prompt: "Don't let go." & "You're an idiot." "But I'm your idiot."
word count: 8.904
rating: pg-13
tags: marauders era; same age; time travel; (attempted?) fix-it

three minutes and counting

12 March 1980

Hermione was still fussing over her dress while James sat on the bed, legs stretched out and an open Daily Prophet held loose in his fingers. He was the picture of relaxed; not the least bit concerned with the fact that they were having dinner with his parents tonight.

"Maybe I should wear the red one."

Hermione stared at her figure in the mirror, a hand smoothing down the faint bump of her stomach. It felt ridiculously obvious to her, even if she wasn't showing nearly as much as the very slight Alice was. James had wanted to tell everyone immediately, but Hermione had been practical. During the first few months there was a higher chance of miscarriage; she wanted to wait until at least three months had gone by without complication. After that, it was just nerves. Now, at four months, she couldn't keep avoiding the inevitable.

James chuckled under his breath. "You hated the red one. You said it made your hips look big."

Hermione frowned at her hips. "Does the blue make them look slimmer?"

Tossing his newspaper aside, he hopped off the bed and joined her, standing at her back as his hands came around to cover her stomach. "I love your hips."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione said, "That doesn't shrink them."

"They don't need to be shrunk. If they're wider— and I'm not saying they are— it's for the baby."

"You've been reading those Muggle books on pregnancy again, haven't you?"

"Every chance I get." He kissed her shoulder. "Don't look so ticked. You love it when I read." He nuzzled her neck. "Gets you hot under the collar."

Biting her lip to hide a smile, she pinched his arm. "Don't mess up my hair. It took me ages to get it looking halfway decent. I want to make a good impression… Merlin knows I'll need it."

"They've already heard all about you. You're as impressive as they come."

"I'm an unwed, pregnant stranger. I'll be surprised if they aren't suspicious of me." Hermione was expecting an interrogation or underhanded comments, and a paternity test, for sure. She'd faced down Death Eaters, survived a basilisk, and traveled through space and time, but if his parents accused her of being a harlot, she was pretty sure she was going to cry. And that was only partly due to an excess of hormones.

"You're overthinking this. They'll just be overjoyed they have a grandchild coming."

Sighing, Hermione let herself lean into him. "You can say that because you're their miracle child who can do no wrong. I, however, am going to look like some scarlet woman."

"Should probably avoid the red dress then."

"James." She swatted his arm.

He laughed. "You're hardly a scarlet woman." He straightened himself then and rubbed her arms. "You're just going to drive yourself mad until you meet them. You look beautiful and they're already expecting us, so why don't we leave now?"

Hermione nodded, but her nerves still felt frayed.

"They accepted my werewolf best friend and a runaway 16-year-old Sirius..." He kissed the top of her head before stepping away to collect his jacket. "They're going to love you, I promise."

Blowing out a heavy breath, she reached over and smoothed out imaginary wrinkles on his shirt. "This is so much harder than telling Sirius and Remus."

"Yeah, well, you didn't get a shovel talk from both of them." He held her coat up for her to put on and she slid her arms through. "Look, mum will cry, dad might too. They'll be happy tears."

Swallowing tightly, Hermione took his hand, holding on a little tighter than perhaps necessary, and followed him to the fireplace. Using the Flood Network made sense, but Hermione also knew part of it was that James had read up on the possible negative effects that apparition had on pregnancy and was just being overly cautious. She wasn't sure why Flooing was safer, but he was firm on using it whenever travel was necessary. Hermione figured indulging him on this point was an easy compromise.

Stepping into the parlour of the Potter Manor, Hermione was briefly distracted by the floor to ceiling bookshelves, filled to bursting with knowledge. Her fingers twitched in anticipation of turning page after page.

"You can raid the library later," he said, his voice deep and warm against her ear. His arm hooked low around her hips as he walked her to the double doors leading into a long, bright hallway. The walls were filled with moving portraits. Some, based on that wild Potter hair, were clearly ancestors, while others were just painted characters. All of them were whispering to each other, gossiping about the newcomer.

Hermione's heart was pounding hard in her chest and she was glad they weren't holding hands any longer because hers were absolutely drenched in sweat. That made her panic more, however. What if his parents were hand shakers?

"Hey, you're shaking." He paused and pulled her to the side. "Hermione, I've seen you take on three Death Eaters at once, this is not nearly as terrifying."

"Death Eaters are simple," she defended. "They're an enemy. My aim there is to subdue and survive. This… These are your parents. They're two of the most important people in your life. And if they don't like me—"

"They will."

"You don't know that." She shook her head. "Adults usually did when I was growing up. I was always so mature for my age and I drove kids away with how bossy I could be. It was more comfortable being around adults, but it also meant that I always felt like I had to prove myself worthy. That I had to be calm and rational and perfect so their decision to treat me as an equal was valid. And now I'm showing up on your parents' doorstep with nothing to show that I'm a decent person. I didn't even technically graduate Hogwarts. I'm literally a pregnant drop out. I'm any parents' worst nightmare."

He was trying very hard not to laugh and that was not helping things.

She socked him in the chest. "It's not funny!"

James cupped her face, his thumbs gently sliding across her cheeks. "You've been at war; I think you have a valid excuse. And Dumbledore's already offered for you to take the equivalent of your NEWTs whenever you're ready. You're not doing any of this alone."

