One Day at a Time

by alexandra.emerson

What do you do when your memory resets itself each night? Who can you trust? Can you live a meaningful life? Can you find love? These are the questions plaguing Hermione since her accident and there's one person with the answers– if only she can remember. "I know it's scary to march into each day without a plan but remember, you're not alone." Harmony / Post-war / Hurt-comfort.

10. Chapter 10 - The Potters

Chapter 10: The Potters

Ten Years Later

Hermione was awoken by a shriek of laughter. She shot up in bed and looked around the room, but it was too dark for her to make anything out. She strained her ears and heard footsteps, then a distant, female voice said, "Hush. Your parents are sleeping."

Hermione shook her head. She couldn't make sense of what was going on. As her eyes began to adjust to the low light, she noticed she wasn't alone in the bed. There was a man with her. She couldn't see his face, since he was on his side with his back to her, but she could tell he had dark hair and wasn't wearing a shirt. She looked down at her body and saw she was wearing a short nightgown.

Where was she? And who was this man? She nearly reached for her wand on the bedside table to light it, and perhaps hex the man, but something in her gut told her to pause and take a deep breath. She took exactly three breaths before focusing back on the man. She knew him. She wasn't sure how she knew this, but she felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity when she looked at his sleeping form.

She laid back down and turned on her side, facing him. When she pulled her left hand up to lie her head on it, she noticed a ring on her finger. A wedding ring. This was confusing, but also made perfect sense. This man was her husband. She was married. She was sure if she could see his hand right now, she'd see a gold band that matched her own.

Hermione shifted closer to the man - her husband, she corrected in her mind - and draped an arm around his waist. By now, she'd decided she was in a dream. She was dreaming about some peaceful future with her husband. It was a very pleasant dream, even though not much was happening. She placed a soft kiss on his shoulder and marveled at how perfect that action felt, then closed her eyes as she felt the rise and fall of his abdomen under her hand.

After several minutes, there was a faint twinkling sound. It steadily grew louder and the man groaned and reached an arm out to touch something on the bedside table. Hermione guessed it was some sort of wand alarm. The man was awake now. Her husband was awake, she corrected again. She'd expected to wake from this dream before he woke up, but now that he was awake, she was eager to see his face.

He grabbed her hand and linked their fingers together, then pulled them up and placed a kiss on her knuckles. "Morning, Hermione," he murmured. And Hermione knew that voice. It was deeper than she remembered, likely hoarse from sleep, but she'd know that voice anywhere. Harry reached over to turn on a lamp on the bedside table, then turned around to face her, wearing a sleepy smile.

"Harry," she whispered as she took a hand and tentatively touched his face. There was stubble there, and he looked about ten years older. His hair was messy from sleep and he looked a little odd without glasses, but it was definitely him. It seemed to fit, like she'd known it was him the whole time.

"I love you," he whispered, then leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

His beard was scratchy on her skin and she noticed how warm his skin felt under her arm, which was still wrapped around his waist. It was a stark contrast to the cold air in the room and Hermione shivered slightly before sidling closer to Harry. This felt so real. It is real, Hermione, a voice said from somewhere deep in her mind. It was the same voice that had told her to stop and breathe when she'd been considering grabbing her wand.

Hermione wrapped her hands around Harry's neck and buried her face in the spot where his neck met his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close and she felt immediately at ease.

"I love you, too," she whispered back. She knew it was true in this place, time, alternate reality - wherever it was they were - and she also knew it was important for her to tell him, as many chances as she got.

"Is this real?" she asked next. Something told her Harry would know what was going on.

"Yes."

"We're married?"

"Last I checked."

Hermione lifted her head and when her eyes met Harry's, he smiled at her and pushed a curl behind her ear. "Harry, I, um … I'm not sure how to put this but I-"

"Don't remember marrying me?"

He was still smiling and didn't seem offended, which was good. Harry shifted so he was lying on his back and motioned for Hermione to join him. She crept closer to him and laid her head on his chest as he wrapped an arm around her. She thought again how real this felt, even though she'd always thought if she ever married Harry, it would only be in a dream.

But they were married, she could see his ring now, but she still needed to figure out how it had all come about. Some incident with a time turner? No, that wouldn't explain her lack of memories. Maybe a jump across universes. Was that possible in the magical world? Probably.

Harry began to explain what was going on and the truth was much less exciting than some incredible leap to an alternate reality. He told her about her accident and gave her a brief overview of their life since. She'd initially moved in with Ron but they broke up after a few months when it was clear Hermione's memories couldn't be restored. That's when she'd move in with Harry, at Grimmauld Place. It took them about two years after that to fall in love and start dating, and another two years to get married.

About a year ago, they'd moved out of Grimmauld Place to a house in Hogsmeade, which was where they were now, for Harry's job. He was the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts and was halfway into his first term of teaching. He told her he loved the job even more than he'd imagined and that it was thanks to her that he had it, since she'd been the one to lift the curse Voldemort had placed on the position.

"What's the date?" Hermione asked when Harry was finished speaking.

"December 8, 2010."

Hermione stayed in Harry's arms as she processed the information. She reached out and grabbed his left hand and began to turn his ring around in her fingers. As she absently played with his ring, a thought niggled at the back of her mind. There was something missing. She knew it. She thought of her closest friends at the time of her accident, Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville. She paused as she thought of each person, but no, whatever was missing wasn't about them.

She did want to know more about them, but that could wait, she needed to find the missing piece. It was there, right at the back of her mind - or, more accurately, heart. She looked up at Harry and propped her chin on one of her fists. He had his eyes closed and had been playing with her hair. "You left something out."

His lips turned up and he kept his eyes closed. "I did."

"Why?"

Harry ignored her question. He opened his eyes and his irises seemed more brilliant without his glasses. She saw the light from the lamp shining in them. "Tell me what I forgot, Hermione."

Her mind was racing now, reaching around for clues, but there wasn't much recent information to draw from. Then, she recalled the shriek that had woken her up and the voice, "Hush. Your parents are sleeping."

"Kids," she whispered. "We have kids."

"We do." Harry reached over and wiped away a tear that had fallen onto her lower lashes. She hadn't even realized it was there. Her mind was completely focused on these phantom children. The ones whose existence she could feel, but whose names and faces were a mystery to her.

"How many?"

"Two."

"Wow." She laid back down. It seemed wrong, being a mother with her condition, but it felt right. And she wasn't doing it alone. She had Harry, who was surely a brilliant father. She smiled as she thought of Harry as a father, then her smile widened as she realized that she was the one who had given Harry what he'd always wanted, a family of his own.

Hermione suddenly wanted to know more. She wanted to know her kids' names, ages, genders. What they liked and disliked. What they looked liked. She wanted to know all of it, she wanted to meet them. They were in the house, she was sure of it. But as she thought of meeting them and not knowing their names, her heart filled with dread and she felt sick.

Slow down. Breathe. It was the voice again and she knew she should listen to it. So far, it hadn't steered her wrong. She tried to keep her thoughts short and simple. She was married to Harry. He loved her and she loved him. Things between them felt really good. They lived in Hogsmeade. They had two kids. Harry was a professor at Hogwarts. All the rest of the details she could fill in as the day went on.

The wand alarm went off again and Harry silenced it quickly. He patted her back and said softly. "The kids are going to be here in five minutes."

Hermione sat up on the bed, her eyes wide with alarm. She watched Harry Summon a shirt from a chair across the room, then put on his glasses. He waved his wand to light a few more lamps in the room and drew the curtains back, but it was still mostly dark outside. When he turned back to her, he lifted a hand to her cheek before leaning in to kiss her. "You're going to be fine, I promise."

Hermione nodded, even though she didn't feel very confident. But she'd learned long ago that courage was more about your actions, than your feelings. She sat up taller and squared her shoulders. She could do this. "What are their names? How old are they? What are they like?"

Harry leaned back against the headboard and pulled her against his side. "They're both five, twins, a boy and a girl. They are simultaneously annoying and wonderful, and you'll know their names when you see them."

"How is that possible?"

"I don't know. But you haven't got it wrong, yet."

Hermione wanted to argue, but she could tell by Harry's tone he wasn't going to budge on this. She hoped if she was waffling in the moment, he'd step in and help her. No, she knew he'd help her, if she needed it. She could feel deep in her heart the limitless trust she had in him. That's probably why she felt okay asking him, "Am I a dreadful mum?"

