Hello hello my lovelies! Happy Valentine's Day I guess.
I wasn't planning on updating for the rest of this month (I'm on a writing hiatus, I'm trying to focus on IRL stuff, as well as read other people's fics and some of the books I've been meaning to), but, earlier I thought what the heck, and now here we are.
Please, please leave a review and let me know what you think ;)
My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com (I mentioned the writing hiatus on there, so if you ever want to ask me anything or find out things like that, then that is a good place to go.)
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
Hermione slowly blew on the piping hot cup of tea clasped in between her hands, careful not to move her head even so much as an inch—in order to not disturb Lily: currently the redhead's fingers were deftly weaving back and forth as she braided Hermione's hair.
Lily began to hum absently, shifting on the bed slightly as she reached halfway down Hermione's back, "Hermione?"
"Yes, Lily?" Hermione asked, taking a prim sip of her aromatic jasmine tea, staring out of the window across the room at the snow gently cascading unassumingly from the light grey expanse of sky.
Hermione pursed her lips irritably when she recalled how she'd argued with Draco about whether the first snowfall would occur today or not whilst they cuddled in the Room of Requirement.
It's like the bloody menace can smell snow, it's absolutely ridiculous, Hermione grumbled internally.
"Are you and Remus secretly back together?" Lily asked cavalierly, not halting in her task, and quickly resuming her pleasant, merry humming.
Hermione almost choked on air, eyes wide, "no, why would you think that?"
Lily's humming halted, her fingers stilled, and in a nonchalant tone she said, "you've got the same happy glow you used to have when you were getting shagged regularly. Thought it couldn't hurt to ask."
Lily paused for a moment, as if contemplating her next words carefully, "if you are back together then you can tell me you know."
"Trust me, Lils, if Remus and I were to get back together—which is highly unlikely—you'll be the first to know," Hermione said with a faint smile, risking another sip of her tea.
Hermione felt a light tug as Lily resumed plaiting her hair. The redhead's voice brimmed with mirth as she replied, "good, I'm glad—that you'd tell me first I mean."
"Of course."
Lily finished up moments later, wrapping a hair tie tightly at the bottom of the thick braid before releasing it to trail down the length of Hermione's back.
No, I'm most certainly not getting shagged, Hermione thought wryly, Draco always pulls back when things get too intense, because 'he wants to take things slow'.
"Mione," Lily said in a hushed whisper, her hand sliding onto Hermione's shoulder.
"Yes, Lily?" Hermione asked as she twisted to look at her friend—whose gaze was fixed on some unknown object on her desk, Hermione craned her head slightly as to determine what she was supposed to be looking at, but gave up as soon as Lily's voice caught her attention.
"I think we should do something crazy," Lily murmured.
The item that had captured Lily's attention earlier was now carefully held in Hermione's hand—a pair of razor sharp scissors.
At first Hermione had outright refused, but Lily wore her down with her persuasive pleading—mainly clutching onto Hermione, wrapping legs around her waist and refusing to let go until Hermione agreed—and Hermione gave in to her friend's request.
"Are you sure?" Hermione had asked numerous times, but the crimson haired girl's answer never changed.
Hermione worked quickly and quietly, frankly unsure as to what she was doing, but she put her best foot forward nonetheless, and tried her very best.
After a long moment of examining her handiwork with her brow furrowed in concentration, Hermione curtly nodded, she'd done a fairly bang up job if she did say so herself.
"Accio hand mirror," Hermione whispered, but swore as the aforementioned item rattled, and knocked over some random objects beside it on her desk as it sailed towards her—Hermione nimbly caught the mirror, scrunching her nose up at the tiny stinging trail that traversed her palm upon impact.
"Hopefully you don't regret this, or hate me, or hate it," Hermione blurted out, hesitantly handing the mirror to the girl sitting cross-legged on the chair in front of her.
"I love it!" Lily exclaimed, rocking the chair slightly as she half jumped in excitement, and Hermione's hands were about to shoot out and steady the girl, but then she recalled that the scissors were still in her hand, and she froze.
Best rid myself of these, Hermione thought, shaking her head as she walked over to Lily's desk and returned the scissors from whence they came.
