Happy Monday lovelies!
I am probably only going to be able to keep posting daily for a couple more days, as I am far too busy IRL and I'm running out of pre-written chapters. I just want to thank everyone who has ever left a review on this story, and also thank you to everyone who reads this story, you lot are amazing x
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
As always for Sable and Lais xxx
Friday, September 14th, 1979
Potter Manor
"I beg your pardon?"
The hairs on the back of Hermione's neck are standing at full attention, she is acutely aware of the sharp gaze burning a hole in her face, and the only thought that comes to mind is, Marlene and Dorcas are together?
"Which part?" Marlene drawls, rolling her eyes in exasperated annoyance as she places her hands on her hips.
"You and Dorcas are dating?" Hermione asks dumbly, gathering her shawl more securely around her as the wind picks up.
The two witches are standing on the front porch of the Manor, as this is where Marlene had dragged Hermione so they could have a word in private.
Marlene had stormed into Hermione's room ten minutes ago, a fierce hailstorm as she curtly greeted Remus—who was in a partial state of undress since he was in the middle of changing. Marlene barely spared Remus a passing look before she turned her unsettling focus on Hermione.
Hermione was in the process of tying her hair back in a ponytail, but that didn't faze Marlene. The witch merely reached out, grabbed ahold of Hermione by her elbow, and forcefully tugged Hermione behind her.
"Hello to you too, Marlene!" Echoed out behind them, but Marlene was clearly focused, as she didn't even stop to make a snippy quip as she normally would.
Which is how the two witches ended up on the front porch as Marlene tersely informed Hermione of the details of how she'd spent her prior night. Namely, soothing a blubbering Alice who had showed up at Marlene and Dorcas's flat last night.
A lock of hair blows into Hermione's eyes, and absently she reaches up to tuck it behind her ear before folding her arms over her chest once more. It is all in vain, as another kick of breeze flies across them, sending more hair into Hermione's face—so she turns into the wind and jerkily moves her head so that the hair flies over her shoulder. The only thing is now the wind is assaulting her corneas, and tears prick the corner of her eyes as they begin to water.
"Honestly, Granger. I come here, and tell you that Alice—fucking—Longbottom burst into my home last night unannounced, in a full blown panic because she is pregnant, and she is worried about that stupid prophecy you lot mentioned," Marlene says in a huff, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration.
The blonde begins to pace back and forth, her hands moving about as if she doesn't know what to do with them, an irritated look on her face.
"So...Alice is pregnant, and you're dating Dorcas Meadowes?" Hermione repeats slowly, trying to wrap her mind around all of the new information being catapulted her way all at once.
"Aren't you supposed to be intelligent to some degree?" Marlene asks, her tone frigid and as jagged as a serrated knife. Marlene harshly marches towards Hermione, and comes to a halt mere inches away from her. The tall witch slightly bends at the middle and Hermione finds herself adrift as she gazes into Marlene's deep cerulean blue eyes; she is plunged into the darkest depths of the ocean.
Marlene's wavy long locks are thrown up into a messy updo of sorts, the underside of her eyes is an ashen colour, and her face is a tad puffy. It is only then that Hermione notices that Marlene's eyes are red-rimmed, and her lip is quivering. Outwardly she is holding herself together—artfully masking the fact that she'd been up bawling her eyes out with Alice and Dorcas right up until she stepped through the floo to come here.
"Alice is pregnant."
"Bloody hell, you sound like a broken record," Marlene makes an infuriated noise, straightening out and crossing her arms over her chest, but it looks more like she's hugging herself in silent comfort.
"There isn't a prophecy this time around, and if there is...then," Hermione frowns. They'd never considered the possibility that the prophecy did exist in this dimension, or even that a completely different prophecy could be foretold. An exposed wire is in her mind, sending out random spurts of anxious sparks. Hermione shakes thoughts of unforetold prophecies, and calmly says, "prophecies don't have to come to fruition, you and I both know that."
Marlene snorts, "you try telling that to a hysterical pregnant lady."
"Does Frank know?"
"No, not yet, she's going to tell him today," Marlene supplies. Then as if realising she'd made a grave error, Marlene gently shakes her head, "I don't know why I came here. For some reason I figured you may be able to calm her down, or assure her that her world isn't imploding."
That gave Hermione pause. "Me?" Hermione asks incredulously.
