Hello my lovelies! I know it's only been about half a week, and I said I wasn't updating for the rest of February due to a writer's hiatus, but I couldn't resist sharing the next chapter *hearts*
I had wanted to get it out this chapter on Friday, but I didn't have the time to edit it, and the WONDERFUL Lisa beta'd it for me, and thus, here we are.
Please leave a review and me me know what you think ;)
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
Whilst eager to ask a question she already knew the answer to, Dorea allowed her children a brief reprieve, that is, until the next morning; she bided her time, she was a patient woman after all.
Mipsy had whipped up a large breakfast spread: bacon, scrambled eggs that she'd folded neat chunks of carved ham into, potato hash, succulent pork sausage, toast lathered in blackberry jam and buttery chocolate croissants (Draco tore off pieces of one and fed it to both Hermione and Remus, not indulging in even a bite himself).
Dorea then waited until her children were well sated, bellies filled with good food before she made her move.
Her wavy hair fell forward over her shoulder as she bent at the middle in between her two children, and whispered in Draco's ear, "if you and Hermione could meet me in the Sun Room once you're finished, that would be lovely."
Dorea shouldn't have felt pleasure at the knowledge that they were most likely squirming with uncertainty as she sauntered off, pausing to kiss Charlus's temple on her way—he smacked her rump just before she was out of arm's reach, and in return Dorea tossed a playful glare over her shoulder at her husband.
Once Dorea reached her destination, she slowly strolled into the room, staring at her snowy landscape just past the glass in awe—the floor-to-ceiling windows letting in all of the feeble light that was available.
In Dorea's mind there was nothing quite like pure, freshly fallen snow.
"I swear we didn't do it," Draco announced loudly as he entered the room, Hermione hot on his heels.
Dorea chuckled softly, "close the door, please," she clasped her hands in front of her and turned to her children.
"Who else knows?" Dorea asked then, an eyebrow quirked.
"Knows what?" Draco queried, face impassive as a lock of hair fell onto his forehead.
Dorea shifted her gaze onto the raven haired witch who was frowning profusely, her fingers tapping against one of the loveseats' arm.
"Who else knows," Dorea asked a bit firmer this time, unclasping her hands and gesturing loosely between the witch and the wizard.
Hermione's eyes widened in understanding, whereas Draco persisted on playing dumb; if she didn't know them so well, she may even have believed the subsequent words out of his mouth, "really Mum, knows what?"
"Stop being obtuse, Draco," Hermione scowled, swatting his arm. "Mum knows we aren't really siblings."
Draco rounded on Hermione, thrusting both of his hands out on either side of him, "Sorry? Since when?"
"For years now," Hermione shrugged cavalierly, glancing at Dorea as if asking for confirmation of her declaration.
"Yes, dear. About four years ago exactly," Dorea smirked wryly when Draco spun around to look at her, utterly gobsmacked.
"You never told me that," Draco said in an accusatory tone.
"I did," Hermione snorted, striding around to his front, "you just don't recall or you don't listen."
Draco groaned heavily, his head tipping to the sky, "I swear, witch."
Dorea's delighted laugh drew their attention once more, and side by side they stood and stared expectantly at their Mother, "this is ridiculously adorable, but back to my original question. Who else knows?"
"Just James," Hermione answered, not even looking at Draco when she reached out, and comfortingly rubbed her hand up and down the length of his arm.
Dorea's heart melted when Draco stepped closer to the witch to drop a kiss to her forehead.
The door abruptly opening caused Hermione and Draco to fly apart, and a bemused Charlus entered the room. The wizard gently closed the door before he waved his wand and threw up silencing and locking charms.
"The boys are having a heated discussion about Puddlemere United and the Holyhead Harpies right now," Charlus shook his head, tucking his wand into his robes as he ambled over to his wife's side. Dorea leant against his husband as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.
Hermione and Draco are standing more than an arm's length away from each other, both fidgeting uncomfortably.
"Did you ask them who else knows?" Charlus threw out casually, pressing a kiss to her nape before resting his chin on her shoulder.
Draco eyes widened exponentially, whirling on Hermione and asking, voice full of allegation and accusation, "Dad knows too?!"
"Ah, right, I don't know if I mentioned that," Hermione said pensively, placing a hand against her cheek in thought.
Draco scoffed, dropping his head onto his girlfriend's shoulder, "you didn't think to mention any of this at any point?"
"I definitely told you about Mum knowing, I distinctly recall doing so," Hermione said, a harsh touch to her tone as she poked his stomach.
Suddenly, in a swift and fluid motion Draco wrapped his arms around Hermione and flung her over his shoulder, to which Hermione let out a loud noise in protest and promptly began pounding her fists along the expanse of his back.