"I just wish I could do more or be more or… This isn't how I imagined things going." She sighed, her shoulders slumped. "I wasted so much time. I wish I'd met them sooner, so they could know who I was."

"And they will." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You think I've shut up about you at all since I met you?"

If Hermione was being honest, an element of what she was feeling was insecurity. After all the years James had spent talking about Lily Evans being the future Mrs. Potter, when he'd finally, successfully begun dating her in seventh year, his parents must've expected smooth sailing to follow. Even after their break-up, most likely expected them to find their way back to each other. Lily was a brilliant, powerful, impressive witch. She was top of her class, Head Girl, and a Charms and Potions genius. While Hermione knew her accomplishments were many, she also knew that most of them could not be shared or discussed or even, in some cases, verified, due to her having traveled back in time. So, she couldn't help but feel lacking in comparison.

"James, darling, is that you?" a warm, cultured voice called out.

James leaned back slightly. "It's me, mum."

"We're out in the gardens. Mipsy says dinner is running late, so she's put out canapés and drinks."

"All right, we're on our way." He looked down at Hermione, brows raised. "If you feel overwhelmed or uncomfortable, just give me a sign and I'll feign life-threatening illness."

Hermione scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous…" She smoothed her dress out and took a deep breath. "If it's life threatening, they'll expect us to go to St. Mungo's and will want a diagnosis. You should go with something small, like a stomach-ache."

Grinning, James shook his head. "Ready?"

Nodding, Hermione hooked her arm through his. "Ready."

James led her through his, frankly massive, childhood home. It wasn't the same as the cottage future-him had shared with Lily in Godric's Hollow. That, he told her, would have been another family property, one of many. Currently, it sat unused. Lest she forget, he came from a family of money, status, and privilege. A fact that she sometimes overlooked, often conflating that sort of power with the likes of the Malfoys, who used it to make others feel inferior.

In comparison, James spread his money around to those he cared about, using it to keep Remus afloat, no matter how much he protested. Not to mention the flat he owned that she insisted on paying her portion of rent on, and that he was very clearly lowering the cost of. She'd brought money with her on her trip to the past, but it wasn't limitless, and she hadn't exactly had a job while hunting Horcruxes. She really should take Dumbledore up on his offer to sit her NEWTs, she thought. Once this business with Voldemort was finally put to rest and they were, hopefully, given a real opportunity to build a life, she wanted a career.

The gardens were breathtaking; a stone patio surrounded by every color of flower Hermione could ever imagine. Lush flora as far as the eye could see, well maintained and brimming with life. There was a table set up in the center, covered in platters of finger foods, a pot of tea, and a jug of lemonade. Small serving plates were placed in front of each chair with an elaborate collection of cutlery, a tall glass, and a short tea cup. It was all very proper.

Drawing her gaze from the table, she finally ventured a look at his parents.

Fleamont Potter was leaned back in his chair, one leg propped up, ankle resting on his opposite knee. He had a Daily Prophet unfolded in his lap and looked so much like James had just a short while ago, that she couldn't help but find it endearing. His salt and pepper hair was just as unruly as his son's, and a pair of round glasses slid down the slope of his nose. To the left of him sat a very regal looking Euphemia, with long black hair, bright blue eyes, and sharp, flattering cheekbones. She was the picture of poise against her husband's loose-limbed comfort.

Euphemia rose from her seat, bearing a wide smile for her son. She circled around the table to meet him, her arms up in expectation.

James hugged her as she cupped his face and kissed his cheeks like she hadn't just seen him for supper a week and a half ago. "Mum, you really had Mipsy go all out."

"She was excited." Euphemia's gaze moved to Hermione. "You've been singing your lady love's praises for some time. We were starting to think you'd never introduce us."

Hermione winced. "That was my fault. He's asked, I just wasn't ready."

"But you are now?" Euphemia stared at her curiously, her gaze all too sharp and knowing.

What a loaded question. It wasn't so long ago that Hermione had been avoiding everything that wasn't her mission, and now she had so drastically gone off course from that mission that her former self likely would have been apoplectic. She had left it in capable hands, however. It wasn't as if she walked away from The Order and just crossed her fingers. She and James had eliminated the biggest obstacle to Voldemort's true death. Now, it was a matter of who would face him in those final moments and put him down for good. There was a time when she believed that would be herself; she knew different now. It couldn't be her. And it wouldn't be the child she was carrying either. Regardless of if it was Harry, or some version of him; her child was going to have a long, happy life surrounded by family and friends.

A lump formed in her throat, as it tended to do when faced with her new reality. For so long, she had been nothing but a solider in a war that seemed to never end. Bruised, battered, and utterly exhausted. Holding at arm's length the feeling of hope that she could have a life that wasn't fully ensconced in survival. And now she was building a family with James, meeting his parents, and trusting that others would pick up where she left off. It was terrifying and strange and beautiful.

She blinked against the sting of tears and tipped her head to look up at him. So wonderful and handsome and— "He's persistent, isn't he?"

Euphemia hummed. "Unrelenting when he puts his mind to something."

"We Potters are a stubborn folk," Fleamont called from the table.

"That's certainly one word for it." Hermione leaned into James' side.

"She once called me 'masochistic in my inability to accept rejection.'" James grinned at her. "A lesser man might've been discouraged."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't think you know the meaning of the word."

James lowered his head until his nose met hers. "You didn't do a very good job of convincing me I should."

She scoffed. "You try saying 'no' to someone who takes everything as a challenge."

