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Chapter Four

Hermione happened upon him once again the following Thursday, at pick-up, around half-past three. May had been happily propped on his shoulders, fingers tugging at his raven hair while Lily followed them, talking a mile an hour. Hermione thought herself to have been conspicuous enough, watching from the shadow of the tree, where he most likely wouldn't notice her visage or her hair that was particularly messy today. Sleep had been difficult, his fault, but of course Harry didn't know that. The day was warmer than one would expect from the approaching fall season and Harry seemed to hold what looked like car keys in his hand. Her eyes watched his every movement as he strapped his daughters inside a small blue car and drove off with them. Not a look or word in her direction.

Their meeting just two days ago was still fresh on her mind, she kept replaying and replaying it, as if it were a film in her head. Harry looked different, older… But that was to be expected, Hermione looked older too. He was handsome, though, having grown taller and more well-built with the years, a far cry from the scrawny teenager of her memories. He still wore his wiry round spectacles, but now sported a beard, not too long but not too short either, which made him look older and just a bit more mysterious. His hair was unkempt as always, a bit longer, but it suited him, as well as covered his dead giveaway of a scar. But Harry's eyes were still the same, a shocking bright green like no other. He seemed more at peace, patient and gentle than all those years ago, but still very much her Harry.

When Harry left England in 1999 he'd gone a long way since the war. He'd signed up as an Auror and passed with honours, though Hermione could clearly remember the expression of displeasure on his face at the ceremony. It was always like that, him hating not knowing if he earned praise and recognition because of his status as the so-called 'savior' of their world or if through his own efforts. It was something that tortured him, made him obsessive about work and training, something that made him pull away from his friends and loved ones more and more, and even from her at some point. She'd left for the University of Oxford that very year, following a long summer of finding her family in Australia, restoring their memories and returning to England with them.

Not long after, Harry decided to travel around Europe and North Africa, an extended vacation. He claimed to need to find himself, or at least it was what he told her fifteen years ago as they farewelled at Heathrow airport. She'd helped him with his travel itinerary, packing and passport issuing as her best friend insisted on doing things the muggle way. Harry had found love during that trip, a love great enough to make him want to leave everything behind. Hermione understood, of course, but that small detail didn't help at all when it came to her utter state of heartbreak as it dawned on her that she might have lost her greatest friend and the love of her life forever. So, for the most part she lived in denial, trying to convince herself that it was just a passing fancy and that Harry wouldn't stay with the muggle girl in boring muggle Canada of all places for too long. England was his home, where his friends were, where his godson was-where Hermione was. So she threw herself into her studies in a way that would rival her year of time-turner usage, this time astonishingly without one.

Two years later, the wedding invitation came through owl post, almost all their friends portkeying to Lake Louise in Canada for the open air ceremony. Hermione hadn't though, couldn't. The excuse she used was of being too busy with studying, research, interning at the Bodleian Library, and throwing herself into a drunken sex and nightlife that never suited her. If Harry could find love, so could she. Those had been her wild and destructive years, so painful and chaotic that today she could barely remember a thing. It'd been a man after the other, sometimes even girls. It had been a vicious cycle of drinking and clubbing, struggling to focus, terrible migraines, barely any sleeping... In those days, if Hermione slept the memories of war, being tortured, cursed and petrified would haunt her, so it was best not to. She lived on pepper-up potions, potions to sleep, potions to wake, potions in order to eat… It was only after her graduation and her moving to Edinburgh for work that she began to find her balance again. Edinburgh represented a new beginning, a new beautiful city to explore, a blank page… So Hermione embraced it fully, just as she now embraced the small and quiet Amberley.

The school guard whistled in the background, announcing the closing of the school gates and therefore, the playground, urging the few parents that stuck around with their children to leave. Hermione took it as her cue and got up from the wooden bench she'd sat on after Harry's departure, reaching for her purse.

"Beatrice! Time to go, darling, Granny's waiting for us at the shop!" She called, upon looking at her watch and noticing that it was just after four, thinking she'd have to apparate them there in order to arrive on time for her shift. Bea immediately looked up from where she was perched on the jungle gym and climbed down, running her mother's way.

"We had story-time today, mum," Bea told her, strapping on her backpack and taking her mum's hand, hair bearing a bit of grass, cheeks red from all the running. "Miss Andrews started reading the Tale of Despereaux!"

"Really? Isn't that the one we read this summer, about the little mouse?" Beatrice nodded happily.

"It's a good book…"

"Yes it is, darling. I quite connected with little Despereaux…" Bea's eyes twinkled because she knew very well of her mum's obsession with books, it seemed like almost every wall of their house was covered with shelves and shelves of them.