"Hush, witch," Draco replied, a mischievous grin splayed across his face.
"Hush?!" Hermione snarled, kicking her legs back and forth now with vigour, almost clipping Draco in the face in the process, "you did not just tell me to hush you mongrel!"
"I'm a mongrel now?" Draco asked, clearly enjoying himself as he tightened his grip round the back of her thighs.
"A filthy mongrel, now get your paws off of me!"
Dorea glanced up at Charlus, and saw the same jovial expression on his face as the one bursting across her own features, "this is better than I anticipated."
"Much better," Charlus agreed, rocking them back and forth as they watched the young wix squabble and lightheartedly quarrel—smiles on both of their faces.
Elation and euphoria warmed her veins, and pumped directly into her heart, "do you think we should interfere?" Dorea asked quietly as Draco placed Hermione back on the ground, and the first course of action the witch saw fit to take was to tackle him.
"Just when it's getting good? Whyever would we do something as absurd as that?" Charlus guffawed heartily, and Dorea snorted as she reached up and gripped his sinewy forearms.
"It would be a preposterous idea to say the least?"
"Downright ludicrous, dear," Charlus breathed into her ear, nudging her face with his nose as he continued, "my money is on Hermione."
"Oh, that is no question, love," Dorea laughed breathlessly, mirth twinkling in her eyes. "Careful to not ruin the rug, it's been in the family for ages!" Dorea called out, but her words fell on deaf ears as Hermione sent a tripping jinx Draco's way.
"I've missed them something terrible," Charlus said.
"More than words can express," Dorea replied, twisting around in her husband's arms and sliding her arms up and around his neck.
No response came from Charlus before he lifted Dorea off the ground and span her in circle, carefully depositing her back on her feet before he pressed a quick peck to her lips.
"What was that for?" Dorea whispered, fingers burying themselves into his hair, nails lightly scratching along his scalp.
"Because I could," Charlus murmured.
A smile bloomed prettily on her face, "I love you, Charlus Potter."
"As I you," Charlus replied instantly, Dorea narrowed her eyes and removed one of her hands from its current position in order to flick his shoulder.
"I love you too, Dori," Charlus grinned arrogantly, and if one did not know where his son got his arrogance from, one would surely know the answer in that moment. Though James's ego used to be enormous—far larger than Charlus's ever had at any given point in his life.
They were both so wrapped up in each other, that they failed to notice that Hermione and Draco had called a ceasefire, and upon noticing their parents enveloped in their own gay bubble, they quietly slipped out. Only to stumble across their pack members still arguing about Quidditch.
Hermione sat in James's lap and played with his messy hair, throwing a Muffliato up before softly telling him that their parents knew about her and Draco; James raised an eyebrow, but a smile graced his lips a split second later, and his only response was, "good."
Just then, Sirius practically dove across the table in his exuberance to make his point—nearly knocking over his half-full glass of pumpkin juice—loudly proclaiming, "Falmouth! The Falcons are nearly as bad as the Cannons."
"Not true," Hermione interjected, "they had a decent season last year."
"Decent?" Sirius said, aghast, falling heavily back into his seat and pressing the back of his hand against his forehead. "Mione, I love you, but that is farcical to say the least."
"Oi! Says the wizard who backs the Arrows if he's not backing Puddlemere, when we all know what a shit team they are," Draco said, shifting in his chair to face Sirius properly, propping his elbow on the table whilst doing so.
"Slander! The Arrows are bloody brilliant, aside from their Keeper who is fairly shite and lets everything in," Sirius scowled deeply, leaning back in his chair with ease and grace, folding his arms over his chest.
"At least you can admit that much," Draco said smugly, waving his hand dismissively.
"You're a real prat you know that?" Sirius grinned, diving forward and ruffling Draco's hair.
"Mate, shove off," Draco scowled, a laugh ripping from his lips.
"Absolute idiots," Hermione said, shaking her head.
"You only now figuring that out?" Remus asked, he was languidly lounging with his legs kicked up into a different chair.
"Course not, Moony…but they're our idiots," James chipped in.
"Who you calling an idiot?" Draco protested, the same time that Sirius yelled in mock outrage, "idiots!"
Which was the catalyst that encouraged the five wix to sprint through the house after each other, before they tumbled out into the cold: they ran with high knees through the freezing white powder, kicking it up everywhere. (They were all horribly underdressed, but that didn't stop any of them.)