"Worked out in the end, didn't it?"

Shaking her head, Hermione pursed her lips to hide a smile. "The amount of frustration you've caused me—"

"Caused you?" He let out an incredulous laugh. "Let's not forget just who has been so blessedly patient—"

"Oh, you've never been patient a second in your life. What you are is obstinate. Huge difference."

Leading her to the table, he gently peeled her jacket from her shoulders and then pulled a chair out for her. "What's the difference then?"

"Patience comes with a level of acceptance of the situation you find yourself in."

"That'd ridiculous. Why would I accept a situation when the both of us are suffering?" He took his own seat next to her and reached for a plate of bruschetta, adding a piece to either of their plates.

Hermione eyed a platter of crackers and sandwiches with cream cheese and various types of fish. She recognized salmon, tuna, and anchovies. Skipping the anchovy, she grabbed a few of the salmon and tuna.

James made a noise and plucked the tuna crackers from her plate, replacing them with salmon sandwiches from his own. "Too much mercury," he murmured. "The anchovies are good though."

She scrunched her nose at him. "No anchovies."

He laughed. "If you're worried about your breath, it won't put me off in the least. If anything, I think I've proven nothing will put me off. And all it took was a year."

Hermione paused, her hand mid-scoop of a bowl of strawberries. "Has it been a year?" She dished them each out strawberries, her brow furrowed.

James grinned at her. "To the day."

How strangely fitting, she thought.

Euphemia cleared her throat, drawing their attention. "How was it you two met exactly?"

Hermione paused, unsure exactly how much his parents knew about—

"The Order," James said, leaning back in his chair, his arm outstretched along hers, thumb rubbing her shoulder absently.

"You can't be much older than James," Fleamont mentioned. "You didn't attend Hogwarts together?"

"No," she said. Not together. "I—"

"Hermione's from the future."

She turned a wide-eyed look on him. "James."

"We agreed not to lie to them." He popped an olive in his mouth. "Besides, the more vague you are, the more suspicious they'll be. In the Order, discretion is expected and accepted. Here, it just means mum will hire people to find out more about you. We both know how that'll go."

Hermione took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're as subtle as you are patient. And if you think I don't know this is at least partly because you love shocking people—"

"When you're good at something, you should nurture your craft."

Hermione swatted his arm. "Not this way. We could have worked up to time travel."

"At least this way you don't have to try and explain away all those details you were worrying about before."

"That is hardly—"

"Apologies, could you expand a bit on… on 'from the future?'" Fleamont had plucked his glasses from his nose and was rubbing the heel of his hand over one eye.

"It's a long story," James sighed, "but she came back to take on ol' Moldyshorts—"

"I loathe that nickname," Hermione muttered.

"Well, as long as the moratorium on his name is still active, we have to go with alternatives." James shrugged and popped another olive in his mouth. "Anyway, he made a bunch of Horcruxes—"

Both Fleamont and Euphemia gasped.

"That is incredibly dark magic." Euphemia shifted in her seat. "Just how many were there?"

"Five. Although, there had been more in my timeline." Hermione fiddled with her napkin, unfolding it to lay over her lap. "Two were avoided, at least so far."

"And they've been destroyed?"

"Not yet. They can't be destroyed too soon or he'll feel them. If he knows, we lose the advantage, and he could go on to create more. We wouldn't know their locations or what they even were."

Euphemia nodded, her mouth set in a grim line. "But you have them all? You're sure?"

"I'm sure." Hermione stared at her a beat. "James and I found all of them. He… He's been helping me nearly from the beginning."

"She was a little reluctant to take my help at first," he mused.

Hermione sighed. "Yes, well, I was only trying to keep you safe."

"At the risk of yourself," he scoffed.

She turned her gaze skyward. "We are not having this argument again."

"Right, because I won."

"Your definition of 'won' is a little skewed. And also—" She laughed incredulously; her brows arched. "—if I remember correctly, one of your solutions was to instead make yourself a bigger target."

"Got you to tell me what was going on and convinced you we'd be better off working it all out together." He shrugged. "And we're both alive and healthy, so I call that a win."

"How far in the future?" Euphemia wondered.

"Hm? Oh." Hermione paused. "Well, it was 20 years back when I arrived last year."

"1999," Fleamont murmured. "And you were still… The Dark Lord was still a threat then?"

Hermione nodded. "Not the entire twenty years. He was… Well, for a time, he wasn't quite alive or dead. He regained his body in 1995. He won in 1998. It took me a year to execute my plan to return to the past and… adjust things."

"Adjust them how?" Euphemia eyed her curiously.

"The Horcruxes were the main focus. As long as they existed, he wouldn't truly be defeated. But I also wanted to avoid as many deaths as I could. So, I let Dumbledore know enough that he brought me into the fold, and I started my mission."

"Your mission to personally destroy You-Know-Who." Euphemia searched her face. "Why you?"

"I… I played a significant part in the war of my time. There was a man, a boy really, who was destined to defeat Him. But he couldn't, in the end. The odds were stacked against us and there was nothing we could do. The Dark Lord won and my… my friend lost."

"He died." Euphemia's tone was heavy with knowing.

"He did." Hermione's hands shook enough that she ducked them under the table.

James reached over and covered them with his own.

"He had a very difficult life… And he was essentially raised to be a martyr. To sacrifice himself to save the wizarding world. That wasn't the future I wanted for him. So, I came back to change it. For him and everyone else who had been lost or destroyed by the war."