"No. I promise. You don't forget them each night. Just now, I left them out of my summary and you knew they were missing."

"Yeah. I guess so." Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry and buried her head back into his chest. She was probably being overly clingy, but she felt safe here, in his arms, amidst the fear and turmoil of her thoughts.

"I think I heard one of them this morning. The girl. She was laughing and there was a woman with her, shushing her. Who was that?" Hermione asked.

"That's Brianna, our nanny. She watches the kids in the morning so you don't have to wake up to chaos. And I'm not surprised your daughter was awake that early. That girl has endless energy and doesn't seem to need sleep. She was even like that as a baby. Everyone says newborns sleep forever, not her.

"She just looked around with knowing eyes while her brother slept soundly, next to her. I'm convinced she's going to turn into one of those adults that can exist on only four hours of sleep. She'll probably accomplish twice as much as her peers but damn, it's hard being a parent to a child that rarely sleeps."

"You're right. Kids like that should only go to adults who can live on four hours of sleep." Hermione quipped.

Harry let out a small laugh. "Exactly."

Hermione smiled. She could listen to Harry talk about their kids all day. She was about to ask about their son when there was a knock on the door.

Hermione tensed and sat up quickly. Harry grabbed her chin and gave her a wonderful kiss, which she wished didn't have to end so quickly, then whispered in her ear, "You're going to be fine. And you're not alone." Louder, he said, "Come in!"

The door clicked open and before Hermione could properly take in the appearance of the three figures on the other side, the smallest run rushed forward and jumped onto the bed, then hugged her so hard it nearly knocked the wind out of her.

"Mummy! Mummy! Is it true there's a magical old man who delivers all the Muggles' presents? I want him to come here but Bri said he only goes to Muggles and it's not fair! Why can't he come here, too?"

Hermione's mind was racing, trying to keep up with the small girl's words while also trying to guess at her name. "Um … are you - uh - talking about Santa Claus?" she asked tentatively.

The girl nodded quickly. "Of course. Santa. Why can't he come here?!" Her eyes, which were exactly like Harry's, were large and pleading. "Please," she said in a softer voice.

Harry reached over and placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "You can't bombard your mum with requests first thing in the morning. You know that. Now, please take a deep breath, like we talked about, and give your mum a second to take in how lovely you are."

The girl let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Fine." But when she looked back at Hermione, she was smiling kindly. "Good morning, Mummy. You can guess my name if you want. Or I can just-"

"Let her guess," Harry cut in. "How about you count to ten in your head?"

The girl nodded and Hermione could tell this was something she was asked to do often. Hermione took the moment of silence to study her. She was beautiful. When Hermione had first seen her, she'd thought she was just a female version of Harry, but she realized that it was just her coloring that was his, dark hair, brilliant green eyes, and the same skin tone. But her features were more of a mix.

She had Harry's exact eyes, but her face shape and mouth were Hermione's. And her hair wasn't straight, like Harry's, but thick and wavy. She also had a few freckles peppered across her nose and cheeks. Those were from Hermione; Harry didn't have any freckles.

Hermione closed her eyes and pulled the girl close. The girl melted into her and as she wrapped her arms around Hermione, her name popped into Hermione's brain. "Rosalind," Hermione whispered.

The girl nodded and pulled away. "But everyone calls me Rose. I'm only Rosalind when I'm in trouble."

Hermione smiled and reached out to touch Rose's hair. It was thick, but soft. "You really are lovely."

"Thanks. Can Santa come?"

"Oh. I don't know." Hermione looked to Harry for help.

She noticed a small boy had crawled onto the bed and was sitting at Harry's side. Hermione's eyes locked on his and she forgot all about Santa. Harry picked Rose up and moved her onto his lap, then motioned for the boy to climb over to where Hermione was sitting.

"We can discuss Santa over breakfast. It's your brother's turn."

Rose pouted and crossed her arms over her chest and Harry gave Hermione a knowing smile. She remembered how he'd described them. "Simultaneously annoying and wonderful." He'd certainly got that description correct.

The boy had stopped at Hermione's side and she focused on him. Besides having Rose's same color hair and complexion, he looked nothing like her. His eyes were closer to Hermione's shape and were a hazel color. His face was long and thin, like Harry's had been when he was a boy, and his mouth was full and reminded Hermione of pictures she'd seen of Harry's mum. But the biggest difference between the boy and Rose was his demeanor. He gave off an air of calm Hermione was sure Rose had never exhibited.

Hermione smiled at him and he leaned in and said softly, "Hi, Mummy. Bri said there are only seventeen days left 'til Christmas." He said it like it was some big secret that he didn't want to get out.

Hermione lifted a hand and stroked his cheek. "Bri's right."

The boy's eyes widened in wonder. "That's not that many. Twenty is a lot but seventeen is less."

"Do you know how many less?" Hermione asked immediately, then she wondered if this was too advanced for a five-year-old. She didn't know anything about five-year-olds. She looked to Harry, but he was distracted by Rose, who was whispering loudly in his ear.

Hermione looked back at the boy and saw him thinking hard, then he said, "Three," and held up his hand to show her three small, chubby fingers.

"Excellent." He looked very pleased with himself.

Hermione tried to focus back on the boy's name. It was right there, hovering just out of reach. Something short, but also long. Something like Rosalind, because there had been a theme. That's when she got it. Hermione, Rosalind, Benedict. "Shakespeare, but only the comedies," she said aloud.

Harry was watching her and gave her a beaming smile. "It's a family tradition," he whispered, and Hermione had to blink back tears.

She turned back to the boy. "And you're Benedict, but most people call you Ben, don't they?"

He nodded, then climbed into Hermione's lap and gave her a hug. Hermione folded herself around him and he linked his arms around her neck. Rose had been wiggly in her lap but Ben was a solid, steady weight and Hermione could hold him forever. She guessed by the way he was clutching her that he wouldn't mind that.

"Okay, kids." The nanny, Brianna, who had been leaning in the doorway watching the interchange, stepped into the room. She was a small witch who looked like she'd just graduated Hogwarts. She had dark hair and a shrewd expression, which Hermione thought was good for someone who spent time looking after a child like Rose.

"We need to give your parents some time to get ready before your dad has to go off to work. We'll see them for breakfast in an hour." She clapped and the kids jumped out of the bed and rejoined her side.

"And we get to talk about Santa at breakfast. Daddy said!" Rose said insistently.

"Yes, I heard," Brianna said with an exasperated smile. She had a copy of the Daily Prophet in her hand and gave it to Harry. "Here you go, Mr. Potter."

Harry shook his head as he opened the paper. "You can call me Harry, Bri. You're like a third parent to my kids and march them into my bedroom every morning. I don't think we need the formalities anymore."

She just shrugged and guided the kids out of the room. "You know how I was raised, I'm never going to be able to drop the formalities. We'll see you two downstairs. Nice to see you, Mrs. Potter."

Brianna closed the door with a nod to Hermione and her final words echoed in Hermione's mind for several seconds. Mrs. Potter. That would take some getting used to. Then, Hermione realized she'd probably never get used to it. Her heart rate quickened and her breathing became shallow as she realized she was going to forget everything that had just happened while she slept tonight.

Take a deep breath, the voice in her mind instructed. You're okay.

Hermione turned back to Harry and asked, desperate to get her mind on a different topic, "What did that mean? How was she raised?"

"She's a Pureblood and was raised in high society. But she defected and instead of marrying a nice, Pureblood gentleman, went off to study Healing. This is the benefit of having Minerva as a friend, since she knows every young witch and wizard in Britain. We were looking for help and she referred us to Bri, who's perfect.

"She comes over every morning at six and intercepts Rose, our early riser, while we get a chance for a lie-in. Then Bri brings them in here for a quick hello, makes breakfast, and drops them off at Primary School before going to London where she's studying."

"Wow. She does that every day? Even on the weekends?"

"Yeah. That's relatively new, the weekends. And it's sort of a long story. In short, she started filling in in an effort to thank us for our role in ending the war. If it had gone on for much longer she was at risk of losing a lot of family members. We both felt weird accepting her offer at the time, but we desperately needed the help and now she's like a member of the family, so it's not weird anymore. Anyway, what did you think of the kids?"

"Twins with opposite personalities," Hermione said with a smile.