When they reached the corner of the school, Hermione looked around to make sure no one noticed them entering the small wilderness ahead and cast a glamour charm with her wand just to be safe, just so they could discreetly apparate. She pulled Bea gently behind a tree and wrapped an arm around her daughter.

"Now, you know the drill, don't you? Hold me tight and close your eyes!" Before the girl could respond, her arms wound tight around Hermione's hips and she felt the familiar pull and butterflies in her belly that came with apparating. Less than a minute later they were standing in the Restricted Section of Hermione's shop, slightly dizzy, but for the most part okay. Bea loved it when she got to travel with her mother by magic, it made life seem much like a fairy tale, one that was especially privy to them.

Harry stood in the middle of his kitchen with a look of triumph on his face as he admired his handiwork. He'd managed to finish installing all of the new wooden cabinets in his kitchen, cabinets he'd crafted himself over the summer and painted a nice shade of minty-green. Now all that was left was to fixate the trio of shelves he'd use to hold his cookbooks and a few decorative jars near the sink. He took hold of his electric drill and pressed it into the wall. When he'd drilled as deep as necessary he pulled out, only for a cold gush of water to splash all over his face, drenching him from head to toe.

His expression was one of pure horror as he climbed down the small ladder and set the drill on the tabletop, watching as the strong jet of water began to flood his kitchen. He ran around the kitchen trying to find something, anything that he could use to make it stop, slipping on the wet tiles as he went. As if sensing their father's despair, May and Lily walked in, and the youngest let out a squeal of delight. May made a dash for the washroom where she brought out her bath soap, pouring it all around the floor. Lily giggled, knowing her younger sister was in the wrong, but nevertheless loving it. A mischievous glint in her bright green eyes.

"Bath time!" May cried out as she rolled around in the bubbles and water, sliding against the checkered ceramic tiles of the kitchen, laughing and laughing, making her father nearly trip over her. Harry watched as Lily joined her sister, throwing soap suds into the air, their clothes soaking wet just as his.

He hadn't the slightest chance of continuing to be upset, as their joy was contagious. His daughters were having the time of their lives, splashing in the water, twirling and sliding about as if they were in a skating rink. He halted his search for something that could momentarily close up the pipe and went on the hunt for his camera. Moments later he snapped several pictures of the two, May's ginger hair boasting a crown of bubbles while Lily's cheek were a bright, laughing red, as she slid back and forth on her belly.

"You both are so silly!" he told them, with a shake of his head. Over twenty minutes passed and the uncontrollable jet of water continued to pour, the girls having grown tired of the excitement. The search for something to fix the leak was now the priority. He managed to make do with some plastic bags that he bunched up and used to clog the hole with the help of a chopstick. "I think we need a trip to the hardware store now…" He shook his head at the amount of mopping he'd need to do later and mentally berated himself for being so stupid. He'd need to break a small section of the wall now in order to mend the pipe, which meant having to redo a considerable section of the cabinets later. All because of a single, silly, sodden shelf.

Harry herded the girls upstairs and managed to get them in dry clothes, making them put on a nice warm sweater each to avoid any chances of catching a chill, before fetching wallet and keys to drive them to Arundel before all of the stores closed at six.

He turned on the car radio which played their Beatles playlist as they drove off to the sound of Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da and Yellow Submarine which they loved and sang along to, as loud as their lungs permitted.

"Ha! I won again!" Bea exclaimed with a big smile, sticking her tongue out at her aunt Olivia, who wore an expression of most dramatic outrage.

"You're five years old-how're you this good at chess? Bloody hell!"

"It's because you're so bad! And I'm six, aunt Liv." She crossed her arms over her chest and gave the young woman a look that was all too similar to the one her mother often wore. It was amazing just how much Beatrice was like Hermione, but at the same time her own little person.

"Hmm, you think so highly of yourself, eh? Do you think Your Majesty could guess my heart's current desire?" Bea chuckled and rolled her eyes.

"You want sweets from the café." Olivia gasped playfully.

"And how do you know that?"

"Because it's six o'clock and closing time, and because you have a sweet tooth."

"Ah, but so do you, Your Highness." Bea shrugged and hopped off the iron bistro chair, straightening the plaid school skirt she still wore.

"It's Your Majesty." Beatrice's tone was all a certain bossy know-it-all Olivia knew, a mix of entitlement and slight arrogance that with time became both hilarious and endearing.

"Ah, yes, forgive me oh fair Beatrice." Hermione, who'd been watching from behind the counter where she was closing the register, took it as her cue to fetch her purse and jacket, as well as her wand to close up shop for them to leave.