"And so far, you've succeeded." Fleamont nodded slowly. "An admirable goal, my dear."

Hermione flushed. "I think there was a lot more selfishness involved than it might seem."

"Perhaps so, but that doesn't make it any less impactful." He stared at her thoughtfully. "I imagine the Wizarding world owes you quite the debt."

Hermione shook her head quickly. "With any luck, they'll never know. He'll be defeated and will only be remembered for his failures."

"And will you do it yourself?" Euphemia wondered. "Take on The Dark Lord and destroy him for good."

"I'd planned to, once." She squeezed James' hand tightly. "The fewer people put at risk, the better."

"Planned to." Euphemia's gaze fell from Hermione's and stared at her stomach knowingly. "But plans have changed, I see."

James cleared his throat and sat forward in his seat. "Suppose it's a good time to share the news…"

Fleamont chuckled under his breath. "That we're to be grandparents? We might've figured that out already, son." Fleamont winked at his wife. "And what a fetching grandmother you'll make."

Euphemia waved him off, but a smile pulled at her mouth. She returned her attention to Hermione and James quickly, however. "How far along?"

"Four months," James said, quite proudly. "Should be here by the end of July."

"And the wedding?"

Hermione, who had been taking a drink of lemonade to busy herself and settle her nerves, nearly choked on it.

James handed her a napkin and rubbed a hand down her back soothingly. "She's a little skittish when I bring it up."

"I am not skittish," she choked out, her throat raw and her voice strangled.

Grinning at her, James continued to rub soothing circles across her back and shoulders. "I'm executing patience here, Love. If I was being obstinate, I'd have convinced you we follow your elopement plan in France and settle down in a little cabin somewhere."

"It was not a plan…" She folded and refolded her napkin nervously.

"Mmm, right, it was a lovely dream." He arched an eyebrow at her. "Getting rather close to truth now, isn't it?"

"I'll believe it when the war ends."

Euphemia made a noise from deep in her throat. "That could be years. The baby is coming in July. Shouldn't…" She looked between them. "A small ceremony won't take long to plan. And it'll be nice, won't it? To have something to celebrate rather than mourn. I would think a number of your friends would like a nice party to attend."

Hermione looked from Euphemia to James. "I see now where you get it from."

My batted his eyelashes at her. "My formidable charm?"

"Your way of wording things so they seem impossible to argue."

"Have you considered the possibility that you don't want to argue?" He stared at her searchingly. "Maybe you just want someone to tell you it's okay to surrender every once in a while."

"I'd prefer to think of it as compromise."

James leaned in, his chest pressed to her shoulder. His voice was low and deep as he asked, "Is it a compromise to marry me?"

Hermione's gaze bounced from his mouth to his eyes. "No."

His hand skimmed up her neck, fingers tangling in her hair. "What is it then?"

"At this point, I'm leaning toward… inevitable."

He grinned slowly. "Yeah?"

Hermione hummed. "Grow old together, until our wrinkles have wrinkles."

"We'll be just as handsome as ever in our old age," he decided. "Doesn't have to be a big to do. But we'll need to invite a few people."

"Your parents, Dorcas, Remus, and Sirius."

"Perfect. How's Saturday sound?"

"This Saturday?" She laughed. "James, that's three days away."

"That's plenty of time," Euphemia decided. "We can have it here in the garden. It'll be lovely."

Hermione's gaze left his and moved to his parents uncertainly. "You hardly know me. And I was just revealed to be a time traveler. Shouldn't you be more wary of me joining the family?"

Fleamont stirred a cube of sugar into his tea. "Do you love our son, Hermione?"

She swallowed tightly. "Very much." Her eyes returned to James. "More than I ever expected to and more than I think I could ever explain."

He smiled at her, soft and warm. Leaning down, he pressed his face to her shoulder, kissing her arm.

"I think it's safe to say he loves you just as much." Fleamont hummed. "A wedding is just a ceremony. It's the marriage that takes time and work. We know our son well enough to know that when he sets his mind on something, it's for good reason. He's chosen you and, while we might not know you as well as we'd like, we trust his judgement."

"Besides, there's plenty of time for us to get to know each other better," Euphemia said. "Time, I imagine, you helped create for us."

Hermione flushed. "I didn't know for sure if the vaccine would help."

"But you took a chance, and for that, we can only be grateful." Euphemia nodded. "Welcome to the family, Hermione."

Hermione's heart squeezed. Oh, she didn't realize how good that would sound and feel and be.

…

15 March 1980

Standing in front of a mirror in the parlour, Hermione admired her wedding dress. It was simple, classic, and white with a cuffed, off-the-shoulder neckline. It was nothing like the current 80's fashion that Muggles enjoyed but it also wasn't quite as demure as what the Wizarding world would prefer. She loved it, however. It had taken more than a few hours to find, but Euphemia hadn't complained once. Instead, when she eventually walked out in the dress of her choice and made it clear that this was it, Euphemia had merely smiled.

Hermione smoothed her hand over her stomach, the fabric loose enough to hide her bump. She flattened the fabric out and turned to the side to see it.

"I was the same." Euphemia crossed the room toward her. "I couldn't believe I was pregnant. I'd tried for so long with no success. When it finally happened, I was ecstatic, and utterly terrified."

Hermione raised her eyes to meet hers. "Every morning, I wake up and think I might've dreamt it all."