"Yes," Harry laughed. "And we were lucky it was twins, since your pregnancy was a disaster. The sickness, the shock every time you woke up, and all those night-wakings near the end, you don't do well without a full-night's sleep. Your mind gets very confused. Anyway, it was lucky we had two kids in one go, since I don't think we would have survived another nine months of that."

Hermione reached over and grabbed his hand. She couldn't imagine how hard this must be for him. "You are a saint, Harry."

He kissed her hand and dropped it. "Nah. Don't do that. This isn't hard for me, supporting you. Just like supporting me isn't hard for you. I'm not your caretaker," he said insistently, his eyes just as intense as Rose's had been when she'd been talking about Santa, "we're partners."

Hermione couldn't see how she could possibly be supportive to Harry with this memory loss, but she didn't press the issue. She looked around the room and saw from the clock on the wall that it was 7:30am. She remembered from Hogwarts that the first lessons of the day started at 9:30. That gave them the hour to get ready that Brianna had mentioned, then another thirty minutes to eat breakfast with the kids. She wondered why they didn't just get ready faster and extend their time with Rose and Ben.

"Does it really take us an hour to get ready?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "No. It takes us like fifteen minutes. You usually read the information you've left for yourself at your desk," he motioned to a desk at the other end of the room, under the window, "and I read this." Harry shook the paper. "I can go through everything with you, but you've told me you prefer to read through it alone, but with me in the room, in case you have any questions."

"Okay."

Harry picked up his paper and Hermione looked at the desk, but hesitated before walking over there. There was one more thing she wanted to do before she left Harry's side, but she didn't know how to ask for it.

Harry lowered the paper. "What's wrong?"

Hermione bit her lip and asked quickly, before she could talk herself out of it, "Can I kiss you?"

Harry let out a small laugh and Hermione felt her cheeks redden, but stuck her chin out and tried to remain confident. Harry was her husband, surely she was allowed to kiss him whenever she wanted. Harry folded the paper and put it on the bedside table, then crawled over to her. "I would love to kiss you."

Harry closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side, then slowly leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Hermione thought that was going to be it, and she was a little disappointed, but then he pulled her bottom lip into his mouth and ran his tongue along it. Hermione buried her hands in his hair and deepened their kiss further, pressing her tongue against his.

Their kiss was slow and tender, as they explored each other's mouths, and it was exactly what Hermione had been hoping for. She wondered if maybe this whole morning was a dream, since parts of it - like the sight of her children, and this kiss - seemed too perfect to be real.

"I love you," Hermione whispered as she pulled back, remembering how earlier she'd resolved to tell him that as many times today as she could.

Harry kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, "I love you, too," before returning to his side of the bed and picking up the paper. Hermione gave him a final smile before walking over to take a seat at the desk.

---

Hermione was relieved, but not very surprised, to find everything on the desk neat and orderly. All the various notebooks had a clear title and there was a legend that identified each item and when she was supposed to review it. The legend listed things like: Argument Log - Review and update as needed, Planner - Read in the morning and reference throughout the day, or Summaries - Only read pages for the people you plan to see today (see names in red on calendar).

There was a short note that described the information gathering process Hermione was supposed to follow each morning and the logging process she was supposed to go through each night. After she read through that, she turned to the large calendar and found the spot for December 8th. She'd written: Morning classes with Harry, Lunch with Neville, Tea with McGonagall, pickup kids at 3:30pm. Then, along the bottom, she'd listed out in red the names of the summaries she was supposed to read: McGonagall, Neville, Teddy.

Hermione reached for the binder filled with summaries. She smiled when she saw that the pages were color-coded. At the front were five pages in green, which she was supposed to read every day. There was a short note that said, Read about the Potters (plus Bri, now an honorary Potter) every day. Hermione smiled and read about Harry, Rose, Ben, Brianna, and at the end, she was surprised to find a page about herself. It was written by Harry and by the time she was finished reading, she had tears in her eyes.

"What you wrote about me here is lovely, Harry."

Harry looked over the paper and smiled at her. "Lovely, and all true."

She smiled and turned back to the binder. She found the pages for McGonagall, Neville, and Teddy and read them dutifully, trying to memorize as much information as possible.

At the end of the binder, there were a few pages marked purple. The note explained that these weren't people she typically saw, but occasionally she wondered about them. There was a page for her parents and Crookshanks in this section. She skipped over those for now and focused back on the desk. Out of curiosity, she studied the calendar again, wondering what she'd done earlier in the month that she couldn't remember.

She found it odd that she seemed to have spent the entire last week with Luna at an Animal Shelter. "What was I doing with Luna last week?" she wondered out loud.

"Trying to find a more efficient way to neuter Pygmy Puffs," Harry responded.

"What?" Hermione turned around in her chair. "Is that a joke?"

Harry shook his head and put the paper down. "No. It's actually become a bit of a problem lately. The breed of Pygmy Puffs from our youth were sterile, but as they've been increasing in popularity, sellers have been trying other breeds and the one out there now multiply like bunnies. It's threatening the Statute of Secrecy. You were working with Luna to find a spell that neutered them quickly and permanently. You figured something out and now they're testing it, so you got a break, just in time for the holidays."

"Huh. That's … sort of random, honestly." She recalled the list of accomplishments Harry had listed on her summary, which listed everything from saving Unicorn Fish from extinction to helping witches fight their abusive husbands in court. They were all pretty random, now that she thought about it.

Harry smiled. "Yeah, well, our world is quite random, isn't it?"

They shared a smile before Hermione turned back to the desk. Next, she was supposed to look through her detailed, daily planner. There was even more information in here about her family, but the notes were more tactical. Things like:

Ask Bri how her exam went yesterday.

Ben's friend Wyatt's mum is sick, make sure he's doing okay.

Rose needs to practice listening to others instead of trying to monopolize every conversation.

When you're alone with Harry, make a joke about how you're older than him and will therefore die first.

Hermione shook her head as she read the last line, but still resolved to try to fit it in sometime today. When she was finished reading through the notes for the week in the planner, she closed it and stretched her arms above her head.

She'd always loved reading, but this sort of reading was exhausting. She already felt drained. No wonder her instructions said to limit full reviews of all the information at her desk to just once per month. She'd already seen that date marked off on the calendar, December 30th, and she was glad that wasn't today.

She looked around the desk again and this time she noticed two framed pictures near the back, under one of the book shelves. She pulled them out and saw a framed article behind them and pulled that out too. The first photo was of Harry, Rose, Ben, and her standing in front of the Eiffel Tower. It looked recent, based on the kids' ages, and she guessed it was taken last summer.

Ben was hugging Hermione's leg while Rose was standing on Harry's side, making faces at the camera. Hermione watched herself and Harry glance at each other, then steal a quick kiss before smiling and waving back at the camera.

She smiled and put the photo back on the desk, moving it closer to the front so she wouldn't miss it tomorrow.

The next photo was of her, Harry, Ron, and a blonde witch who looked about their age. They were all dressed up and Ron had his arm lazily draped over the blonde witch's shoulders. Hermione squinted but couldn't make out any rings on their fingers.

"Is this Ron's wife? Is he married?" Hermione asked, then realized she could just read his summary instead of bothering Harry, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Yeah. Agatha. She's lovely. He was dating these awful witches for years then one day, he showed up with Agatha. We were all so shocked and looking for something wrong with her, but she was great. Then, the bigger mystery was what she was doing with him."

Hermione smiled at his joke and looked back at the photo. Ron was married. They were all married. It was so strange. "How often do we see Ron?"

"At least once a week. We go to the Burrow every Sunday. Sometimes, you see him during the week, whenever you have work at the Ministry."

Hermione put the photo down and looked over at Harry. "Am I annoying you?"

"No."

"Is there anything interesting in the paper?"

"Not really. Kingsley's up for reelection and that's dominating the news cycle. I don't mind, at least it's not me in here."

"Is that still a thing? Are you pretty famous these days?"

Harry shrugged. "I have a chocolate frog card. So do you. The kids find that very amusing. But the rest of it … it's more seasonal now. I'm very famous in May, during the memorial, and occasionally they'll get a good shot of the family and that'll get some press for a few days, but it's not so bad. There's no mail or anything like that, anymore."

"And they don't bother the kids?"

Harry shook his head and said without a hint of irony, "The reporters know we'd hex them in a second if they ever approached the kids." He smirked and looked over at the clock. "We have to start getting ready in about fifteen minutes."

