March 1980
Longbottom Hall
The warmth of the fire kissed her skin as Hermione lay sprawled out on the sofa. It'd been a slow few weeks with little to do; Marley had taken a job at the Leaky and James was still helping unofficially at the Auror office. As far as she knew, he hadn't made an official decision about accepting a position, and Hermione was too terrified to broach the subject.
It's not that she didn't want him to have something of his own in times such as these—she could see them all getting restless—but if only it was something a little less dangerous. She pondered it time and again, but if she'd never come back, he likely would never have found something else because Lily would have already announced her pregnancy. He'd likely be married.
Shaking her head free of the thoughts, she returned her attention to the biography of Rowena Ravenclaw. It was the fourth one she'd read in the last fortnight and nothing yet stuck out to her as a possible Horcrux. The obvious answer would be to talk to Dumbledore about his musings, but she still hadn't been able to secure a meeting with him.
"Hermione?" A small voice broke through the quiet room, and she jumped from her spot, clutching at her heart.
"Oh, Alice! You frightened me." A laugh chased her words, and she readjusted in her seat. "How are you?"
The witch bit back a smile. "Molly has requested your presence at the Burrow."
"Me?"
"You. The Floo's connected if you'd like, or I can take you."
A tangle of nerves settled in her gut. In the past month, Hermione had taken to making sure headquarters was fully stocked with food for wandering Aurors and Order members, even going so far as to make a pasta bake or a tray of sandwiches a few times a week. Sure, it was nothing compared to what Molly was capable of, but hopefully, she'd not upset the witch in some way.
"Did she mention when?"
The corner of Alice's lips twitched. "Immediately."
xXx
The Burrow was much the same, only louder. As she stepped from the sitting room, a pair of toddling twins stumbled by, and she could hear the telltale sounds of the eldest two Weasleys assaulting each other in a far off room. Arthur bounded around the corner with a wailing Percy in his arms and a grin on his face.
"There you are, my girl! How are you today?" Bouncing Percy on his hip, he dodged Fred—or was it George?—as the tyke barrelled into his kneecaps. "Molly was hoping you'd pop up to see her. She's in our room—second floor, door at the end of the hall if you could manage. I've got to feed the brood."
"Oh. Um, yes. Yes, of course." She turned for the hall but abruptly paused. "Is everything alright? I haven't done anything, have I?"
Arthur's blue eyes sparkled, happy wrinkles appearing. "Go on. She's waiting."
With every step Hermione pondered her impending doom. Visceral memories of the many times she'd earned Molly's ire and cold shoulder flooded her mind and as she stopped in front of their bedroom door, she felt very much like retching on her own shoes.
She counted four long breaths and knocked.
"Come in!"
Sporting a twisted grimace, Hermione pressed the door open and peeked inside. Molly was propped up in bed with a lopsided smile, hands folded over her lap. The windows were mostly closed, just a few streaks of afternoon sun cutting across the wood floor.
"Hi, Molly. I heard you wanted to see me?" Merlin, her voice trembled worse than it ever had before, and she closed her hands into tight fists just to keep them from shaking.
"That I did." Molly's eyes narrowed, and she gestured for her to enter. "I have a bone to pick with you." There it was, the nail in her coffin. "You lied to me."
"L-lied?"
Humming, Molly reached into the bassinet next to her bed—a bassinet Hermione was just now noticing—and lifted a small swaddled infant from its confines. "You told me I'd have my girl. So you'd imagine my confusion when this little boy came into my world early this morning."
Hermione gasped, hands flying to her mouth. What was the date? It wasn't the first was it? Hermione was sure it was still—
"Meet Ronald Bilius Weasley." A proud grin broke out over Molly's features. "Who is decidedly not a girl—although, you promised me otherwise."
A tear streaked down Hermione's face, and she choked on a laugh as she crossed the room, perching on the edge of the bed. "To be fair," she began, "I only promised you would have a girl—I never said when."
Realisation slammed into Molly and she groaned. "Sweet, Merlin. Will I ever stop having children?"
