth with hungry kisses.
That ache deep inside her sex coiled, hot and sinful, and she shifted under its heat, closing her thighs at the unfamiliar feeling. His hand left her breast only to widen her legs again, and he curled his fingers inside her at the exact moment his palm pressed against her mound and that coil in her released.
Waves of pleasure rolled through her as she tightened around his fingers and clawed at his neck, lost in the complete and utter euphoria, a broken cry tearing up her throat. Her vision waned; she wanted nothing more than to resurface and yet, never wanted it to end.
As the final crest of her orgasm faded, she grinned and choked on a laugh. She'd never—never—expected that. James slipped his fingers from her folds, lazily sliding over her throbbing clit, and he leaned forward, gripping her hips and gently turning her. His fingers slid slickly over her hip bone from her own moisture and if she could have thought more, she'd have been mortified.
With a few skilful manoeuvres, she was straddling his lap. Her arms twined around his neck, and she felt a little delirious in the wake of her first orgasm. As she sank down to his covered lap, his erection pressed between her folds, pressing on her drenched knickers.
His hands gripped the junction of her hips and rocked her once. They shared a moan, and he quickly captured her mouth as he pressed up into her, his fingertips digging into the flesh of her arse.
Curling around him, she succumbed to the way he moved her with ease. Through slitted lids she was able to finally see him, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and head falling back.
With a loud groan, he tucked her knee and then rolled them swiftly so she was on her back, her knees hitching on his hips as he rocked his erection into her again and again. His hands continued memorising her, mapping out new trails over her skin, and with a final snap of his hips, he stilled.
Their lips found each other, this time meeting in slow, deliberate presses. Hermione slipped her hand under the back of his shirt, tracing the taut muscles of his back. When their lips parted, his forehead fell to the mattress. She'd assumed he'd orgasmed but whatever it was that transpired was still hidden in his jeans. He mumbled a cleaning spell before rolling off her and tucking her in his side.
"You're perfect, Hermione," James panted, pressing his lips to her forehead and then rising up to stare at her with starry eyes. "If there was a life where I didn't know you—I wouldn't want it."
Her heart clenched, and she clung to him, draping an arm over his waist. She didn't say it, but she felt that way too—even if it made her the most selfish witch in the world.
xXx
A/N: Shorter chapter this week as you can see! This story is kind of set up in the beginning so that it's a slower romantic build with lots of plot up until NYE, after that, you'll find we get into their relationship as we slowly unveil the plot. Eventually, Jamione and the war will be exactly where I want them.
It may not feel like much is happening and changing in the horcrux/war part for a little while but they are! They may just go a little unnoticed for now but things are happening!
Biggest thanks to my British Approved Alphabet: Farmulousa, Ravenslight, MCal, and NuclearNik. It takes an army, y'all and these guys are the best!
I hope you and yours are safe. If you're in America, especially. These are uncertain times and we can only hope that real change is being sparked in the darkness.
Xoxo
LK