"Okay. I only need five."

Harry smirked and muttered, "Overachiever," before picking up the paper again.

Hermione looked at the last frame she'd grabbed from the back of the desk. It was an article she'd written from the Daily Prophet titled, My Search for the Meaning of Life.

Hermione shook her head. The meaning of life? So, she was a philosopher now, too? Talk about random. She skimmed the article and read about an elaborate research project she'd conducted over several years to figure out which theory about the meaning of life was correct. It included personal details, like, My whole life I dreamed of expanding my knowledge to all areas of academia but with my condition, achieving that was impossible. Sometimes you have to let old dreams go and make new ones instead.

Hermione's chest clenched painfully as she read those words. All morning, she'd been marveling at how great her life had turned out, but she'd forgotten about this dream she'd never achieve. How disappointing. She took a deep breath and skipped to the end, curious to see what she'd concluded.

Ultimately, it was my husband who ended up cracking the code. You all know him as Harry Potter, the savior of the wizarding world, but to me, he's always been just Harry, my best friend. I asked him which of the theories he thought was right. He thought about it for three seconds (that's right, it took him just seconds to figure out what has taken me over seven years) and he said, "All of them, none of them. Just live, Hermione, and try to be the best person you can. I don't think it's much more complicated than that."

And that's what I'm doing. Some days, I sit with my twins for hours and watch them sleep in my arms, and accomplish nothing that day. Other days I try to challenge myself to try new spells or brew new potions, and other times, I spend the whole day crying over the things I've lost. It's all just life and like Harry said, you can try to meet all the theories simultaneously, or, even better, ignore them all.

And that's where I'm concluding my research. I've decided that instead of locking myself away in a library, trying to figure out what it all means, I'm just going to live.

Hermione carefully set the article back down on the desk. She had a few tears in her eyes and wiped them away.

"Beautiful. Isn't it?" She turned to see Harry sitting at the foot of the bed, watching her.

She nodded as she turned in her chair to face him. "I'm a lot different now. The old Hermione never would have written that."

"Well, you are twelve years older," he pointed out. "And, yes, you've grown. We all have."

He stood up from the bed and walked to the desk, then pulled her up into a hug. "It was always a dream of mine to write an article and have it published," she said into his chest, "but I always thought it would be an academic article."

When Harry pulled away, he wiped away a few tears that had fallen onto her cheeks. "I think you reached more people with this article. We got loads of mail afterward confirming it, saying by being so public with your struggles and lost dreams, you helped people come to terms with their own. You should be proud of yourself. I am."

She was proud. But everything felt … bittersweet. That was the best way to describe the morning so far. She'd found herself in the middle of a wonderful life she couldn't remember building. And she was with Harry, the person she'd always loved and trusted most, but she couldn't remember their past.

Their first date, first kiss, the day he proposed, their wedding, the moment they found out they were going to be parents. She kept wondering if this was actually real, but how could it be? Could it be real if she didn't remember?

Harry seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, then whispered in her ear. "I remember, Hermione. And so do you, deep down."

She was about to ask him if it was enough, but he beat her to it. "It's enough," he said as he pulled away from her. "I promise, it's more than enough."

"You're a Legilimens now?"

"Only when it comes to you." Then, he unexpectedly smacked her bum and said with a playful grin, "Okay, enough of that. Let's go take a shower."

He turned and crossed the room and opened a door she hadn't noticed before. "Uh, are we showering together?"

"Yes. It's more efficient that way," he said with a wink. He took his shirt off and threw it to the side before disappearing into the bathroom.

Hermione's heart fluttered and her stomach quickly filled with butterflies. She took a deep breath. She could do this. Harry was her husband and they'd obviously been together. They'd been married for eight years and had children. She steeled herself, peeled off her clothes, and followed him into the bathroom.

---

When Hermione got to the bathroom, Harry was standing in front of the mirror, naked, trimming his beard with his wand. She tried to keep her eyes off his body and focused instead on his face. "Hi," she said when she entered the room.

"Hi," he replied, keeping his eyes on the mirror.

Hermione turned to what she guessed was her sink and smiled when she saw a toothbrush and toothpaste on the counter. She always preferred brushing her teeth the Muggle way to using mouth cleaning spells, like most wizards did. She started brushing her teeth and inspected a small calendar posted on the mirror. It tracked the days she washed her hair, her menstrual cycle, and the days she'd taken a contraceptive potion. That was clever.

When she was finished brushing her teeth, she took a deep breath before looking at her reflection in the mirror, which she'd been avoiding earlier. She frowned at what she saw there. Her hair was a mess, but that was typical in the morning, and her face looked about the same, a little fuller - something she'd noticed in the photos - but that was okay, since she'd been almost starved near the end of the war. The biggest change was her body.

Her breasts looked deflated and her stomach was flabby with an odd texture. She looked down and saw the texture was from countless white stretch marks. She tried to suck it in, but no matter what she did, her belly continued to poke out. She placed her hands over it and was disappointed to find that it felt as flabby as it looked. Hermione could feel Harry's eyes on her, but was too embarrassed to look over at him so instead, she closed her eyes.

A moment later, she felt his arms around her. He was behind her and hugging her against his chest. "You're beautiful," he whispered in her ear.

"I was more beautiful before," she whined, keeping her eyes closed. She'd always hated her body when she was young, but now she wished she'd taken more time to appreciate it.

"I saw you before. You were younger and your stomach was flatter, but you weren't more beautiful." Harry turned her around and grabbed both of her hands. He was quiet and she figured he was waiting for her to open her eyes. Once she did so, he said earnestly, "You carried and nursed twins. That's an incredible thing your body did for us."

Hermione crossed her arms over her saggy breasts. "Yeah, I guess," she sighed. Then, she took a moment to study Harry. He looked perfect. When she'd last seen him without a shirt on he was all skin and bones, but now he was filled out and more muscular, not overly so, but enough. His stomach wasn't as tight as it had been before and she couldn't see the definition of his ab muscles, but it wasn't nearly as flabby as hers. How was it fair that wizards got more attractive as they aged while witches just got fat and wrinkly?

"I hate how handsome you are," she grumbled before turning to the shower to start the tap.

When she had the water running, Harry placed his hands on her waist and turned her around, pulling her into a passionate kiss. He moved one hand to her backside and the other up, to cup one of her breasts, flicking his thumb over her nipple. She let out a low moan and leaned her head back against the wall behind them. Harry kissed her neck, then nibbled her earlobe before whispering, "I think you're gorgeous and if I didn't have to be to work in an hour, I'd show you just how much I appreciate your body."

He gave her one last kiss before pulling away and stepping into the shower. Hermione took a moment to catch her breath before joining him. When she got in the shower, she wrapped her arms around his middle and gave his shoulder a soft bite. "Why don't you just call in sick and show me now?"

Harry turned around and smiled at her. "I did that just last month. I probably shouldn't do it again, especially with exams coming up next week."

Hermione stepped back in surprise. "Wait, what? You called in sick just so we could stay at home and shag?"

Harry nodded. "I did. It was your idea."

Hermione let out a laugh. "Wow. I really have changed."

"Yes, you have." Harry handed her the soap. "Can you wash my back? There's this spot I can never reach."

"What do you do when I'm not in here?" she asked.

Harry shrugged and said simply, "You're always in here."

Hermione couldn't help but smile at that.

---

Hermione spent the morning helping Harry with a few of his lessons. The first class was a double session with his Seventh Year N.E.W.T. students. Harry asked Hermione to take turns dueling each of the students so he could stand back and watch their technique, correct their form as needed, and throw in tips here and there.

Hermione was surprised to find she was a better dueler than she remembered. Apparently, there was an ongoing challenge Harry had set at the beginning of the term that anyone who managed to disarm Hermione or land a spell would be awarded twenty house points. So far, only one Slytherin Sixth Year witch had managed it, but Harry told Hermione she'd been sick with a cold that day.

It was weird how all the students seemed to know her and called her Mrs. Potter. Some of them even asked after the kids. She felt strange since she didn't recognize anyone or know their names, but they seemed to know about her condition and didn't take offense.

The class before lunch were all First Years, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Harry paired them up and instructed them to practice disarming each other. There were a lot of flying wands and an occasional nose-bleed here and there from a misfiring spell. Hermione just circled the room and tried to keep the chaos in check, while Harry walked around and observed each pair.