Hermione's laughter died away as Molly deposited the newborn in her arms. Her breath caught painfully as the complete and utter surrealness of the moment overwhelmed her. He looked like Ron. Which was probably a ridiculous connection to make but—he did. He had the same button nose and thin lips, and though he had little in the way of hair and none in the way of freckles, she'd know that face anywhere.
"He's so perfect, Molly. Congratulations."
"Thank you." Reaching forward, the experienced mum gently cradled the top of Ron's head, lost in love with her youngest son. "The twins seem rather apathetic towards him, and Percy is still crying over another baby. But the older boys seem keen on him. So that's something."
Lips curling in a smile, Hermione rested her hand on Ron's chest, feeling the soft rise and fall of his lungs. "Ron is my one of my best friends, you know?" Molly stilled but didn't speak. "He's a master at wizard's chess and he made the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a Keeper last year. He's obsessed with sweets—with food of any sort, really. For a while, I'd thought maybe he and I might…" The words trailed off as memories crashed into her again and again, her throat impossibly tight as she attempted to swallow her feelings away. "Silly childhood fancies."
"You fancied Ron?" Awe and disbelief were painted over Molly's delicate features, and Hermione laughed outright then hummed her assent.
"Well, I'd like to think it was mutual, but it wasn't a good time for such things. He's been a wonderful—albeit at times frustrating— friend." New tears coated her cheeks and a broken sob burst forward as she held Ron a little tighter to her chest. "I'm sorry; I don't know what's gotten into me."
Molly's hand moved from Ron to Hermione's arm, her thumb running a soothing track on her forearm. It was the simplest of gestures, but it reminded Hermione painfully of her own mum, and she broke out into a near-hysterical cry. "Are you alright, dear?"
"Yes," she choked out, shaking her head back and forth a few times. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry—I just miss him so much. I miss everyone." Hermione gave a final gentle squeeze to Ron before handing him back to his mother.
"I'm sure this is all so strange…"
Hermione snorted, dragging the back of her hand across her wet cheeks. "You've no idea just how much so. The longer I'm here the more I'm losing my life before. I—I don't want to forget them." Her voice was broken and jagged, and fighting off a new round of tears, she buried her face in her palms.
Molly's fingers squeezed tight around Hermione's arm, reassuring her. "You won't, Hermione. I promise."
"I'll leave you to rest, Molly." Swiping the tears from her face, she jumped to her feet. "I'm sorry for ruining this moment for you."
"Oh, dear, you haven't! You have given me such a gift by telling me about my sweet boy. Come back soon, yes?"
Nodding, Hermione found herself feeling out of sorts and leaned down to give Molly a half hug before rushing from the room and the Burrow itself.
xXx
Her emotions were becoming increasingly hard to catalogue. Constantly interweaving and tangling, they were impossible to make sense of. It was an unnerving feeling. Guilt seemed to be the most overwhelming of them all, blanketing her and dragging her into nothingness. If she was happy, that made her a monster. What person in their right mind could be happy knowing their best friend would never be born?
In a flurry of a too-hasty Apparition, she landed on James' lawn. He was meant to be in London and she wasn't sure when he was supposed to be back for the day but she desperately needed to see him. If nothing else but to remind her that some good might yet come of it all.
The house was quiet, and her heart ached. He wasn't here. A broken sob burst free, and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she walked idly forward. Maybe she'd wait a bit; she ought not Apparate anyway.
She made her way to the back porch, appreciating the chill in the air and the way it burned in her lungs. Clenching her eyes shut, she forcefully pushed the thoughts from her mind. But try as she might, they crashed into her again and again.
The door behind her creaked open, and she turned, hoping for James.
It was Peter. "Hermione? Are you okay?"
With clattering teeth, she nodded near violently. "Yes—of course." Another sob tore free, and Peter quickly wrapped her in a hug. "No… I'm not okay. Not at all."
Peter released her, holding her at arm's length with a worried crease to his brow. "What happened?"