"It's a surreal feeling." Euphemia reached out and cupped her hand delicately under the curve of Hermione's stomach. "It'll feel that way for a while. And then, before you know it, they'll be here, and that might be even more terrifying. They're so small and fragile and you'll feel so big and clumsy."

"I have no idea how to be a mother." Hermione covered Euphemia's hand with her own. "I'm already worried I've messed things up."

"You'll drive yourself mad thinking that way. We were all first-time parents once. We've all been scared and nervous and sure we were doing it all wrong. But you aren't. You'll make mistakes, just the same as anyone, but as long as you love them, if you do everything with that in mind, that's all that matters."

Hermione drew a deep breath. "I wish my mum was here. I wish I could talk to her about this. I wish she could know them."

Euphemia reached up to cup her cheek. "She would be proud of you. After all you've done, everything you've sacrificed… You deserve this. A family of your own."

Hermione nodded, even as her eyes stung. "I… I know we're still getting to know each other, but I have so many questions and… I already know you're a wonderful mum, so if I could ask you—"

"Of course." Euphemia blinked quickly against her own tears and then delicately smoothed out the collar of Hermione's dress. "I always wanted a daughter. I can't replace your mother and I would never want to, but you… You and this baby, Hermione, you're my family too. You can always come to me, for anything."

Hermione bit her lip as her mouth quivered. "Thank you."

"Now." Euphemia raised her chin. "I have something for you."

"You've already done so much."

"This is a little for myself too." Euphemia called for Mipsy, who brought with her a long white box. Euphemia thanked her and placed the box on a table. She pulled the top off and revealed a bed of tulle. Gently, she pulled it from the box and held it high, letting it unfold itself. It was a veil covered in closed white flower buds, stems, and leaves, and peppered with pearls. "I wore this to my own wedding and I would be honored if you did the same."

Hermione's hand touched the delicate tulle. "Are you sure?"

Euphemia smiled and motioned for Hermione to spin and face the mirror. "My grandmother was a seamstress. The things she created with a good needle and her wand were awe-inspiring. She made this for my mother and she passed it down to me. And now I'm passing it to you." She laid it over Hermione's head, drawing the fabric forward to drape across her face. It was so sheer, the flowers seemed to float around her. "There's a little extra magic to it. You'll see when you walk down the aisle."

Hermione stared at herself in the mirror and felt unmistakeably beautiful. "Thank you."

Dorcas appeared then, grinning at her. "I believe I was tasked with walking you down the aisle." She held an elbow out for Hermione to take. "Ready, Granger?"

Stepping forward, Hermione took her arm. "Ready."

Euphemia went ahead to join the small wedding party outside.

Dorcas took her time walking Hermione through the house and toward the gardens. "If you'd asked me a year ago if I thought I'd be walking a time traveler down the aisle to marry James Potter, I'd have laughed my arse off."

"Thank you for coming. I know this must be a little strange…"

Dorcas snorted. "My entire life these days is strange. This isn't even the first wedding I've been a part of this year. War has a funny way of bringing people together."

Hermione chewed her lip. "I never expected any of this. I… I didn't really plan beyond defeating You-Know-Who."

"We're nearly there. Consider this an early celebration for all your hard work." Dorcas bumped their shoulders together. "I might never know how bad it could have gotten, but I know I'm grateful to you for what you've done."

"I don't think I can take credit for everything. You and everyone in The Order have done so much to help people."

"We do our part. And it's for moments like this. If You-Know-Who had his way, we'd all be stuck on pause. Which is exactly why we should be out here, living our lives. Getting married, having babies, creating a future for ourselves. You can't fight for something you don't believe is possible."

They stepped outside then, into the garden where her people, her family, stood waiting.

Dorcas walked her down the aisle, coming to a stop just short of where a wide-eyed, besotted James stood. She squeezed Hermione's hand before she held it out for James to take.

The moment his hand found hers, Hermione realized what Euphemia meant. The closed flower buds of her veil suddenly opened, their white petals unfurling, and tiny winking diamonds were tucked at the center of each. For all that Hermione was mesmerized, James only had eyes for her.

Standing before the officiator, Hermione held both of James' hands in hers. His thumbs stroked across her knuckles soothingly.

Given they only had a few days, the ceremony itself was quite simple, but James had insisted on writing his own vows. Not to be outdone, Hermione agreed.

"All right." James slid a gold band onto her finger. "A year ago, you showed up and turned my life on its head in the best way. And with a lot of patience and persistence, here we are… I know you don't believe in love at first sight and I know you never expected to find yourself here. But I knew from the moment I met you that you were it. You can call that obstinate, but I call it fate. I knew if you took a chance on me, I'd love you most. I'd love you best. It'll be me and you for the rest of my days and I'll do everything I can to make it worth it." He pulled her hands up to his chest and squeezed them. "You're my soul mate, Hermione, and I'm gonna convince you yet."

Hermione bit down hard on her lip when it wobbled. Accepting the wedding band from Dorcas, she slid it down James' finger, staring at it for a long moment. She had practiced her speech a dozen times, but now it seemed a jumble in her mind.

Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. "I never expected you. I never expected any of this. And that is both scary and exhilarating. You surprised me, like you always do, and no matter how much I told myself I shouldn't, I fell in love with you so quickly… Because you are so easy to love."

He smiled, but she could see the way it trembled with emotion.