She loved getting to see Harry in his element. It reminded her of all those hours he'd spent leading the DA, but without all the fear and secrecy. Hermione had to catch herself from just leaning against the wall and staring at him and she noticed that she wasn't the only one admiring him. Several students, both in this class and the N.E.W.T. class, had been batting their eyes at him. Hermione didn't blame them.

Harry looked very distinguished in his well-tailored professor's robes and also had an air of ease and confidence that many people lacked. That, combined with his short beard and neater hair style, which was cut short on the side but long on top, messily styled and swooped out of his face, made him look very handsome in an accidental sort of way.

Top it all off with his bright green eyes and lopsided grin, it was enough to make any witch's heart melt. But it was clear Harry only had eyes for Hermione and she suspected he had no idea how many of his students had crushes on him.

Now, Hermione was sitting in Neville's office, eating lunch while Neville explained that currently, Ravenclaw was the house everyone loved to hate. He said they were regarded as obnoxious know-it-alls who always had to have the last word and said that surprisingly, the Slytherins were generally well-liked.

Neville explained how the older professors said the "best" house and "worst" house tended to cycle around. Soon, everyone would find the Gryffindors annoying, claiming they were loud and thought themselves better than everyone. Then the school would turn on the Hufflepuffs for being weak-willed and unable to stick up for themselves. After that, the Slytherins would have their turn again.

"Interesting," Hermione replied. "You know, that makes sense. And I'm glad the Slytherins are getting a break."

"Is that because you are one, now?" Neville quipped.

Hermione smiled. She'd read this in the summary Harry had written about her, that years ago he'd re-sorted her into Slytherin and somehow she'd managed to pass it on to Rose, since he was sure their manipulative daughter would end up in that house, one day.

The thought of Rose reminded Hermione that Neville had a child, a six-month-old named Alice. "How's Alice?" she asked, before taking another bite of her sandwich.

"Much better. She's finally sleeping through the night. And just in time, too. Hannah and I were like zombies. I don't know how you did it with two babies."

"Neither do I."

Neville laughed. "Good point. I guess I do know more than you do about how you managed it."

Hermione stopped to consider. She remembered Harry saying earlier that her pregnancy had been hard, since she woke up so much in the night, which was confusing with her condition. She assumed it was even worse with two newborns in the house. "How did we manage it?" she asked.

"It was difficult," Neville said carefully. "And, honestly, you and Harry fought a lot during that time."

"We did?" Hermione immediately made a mental note to check the argument log, though she couldn't imagine what they'd been fighting about. Maybe one of them had wanted kids and one of them hadn't, and once the babies were born they'd realized what a mistake it had been.

"It's all good now, obviously," Neville said quickly. "You just get really loopy without sleep. Your mind is extremely confused and you exist in this in-between dream world where nothing seems real to you. You sort of lived there for months, since you had to get up every few hours to nurse the were in no state to care for them alone, since you thought they weren't real, so Harry always had to be around."

"Oh." Hermione winced. That sounded awful. "Why didn't I just give up on nursing them so I could sleep?"

"That was the on-going fight. Harry was desperate for you to stop, saying you could just use bottles and formula, but you insisted on nursing them yourself. You were really insecure about being a bad mum, because of the memory loss, so you wanted to at least nurse them, something you could do with your condition. And to make it all worse, you were rarely lucid enough to actually have the argument with Harry."

"Oh."

"Yeah. It was a bit of a disaster and Harry was running himself ragged trying to care for you and the babies. But, after the first month, we all stepped in and started taking shifts, staying with you and it got a lot better when Harry started sleeping again. He said later that he thought we were good friends before, but after those few months, he began to see us all as family." Neville was smiling proudly and Hermione couldn't help but return it, even though she felt a little sick.

"I can't believe I put Harry through that."

Neville waved her away. "You were fine. You had your reasons and it all worked out. You two finally sat down and talked through everything and you agreed to give up on nursing. After you started getting a full night's sleep again, everything immediately improved."

They were both quiet for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Then, Neville said unexpectedly, "I think Hannah and I need an argument log."

"What? Why? You remember your arguments. So why do you need one?"

Neville shrugged. "Just because we remember them, it doesn't keep us from having the same fights over and over again. Your log is kind of brilliant, since at the end of each fight, you're forced to come to some sort of resolution. I think that last part, stating what the point of the whole argument was and what you're both going to take away from it, is what a lot of 'normal' fights are missing."

"I guess you're right. I hadn't thought of that."

"That you remember."

"Oh, well, yeah. You're right."

Neville sighed and looked at the clock on the wall. "I need to run to the Greenhouses and check on the Flitterblooms before my next class. You can stay here and finish your lunch and you remember how to get to Minerva's office, right?"

Hermione nodded. She stood and gave Neville a quick hug, then wished him well before he disappeared into the hall. When she sat back down, she opened her planner and took a few notes about her conversation with Neville and her morning with Harry as she finished her food.

---

While Hermione was making her way up to the sixth floor where the entrance to McGonagall's office was, she heard someone call her name. Her stomach dropped. She was sure whoever was calling her would look like a stranger and sure enough, when she turned and saw a small boy with blue hair say, "Hermione," again, she had no idea who it was.

But as he got closer, something in her gut responded to him. She did know this boy, he was eerily familiar in the same way her children had been. And he was calling her 'Hermione,' not 'Mrs. Potter' like the rest of the students. She placed him just as he reached her and threw his arms around her.

"Teddy!" she said as she hugged him.

She'd thought it odd that she'd written his name on her calendar this morning, even though she had no plans to see him, but now she guessed she wrote his name down anytime she was visiting Hogwarts, just in case she ran into him in the hall, like now. According to the summary she had on him, Harry and Hermione had played a huge part in raising him and ever since he'd gone to Hogwarts, he spent half his holidays with them.

Hermione noticed the yellow on his robes and smiled. He was Hufflepuff, like Tonks. And he was clearly a Metamorphmagus, judging by his blue hair, but his face was almost identical to Lupin's. "You look well, Teddy."

Teddy turned around and waved his friends away, who were watching them from the other side of the hall. "I'll catch you up!" Teddy called before turning back to Hermione. "I didn't know you were going to be here, today. I haven't seen you in ages. Did you help Harry with his lessons?! And on a day I don't even have Defense. Not fair!"

He pouted and before Hermione could respond, he continued talking. "How have you been? Or, well, how has your day been?"

"It's been lovely," Hermione said honestly. "Ben was just asking about you this morning, wondering how many days until school was out when he'd get to see you again. He wanted to write you a letter and tell you that you can stay in his room over the holidays, but now I can just tell him I delivered the message in person."

Teddy laughed and it reminded Hermione so vividly of Tonks, her heart clenched. "I love that kid. And he's getting so good at counting. He'll surely be as much of an Arithmancy genius as you were. Ugh," Teddy groaned. "I can't wait 'til next year when I can go to Hogsmeade weekends and see Rose and Ben more often."

"Anyway," Teddy leaned forward and gave her another quick hug, "I need to get to class before I'm late. Tell them both 'hi' from me!"

"I will, Teddy. Have a good class!" Hermione called as he disappeared around the corner. She smiled the rest of the way to McGonagall's office. That run-in with Teddy was so bizarre, but also nice. She'd known him and they'd had a short and pleasant conversation, even though she had no memory of him. And what was more, there was obvious love and affection between them, even though they weren't family.

She'd thought the connection she'd felt with her children was some sort of motherly instinct, since she'd birthed and nursed them. And she'd loved Harry before her accident, so it wasn't hard to imagine that love growing, but Teddy was almost a stranger to her.

In all honesty, she'd resented him, a bit, just before her accident, since Harry had chosen to stay with him instead of going to Australia with Hermione, but obviously that was all gone and now Teddy felt almost as close as her biological children. It was satisfying seeing all this proof throughout the day that even though she reset each night, there were things that carried over day to day, allowing her to grow with time.

---

When Hermione walked into the Headmistress's office, McGonagall was finishing up a conversation with Dumbledore's portrait. "Ahh, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said as Hermione took a seat in front of the large desk.

"It's Mrs. Potter," McGonagall corrected.

"Of course. Old habits…"

"That's why I call her Hermione now, it's just easier that way."

"Yes, yes, Mrs. Potter. Well, I'll leave you two to your tea. I need to check-in on my portrait at the Ministry. Good day."