When Hermione faced Lily once more, she couldn't help the smile that bloomed across her face at the joy Lily was radiating.
The redhead was tilting her head this way and that, running her hands backwards across the top of her head.
"Thank you so much, Mione!" Lily said brightly, head swivelling in Hermione's direction, a giddy peal of laughter leaving her lips as she once more turned to disbelievingly admire her reflection, "it's marvellous."
Hermione leaned back against the desk behind her, and folded her arms loosely over her chest, "I'm glad you like it."
"You don't think it's too short do you?" Lily asked, a touch worried as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth.
"Do you?" Hermione queried, straightening up and slowly sauntering over to the lioness, gingerly avoiding the rivers of hair pooling on the floor around Lily once she got close enough, "it's your hair, Lily, not mine."
Lily glanced at the floor, her gaze lingering there as she gnawed on her bottom lip, "no, I love it," Lily smiled gently, raising her head to meet Hermione's eye.
"Good," Hermione responded, reaching out to brush off some of the hair sticking to the sheet she'd wrapped around Lily before they'd started.
Before Hermione cut it, Lily's hair had trailed down to her lower back and now she had maybe two or three inches on her head—and that was being generous.
Hermione's ears perked up as she caught a round of unabashed laughter coming from the stairwell outside, a smile tugged at her mouth as she recognised whose laughter it was, and she span towards the door just as Kira entered the room.
The smile died on Kira's face and confusion quickly replaced it as she processed the scene before her, and she was so thankful that she was privy to the priceless moment when Kira finally registered what had happened.
"What's wrong?" Hermione heard Nancy say from around the bend.
"Butter my pumpkin and call me Sally," Kira said, flabbergasted as she cautiously strode forward.
"What did you just say?" Alice frowned as she followed after the mocha skinned witch, head down, one hand holding her knapsack up as she rumpled around in it with her other. She froze when she stepped on a small pile of crimson hair. "What in Godric's name—"
"Do you like it?" Lily asked nervously, twisting around in the chair to face all of them, "we match Nancy."
The initial shock wore off and Kira closed the remaining distance between them, stopping right behind Lily and playing with the short hairs on the girl's nape, "I think it's fucking brilliant," Kira smirked.
Lily preened under her fellow lioness's compliments, and the broad grin on her face threatened to break it: Hermione tugged her friend off of the chair, fluidly removing the sheet and carelessly discarding it to the side—it flapped about as it moved to hit the ground—before twirling her about in a circle in front of the others.
Lily couldn't have been happier about her decision, at least that's what she thought: the satisfaction she found in her new haircut, only increased tenfold when James let out a garbled squeak of surprise upon seeing her at dinner that night.
Hermione playfully tugged Lily into her lap—the witches were sitting a ways away from their fellow Sixth Years—and Lily pressed her lips together, suppressing her laughter as she watched Sirius and Draco attempt to talk to a gobsmacked James Potter.
A moment later Lily gave her full attention to Hermione, tugging at a short curl near her temple that had escaped her braid.
No, she couldn't be happier about chopping off all her hair, not even if she tried.
Tuesday, December 7th, 1976
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
I wonder if I should stop by the kitchens before I go to the Infirmary, Hermione mused, her eyes scanning the massive bookshelves for a title on Inferi. The girl paused, squinting at one of the books, trying to ascertain if it was the tome she'd been searching for.
Hermione never had any personal experience with the Dark Creatures—unlike Harry had in their Sixth Year—for which she was extremely grateful. Their new DADA Professor—a frail woman with a sharp tongue, wide set brown eyes, and a vehement temperament to make up for what she lacked physically—informed them that they would be learning about the Creatures in their subsequent class.
Remus will probably be hankering for some proper food to eat, maybe I can convince Tippy to give me a nice chunk of chocolate cake, Hermione thought, waving her wand and non-verbally summoning the book she'd fixated on—hoping that it would have what she was looking for.
She grimaced slightly when the book landed in her hands—it was heavier than it looked—and she lifted the cover, and proceeded to flip through a few pages before coming across the first proper page of the text (which appeared not to have any form of table of contents). Hermione pursed her lips as her eyes flew across the introduction.
This will probably have what I need, she thought, twisting her mouth to the side.