"Nothing really, I suppose. But Ron was born today and...I mean, you don't know him, of course, but I do, and I can't help but think of how much different his life is going to be because of what I've done."
"That's a good thing—right? That's why you're here."
Burying her face in her palms, she cried for a few long moments before turning her watery gaze back at him. "What kind of person is happy when they've cost people so much? I'm happy, Peter. Lily and James are supposed to be together; they're supposed to have Harry. I know that and still, I'm happy. I've stolen things from people that they will never be able to get back and seeing Ron today—I can't bear it."
"Hermione, that's not at all—"
"It is, Peter! That's exactly what I've gone and done. I'm playing hard and fast with people's futures—with their lives. I'm playing God and it's not at all what I intended when I agreed to this. And Dumbledore! Don't even get me started on Dumbledore—the insufferable man won't get bleeding back to me! I know he's busy and all that but why in the actual hell did he pick me? Me? I'm eighteen years old—for Christ's sake. This isn't how it's supposed to be…" Her hysteria took over, wrenching sobs stealing her breath.
Peter seemed unsure what to do with a blubbering witch, settling for patting her shoulders and grimacing when she wiped tears and snot from her face. She barrelled into him, wrapping her arms around his middle and burying her face in his chest. After a long moment, he returned the gesture.
"You're helping, Hermione. I promise you are." Resting his chin on the top of her head, she allowed herself this incredibly strange but much-needed comfort. "And I've never seen Jamie so bloody happy. He'd have been miserable as a young dad and him and Lily would have eventually ripped each other's heads off. It would have been just awful."
A surprising laugh burst free from her chest, and she shook her head as he squeezed her once for good measure. Merlin, help her. Peter Pettigrew was her friend. Of all the impossible bloody notions...
When she pulled away, her sobs had quieted, and she managed a weak smile. "Thank you, Peter. I'm going to head home and set to work on some potions, I think. Will you tell James I stopped by?"
"Of course. You can wait if you want; he should be here soon. It's a full moon tonight so he won't be all that late."
Features crumbling, Hermione felt her heart clench. She'd forgotten. "No, that's alright. I'll talk to him tomorrow. Have fun, Peter." She turned to walk past him and as her hand closed around the doorknob, he called out to her.
"Hermione? Are you sure you're okay?"
Swallowing a thick blanket of emotion, she nodded once. "I will be."
xXx
The light of the full moon streaked through her windows, pale moonlight covering her legs as she tossed restlessly. Hermione's mind was always a mess of wandering thoughts and anxieties but something felt more intense tonight. Kicking the tangled sheets away from her body, she abruptly sat up, glowering. It was near one o'clock in the morning and sleep was nowhere in sight.
Grabbing her jumper, she left her room simply for something to do and padded down the stairs barefoot. Walking past the library and through the kitchen, she stepped out into the chill of early March, the fine hairs on her body stiffening. Staring out onto the massive lawns and the woods at the fringe of the estate, she felt something.
A shadow moved, just barely; squinting, she tried to make sense of it. The shadow took form, emerging from the tree line, and her breath hitched.
It was a stag—broad and thick, with proud antlers and a purposeful stride.
James.
A grin curled her lips, and she made her way barefoot across the grass. As the stag got closer, she couldn't move. So slowly she found herself growing impatient, he approached her, dropping his snout and nudging her gently in the belly.
A disbelieving laugh shot from her lungs, and she lifted her hands to rest on the sides of his head, smoothing out his coat as he nuzzled into her touch. "What on earth are you doing here, hmm? You're meant to be with Remus—unless you're telling me there is a werewolf in the woods."
Her fingers trailed up to his ears, sliding them between her fingers before touching gingerly to the hard bone of his antlers. "You're quite lovely like this, you know? I might like you better, actually."
A watery huff pushed through his snout, and he nudged her back an inch as she laughed. "Truly! And you're so…" wrinkling her nose, she canted her head back and forth a few times, "quiet. Maybe our relationship would be better served if you remained a stag more often. I could ride on your back."