"All right, ladies, let's go-I'm so hungry I could eat an elephant…" Olivia grabbed her own purse that was hanging on the back of a chair and both sisters walked out of their business with Bea between them, holding both their hands. With a swish of her wand and the muttering of a few quick spells Hermione locked up The Bewitchery for the night. "So, off to the bakery, is it?"

"Mummy, do you know how to fly on a broom?" Bea asked, out of nowhere. Hermione couldn't help but smile as her thoughts drifted to the old firebolt that sat in her attic. She'd cast a number of spells on it when she moved to the Amberley house so that it wouldn't catch termites or too much dust. She had flown on it on occasion, even if just to relive the butterflies in her stomach from that time riding with Harry over the Burrow, after the war. They'd often gone flying in those days, to relax after the stressful days of rebuilding their world. In the past Hermione had been afraid of heights and she was known to despise quidditch with a passion, but actual flying-she'd grown to love it, even if it'd been a while.

Olivia laughed at Bea's question.

"We all know your mum's a witch, Bea, doesn't mean she's the cliche type." Olivia was a muggle, so there were always going to be aspects of being magical that she'd never understand, even if she'd witnessed plenty already, so Hermione loved finding ways to surprise and annoy her, opening her sister's mind to her world in a way that she perhaps would never be able to do with her parents, deep down still affected by the many traumas magic had caused in their lives, even if the past was the past.

"Actually-I do know how to fly on a broom. It took me years to properly learn and feel comfortable, I was hopelessly afraid, but I did end up enjoying it." Olivia deadpanned and looked at her with surprise etched on her face.

"You're kidding?" Hermione smiled, barely containing a chuckle. "Fuck you, Hermione, I want to ride on a broom!" Hermione slapped her sister's arm for her use of bad language in front of a giggling Bea, but her brown eyes were bright with mirth.

"What was that you said about witch cliches, Liv?" Olivia bit her tongue as they finally reached the entrance to Arundel's finest bakery, the sun beginning to set on the horizon.

The Granger trio sat on their usual table by the street window, they always were quite fond of people watching and staring out of the window. The Grangers had a thing of romance and nostalgia about them, perhaps because they were a family of voracious readers and Shakespeare-addicts and because of it they were as imaginative as they came. Rosalind, their mother, was a natural storyteller and Hermione never quite understood her mother's decision to pursue dentistry of all things boring instead of literature or even journalism, which seemed to better suit her. Either way, sitting beside windows was their thing, sipping on tea or hot cocoa while enjoying a book was their thing, reading to one another and reciting poetry was also their little thing.

Ah, and it was also very much their thing to be walking contradictions. They were romantics, yes, but also deeply afraid of lady fate and her proverbial curveballs that she threw their way. That was probably why Harry Potter and his two daughters had to waltz inside the very same café within minutes from them, and why immediately his electric green eyes sparked with recognition upon seeing her across the well-decorated room. Her heart beat madly in her chest, so strong she couldn't hear anything else. Her eyes widened and she paled immediately, drawing in a deep breath and biting her bottom lip nervously without even noticing.

But Olivia of all subtle people noticed her sister's reaction and turned around to see who she was looking at. When her cornflower-blue eyes landed on the figure of a Harry Potter quite older than she remembered and sporting a beard, she understood. Her eyes darted curiously between the runaway-wizard and her older sister, tensions heightening within the small café in such a way that anyone inside could feel it, she herself could feel it, the hairs sticking up on her arms from the sheer electricity of that meeting.

It was Beatrice, bless her soul, who broke the moment, hopping out of her seat with excitement, wrapping one of the little girls who accompanied Harry into one of those big, bear hugs that were typical of their Granger family.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me." She whispered to Hermione, truly shocked out of her mind. "The man of your life reappears out of nowhere back into your life and you're sitting there like an idiot… Jesus bloody Christ, Hermione." Olivia looked at her sister as if she were the most despicable creature on the planet. She turned rolled her eyes and got up, following the path Beatrice had set after Harry and his kids. "Hello, Harry, long time no see…"

"Olivia-huh, you've grown." Olivia rolled her eyes in that way she normally did. "Fifteen years aren't fifteen days, Harry. What brings you to Arundel?"

"Amberley, actually, I'm living there with my daughters-uh, Lily, May this is Olivia, she is Bea's auntie." May and Lily said their polite hellos and Olivia shook each of their hands accordingly.

"Come sit with us, Harry, I'm sure there's much you and my sister have to catch up on." Harry seemed to hesitate for a moment as he looked around to find most larger tables occupied, and theirs with three chairs conveniently available.