Honestly, Hermione didn't need to brush up on Inferi like she'd told Lily before she rushed out of the Common Room, she simply wanted some quiet, alone time.
"Well this is a change, you normally aren't in here unless exams are round the corner," a familiar voice said on Hermione's right, the amusement in their tone abundantly clear. Hermione languidly turned to face the honey blonde witch, casually shutting the thick, hefty book with a soft thud before she hugged it to her person.
"Marlene," Hermione smirked, strolling towards the witch and halting about a foot away from her, "I've been in this library more times than I can count."
"Really? That's a shame, I thought you could count higher than ten, Potter," Marlene drawled, ducking her head to examine her well manicured nails.
Hermione snorted, choking back a laugh in an attempt not to cause a ruckus, or an inordinate amount of noise, "you're funny, McKinnon."
Marlene cocked an eyebrow, "is this the part where I'm supposed to say something nice about you?"
Bemused, Hermione shook her head, "no…is there something I can do for you, Marlene?"
Marlene pursed her lips, her hand falling limply to her side as she gazed thoughtfully at Hermione, "not today. Today I just want to talk."
"To talk?" Hermione asked curiously, raising an eyebrow.
"I—do—do you think we can still be…friends or whatever, despite the fact that I'm not dating your brother anymore?" Marlene asked evenly, face impassive.
Yea, funny how that works, now I'm dating the git, Hermione chirped internally.
"I wasn't under the impression that you considered us friends," Hermione said, both eyebrows shooting upwards now.
"Fuck off, Potter, you know what I mean," Marlene grumbled, she kissed her teeth together and then made a half turn as if about to leave, "forget I said anything—"
Hermione's hand shot out and grabbed ahold of Marlene's delicate wrist, and the snake stiffened, but, she didn't withdraw her hand as she shifted to look Hermione directly in the eye—it was only in that moment that Hermione properly registered the height difference between them (in that Marlene was almost half a foot taller than her). "I would like to be friends, Marlene. Truly."
Marlene narrowed her eyes once more, as if she didn't believe Hermione, "you're not saying that because of some weird Gryffindor thing, or out of a strange obligation to your brother." It sounded like a statement as opposed to a query, but Hermione thought perhaps she should respond regardless.
"No, I'm not. You can actually hold a decent conversation, you're fucking funny even when you don't try to be, plus, you smell nice," Hermione shrugged, and when Marlene's eyes flicked downwards, Hermione noticed she was still holding onto the Slytherin and immediately released her.
"Stop flirting with me, Potter," Marlene stated dryly after a long, drawn out pause, but then she began to grin wryly.
Hermione rolled her eyes, "fuck off, McKinnon," and the Gryffindor sidestepped the blonde, making a direct line for Pince's desk so she could check out the book—holding it in only one hand had worn it out, and the muscle twitched when she shifted the brunt of it to her other arm.
"You'd like that wouldn't you?" Marlene called after her, and instantly several shushing sounds erupted from various points in their immediate surroundings.
Hermione shook her head, but didn't look back, too busy thinking about how she certainly, hadn't anticipated becoming friends with Marlene McKinnon on an errant trip down to the library on a slow Tuesday evening.
"Friends? You're friends with Marly? Draco's jaw dropped. "You don't like her."
Draco had chosen the appearance of the Room of Requirement today: it was an exact replica of his room back at Potter Manor, save for the lack of natural light—they made due with the magical, artificial light the Room had provided.
Hermione had kicked her shoes off before bolting for the bed, and with the excitement of a little kid she did a front flip onto the soft mattress.
Draco merely smirked before strolling over to the bed, stopping just shy of it, "you are something to behold, Hermione." The wizard reached down and played with one of her curls that were tumbling over the edge of the bed.
"Stop talking and come here," Hermione commanded, holding her arms out to him, her legs rubbing together as she stretched, her back arching slightly as her hands glided over his black trousers and gripped him around the back of his thighs.
"Say please."
"Piss off," Hermione scowled, immediately withdrawing her hands, but Draco caught them before they fully returned to their owner.
Draco slipped out of his own shoes, and promptly climbed into the bed beside his witch, who wasted no time in adjusting her position so she was laying across his lap.