Hermione jumped on Remus's back, and the werewolf span her in a circle before glancing over his shoulder at her with a wicked grin, "Remus what are you—"
She didn't get a chance to ask before the sandy blond wizard fell backwards, directly into the snow—which cushioned their fall—and the wind was knocked out of her, her black hair stood out harshly against the pure white, and Remus shifted so that he wasn't covering her completely, propping himself up on his elbows, shaking some of the snow out of his hair.
"Did our invitation get lost?" A voice called from the front porch, and Hermione sat upright just enough to see Dorea and Charlus descending the porch stairs.
James, Sirius and Draco had been hurling the powder at each other, none of them giving the others enough time to try and pat it into proper snowballs, but immediately stopped upon seeing Dorea and Charlus.
"Sorry, owl must have gotten lost," Sirius said, attempting to subtlety form a snowball whilst the others were distracted, Draco however, had the exact same idea.
Both boys raised their hands to throw their snowballs, but, Draco was quicker by a hair of a second, and his snowball hit Sirius full on in the face—exploding in every direction possible—whilst he managed to dodge the one intended for him.
"You want to join in?" Remus asked, turning back to Hermione only to have a handful of snow smashed into his face, and the cackling witch squirmed out from under him as he lay stock still in shock, pelting through the snow towards her parents.
"Oi!" Charlus had time to yell before Hermione crashed into his side, causing them both to crash into the snow.
Dorea waved her wand, and a flurry of snowballs hurled themselves at the boys, who all ducked for cover whilst yelling complaints of how unfair using magic was.
"Fair?" Dorea laughed, "what's the fun in playing fair?"
The wix were all covered in snow once they dashed inside not too long after, teeth chattering, noses, cheeks and ears flushed pink, eyes wide as they shivered and rushed for their rooms—all in a hurry to run a hot bath.
Hermione paused by her door, glancing over to Draco's room and saw that he was staring right back at her.
She bit her lip—thinking about how nice it would be to share a warm bath with the wizard a couple doors down—but before she could move a muscle, Draco flashed her his signature smirk, and disappeared through his already open door into his room. The resounding dull sound that thudded along the corridor when he shut the door made her mouth twinge with annoyance.
"Wanker," Hermione grumbled, cold prickling across her skin as she entered her room. She had a date with a long soak in piping hot water.
Wednesday, December 22nd, 1976
Potter Manor
The salty sea air whipped around them, licking at their cheeks and stinging their eyes, but they could not be happier.
Hermione was tucked in between Remus and Draco: using their larger bodies to shield her from most of the wind, plus huddling together for warmth seemed to be the best option.
"Well, let's get a move on then," Sirius proclaimed, throwing his arm around Riley—the witch had arrived on Saturday and today was to be her last day here, she'd begged her parents and they'd relented and allowed her to spend a few days at Potter Manor.
The Marauders save for one member and the Hufflepuff were currently standing on a bluff—there was a dusty path carved into the side—that curved and wound down to a secluded stretch of beach.
It was a miserable day, but thankfully there was no snow and no rain here—though Hermione wasn't exactly sure where here was. (Somewhere in Wales as far as she knew, and it was a miracle that was not pouring.)
Riley had shown them a slightly worn picture of her Mother and her standing on this very bluff nine years ago, telling them that they used to come here all the time when she was little.
(She always carried the picture round with her, in addition to a picture of her cat, Winston, and a more recent one of her and both of her parents. It was for when she was feeling homesick at Hogwarts, but as a habit she always had them on her person.)
Sirius excitedly proposed the idea of them visiting the beach in question, 'it'll just be like last year!'.
So, even though she had never been to said beach before, Hermione side-alonged Draco there (they somehow made it there without splinching themselves), so that they could properly familiarise themselves with their surroundings.
With the foliage that crept up the side of the bluff—weaving an elaborate shawl for it to wear—with the tall grass that tickled and swayed around Hermione's knees.
She closed her eyes, deeply drank in the salt air, and there was a cold bite that cut to the bone the closer you were to the water.
The place held its own sort of magic, a sense of tranquillity and quiet: there was no one for kilometres, and it was a trek to the road that stretched as far as the eye could see in either direction. Riley said her parents had stumbled across it on a long road trip when her Mum was five months pregnant with her, and they saw fit to return whenever they could.
Shortly thereafter Hermione and Draco apparated back to the Manor, and side-alonged two of their friends each.
The drain of apparating more than one person made itself clear when Hermione's fingers curled involuntarily and a needle-like feeling tugged from the centre of her navel back to hit her spine.
Hermione shook her head when James and Remus—who she'd side-alonged—stared at her in concern, "give me a couple of minutes and I'll be grand," she stated, leading the charge as they waded through the grass to the edge of the bluff.
Hermione slipped her arm through James's, her head falling against him, "it's so peaceful here."