"Yes," Marlene sighs tiredly, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose.
"Why do you think I'll be able to help her? Alice and I hardly know each other," Hermione says, eyes widening. "I highly doubt my presence will do anything to assuage her fears."
"You knew her son in your dimension did you not? Didn't I hear you tell her that he was your first friend at Hogwarts?" Marlene asks brusquely, and her foot taps against the hardwood impatiently as she awaits Hermione's response.
"How did—" Hermione begins, but Marlene waves her arms sharply through the air.
"That is not important," Marlene interjects.
Hermione thinks back to the day she told Alice that: it was after they'd had the meeting in the Drawing Room and told everyone about the horcruxes. Right before Alice left, she asked Hermione if they could talk in private for a second, and Hermione had readily indulged the witch. They'd stepped out of the room, into the empty corridor. Alice began to play with the ends of her cropped tresses, and nervously asked Hermione about Neville.
Marlene was eavesdropping, Hermione comes to the sudden realisation, and instead of calling Marlene out on her sneaky behaviour, she quietly listens to the former Slytherin speak.
"I don't say this very often, but please, can you at least try?" Marlene asks, and her cold exterior crumbles into a crestfallen expression. The witch just looks so tired.
"Okay, I'll try."
The moment Hermione steps through the floo into Alice and Frank's living room, she's assaulted with a wave of warmth. Hermione doesn't even have a chance to say anything to Marlene before the witch sets off in search of Alice.
Which leaves Hermione to examine her surroundings. The instant hominess feels very reminiscent of the Gryffindor Common Room, but the colours are completely different. There is a wide cream couch that can six people can probably squish onto if they really tried, though someone might end up half in someone else's lap, or, Hagrid could comfortably fit on it.
The thought of the Half-Giant brings a smile to Hermione's face. She wishes she could interact with the Gamekeeper more, but alas, he is at Hogwarts which is Dumbledore's domain. It is an unspoken rule that once they don't step into his house, he will keep his nose out of their affairs. Though, who knows how long that accord is going to last. Plus, on top of that, Hagrid has blind, unwavering faith in Hogwarts Headmaster.
The room is quaint: there are two casement windows on the right side of the room (that are a fair distance apart, as there is enough room to fit two cream armchairs that have embroidered throw pillows and neatly folded, fluffy, crimson blankets adorning them) and they are several feet wide, but not very tall. The windows are covered by pearl coloured curtains—they even have the shimmer that is unique to the precious stone.
Hermione takes a few steps forward, but halts before she collides with the coffee table—it is made of lightly stained cherry wood, and its surface gleams and shines prettily. There is a stack of Prophet Newspapers right beside the coffee table, and an abandoned teacup—filled to the brim with fragrant black tea—is resting on the coffee table.
Hermione's eye twitches when she notices that the cup is a few inches away from a round, vermillion coloured coaster. Steam curls out of the cup. Hermione glances up at the mouth of the room, and she focuses to see if she can hear anything—she can hear sounds from somewhere else in the house, but not clearly.
Hermione bends down, her hands enclosing around the teacup, and she swiftly places it on the coaster. She narrows her eyes at the heat ring still present on the table, it'll hopefully fade away soon; it would be shame to ruin such a beautiful coffee table.
Hermione wanders over to the left side of the room which is covered in ornate bookshelves, and their height is just shy of the ceiling. The bookshelf Hermione is directly in front of has an assortment of odd knickknacks and things, but on one of the shelves is a line of family photographs, all varying sizes, but all in chestnut wooden frames.
Hermione's eyes are drawn to a picture of Frank twirling Alice around before he picks her up princess style. Alice is wearing an elegant dress with a fitted golden bodice, and a massive skirt that is made up several layers of sheer black fabric, but her feet are bare. The witch's hair is also much longer, and it comes halfway down her back.
Frank is wearing a simple black button down, with his sleeves rolled part of the way up his forearms, black trousers, and a pair of black dragonhide shoes. On the stone floor beside the pair are what Hermione guesses must be Frank's outer robes, which appear to be a bit more extravagant than the rest of his attire.
They don't look more than sixteen.
They must be in the Castle somewhere, but where? Hermione wonders, trying to determine where in Hogwarts the picture was taken. I recognise that painting, Hermione thinks. On the wall behind them was a painting of a spindly man with a monocle, sitting in an emerald armchair that is framed with ornate golden millwork. The man has pried himself away from the thick tome on his lap to curiously peer at Frank and Alice.