Catching the fabric of her jumper between his teeth, he tugged her gently.
The moment stilled, and she wrapped her arms around his long face, pressing her forehead between his eyes. "I missed you today."
James stepped back and eyed her curiously. He kneeled, one hoof sticking forward from the rest, and his body began to shift, the fur fading and turning to taut, tanned skin, chest shrinking and spine curving. It took only a moment and the stag was gone. Where it had stood, James was kneeling, shirtless and with one hand pressed into the grass.
He stood, grinning and rubbing his hands over his arms. Cracking his neck a few times, he took her in his arms and kissed her sweetly. "Hello, you."
"That was incredible," she mumbled against his lips between kisses.
His thick arms tightened, and he shook his head. "Little more than a party trick, my love. Are you okay? Peter said you stopped by and had a rough afternoon. I'm sorry I wasn't there."
Shaking off the memories of earlier, she tried to change the subject. "Why don't you have your shirt on?"
"Less restrictive when I run. I don't like the feeling of clothing, but I rarely run starkers because then Sirius joins and makes it weird." Laughing quietly, he took both of her cheeks in his palms and stared at her. "Are you okay?"
She shrugged. "I will be. Just a weird day, I think. What are you doing here?"
"Peter said you had a hard day," he said plainly.
Her vision narrowed in confusion. "But what about Remus?"
"He took his potions like a good pup, and he has Peter and Sirius—he'll be alright. I ran for a while and split off to make sure you were okay."
Deep in her chest, her heart leapt. He'd come for her. "You left your friends to make sure I was okay?" She repeated it as though the words weren't quite right on her tongue.
An unreadable expression flashed over his features. "Of course. Why wouldn't I check on the girl I love?"
Everything stopped—froze. She managed two long breaths before tears sprung to the corner of her eyes. "The girl you what?"
He ducked down so his lips were hovering over hers. "I love you. Has that not been made obvious?"
This was one of those moments she was quite sure she'd remember for the rest of her life. She couldn't speak, intent on memorising the feel of the wind in her curls and James' heartbeat under her fingertips. As a tear worked its way free of her lashes, striping down her cheek, the world began to spin again.
"I love you, too."
Grinning, he collided with her, enveloping her in his arms and kissing her breathless. Slipping his tongue into her mouth, he made slow work of snogging her like it was an art to be perfected and never rushed. Her fingers slid from his bare chest to the cut of his hips just as he grabbed a fistful of her arse.
As they broke apart, she peered up at him a moment before a feeling steeled inside her. "Do you have to get back? Can you stay?"
His hazel eyes darkened, and he swallowed thickly. "I can stay."
xXx
Quietly and carefully, they tiptoed up the stairs. Surely she wasn't breaking any rules, but it still felt a bit off-limits to be sneaking someone into her room.
Pressing the door closed behind them, Hermione turned and shifted uncomfortably on her feet. James was already perched on the edge of her bed, hands resting on either side of his hips. The tension in the air clung uncomfortably to her skin. and she wanted nothing more than to shake it free.
In the silver light of the full moon, James was heartbreakingly beautiful. And impossibly enough, he loved her. Snorting at her own disbelief, she crossed the room. Settling one knee by his hip, she straddled him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
His hands settled on the crook of her hips and tugged her forward so their pelvises were flush, but he remained silent, lips twitching in a mischievous smile.
She was sure in the quiet room he must be able to hear the furious pounding of her heart. To quell her nerves, she leaned forward and kissed him. Opening her mouth to his, she pressed her tongue inside. The brush of her tongue against his dragged a moan from deep in his belly, and his hands moved up to wrap around her middle, crushing their bodies together as she rocked her hips just once.
Keening, she felt her sex dampen, soaking her knickers as she rocked against his growing erection. When she felt breathless, he latched onto her neck, sucking and marking her as he fumbled for the hem of her jumper. His fingers skimmed the skin of her belly as he dragged the fabric over her head.