"Well, let's get a move on then,".
The pack trudged to their left where the path began—it was much wider than it originally looked, big enough for three people to comfortably walk along—and carefully made their way down to the empty beach.
Once they reached the end of the path, Hermione bent down to remove her black suede Chelsea boots and thick socks. The witch straightened up—whilst stuffing her thick socks into her boots—and peered around her to see the others doing the same thing.
"It's just as wonderful as I remember," Riley said in awe, lacing her fingers through Sirius's and tugging him onto the sand.
Hermione stepped onto the sand—revelling in the feeling of it under her feet and in between her toes—glancing over her shoulder to catch Draco's eye, "you lot coming?"
She didn't wait for an answer, she merely clutched her boots tighter and broke out into a run, the wind violently running its fingers through her curls, her eyes watering slightly, but she didn't care.
Arms wrapped around her from behind, and she laughed wholeheartedly, unabashedly when they plucked her off the ground and carried her princess style across the sand—they were nearing the water's edge.
"Want to go for a swim?" Draco asked softly, and instead of looking at him she inspected the ground: the water lapping at Draco's pale ankles, his feet sinking into the wet sand.
"Can I take off my clothes first?"
Draco wordlessly planted her on the sand, and she hissed at the shock of icy water hitting her bare feet.
"Are you casting the warming charms or am I?" Hermione asked, shrugging off her jacket as she walked inland a bit, dumping it out of the waves reach.
"AHHHHHH!" James bellowed as he sprinted into the waves—he had stripped down to his boxers, and the rest of his clothes (and glasses) were discarded in a pile not too far away from Hermione and Draco—and not even five seconds later, Sirius lifted Riley clean off the ground and followed after his best mate. Everyone involved hollering about how freezing it was once they emerged above the waves.
In no time at all, Hermione, Draco and Remus joined them (but they had the good sense to use warming charms before they headed into the dark, ice water).
Hermione wandlessly cast warming charms on Riley, whilst Draco followed suit for James and Sirius.
They'd gone out quite far, and all the boys could reach the bottom, but Hermione and Riley, unfortunately, could not: Hermione wrapped her arms around James sideways and he held her loosely around the waist, whilst Riley clambered onto her boyfriend's back.
It's so strange how things can change in the span of a year, Hermione mused.
She bit her lip and got lost in thought whilst the others chattered and joked: about how last time Riley and Sirius were on the cusp of officially dating, and now they were secretly hiding their relationship from everyone save the people here (and Dorea and Charlus). She reflected on how she and Draco were dating other people, not to mention James and Mary were an item. Most importantly, the most pressing thought on her mind was how much closer they were to Peter, how he was still apart of the pack, how he was still one of them.
The frosty waves rocked them back and forth gently, and James tugged her closer for warmth—the cold creeping in even with their warming charms—and she pressed a kiss to the top of his head before rumpling it, he turned to glare at her, but didn't complain, blinking away the water droplets that had gathered on his eyelashes.
As if it was tradition now, when they eventually dragged themselves out of the water, shivering due to their warming charms wearing off and the wind snapping, and pinching at their bare skin, they immediately set out on building a bonfire.
"Great last day, huh?" Hermione asked Riley as she embraced the girl and they nestled together to try and keep as warm as possible.
"The best," Riley smiled, her lips blue as her teeth chattered. Hermione reached up and brushed the pale hair sticking to the girl's forehead backwards, then tucking it behind her ear.
"Oh!" Riley exclaimed loudly—the sound ringing in Hermione's ear—and whipped her head sharply, her hair hitting Hermione's nose in the process, "do you want to build sandcastles?"
"After we've warmed up a bit? Sure," Hermione giggled, pressing closer to the other girl as her entire body was trembling.
"Fuck this," Draco said after dumping a rather large log on top of the sizeable pile they'd amassed, and a moment later where Draco had been, was a large snow white wolf.
"That isn't fair! I can't do that!" Riley pouted, and Hermione rolled her eyes at Draco's dramatics.
Riley had expressed concern at Remus's constant sickness every month—offering to find a plant or potion that may help—and Sirius felt guilty about not sharing that aspect of their lives, so he'd gone to Remus and asked for his permission to tell the Hufflepuff about them. Remus pondered on it for a few days, but eventually gave Sirius his blessing, and thus Sirius had told the girl everything a couple weeks ago.
It was safe to say she was shocked when she realised her boyfriend was an animagus, whose form was a grim, but instantly moved on. Saying that she'd seen or heard of weirder things in her times at Hogwarts. After which she pressed Sirius for details on the things she could do to ease Remus's discomfort around the Full Moon.