"Hermione?" A meek voice asks from Hermione's right, and instantly her nerves are set on edge. Hermione mentally scolds herself for snooping as she turns to face an uneasy looking Alice.
Alice's dark brown eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, she is wearing an oversized Puddlemere United jersey, her legs are entirely bare, which leads Hermione to think Alice may not be wearing any trousers. Alice's toes wriggle on her shaggy, white carpet (Hermione thinks that is an awfully bold choice, but recalls that there are stain repellant charms in the same train of thought).
Marlene appears around the corner behind her, but stops in the doorway. She gestures above Alice's head for a moment, and Hermione frowns, but then Marlene is gesturing behind her and begins to back away. I suppose that means she's leaving then.
"This is a lovely home you have here, Alice," Hermione smiles gently.
"Thank you," Alice's own smile is wan. The witch's hands are held up in front of her, and she anxiously fiddles with her hands for a moment before asking, "can I get you something? Tea? Some water..." Alice trails off uncertainly.
"I'm fine, thank you," Hermione says politely. Truthfully she is a bit peckish, as the day is tiring and it isn't far off from supper. Hermione hears a noise and concludes that it must be Marlene leaving the house.
Alice extends her hand towards the couch, "well then. Marlene says you wish to talk."
Hermione rounds the coffee table, and smoothes her skirt under her before she sits down on the couch. She instantly sinks into the couch, and it is a bit like it's trying to swallow her whole. She quickly determines that there is no way to be taken seriously whilst seated on this couch; one fumbles the entire time to maintain an upright position, so you simply look very slouchy.
"Marlene told me..." Hermione starts, adjusting her position for the third time as Alice perches herself on the edge of the coffee table. The witch's shoulders are drawn in, and her hands are sandwiched in between her thighs, and Alice looks somewhere past Hermione, her eyes glossy with unshed tears.
"Ah," Alice nods, inhaling deeply, and straightening herself out, her hands coming to rest on top of her thighs. Alice swallows thickly before looking Hermione directly in the eye. "I normally don't freak out like this...I like to think I'm a level-headed person...but this—" Alice gestures absently to her abdomen, and then all around her, "—this terrifies me."
Hermione clenches her teeth together as she scotches forward on the couch, struggling with the cushion currently trying to ingest her, until she is sat as far forward as she can be. Hermione quietly takes Alice's hands, but doesn't say anything.
Alice tips her head upwards, and blinks rapidly, "I'm trying not to cry again. It's all I've been doing all darn day."
"Okay, how about we talk about something else?" Hermione suggests kindly, squeezing Alice's hands.
"Mad-Eye just gave me a promotion," Alice smiles weakly, lowering her face to look at Hermione once more. Alice drinks in a shuddering breath before continuing, "and soon I'll have to stop going into work because I can't be pregnant and an Auror...especially not during a bloody War."
"No, I suppose you can't," Hermione responds, ignoring the fact that she has an itch just below her eye.
The witches sit in silence for a time, Alice breathing in and out deeply, and Hermione just holds the other witch's hands and waits until the brown haired girl wishes to speak some more. Before that time can come however, there's a distinct click that comes from somewhere else in the house, and loudly a voice says, "Alice? I'm home! Sorry I'm late! Stopped by Mum's on the way here!"
Alice's eyes widened, and in a bit of a panic she looks at Hermione for direction. Hermione shrugs animatedly.
"I don't know if I'm ready to tell him," Alice admits, her complexion turning a horrendously ashen hue.
Hermione stands up, and let go of Alice's hands only to firmly grip her shoulders, "you can do this. I believe in you. It may be a dreadful time to get pregnant, but you can do this. You can both do this."
"What about the prophecy?" Alice asks. That question is truly what frightens her. That question is what has her in a full tizzy.
"Fuck it. You shape your own destiny. Plus, I am not going to let anything happen to you, you are going to survive this war. I will do everything in my power to ensure that," Hermione promises, fixing Alice with an earnest stare.
"Alice?" Comes Frank's voice—it's growing louder by the moment.
Hermione should not be making promises she knows she cannot keep, but she makes it regardless. She doesn't know why she does it, but she can't help herself. Perhaps because she truly believes it to be true. Hermione isn't going to let a damn thing happen to Alice if she can help it.