Under a thin white vest, her nipples pebbled in the cool air and he wasted no time in finding them. Her head fell back, and she gasped as he wrapped his lips over her covered breast, his thumb draggling lazily over the other. She wanted to drown in him, wanted to sink into his touch and never resurface again.
" James…" She choked on his name as she bucked on his lap.
"What is it, love?" He moved his lips to the other breast, his now free hand digging into the thick flesh of her arse. "Tell me what you want."
Her skin was on fire, her entire body desperate for relief. "Everything."
"Fuck, I love you. You are everything. Tell me what you want—it's yours. I'll do anything." James pushed the hem of her vest up, letting it rest around her collarbone as he took her breasts in both hands. "Anything for you."
In a frenzy, she tore the fabric over her head, letting her curls fall around her shoulders as she clung to him. "Make love to me, James." The words were a whisper, and he became so still, she wasn't sure he'd even heard her at all. Panic seized her chest. "James?"
Pulling back, he studied her for a long moment, his eyes near pitch black. "Are you—"
"Yes." She grinned at the truth of it because there wasn't an ounce of indecision left in her body. There was no doubt why it had never worked with anyone else, why no other kisses had ever lead to anything—it was because she was meant to be here. This was the complex work of an all-knowing universe that conspired to bring her to James Potter, and she wanted all the parts of him.
His breath caught in his throat, and his hands curled around her ribs. Dragging his lip between his teeth, he rolled her off his lap and laid her gently on her back, settling between her thighs. "Tell me if you change your mind, okay? Or if it's too much?"
Rolling her eyes, she dragged him down for a kiss. She expected him to oblige with zest, to snog her senseless and fuck her into the mattress with abandon... but he slowed, kissing her deeply and exploring the confines of her mouth as he rested on his elbows over her.
Hermione squirmed. Now that she'd decided it was time, she was rather eager to get on with it, and she reached between them to grip the length of him. But he was faster, catching her wrist and locking it over her head as he broke the kiss.
"Patience, my love." He bumped his nose against hers. "Trust me."
Releasing a shaky breath, she nodded, trying to quiet her anxious heart.
His lips found her shoulder as his hand dragged down the length of her arm and side. She fought the urge to move—to toss him on his back and sink onto his lap until she was coming undone—but it seemed James had other plans. He readjusted slightly so his hand could slip under the band of her shorts.
When his fingers slid down her seam, finding her soaked, they both shared a stuttered moan. "Fuck you're so ready, Hermione." She nodded violently; she was ready. "I need you to come for me first." His finger massaged her aching clit, and her knees locked around him. Slipping inside her, he curled his fingers and dragged in and out of her in slow pulls, rocking his palm against her clit.
Bucking against his hand, she felt for the first time like his thick fingers weren't nearly enough. She needed more. His lips continued roaming, dancing along the constellation of freckles on her shoulders and down the curve of her breast. His kisses down her body were slow and sensual, stopping only to pay special attention to her breasts.
"James," she whined, threading her fingers in his hair and arching into his touch.
"Come for me, love." He twisted his hand, his thumb rubbing firm circles against her clit. "I want to be inside you so fucking bad but I need you to come."
He quickened his pace, and she felt the now familiar coil of her orgasm impending. She wished she knew what he was doing down there, but all she knew was that it was bloody divine, and with a final flick of his thumb, she crested. Her limbs locked, and she clutched James to her chest as she rolled her hips once more.
"That's my girl," he panted, tickling the ridge inside her once more before dragging from her folds. "Perfect girl."
In the haze of her orgasm, she could do little but watch him as he rolled off the bed. He wet his lips and sucked in a long breath as he reached for the button of his jeans, slipping them free and revealing a thatch of dark hair, his erection springing free unencumbered by pants. With a hard yank, the fabric fell to his feet and he stepped out of them.
Her gaze caught on him, and she whimpered, suddenly more aware of his size than ever. Gripping the base of his cock, he gave himself a squeeze and stared down at her, nervousness present on his face. "Are you sure?"