The two then discussed whether the handful of dates Kira and Peter had been on would blossom into a full relationship, or merely have been a brief tryst. When, out of the blue, Hermione recalled her recent friendship with Marlene—if one could truly call it that.
The flummoxed, priceless, expression on Draco's face hadn't gone away since she'd mentioned said friendship.
Hermione rolled her eyes, toying with the fingers on his left hand with both of hers, "rubbish. At first I didn't like the fact that you were dating her when I—"
"When you what?" Draco asked teasingly , closing his hand around one of her index fingers.
"If you would allow me to finish speaking then you might know by now," Hermione said sardonically, scrunching up her nose as she traced patterns on the back of his enclosed hand with her free one.
Draco shivered involuntarily, and she grinned at his reaction, at the reaction she caused, "as an individual, I quite like McKinnon. She's fascinating."
"Fascinating," Draco repeated, rolling his shoulders back, and a loud, satisfying crack shortly followed the motion, "that is frankly not the first word that comes to mind when describing Marlene."
Hermione snorted at that, turning her head to the side and staring at the other side of the room, "I'm sure." It was a bit petulant, but she withdrew her hand from his, and then folded her arms over her chest.
Sometimes when Hermione looked at Marlene a trickle of insecurity and uncertainty slid down her spine, after all, the witch was gorgeous, not to mention she had an incredibly sharp mind—and that wasn't even scratching the surface of all the remarkable qualities the witch held.
She wasn't jealous of Marlene because of the fact that she'd dated Draco, nor did she mind the fact that Draco had loved the witch. It was the silliest thing, but Hermione was more concerned with whether she would be able to live up to his prior relationship.
"Are you jealous, princess?" Draco murmured, and she could hear the amusement in his voice.
"No," Hermione replied curtly, clenching her teeth and refusing to look at him.
"You have nothing to be jealous of," Draco said, lightly gripping her chin and turning her face in his direction. "Marlene and I don't even talk anymore, and if we did it would be as friends. We broke up for a reason, and I'm dating you now."
"I. Am. Not. Jealous," Hermione spat.
Draco's eyebrow rose at that, "you are, and it's kind of adorable."
"I'm not—"
"Yea, I know," Draco smiled faintly, "Hermione, I love you, you are the most exceptional person I know, and that's saying something considering I've been raised by Cissa and now Mum. Besides, I don't get jealous of you and Moony, and how close you both still are."
"That's entirely different," Hermione said, but faltered before she added anything further. She'd never really thought about how Draco felt about her and Remus's tight knit friendship—Kira, Lily and Alice were convinced that they were secretly still shagging, whilst Nancy had refrained from commenting.
"Do—do you mind Remus and I being such good friends still?" Hermione bit her lip, suddenly feeling foolish.
"Of course not, he's family, he's pack. Your—our relationship with him is unique," Draco replied without a lick of hesitation, "plus, you're mine now."
"Yours," Hermione repeated, smiling up at him, she reached up and grasped his face, "mine."
"Yours," Draco echoed, tilting his head to the side.
"You really don't mind—about Remus I mean?" Hermione asked once again.
"Gorgeous, I really don't. He's our werewolf, remember?"
"I remember," Hermione said with a gentle smile.
Draco's brow drew together in thick contemplation for a moment, and then in a tone laced with caution he said, "just be careful, Marlene can be exceptionally perceptive." The animagus reached out and cupped her cheek, his thumb moving up and down soothingly, and Hermione instinctively leaned into his hand, closing her eyes.
"Of course, lovely, I'm always careful," Hermione said, sitting up and scooting closer to her wizard so that she was practically in his lap, fingers curling against his cheeks.
"You? Now that's a riot, always my arse—"
"Hush," Hermione interjected, nudging his chin with her nose, "you're one to talk."
"Me?" Draco quirked a brow, cocking his head to the side, his face much closer now, their breath intermingling, "don't try to shift this onto me."
"Potions. A few weeks ago," Hermione deadpanned.
Draco's eyes flicked upward in thought before they panned back down to hers, a lazy smile on his face now, "that was fun."
"You're ridiculous," Hermione sighed, chastely pressing her lips against his, pulling back before Draco had a chance to reciprocate the gesture.