Hermione waved at the old man before turning back to her former professor. McGonagall looked exactly as Hermione remembered and she found it extremely comforting to find that at least one thing in her life was the same.

"You look well, Hermione," McGonagall said as she poured the tea.

"Are you sure you don't mean old and flabby?" The words were out of Hermione before she knew what had happened. She slapped a hand over her mouth as her eyes widened in horror.

It was the oddest thing. One part of her felt inclined to treat McGonagall with as much formality and respect as she had in her youth. But there was another part, the part that had just spoken, that was relaxed and at ease with the old witch, almost as if she was a peer or close friend.

McGonagall chuckled and Hermione was relieved to note that she didn't seem offended. "I know exactly how you feel. Even those of us with memories look into the mirror on occasion and think, 'Oh dear, who is that old lady? Wait a second, is that me?'" McGonagall laughed again and this time, Hermione joined in.

"Yes, it was quite a shock this morning, and I guess it will only get worse from here. Harry, on the other hand, looks better than ever."

McGonagall laughed again. "That's the curse we witches are plagued with. We don't age as gracefully as wizards, but we're smarter and live longer, so it all evens out in the end."

Hermione smiled and took a sip of her tea. It was strange, joking like this with McGonagall, but it also felt completely normal. It was the same juxtaposition she felt when she was with Harry. "How has your morning been, Hermione? Besides the shock in the mirror, of course."

Hermione told McGonagall about the lessons she'd helped Harry with, her lunch with Neville, and her recent encounter with Teddy.

"Oh, yes. Mr. Lupin is such an engaging child. You all did well with him. Oh, that reminds me, I wanted to ask you about your plans for the holidays."

Hermione shrugged. "I'm not sure of any plans. I assumed we'd just stay at home. I know Teddy is planning to stay with us and I bet we'll visit the Burrow a few times."

McGonagall put her mug down and shifted in her seat. "Why don't you stay here, at the castle? You and Harry can stay in the quarters attached to his office and we can set up a room nearby for the kids. Teddy can stay with them too, if he wants to get away from the dormitory. You can give Brianna a few weeks off. I wouldn't mind sitting with the kids in the morning while you get settled. I'm up at the crack of dawn, anyway."

"Oh. That would be nice for Bri to get a break and the change of scenery would be good for the kids. Hogwarts always seems extra magical around Christmastime. I'll ask Harry."

"Yes, have him send an owl when you decide, so I can get the rooms ready. It's always nice to have small children around for Christmas and I know Peeves will be thrilled to have his two apprentices back."

"Two? Is Ben a troublemaker?" Hermione could easily see Rose wreaking havoc alongside Peeves, but it was hard to imagine sweet, quiet Ben helping them.

McGonagall lifted an eyebrow at Hermione. "In my opinion, Benedict is the one you really need to look out for. Rosalind is so obvious, but Benedict is patient and restrained, just biding his time. And the two of them together, oh, they have this good twin, bad twin routine that has the whole staff wrapped around their little fingers."

"No way." Hermione couldn't picture it.

"As you youngsters would say: 'Yes way!' Rosalind will come in begging for a pile of sweets, loudly and obnoxiously, and it's easy to say no to her. But then Benedict follows with those large, innocent eyes, with some sob story about how he's been wronged by his sister, and everyone caves. Then he takes the sweets, turns the corner, and splits them with Rosalind."

Hermione couldn't help but smile. McGonagall was essentially saying her kids were manipulative terrors, but Hermione still felt a burst of pride. Perhaps because it was clear how fond McGonagall was of them. "Does it work on you?" Hermione asked. "The good twin, bad twin routine?"

McGonagall gave her a small smile. "Only about half the time. Only you and Harry seem to be completely immune. Oh, and Brianna, of course."

The rest of the tea passed like that. McGonagall told Hermione stories about her own kids and it reminded Hermione a bit of how a grandmother would speak of her grandchildren. Most of McGonagall's stories came from a time period of about a month over the summer when Hermione, Harry, and the kids had stayed at Hogwarts while their new house was being renovated.

By the end of the tea, Hermione had decided that McGonagall's initial invite for her family to stay at the castle over the upcoming break had been almost as much for McGonagall's benefit as theirs. Hermione was thrilled to know her children had a grandmotherly figure like McGonagall in their lives, since their only living grandparents weren't in a state to fill that role.

"One more thing, Hermione." The tea was over and Hermione had stood to leave, but looked back and saw McGonagall holding out a small scrap of parchment. Hermione took it and saw a name and address written on the paper.

"Who's Dr. Thomas Rolland?" Hermione was confused by the title since British wizards didn't use the title of "doctor."

McGonagall stood up and crossed to the front of her desk so she was standing next to Hermione. She looked serious now and reminded Hermione of the stern professor from her school days. "Dr. Rolland recently moved with his family from America. His daughter is a first year Ravenclaw."

"Oh, okay…" Hermione didn't understand.

McGonagall took a deep breath and placed a hand on Hermione's arm. "He does research on spell damage, specifically focused on damage done to the mind. He's an expert in his field and a very kind man. I met him a few weeks ago and immediately thought of you. He's agreed to meet with you when you're ready."

"Oh." Hermione looked back down at the paper. She understood now. McGonagall was talking about curing her memory loss. "Is it-? Uh - Have I-?" Hermione couldn't make herself ask the question, but McGonagall seemed to know what she'd been trying to say.

"You tried everything in the beginning; we all did. Every healer from Poppy to Earnest, the head of the Spell Damage ward at St. Mungo's, but nothing worked. Then, a few years ago, you had a bit of a break though."

"I did?" Hermione was confused. Why hadn't this been in her notes? Why hadn't Harry said anything?

"You threw yourself into the research for months then, abruptly, stopped." McGonagall paused to smile kindly and pat Hermione's arm again. "Ask Harry about it. I'm sure he can point you toward your notes. Just add that name to the pile and whenever you're ready to pick up the research again, Dr. Rolland will be more than willing to help."

Hermione frowned back down at the parchment, then pocketed it. "Okay. Thank you, Profess- I mean, Headmis - Or, uh, Minerva."

McGonagall smiled and gave Hermione a hug. "It was lovely to see you, dear. Stop by anytime and tell the kids hello."

"I will." Hermione looked down at her watch. "Actually, I have to run if I'm going to be there on time to pick them up. Thanks for the tea, and we'll be in touch about the holidays. And, just, thank you. Thank you so much for everything," Hermione said this with as much sincerity as she could manage.

"Take care, Hermione." Hermione thought she heard a bit of a waver in McGonagall's voice, but couldn't be sure. She gave her former professor - No, her mind corrected, old friend - a final wave before closing the door behind her.

---

Later that night, Hermione was sitting at her desk, taking notes and preparing for the next day. Her calendar said she had a code-breaking assignment at the Ministry. She had no idea what that meant, but figured she'd find out tomorrow. It wasn't worth asking Harry this late since she'd just forget in a few hours.

She was proud of herself for being able to let thoughts like that go. When she was younger, she could never let anything go. But now she could tell she was better at living amidst uncertainty. For example, earlier, when she'd been playing with the twins, she'd wondered who watched them on days she wasn't around to pick them up from school, like last week, when she'd spent the whole week with Luna.

She was about to interrupt one of Rose's stories to ask, but caught herself. It didn't matter, since she'd forget anyway, and instead of solving some benign mystery, it was better to just forget it and focus back on her daughter, and Hermione had done just that.

Hermione was finished with her prep work for the next day and had accomplished everything she'd listed in her planner for the day, with the exception of: When you're alone with Harry, make a joke about how you're older than him and will therefore die first.

She had no idea what that was about but resolved to try to work it into the conversation when Harry returned. He was still putting the kids down to bed, so she looked around the desk for something to do. That's when she spotted the argument log and remembered her conversation with Neville.

Like everything on her desk, the log was incredibly organized. There was an elaborate index and as she searched for the page Neville had been referring to, she found it indexed under several categories: Parenting, Feeding, Resolved, and No Longer Relevant.

The page stated the argument, listed it as resolved, and showed the final conclusion: Hermione will stop breastfeeding the twins. She can better support both them and Harry when she's fully rested and can still nurse Rosalind and Benedict at night, just before they go to bed.

Hermione sighed. It sounded so simple but she knew there was a lot of agony behind this passage that wasn't listed here. Curious, she continued reading some of the other arguments on the page.