She nodded, focusing her attention on her breath and trying to make sense of how she'd make room for all of that inside her. With a careful touch, he tugged her shorts and knickers off, dragging them slowly down her legs.
Panic crashed into her as he crawled over and settled between her thighs, careful not to touch her sex. He kissed her instead, slow and passionate, stealing the nerves from her mind. Mumbling something unintelligible against her lips, she felt a distinct warming sensation over her womb— a charm—and she sucked in a quick breath. His hand slipped between them, and a moment later she felt the gentle nudge at her entrance and her eyes shot open, her body tensing.
With a shaky breath, she dropped her hands on his shoulders and stared wide-eyed at him. "What do I do?"
His lips quirked in a lopsided smile, and he kissed the corner of her mouth. "Try to relax and tell me if you need me to stop. Okay?"
"Will I—" She paused, gulping hard. There were a thousand thoughts crashing around her mind, and she gripped hard to the first one floating by. "Will I bleed? I've heard there's blood."
"I'll go slow. I'll be careful." It wasn't quite an answer but she nodded anyway, stealing a long breath as he began to press inside her.
It wasn't quite so bad at first, just strange. Full. But then, as he inched deeper, she felt pressure behind her navel, and she gasped and dug her nails into his taut shoulders. There was no way he was fully inside her, but she wasn't sure she could fit any more. Biting down hard on her lip, she swallowed the knot in her throat and willed herself not to cry.
"Are you okay?" The words slipped through his clenched jaw.
She hummed, unable to actually say yes. "Kiss me."
James' lips did a marvellous job at distracting her as he pushed deeper inside her, keeping her mouth busy from crying out. He hissed an expletive as she felt his hips meet hers and he trembled on top of her, dropping his forehead to hers with a pinched expression.
Clenching her eyes shut, she shifted her hips a bit and gnawed on her lip, getting used to the feeling of being completely full. After a moment of feeling stretched and uncomfortable, she gulped.
"I think—I think you can move now."
James remained silent, pulling slowly from her and then pushing back in a little quicker than before. She knew he was holding back a great deal, and she'd never been more grateful. But with every thrust, it hurt less. Then it even started to feel good—very good. She moaned when he rocked his hips.
Burying his face in the crook of her neck, his hand found her knee and hitched it higher. On the next thrust, he sank deeper and she arched up, crying out at the sensation. "Oh my gods—James." She praised him again and again, widening her thighs as he rutted into her. Why had she ever thought it couldn't get better than before? This was everything.
"Fuck, you're so tight." She whined in response as he picked up a quicker pace; the bed shook gently under them. "Hermione—I can't."
His hips rocked faster, and she curled around him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he drove into her, chasing his release. With a broken groan, he stilled, spilling inside her. When he'd finished, he fell over her, bearing his weight on his elbows as he panted and caught his breath.
Trailing her fingernails over the ridges of his back, her eyes fluttered closed and she turned boneless. Her body hummed with adrenaline and pleasure, every nerve ending alive and tingling.
"Are you okay?" he managed, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he slowly slid from her folds.
She smiled, shimmying her hips and assessing. She curled into his side and kissed his chest. "Quite." Grinning she popped up on her elbow, resting her cheek in her palm. "Did it feel okay for you? Was it too tight?"
Choking on a riotous laugh, he hugged her tight and kissed her hairline. "It was beyond perfect. The single most wonderful moment of my life," he paused, arms tightening. "I'm in love with you, Hermione Granger."
With a broad smile, she rolled onto his chest. "When do we get to do it again?"
xXx
A/N: Almost forgot to update today! Ah! Can you even imagine…
Thank you as always for reading, reviewing, supporting, all of it! I write for me but I share for those of you who read my silliness. Thank you!
And always, kudos, hugs, kisses, and love to my BritAlphabet: Farmulousa, Ravenslight, MCal, and NuclearNik! It takes a folks.
Xo— until next time, stay safe and well!