"You love me anyways," Draco said arrogantly, his hand sliding into her curls.
"I suppose so," Hermione said, coyly batting her lashes.
"You just suppose, do you?" Draco asked, tugging lightly on her hair, before lowering his lips to hers.
I do, Hermione thought as she deepened the kiss, pressing herself closer to him. I really do.
Thursday, December 16th, 1976
King's Cross Railway Station
Platform Nine and Three Quarters
"Darling, do you see it?" Dorea turned to her husband, tucking herself into his side as she whispered her question in his ear.
Charlus made an amused noise, causing a short puff of air to shoot out of his nostrils, "I do." He bent down to press a kiss to her hairline.
"I can't want to hear all about it," Dorea smiled wistfully, her fingers absently playing with Charlus's shirt collar, "do you remember what it was like to be so young and blissfully in love?"
"You say that like we're jaded and old, and not hopelessly—blissfully as you put it—in love," Charlus murmured, the hand not wrapped around her gently gripped her chin and tilted her face to look at him.
"You are a wonderful man, Charlus Potter," Dorea laughed breathily, and she was about to kiss her wizard when Sirius loudly wolf whistled, and the Potter Matriarch turned to face the cheerful bunch that was striding towards them.
"Hello, darlings," Dorea smirked, stepping out of Charlus's arms with her hands outstretched—only to gather Sirius and James in a warm embrace.
James wrapped his arms around his Mother's waist before he plucked her off the ground. Dorea let out a surprised yelp, but it soon melted into a laugh.
"Miss us, Mum?" Sirius smirked, and she used one of her hands to pat his cheek affectionately.
When she looked forwards once more, over James's shoulder, Dorea caught sight of Draco pulling Peter in for a loose hug, "see you in January, Pete. Make sure to owl and let us know how your Mum's doing."
Dorea pursed her lips at the nugget of overheard information, she'd heard snippets here and there about Pauline Pettigrew and her worsening condition—Vanishing sickness. It was a dreadful, incurable disease, one that no boy should have to watch his Mother endure.
"I'll see you guys in January," Peter said dully, pausing to incline his head at heads of the Potter family before he pushed his trolley towards the exit, disappearing into the throng of wix.
Dorea pulled back just enough to look at James and Sirius—her hand still ghosting over Sirius's cheek , "did his Father not come to pick him up?"
James shook his head morosely, tightening his grip on his Mother, "no, he didn't. Pete says that his Father refuses to leave his Mother's side these days. He sends their House Elf out to fetch everything…otherwise, Pete—Pete doesn't like talking about his parents much."
Dorea exhaled deeply, her hand moving to cradle the back of James's head before she pulled it towards her, his forehead hitting the top of her chest.
They stayed like that until Hermione, Draco and Remus joined them, and her little spitfire lightly jabbed her brother in the side and said, "stop hogging, Mum. Give the rest of us a chance to greet her."
Dorea's head threw back in laughter whilst James lowered her back to the ground, a teasing grin on his face as he said something to his sister that Dorea didn't quite catch.
Chamomile and vanilla swirled around her when she enveloped her daughter in a fierce hug.
It only got increasingly more difficult each time to send them off with everything that was going on—especially when she knew that her brave children would want to fight when the time came, and that fact alone worried her to no end.
Dorea buried her face into Hermione's curls, pressing a quick kiss to them, and she smiled when Hermione's fingers curled into the fabric of her velvet green dress around the small of her back.
I am going to protect them until my dying breath, Dorea promised herself in that moment.
"Alright, shall we be off?" Charlus asked, a chipper bounce in his step as threw an arm over Remus's shoulders and guided the boy to the exit of the platform—the Potters insisted they pick up Remus, and Lyall and Hope were due to come round for Christmas again this year.
Dorea reluctantly released her daughter, but her arms were not empty for long—in a flash of movement, Midnight pounced into her arms, meowing loudly as she looked at the Potter Matriarch.
"Hello to you too, Missy," Dorea smiled, stroking along the length of the feline's body as their brood moved into the large crowd of wix. The entire time Dorea's eye was on how close Hermione and Draco were to each other, and there was a secret, pleased smile on her face.