Subject: Rose's Tantrums. Status: Resolved. Final Conclusion: Hermione and Harry agree to disagree on how best to handle Rose's tantrums. Hermione thinks it's best to ignore Rose, since all she's looking for is attention, while Harry finds it hard to leave her alone when she's that worked up and would like to stay with her and try to calmly talk her down from her 'crazy place.' It's okay for each parent to react differently to the tantrums when they happen.

Subject: Selling Grimmauld Place. Status: Resolved. Final Conclusion: Grimmauld Place is just a house, and Harry will not resent Hermione or the kids for having to sell it to get enough money to cover childcare costs and the expenses associated with renovating the Hogsmeade house. He is sure Sirius wouldn't mind.

Hermione smiled. She could almost see the arguments exactly as they'd played out. She flipped to the front of the binder, and that's when she noticed something she'd missed before. In the front pocket, there was a page covered with a protective spell. She lifted it out and began to read. At the top of the page was a date, written in her handwriting, September 1, 2000. Then, there were two very sad poems, followed by a few lines in Harry's writing.

Maybe I'm not your 'forever'. Perhaps I'm just your 'almost, if things were different' or your 'in another life, maybe.' But regardless, don't send me away. I need you and I'll take any part of yourself you're willing to give. The poem said it better than I ever could: "You are the only place I can be me and that's okay."

Hermione touched her hands to the words as tears stung her eyes. She could feel the pain here. Her summary on Harry had said they'd traveled a long, hard road to get to the start of their relationship. This page must be part of that. But the wound was healed now. She could feel it, deep in her heart, and it was just a small ache.

She put the page back in the pocket of the binder and that's when she saw the first argument listed.

Topic: Harry thinks he doesn't deserve Hermione. Status: Ongoing. Interim Conclusion: Harry does deserve Hermione. Maybe he took her for granted in the past, maybe he sided with Ron over her one too many times, maybe he should have gone to Australia with her, but he has more than made up for all of that. And don't for a second think that none of that counts because Hermione doesn't remember, because she does remember.

Hermione sighed as she finally closed the binder and put it back where she'd found it. Just then, Harry entered the room. "The monsters are asleep," he announced. When she saw her expression, he frowned. "What's wrong?"

Hermione considered telling him what she'd found, but decided against it. She didn't want to dredge up old wounds. She dropped her face in her hand and groaned. "Nothing. I'm just tired."

"Okay." Harry took a seat on the edge of the bed. "Are you sure?"

Hermione nodded and turned in her chair to face him. "I do have two questions, if you don't mind."

"Yeah. Go ahead."

"Okay. First, McGonagall wants us to stay at the castle over the break. She said she could prepare some rooms for us and take care of the kids in the morning, so we could give Bri a few weeks off."

"Oh. That's a brilliant idea, and the kids will love it."

"Yeah. Okay, I thought so too, but I wanted to wait and check with you, just in case. McGonagall just said to send her an owl."

"Perfect. Better yet, I'll try to find her tomorrow during lunch and tell her in person. You know, I think she might love the kids more than we do."

"Well, she doesn't have to live with them," Hermione pointed out. "It's easy to love them, give them sweets, get them all excited and riled up, then send them back to us."

Harry laughed. "Exactly. Okay, what's your next question?"

Hermione hesitated, then bit her lip. Harry got up from the bed, picked her wand up from the desk, and wordlessly conjured a chair. He took a seat across from her and placed his hands on her knees. "What is it? What's wrong?" he asked insistently.

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "Nothing's wrong. I just - I wanted -" She cut off and started again. "McGonagall mentioned something about research I was doing to find a, um, cure, for the memory loss. Can you - can you tell me more about that?"

"Oh," Harry leaned back in his chair, then looked up at the bookshelves above her desk. "Of course. Here." He stood up and grabbed a large wooden box and placed it on the desk. "This contains a good bit of it and there's more in the study, if you really want to dive in." Harry picked her wand up again and tapped the box, causing the lid to click open. Hermione peered inside and saw what looked like an endless stack of papers. The box obviously had an extension charm on it.

"I can give you an overview," Harry offered, probably picking up on how overwhelmed she was feeling.

She turned back to him. "Yes, please."

"Okay." He returned his hands to her knees and she placed her hands on top of them. "It all started about ten years ago when I proposed to you. You said yes, but we didn't get married for another year and a half after that. The delay wasn't due to us planning a big wedding or anything, since neither of us wanted that, but you had a condition that you wouldn't marry me until you could be sure you'd remember it."

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh." Harry smiled and turned his palms up so he could link their fingers together. "So, you threw yourself into research. Your idea was to use a pensieve to lock away the memory, but the traditional way pensive memories are viewed are as if you're a bystander."

Hermione nodded. She knew this, though she hadn't personally viewed a pensieve memory (not that she'd remembered, at least). But she'd read about it.

"That wasn't good enough for you. You wanted to see it like it was your own memory. So, you researched pensieves like crazy and found this obscure spell for extracting memories so they'd be viewed the same way the person making the memory saw it."

"Okay. Then what?"

"No matter what you tried, you couldn't get the spell to work. And you were about to move on and keep looking for more spells when it occurred to you to ask me to try. It worked perfectly for me."

"Why is that?"

"I'll get there. Anyway, a few months went by and it seemed like we'd reached a dead end, then Ron had a brilliant idea, which is known to happen, on occasion," he added with a smile. "He said I should use Legilimency to view your memory, then use the spell to extract that memory and hopefully, you'd then be able to see the memory in the pensieve just as you had when you first created it."

"And that worked?"

"It did." Harry was grinning now. "And then, we finally got married. That next weekend, actually."

Hermione looked back at her desk. "Where is it? Can I see it? What other memories did I lock away?"

Harry's face fell. "They're in the safe, in the closet. But I don't have a pensieve. Not yet. I guess I can tell you, as long as you promise not to write it down, but that's what I'm getting you for Christmas; a pensieve. That way, we don't have to keep borrowing Minerva's every time you want to see a memory."

"Oh." Hermione tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"But to answer the other question, you have six memories locked away. The day we were married, the day you told me you were pregnant, the day the twins were born, and this random day, just a few months after they were born, when all they did for a few hours was sleep in your arms. And that sounds like nothing, but I've told you about Rose's sleeplessness, so it was a good moment to capture. And finally, the moments each of the twins' spoke their first word, which was 'Mummy' for both of them."

"Wow." Hermione sat back in her chair. "I'm really glad I have all those memories. And the pensieve is a great gift, I promise to act surprised when I open it."

That made Harry laugh. Hermione smiled, then leaned in and kissed him. "Where does the research come in?" She asked as she leaned back.

Harry sighed and motioned back to the box. "Well, we got married, viewed the memory, all was good, then, you had an epiphany. You realized that the spell not working on you was actually pretty telling. It allowed us to highlight the exact part of your mind that wasn't working. Before, we just knew you had memory loss, which could have been caused by a thousand different brain functions misfiring. But this narrowed the search considerably."

"I get it," she cut in. "I can keep experimenting with spells and potions that pertain to the mind to find exactly which ones work and which don't. In theory, if I can isolate the broken brain functions, I can develop a focused healing spell to fix them."

"Yes. That's what you've been doing. And that's what's in there." Harry motioned toward the box.

"But I stopped. McGonagall said I stopped the research."

Harry nodded. "You've never told me why."

"But you know," she said quickly. She could see it in his eyes.

"I have a suspicion, but I don't want to influence you either way, Hermione. If you want to throw yourself back into the research, go ahead. I'll support you. If you want to let it alone, that's also fine. I love our life and I don't need you to fix anything. I don't think anything is broken."

Hermione furrowed her brow. She was trying to think why she would have abandoned her research, especially if it could lead to a cure for this awful condition. "I think I want to have a quick look through my notes, if that's okay."

Harry nodded and kissed her cheek, then stood up, vanished the chair, and grabbed a stack of papers out of his bag. "Go ahead. I have a pile of what I'm guessing are going to be terrible essays to grade, anyway."

Hermione had already turned back to the desk and was barely listening. She waved her hand in acknowledgement and focused on the stacks of parchment in the box. She was trying to figure out where to start first when she spotted a green scrap of paper on top of one of the piles. There was one line written across it: You may not have memories, but they do.

Tears stung her eyes as she carefully placed the green paper onto the center pile and closed the lid of the box. The meaning was clear. She thought of the article she'd read this morning, the one she'd written for the Daily Prophet. She reached for it and read the last line again.