Hermione Granger's entire being desired one thing and one thing only, to ring her sister's neck and bury her dead body in a ditch somewhere. Olivia was so goddamn inconvenient and juvenile at times it really made her lose her cool.

Luckily their treats and drinks arrived rather quickly which was a nice buffer in terms of meaningless and completely awkward small talk, save for Bea's animated conversation and goofing around with both Lily and May as they drew with crayons on the large sketchbook Hermione often carried around in her purse to distract her daughter on outings.

"This was so nice, Harry, seeing you again and meeting your girls, but I'm afraid I have to go now, I have to get ready for a date later this evening." Olivia finally said, grabbing her purse and making a dash for the door, before Hermione could utter a word or call her out for on top of everything being a dreadful liar.

With the girls so caught-up with one another, they found each other sitting face to face, having no escape whatsoever. She watched as his expression of unease softened and the lines at the corner of his eyes crinkled with mirth. He scoffed silently, gently shaking his head before looking at her with those impossibly green eyes, from under his dark lashes.

"You've been avoiding me…" He said, finally. She was about to give him an excuse or protest, but he waved her off with a shake of his head, "I saw you practically climb up that tree trying to hide away from me earlier." He leaned forward as he said this, his eyes becoming sad as they bore into hers. "It hurts, Hermione, that our friendship came to this. We were once so close, we shared everything, the good and the bad." He sighed deeply, "Merlin, I fucked up brilliantly, didn't I? As bloody always…"

It surprised her that she felt like laughing at his bitter comment, it wasn't a cynical laugh, it was just plain funny. She'd been truly ridiculous earlier that day, during pick-up, and naive to think his seeker reflexes would never spot her. She laughed a laugh that made her cheeks turn red and that filled her eyes with tears that didn't fall. She threw her head back, curls crowning her face, laughing uncontrollably in a way that her sides hurt and he watched her with a mix of curiosity and humor as well, until he too was laughing.

"What's so funny?" Lily asked them, "We want to laugh too!"

"We are funny, Lily, that's what. We are two very crazy people." Harry responded with a genuine smile as his eyes took in the sight that was a flustered eye-sparkling Hermione Granger, as beautiful as a painting.

"Should we go for a walk, some fresh air?" Hermione offered, after the laughter had died down and they didn't quite know what to say after making a fool of themselves in the middle of the café. "I know a lovely little playground nearby… What do you think girls?" Of course, their response was of agreement, and Harry had no choice but to follow along.

Once they stepped out of the café, it was evening already, the sky a dark cobalt and the breeze cool. The playground was just around the corner and he recognized it as being the one he took the girls to play at Monday evening, the one right across the narrow cobblestone street from a small Italian restaurant, with fairy lights hanging outside and above the wooden bistro tables.

"I had the shock of my life, seeing you here Monday evening…" Hermione admitted, as she followed his gaze. "I wanted so badly to run after you…"

"Why didn't you?" She shrugged.

"Because I was with another man that night and it wouldn't be fair to him…"

"Your husband, I presume?" Hermione scoffed and shook her head.

"Oh, Merlin, no. That ship has sailed… And I haven't boarded a new one in a long time."

"I wasn't planning on driving to town this evening, but I accidentally hit a pipe while setting up my new kitchen cabinets and it was water all over the place…" He chuckled at the thought, moving the conversation away from the topic of lovers, which was one he avoided like the plague.

"That's… unfortunate."

"I was trying so bad to clog it so it would stop flooding the kitchen but then the girls came and made a party of it and I just… I came to get some supplies at the hardware shop, to fix it." Hermione nodded.

"Why didn't you just reparo it?" The way she said it was so natural and matter-of-factly that it made him stop in his tracks, knitting his eyebrows.

"I-I… That never occurred to me, to be honest..." Hermione looked at him and smiled, bumping his arm with her elbow in comradery.

"Well, you've never been the brightest crayon in the box." Harry rolled his eyes at her and laughed, but she could tell it wasn't completely genuine.

"I suppose I just grew used to doing things the manual, all-suffering, difficult muggle way…" She nodded, as she looked out towards the girls who were playing tag together, running around the small park. The awkward silence crept in again, he hated that it did…

After what felt like a lifetime she turned to look at him, brown eyes filled with tears.

"Harry, why do you think we spent fifteen years without seeing one another?" Her question was like a punch in the gut, it was one he'd been avoiding for far too long, one he'd hoped he would never have to acknowledge or respond.

"I-I honestly don't know, Hermione…" It was a lie and they both knew it.


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