After a few moments, the mousey haired witch shakily nods, biting down on her bottom lip, "okay."
"Alice?" Frank calls out as he strolls into the living room, freezing when he sees the back of Hermione. Hermione cannot see him, but from Alice's expression she gathers that he's drawn his wand, and mentally Hermione curses. This must look awfully suspicious. "Let go of her."
Hermione relinquishes her hold on Alice, and in a painfully slow manner she rights herself. Thankfully, Alice forcefully exclaims, "Godric, Frank. It's Hermione!"
"Hermione?" Frank repeats dumbfounded, instantly lowering his wand. "Blimey, sorry. I should have recognised you...with your hair and whatnot."
Hermione shakes her head, turning on her heel to face Frank, "you came home, your fiancée wasn't responding to you, and you found her with what you perceived to be a threat. I would have done the exact same thing."
"What's going on?" Frank frowns, strolling into the room whilst unbuttoning his outer robes, "is something wrong? Are you feeling worse than you did this morning?" Frank asks in concern as he kneels down in front of Alice.
Alice laughs lightly, and with one hand she cradles his face, and the other she strokes through his curly, blond hair, "I'm fine, honestly...but I have a bit of a...surprise for you."
"A surprise?"
"I think that's my cue to leave," Hermione interjects softly, "everything is going to be okay. I promise." Hermione directs her last comment at Alice, which leaves Frank with a furrowed brow.
"Thank you, Hermione," Alice says, with a genuine smile, and she looks a lot more like herself—her entire mood has lifted, and she seems much more calm and at peace with herself.
"I'll see you two later," Hermione says as she makes her way to the fireplace. The fireplace is made up of rustic red bricks that are neatly fitted together to form a fine piece of masonry work.
Alice and Frank's cottage truly fits in well with its bucolic setting. The only thing Hermione had known about it before today was that it was somewhere in the countryside not too far away from Godric's Hollow, and that Augusta lived just a little ways down the road from her son.
Hermione wastes no time in grabbing a fistful of floo powder from the bag of it secured to the side of the fireplace. The witch gingerly steps into the firebox, and pivots around until she is facing the living room once more. Alice and Frank are both watching her go, and Hermione sends them a small wave before she tosses the floo powder onto the floor of the firebox.
Whilst Hermione clearly says, "Potter Manor!" a whooshing sound kicks up as the powder sparks into an eruption of green flames. Hermione is gone in an instant, leaving Alice to inform Frank of how their lives were about to change forever.
Hermione wearily leaves the Drawing Room, and whilst Potter Manor is warm, it is nowhere near as toasty as Frank and Alice's cottage, so the cold creeps into the soles of her bare feet. Hermione draws her shawl around her more securely as she makes her way towards her bedroom.
Once she reaches the top of the staircase however, she pauses.
Instead of heading to her room to snuggle up with her mate, she decides instead to stop a few doors down.
Without knocking, without calling out, or making any other announcements of her presence, Hermione pushes open Harry's slightly ajar door. She finds Harry, Ron and Emmeline spread out on Harry's bed, all looking well chuffed with themselves.
An image of Harry in throes of agony a few weeks ago, deathly pale and begging her to kill him flashes through her mind, but she shakes it off.
All of the room's occupants turn to look at her, but as soon as Harry and Ron catch sight of her, their smiles die.
"Em, could you give us a moment, please?" Harry requests of the former Ravenclaw, leaning forward to brush his lips across her cheek.
Emmeline smiles at the random act of affection, and toys with the ends of her frosty hair. "Of course," Emmeline nods, crawling off of Harry's bed, and she makes for the door—not before throwing Harry a wink and a bright grin over her shoulder. Which, obviously leaves Harry a blushing mess.
Emmeline pauses by Hermione long enough to squeeze her arm in comfort and send a tiny smile her way, and then she's gone, and Hermione suddenly feels like screaming until her throat is raw.
Instead, she takes a few steps into the room before halting. Ron grabs his wand, and waves it whilst muttering several incantations, and Harry's bedroom door slams shut. Which causes them all to flinch, but after they take a moment to compose themselves, they are all fine. Ron then proceeds to throw up locking and silencing charms.
Hermione wants nothing more than to scream, but in place of that she chooses to say in an even and steady voice, "things just got slightly more complicated."