Paws's tongue lolled out of his mouth and he bounded around the girls, kicking up sand and sending it flying as he raced down the beach.
"Prat," Hermione said, smiling gratefully at Remus when he dropped another short stack of sticks on top of the pile.
Hermione waved her wand and set their hastily accumulated bonfire alight; Remus had raised his wand to do so, but stopped short when he recalled that he still had the trace on him.
They all clustered around it—squatting or sitting—and putting their limbs as close as they can to the flames without scorching themselves.
Hermione hummed happily as the heat pervaded and melted her frozen limbs, and she ignored the foot falls that trotted towards her, and the heavy panting when Paws dropped down beside her, his muzzle nudging the outside of her thigh.
Hermione shot him a disapproving look out of the corner of her eye, and the wolf decided to jump up and noisily lick the side of her face, "oi, stop it!" When the licking persisted, drawing a sharp, bark of a laugh of out of her, she relented, rubbing her hands across his damp fur and hugging the canine.
Sirius had also shifted, and his head was resting in Riley's lap. The hazel eyed girl was rubbing behind his ears, and Padfoot's tail was lightly and cheerfully thumping against the sand.
An hour later they were back at the Manor: they were greeted with Dorea fondly shaking her head, kissing their cheeks and quickly, but tightly embracing them as they filtered into the house, "whatever shall I do with you lot?"
"Love us!" Sirius declared the same time that James asked, "feed us?", planting an especially loud kiss on his Mother's cheek, smack.
"Mipsy is preparing some ham and split pea soup, I'm sure if you hurry to the kitchens and ask nicely, she may give you some to warm your cold bones," Dorea smirked, inhaling the smell of the sea that clung to all of them.
An idea nagged at the back of Hermione's mind, and she'd be sure to talk to Draco about it later, but now, now she needed a hot shower.
Friday, December 31st, 1976
New Year's Eve
Potter Manor
"Oi! Prongs!" Sirius loudly protested, jumping on James's back, the contents of his glass sloshed about precariously, threatening to fly out of his glass, but somehow the wizard managed not to spill a drop.
Remus glanced over at his pack members, affectionately shook his head and then resumed nursing his own drink; he was leaning forward and basking in the heat the roaring fire was providing him.
"Shite! I need a refill on my Firewhisky! To the kitchen I go!" Hermione exclaimed, hopping up from one of the logs around their bonfire, and barefoot, hastily headed for the house. She didn't. She had at least three fingers worth of the amber liquid in her glass already. It was an excuse to not be around the others, an excuse for Draco to follow her, an excuse in order for them to have their first New Year's kiss.
Hermione normally didn't put much weight in inane traditions, but that was not to say she didn't wish to partake in said foolish frivolity. She'd done so last year after all.
Part of her wanted to this year, as if it believed in the tradition—as if it actually held some weight.
The kitchen was plunged in darkness when she entered it, and she didn't even bother to light any lanterns, instead she shifted her eyes and everything sharpened instantly. (Even if she didn't, she knew her way around so well by now that she wouldn't need to.)
Hermione hummed as she found the bottle of Firewhisky they'd been indulging in earlier, after Charlus and Dorea left to go to the Shacklebolt's annual New Year's function of course—the Potter and Shacklebolt families had been friends for the better part of two centuries, and the only strange thing about it was that Hermione, Draco and James had no relationship of any kind with Kingsley.
Hermione threw back the contents of her short glass before she hopped onto the kitchen counter.
She patiently waited in the darkness, swinging her legs back and forth as she did in fact refill her glass.
"Aren't you a vision," A voice stated from the door, and she ignored him, taking another sip of her drink—the liquid burning a warm trail down her throat, kindling heat in her stomach that pleasantly settled and spread, coating her insides.
The wizard emerged from the shadows, silently stalking towards her, and when he came close enough his fingers trailed along her thigh, shifting the silver satin of her floor length, sleek dress—she decided to get all gussied up this year, despite the fact that they had no elaborate functions to attend.
The slender, pale fingers pushed the material up along her thighs just enough for their owner to settle himself in between them.
"How long is it until midnight?" Hermione breathed, carefully placing her glass beside her before she looped her arms around his neck.
"A couple minutes, doesn't matter though," Draco drawled, a finger tracing her jawline whilst his other hand caressed her hip.
"Why's that?" Hermione scooted forward—squeezing her legs around Draco—so close to him now, that she could feel his next words against her lips when he spoke.
"Cause I'll be kissing you the entire time," Draco answered, pressing his lips on hers with a sense of urgency—they hadn't been able to sneak away much in the past week, so this was the first time they'd kissed in days.
The boy more than followed up with his promise.