"I have no idea what the future holds. I have no idea how long forever is. But I know that I will never regret you. You make me happy and you make me laugh and you make me dream of a future I didn't believe was possible until you." She sniffled. "So, I don't know about love at first sight. But I do know that you're my partner and my best friend and the love of my life. And I look forward to seeing what adventures we'll have in the years to come."

James nodded, blinking shiny eyes. He bounced a knee as he released her hand to dash a hand over his eyes. And then he was lifting her veil and gently lowering it behind her head as he bent to kiss her. He didn't wait for a sign from the officiator; he never was one for rules. Hermione laughed as he hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her up against his chest, her feet not quite reaching the ground. She buried a hand in his hair and met each of his slanting kisses with a smile.

Sirius wolf-whistled.

The officiator cleared his throat, shaking his head.

James popped one last kiss on her lips before letting her down. "Sorry," he said, not the least bit apologetic.

"Just a little longer, Mister Potter, and you can kiss your bride to your heart's content."

James wiggled his eyebrows at her.

The officiator looked between them. "Now, hands together." He placed his wand their hands were folded and stacked. "Do you, James Fleamont Potter, take Hermione Jean Granger, to be your lawfully wedded wife? Sharing in your life and magic, from this day unto your last day, with love, honor, and respect. Walking beside her in all things, as partners and companions, through any trial or tribulation that life may set before you?"

"I do." A silver string left the officiator's wand and wound itself around James' hand, reaching as far as his wrist.

"And do you, Hermione Jean Granger, take James Fleamont Potter, to be your lawfully wedded husband? Sharing in your life and magic, from this day unto your last day, with love, honor, and respect. Walking beside him in all things, as partners and companions, through any trial or tribulation that life may set before you?"

"I do." The silver string lengthened, circling her hand and wrist.

"Then by the power vested in me by the Ministry of Magic, I bind you. Your hearts, your magic, and your lives, forever intertwined, so long as you both shall live." The string glowed a bright white before sinking into their skin. "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Potter, you are united. And now…" He grinned. "You are free to kiss your bride."

"Finally." James laughed as he made a show of dipping her back and kissing her senseless.

…

5 April 1980

Hermione's wide eyes swiveled around, trying to take in every detail. "This is not an Easter gift. This is a literal home." It was a handsome two-storey brick house. "A gift would be chocolate. It's… entirely too much."

James shrugged. "Mum and dad are generous. And they want us to have a place we can make our own. Plus, it's unplottable. We'll be safe here for as long as we need."

Hermione swallowed tightly. "It's beautiful, don't get me wrong. I just feel like I'm taking advantage somehow."

"It's one of a few Potter properties. You're family, so it's just as much yours as it is mine. Quite literally, now. They signed it over to us."

"James…" She shook her head, utterly floored. "We have a home."

Humming, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. "I'll always think of our flat fondly, but Sirius and Remus will appreciate the upgrade."

Hermione towed him along with her as she circled the house to look at the sprawling space that surrounded it. "The field will be perfect for the full moon. We can put up wards, but Moony will have plenty of space to run around. And so will you and Padfoot."

James nuzzled her face. "I love you."

Covering his hands where they lay stacked against her expanding stomach, she leaned back into him. "I love you too."

…

26 April 1980

"At it again are they?" Sirius unscrewed the cap from a bottle of butterbeer and took a long swig.

Remus and Hermione's raised voices could be heard echoing from the Potter library. A common occurrence when visiting James' parents each Sunday.

"What are they on about this time?"

"Goblin wars, last I checked." James looked up from Quidditch magazine he'd been reading. "Been at it for an hour."

"What's their record?"

"Three. But then she started crying and he forfeited."

"Got him with the tears." Sirius shook his head. "Amateur move on his part."

"She admitted later she'd run out of arguments but she hates conceding." James grinned. "I was a little proud of her. Poor Moony looked terrified. He begged me to make her stop."

"Cunning little witch, isn't she?"

"She'd have to be to get as far as she has." Euphemia swanned past them. "James, dear, do break them up soon. Mipsy gets worried when Hermione works herself up. Thinks it'll harm the baby."

James went still. "Will it?"

"No, of course not. A little friendly discourse is perfectly fine." Euphemia waved him off. "You know Hermione, though. She's very passionate."

Worried now, James abandoned his magazine and made his way to the library, Sirius hot on his heels. He stepped inside only to be met with a wave of overlapping voices, each trying to outdo each other.

"—wouldn't know a goblin from a garden gnome with that attitude!"

"—hardly consider them disenfranchised when they have a monopoly on—"

"All right!" James whistled loudly to draw their attention. "Enough arguing already. You're upsetting Mipsy."

"It's not arguing." Hermione frowned. "It's debate. And Remus is wrong."

"I am not wrong; I simply think that things are not nearly so clean cut as you would like to think they are. Just like with the house elves issue."

"Oh, don't you start on that."

"I am going to start because we never came to any agreed upon conclusion. House elves are—"

"—unpaid slaves!"

"—and essential part of the magical community. In the right families, under the right circumstances—"

"Which nobody controls or facilitates—"

"—think Mipsy would want to serve anyone else—"

"—it's about giving them rights and respecting their needs and wishes—"

James swooped in and wrapped an arm around Hermione. "How do you feel about a snack and a nap?"

She blinked at him. "What sort of snack?"

He grinned. "Anything your heart desires."

Squinting at him, she hummed. "I could be convinced…"

"Wonderful. Let's go." He led her toward the door.

"This isn't over!" Hermione called over her shoulder.