I've decided that instead of locking myself away in a library, trying to figure out what it all means, I'm just going to live.

Hermione knew why she'd stopped the research. Experimentation on this scale, especially into a subject as complicated as the human mind, could take years, decades, even. And did she really want to spend all her time holed away in her study, closed off from her friends and family? Even now, as she sat at her desk, all she wanted to do was put everything away and snuggle next to Harry on the bed, who was muttering under his breath as he graded the essays.

Maybe once the kids were at Hogwarts in a few years, she could throw herself into this project. But even then, she'd want to limit it to just the few hours a day when Harry was teaching. Hermione stared at the scrap of paper McGonagall had given her earlier as she decided what she wanted to do.

She made a note to set aside a day next month to review everything in the box, then meet with Dr. Rolland, just to make sure she was on the right track. But for now, she didn't want to bother with it. She was tired and she wanted to spend time with her husband. Hermione grabbed the paperback book she'd pulled off the bookshelf earlier and went to join Harry on the bed.

"Already done?" Harry asked absently. Hermione watched him place a large A at the top of the page before turning to face her.

"Yeah. I'm too tired to think through all that complicated research right now. I'm going to read here with you, if that's okay."

"Yeah, of course. Here, come on this side." Harry shifted over to her side of the bed and lifted his left arm up. Hermione snuggled into his side and he wrapped his arm around her, kissed the side of her head, then turned back to the stack of essays on his lap.

Hermione opened the book and saw it was a book of poems. She started to read, but the words were blurring together and she wasn't in the mood. She preferred to just lay her head on Harry's chest and watch him grade papers. Every so often, he said something like, "Are you serious? Who taught this idiot? Oh … right… me."

On the next essay, before placing a large D on top he said, "No, Fiona. Garlic wards off vampires, not werewolves. And it's a myth, anyway."

Finally, when he found an essay he liked, he hummed along as he read, then said at the end, "Oh, right. Teddy, of course. Trust him to nail the werewolf assignment." He placed an O at the top of the page and turned to face Hermione. "You're not reading."

She shrugged. "My eyes are tired. I think I'm getting old."

"No. Well, yes, we're all getting old, but your eyes are tired because you need glasses. I've been telling you this for months."

Hermione sat up off his chest and crossed her arms. "I don't need glasses, it's the old thing. You wouldn't understand, since I'm a lot older than you."

Harry smirked. "Is that so? Tell me, how much different is 31 than 30? A lot different? Do you even remember?"

Hermione pushed him. "It is different. And it's time you come to terms with the fact that I'm probably going to die first."

Harry paused, then laughed loudly. Hermione laughed too, just at the sight of him, since she didn't know the joke. She'd just been following the instruction in her planner.

"Oh, Merlin," Harry said when he finally recovered. He threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side again. "Your commitment to jokes across weeks and months, sometimes even years, is one of the many things I love about you."

"You do know that I have no idea what's going on."

"I know. That makes it better." Harry let out a final laugh, then put the essays on the bedside table and turned to her. "Would you like me to read to you? See, I have glasses, so I can actually see."

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that. Finish grading your essays."

Harry shook his head and picked up the book she'd dropped. "I can do it tomorrow during my free period. Or maybe I'll just give the rest of them As."

"You're not a very good professor," she said as she snuggled back against his chest. "Skiving off classes to shag, taking shortcuts when grading…"

"It's my wife who's to blame. She's very distracting." Harry opened the book to a random page in the middle. "Okay, now hush. Professor Potter is speaking."

Hermione smiled and wrapped an arm around his middle. "Okay, Professor Potter. I'm listening."

Harry began to read the poems. They were beautiful. After the first three, Hermione lifted her head up and said so.

"Yeah..." Harry said as he flipped to the front of the book to check the title. "Ah, this lady. She used to write very depressing poems, but it seems like she eventually found love and is writing happier poetry now. Good for her."

Harry turned back to the middle, then let out a small laugh. "Well, this next one proves it. She's obviously gone through some healing. This describes us, by the way. Some people lose more in their youth than most others will lose in a lifetime…But that is how the deepest, most loving souls are born."

Harry looked down at Hermione. "What do you think?"

"You're right. That's us," she said with a sigh. Harry continued to read.

"I am here. And you are there. I often find myself wishing that you could be here with me, or I could be there with you, or we could be anywhere together. But at least this way there is never any doubt that I will always be here for you and you will always be there for me."

"That one didn't make any sense," Hermione said.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but I kind of liked it. Oh, this next one, ironically, is about making sense of things. It's nice and short, too. And just like that - everything seems to make a strange kind of sense once again. That's what you do. Thank you."

"That one was nice."

Harry didn't respond. She looked up and saw he was reading the next poem. When he saw her looking at him, he smiled widely. "This next one, it's almost as if she read my thoughts. Listen. Know this: You are not an accident, a fluke of chance or a future regret waiting to happen – you are a choice. You are my choice. And no matter what happens between us in this life, I will never regret the decision I made to spend as many moments of it with you as I possibly could."

When Harry moved his eyes off the page and focused back on her, his gaze was intense. "That's exactly how I feel about you, Hermione. About us. Nothing is broken here. I chose you, and I'd do it over and over again." He looked back at the book. "We should rip this page out and frame it."

"We can't do that!"

"You've done it before," he argued.

"Well, if you want to write something incredibly heartbreaking at the bottom, then maybe I'll consider it."

He gave her a sad smile. "Oh. You found that."

Hermione nodded. She expected him to say more, but he seemed as determined to keep that pain in the past as she was.

Harry took the book and placed it behind him on the bedside table, then turned back to her. They didn't talk for several moments, but just stared in each other's eyes. Hermione guessed they were both thinking of the long road that had brought them here and how neither of them would trade a moment of it for anything.

Hermione didn't remember the road, of course, but she did know she was so desperately in love with him and that her love was comprised of a million small moments over the years that her brain forgot and her heart remembered.

Moments like earlier, when she'd wrapped her arms around him in the shower. Or when she'd seen his eyes sparkle as he led his class. When she'd watched him play with the twins after dinner and tell them made-up stories just before bed. Even when he'd been muttering about the stupid essays, she'd fallen in love a little more. Hermione loved Harry so completely, it almost hurt. And she could tell by the way he was looking at her that he loved her just as much.

Hermione leaned forward and kissed Harry, since that seemed like the perfect thing to do when you realized how much you loved your husband. "You're happy?" she asked suddenly. "You're happy with me? With this life?"

Harry nodded as he peeled her shirt off. "You ask me this every day and my answer is always the same. I'm happier than I ever imagined possible."

Hermione removed Harry's shirt, then ran her hands over his bare chest. "Do you want me to try to end it? Further commit to the research?" She cocked her head toward the desk at the other end of the room.

Harry pulled her close and kissed her, then pushed her back onto the bed. "I want you here with me," he said as he climbed on top of her. "Like the poem said, I want to spend as many moments with you as I possibly can."

Harry took his glasses off and put them on top of the book of poems, then began kissing Hermione's neck. Hermione buried her fingers in his hair. "Okay," she breathed. "Good. Me too."

Harry lifted up on his hands and cocked an eyebrow at her. "Are we finished talking? I need to show you just how much I appreciate this body of yours," he added with a lopsided grin.

"Yes. We can talk more tomorrow, when we start everything over again."

Harry's grin widened. "Perfect. I can't wait."

---

A/N: The end! Thanks so much for reading. I'm reading the Book of Joy now and one the things the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Tutu said was that people who go through bouts of sadness are more generous and empathic. They claim that people need to experience loss and sadness to truly appreciate how deeply they love those around them.

This is why people seek out sad songs, movies, and stories - like this one - and like to have a "good cry" on occasion. So, in conclusion, I hope this sad story, which ultimately ended up happy, helped increase your overall generosity and empathy in a small way.

Again, all poetry in this story belongs to Ranata Suzuki. Also, the errors and Americanisms are mine, and thanks to my beta, Lancashire Witch, there are a lot fewer of them.

I have a number of small projects I'm working on this summer, like editing old stories, writing a few one-shots, things like that, and once those are done, I plan to be back with yet another post-war Harmony story. Those seem to be my jam right now.

Thank you all for your continued support and for reading my stuff. You make this hobby super fun! I'll be back soon!