Remus grinned back at her. "Not by a long shot."

…

19 May 1980

"Sirius Black, if you touch my peanut butter, so help me, they will never find your body."

Sirius, a spoon mid-scoop in the peanut butter jar, weighed his options as he stared at the door leading into the living room where his very pregnant friend was currently doing what she called yoga.

"Yesterday, you told me you hated peanut butter and that the smell made you nauseous."

"That was yesterday." She sighed, loud and dismissive. "Yesterday, my bladder wasn't being stomped on every five seconds. Yesterday, I could see my toes. And yesterday, my favorite trousers fit."

Shoving the spoonful of peanut butter in his mouth, he licked it clean before putting the lid back on the jar and shoving it in the closest cupboard. Dropping the spoon in the sink, he sauntered into the living room.

Hermione was currently laying face down on the floor with one leg tucked under her and the other stretched out behind her.

"Is that comfortable?" he wondered, leaning against the doorjamb.

"It's the pigeon pose." Her hands were pressed together like a prayer while her forehead rested atop her raised thumbs. "It's supposed to help with lower-back tension."

"Is it working?"

"I don't know." She raised her head. "I can't feel my right leg."

Sirius bit the inside of his cheek. "You want some help up?"

"Yes." She blew out a weighty sigh. "But you have to go slow. I wasn't kidding about my bladder. The lightest pressure seems to set it off."

Crossing the floor, he stepped behind her and reached his hands under her armpits. "All things considered, this is hardly the worst position I've found you in…"

Hermione groaned. "You never knock!"

"How was I supposed to know you and Prongs would be getting frisky on the kitchen table?"

"By knocking, so we could tell you not to come in."

"Sounds time-consuming." Sirius carefully pulled her back until she was sitting upright. "All right, now I'll just pull you up onto your feet. If your leg gives out, have no fear, I won't drop you."

"You said that last time and I had a bruise on my arse the size of a cantaloupe."

"Have you ever asked yourself why it's always me finding you in these strange positions?"

"No, because you're the only one of my friends who doesn't have a job currently. You spend most of your time eating my food and watching my telly. I know for a fact you're only here because your favorite soap is on."

Sirius rolled his eyes and brought her up until her feet were under her. Her right leg was still clearly unusable as she leaned into his side while she gave it a good shake to wake it up. "You're the one that got me hooked on that ridiculous show."

"That's hardly my fault." She sniffed. "I was sick and my eyes blurred whenever I tried to read."

"Right, so the only other option is trashy daytime telly. I'm not here to judge." He glanced at the sofa behind them. "You want to sit down or you want help getting to the loo?"

Her face turned a ripe pink. "The loo."

Sirius grinned. "Was that so hard?"

"Where's my wand?" she grumbled.

Barking a laugh, Sirius led her down the hall. "Safely out of reach."

Hermione tipped her head and sniffed him. "You ate that peanut butter, didn't you?"

Clearing his throat, he hurried their steps. "Look, you relieve your poor bladder, I'll grab us some snacks, and we'll watch my soap together. If you're really nice, I'll even give you a foot rub."

"Fine. But I want something spicy to eat."

Sirius sighed. "James said that gives you heartburn."

"Is James here?"

"…no." Sirius shrugged. "All right. But I accept no responsibility later."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'll still blame you; you just won't be here to defend yourself."

...

8 June 1980

"Oh Gods, right there," she whined. "Oooh... Yes! Your hands are so good..."

James grinned at her from where he laid across the end of their bed, rubbing his thumbs down the arch of her foot. "I don't know if I'm flattered or disappointed that you're this vocal over a foot rub."

"When your feet swell as badly as mine have and you have to carry around a baby for months on end, then we'll talk."

Squeezing her ankle, he turned over onto his knees and started climbing her body. He rubbed his fingers along the underside of her leg, teased the back of her knee, and ran his knuckles along the inside of her thigh. Laying himself down next to her, he rubbed soothing circles across the rounded curve of her stomach, searching for the now familiar kick. When he felt it, he grinned. "You want a back rub too?"

"I knew I married you for a reason."

"My devastating good looks, endless charm, and single-minded determination?"

"Perks, but not the main reason."

"All this for my fingers." He sighed in faux-disappointment. "I would've shared them with you gladly if you'd just asked."

Hermione snorted. "You're an idiot," she muttered.

"But I'm your idiot."

Shaking her head, she failed to subdue a smile. "How'd I get so lucky?"

"Good behaviour?"

"Somehow, I doubt it." Reaching up, she brushed his hair back from his face and gave him that soft, adoring look that he loved so much. "But I'll take it."

…

30 July 1980

Hermione was not panicking. She was pacing, but she was not panicking.

James walked into the living room, a piece of parchment dangling from two fingers. "It's from Frank. He and Alice had a healthy baby boy. Named him Neville."

A smile bloomed on her face even as tears sprung to her eyes. "He'll be wonderful. He's so kind and brave and smart." She sniffled. "We can't ever let Bellatrix get near them. Her or Dolohov. Neville deserves to grow up with his parents."

"And he will." James crossed the floor and took her hands. "Hey, come sit down. You're wearing a hole in the carpet."

Hermione let herself be led to the sofa and tried to focus on her breathing. "If this baby comes tomorrow…"

"Could be a coincidence. We probably won't know for sure until he's a little older."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm terrified I'm putting too much pressure on them. If it's not Harry, I don't want you or them to think I'm disappointed. I- I love them."

"I know." He gathered her close and rubbed her arm. "It'll be okay. The baby is healthy and so are you. Dumbledore's last letter was promising. He thinks he has a way to lure Moldypants out in the open."

She nodded, but she couldn't help feeling like she couldn't let her guard down. It didn't matter that they were tucked away in a location that only those closest to them knew about. Until Halloween of next year passed without fanfare, she wouldn't be convinced it was truly over. And she knew, there could be no coincidence so specific that her baby was born the same day as Harry unless it was Harry.

Her hand stroked circles across her stomach soothingly. "I'm excited. Completely racked with nerves but excited all the same."

"I know. Me too." He dragged his hand up and down her side. "You're gonna be an amazing mum."

Teary-eyed, she tilted her head back to see him. "And you're going to be the best dad."

…

31 July 1980

While James would not be complaining anytime soon, as that would likely result in further injury, he was fairly sure that she had crushed every bone in his right hand. He would have to ask the healer currently delivering their baby for a spare bottle of Skele-grow after. For now, he would just grin and bear it… with a whole lot of yelling as she clamped down on his hand and—

"Push!" the healer urged. "Come on, one more good one. There you go."

Hermione shook her head, her damp, wild curls clinging to her face and neck. "I can't. I can't."

"Sure, you can." James stroked her forehead. "Hey, you're the strongest person I know."

Crying, Hermione stared up at him. "What if I didn't do enough? What if it's Harry and the prophecy stays the same? What if he loses us and he has to live in some cupboard under the stairs? I don't want that for him. I don't want that for our baby."

James leaned down, pressing his face to her cheek. "They won't. Even if, by some strange and awful twist of fate, we die. They will have Sirius and Remus and my parents. They won't be alone, Hermione. I promise. We're going to do this. You and me, we'll be there the whole time. No matter what comes. Prophecy or no. I'll never let anyone hurt our family."

"Okay. Okay, let's do this." She blew out a shaky breath and squeezed his hand. "Just... don't let go?"

James smiled. "Never," he vowed.

"We're almost there, Hermione," the healer said. "I need you to give it all you've got."

Hermione shifted around in her squatted position. "I should've tried the pool birth idea. Next time, I just want to float in water and let them swim their way out."

James perked up. "Next time?"

"Years from now," she warned.

He merely grinned.

…

An exhausted Hermione lay in the center of her and James' bed, her back propped up against a pile of pillows. The healer had left her with a collection of potions from blood replenishing to healing to a sleeping draught, telling her to get as much rest as she could and let the boys handle things for a few hours. But Hermione didn't want to sleep. She didn't even want to blink.

James— his hand bandaged and a Skele-gro potion fixing what she'd damaged— sat as close as he could get, his arm around her and his head resting on her shoulder. Trailing a finger over a wrinkled forehead and the tiniest nose, James murmured, "He's perfect."

Hermione let out a shuddery little sigh. "He is."

"It's him then, isn't it?"

Blinking back tears, she whispered, "I think so, yeah."

"Resilient little guy, isn't he? Defying all the odds and time itself."

Hermione laughed. "That sounds like him."

"Well." James stroked his fingers through the wispy black hair of his newborn's son head. "Welcome to the world, Harry. We're going to give you an amazing life, little man."

Hermione dropped her head against James'. "The best life."

…

"So, this is my infamous godson, hm?" Sirius cradled Harry in his arms, grinning down at him. "I see a Marauder in there for sure."

Remus rubbed a knuckle around Harry's ear. "He's so tiny."

Hermione gripped James' hand tight. "We've talked about it and we want you both to be his godfathers. If anything should ever happen to us—"

"It won't," Sirius declared in a firm voice that left little room for doubt. And she knew, oh, she knew Sirius believed he would never let what had happened to the previous Harry happen to this one.

"But if it does…" Hermione said. "Then we wouldn't want anyone else but the two of you to… to bring Harry up. You would be what we couldn't be. You would love him and guide him the way we would. I… I can't imagine any other people who would love him as fiercely as I know you both will."

Remus blinked quickly. "As a werewolf, if something happened, they would never let me—"

"If Sirius has to be the one we list on paper, so be it. But I want it on the record that we're naming you both. I don't care what the Ministry has to say about your affliction and whether that has any bearing on your ability to be a parent. I know you, Remus. And I trust my son with you." She stared at him seriously. "If we're lost and Sirius somehow gets himself killed or imprisoned, then you take Harry. Steal him away somewhere if you have to. Show whoever you need to the memory of this moment, because I am telling you, my son will be raised by people who love him and no one else."

Gulping down a lump of emotion, Remus nodded. "I promise."

James grinned up at them. "That's the worst-case scenario, boys. Best case is that you lot get to just spoil him rotten while we do all the hard work."

Hermione elbowed him. "You'll spoil him just as much, if not more."

He kissed her cheek as he said, "You bet your perfect arse I will."

Whether from exhaustion or defeat, Hermione didn't even bother to argue with him. After all, she planned to spoil their little boy too. Harry would have everything he always deserved. He would grow up with so much love and laughter, he would never know what it was to be without it.

author's note: sorry for the long wait! i started a bunch of other prompts but then they ballooned and will likely become their own stand alone stories, so keep an eye out. i still have at least one other piece to this specific series of shorts planned. but i'm happy with where we're at here and i hope you are too. :)

thanks so much for reading. please try to leave a review!
~ Lee | Fina