A/N: A special thanks to those who sent me such sweet and motivating reviews and messages. Please keep those coming! I'm the sort of writer her checks her mailbox every ten minutes like a maniac, just waiting for what her readers have to say.

This chapter gives you a glimpse of what Hermione's everyday life is like in Tenby and although not much happens it's important for what comes next in the story. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Three: A Brand New Day

The following morning Hermione woke up just minutes before the sun, which was her usual. She managed to escape the tent and her still sleeping loved ones and tiptoed out of what was her daughter's bedroom in the large attic. She reached the second floor and entered her bedroom, where she slipped on her burgundy robe and pulled her tousled curls up in a bun. She splashed some water on her face and brushed her teeth. As she went down another flight of stairs, using her wand to turn all lights off she noticed Perdita, her owl, flying in and landing on the wall shelf above Hermione's desk towards the back of the living room. She fed the small gray owl a treat and read the letter.

Dearest Hermione,

I have received your letter from Perdita with utmost pleasure. I was delighted to read that you have been able to advance in your research on the Tenby citizens and that your bookstore is thriving. Also glad to know that your children are fairing well and that Mr. Potter and his little ones shall be spending time with you after all that has happened the past year since Ginevra's tragic passing.

My dear, I understand you are now starting your summer holiday but as you know I would highly appreciate it if you would send me the numbers from your research as soon as possible. I have been losing sleep over the Tenby situation as I am afraid the Ministry might notice soon and take abrupt measures. We must tread carefully for the safety of all these families, but also keep in mind that there is a Statute of Secrecy for a reason!

The school is quite busy as it's nearly end of the term, but the warmth and sunshine of these past few days have kept almost everyone in the best of spirits.

Hagrid and Professor Longbottom send you their love, as do I.

Sincerely,

Minerva."

Hermione smiled upon receiving the letter from her former professor and headmistress. Had she known all those years ago as a schoolgirl that she would one day be on a first name basis with the older witch she wouldn't have believed it. But here they were, over a decade later and Minerva McGonagall had become one of her closest friends and confidants. As for the research, it worried Hermione entirely as well. When she first arrived in Tenby, straight after her divorce she hadn't expected to find much of a wizarding population and had come with the near certainty that Tenby would be a place where she and her children would have to be extremely careful in to hide their magic.

Slowly the magical folk of Tenby began to reveal themselves. At first, it had been the intense owl activity in the area that she had detected, even during the day. And after that, it was a series of little things. The flash of green floo powder she saw from the corner of her eye as she passed a neighbor's house; a whispered conversation between two customers at her bookshop, commenting on The Prophet's latest headline, and finally it had been an older wizard pulling out his wand as he accioed the keys to his shop, thinking himself alone on the street.

When the time finally came for Rose to be enrolled in the local primary school Hermione had been shocked to see a few small boxes to tick at the end of the form. Are the parents of the child magical? Has your child manifested signs of being magical? These fields had all been invisible to Hermione's very muggle mother, but very obvious to her – a simple, seemingly meaningless charm that to Hermione had revealed a lot about the town she now resided in, and she had felt utterly gobsmacked. She couldn't recall any mention of a larger wizarding population in Tenby, or Pembrokeshire for that matter. There had only been mentions of a single neighborhood in Cardiff, Wales. It was then that Hermione discovered that the school catered to muggle, magical and squib children and that a large percentage of Tenby's population was magical, and if not magical, knew and was aware of magic, which was the cause of hers and professor McGonagall's great worry.

Hermione sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose. Where on Earth had she left those graphs and charts she had designed for McGonagall? She searched around the piles of scattered papers, inside a number of books and journals sitting atop her large vintage wooden desk and looked inside the numerous drawers. Her heart began to beat exceedingly faster when the minutes passed and she still hadn't located them. She then heard the German grandfather-clock chime, an heirloom from her paternal grandparents. It was eight o'clock already and she had to open up shop... Hermione hadn't even brewed the morning's coffee and put the cinnamon rolls in the oven. She muttered an apology to Minerva McGonagall under her breath, overwhelmed by her uncharacteristic lack of organization the past week and shuffled into the kitchen, where the sun illuminated the room. With a simple spell she had water boil inside a red thermos bottle, and the buns floating inside the already lit and warm oven. She opened the refrigerator and took out some oranges, apples, bananas and an avocado and with another spell had the fruits peeled and diced into tiny squares, mixed inside a large ceramic bowl where she tossed in some milk cream and condensed milk that she knew the children loved. She splashed a bit of cool water and ice cubes inside and with another spell put a lid on the bowl, floating it back into the fridge with her wand.

Another spell and the few utensils she had used were nice and clean, laying on her dish rack. It was especially on days like these that she thanked God, the heavens, and Merlin that she had magic running through her veins.

Hermione hurried up the stairs into her bedroom and put on an Irish linen button-down dress with white and light blue vertical stripes, putting on a pair of black ballerina flats and throwing on a red jumper over the dress. She quickly glanced at herself in the mirror and rolled her eyes as she noticed she was heading out with her hair looking like that of a mad woman and so she released her curls from the elastic and rubbed on the cream that since she had discovered it ten years ago had done miracles to her bushy, frizzy hair and turned them into the defined and smooth honey-brown curls of now.

She didn't bother much with makeup, never had, but seeing that today she would only work a half shift and then go out with the children and Harry, Hermione decided that she had a few seconds to spare and accioed her favorite red lipstick and quickly put it on, slipping the small tube in her pocket for later retouches.

She was out the door as quick as lightning and when Harry came down the stairs, still wrapped in his drowsiness, rubbing his eyes all he could catch was a glimpse of her curly hair as the bright red door closed behind her.

-/-

After breakfast and Harry had all the children properly dressed, combed and looking lovely, Harry head out of Hermione's charming row house with Rose as his guide, as they became acquainted with the picturesque beauty of the small house. The roads were mostly narrow and of cobblestones and the houses, inns and restaurants were all lined together in little rows, walls painted in contrasting pastel colors—blues, yellows, pinks and greens that colored the village and made it look even more charming. Most of the windows had flowerboxes in full bloom and the Tenby dwellers seemed warm and polite in stark contrast to those of big city London. Almost everyone passed and said 'good morning', or a 'hello' and sometimes even exclaimed, 'guiding tourists today, Rosie?', almost everyone familiar with the Granger-Weasley children. As Rose was enthusiastically pointing towards an ice cream parlor with walls of pink and mint color, a plump older woman stopped and greeted her with pink chubby cheeks and a warm smile.

"Rosie darling, just saw your mum at the shop. Lots of customers today, love!" Rose politely said hello and informed the lady that they were on the way to the bookshop when the woman finally took notice of the large brood of boys and Lily around the eight-year-old, with Harry standing behind them, eyeing her with a certain curiosity. When the lady, who looked to be a neighbor caught sight of his looks, the spectacles and a small tip of the scar on his forehead that he tried to hide behind his messy raven hair, her hazel eyes went wide in what he knew was recognition. And to recognize Harry Potter in such a way, she just had to be magical herself. "Goodness, but by Merlin's beard..." She gasped and then covered her lips with a hand, "You're Harry bloody Potter, aren't you?" Harry nodded shyly, more than used to this sort of reaction and held out his hand to the woman, who took it eagerly. "My, my... Well, I'm Regina Butterfield, Mr. Potter and it's certainly a pleasure to meet the man who saved all our arses from You-know-Who and his deatheaters—I'm a muggle-born you know." The last part she had whispered as she leaned closer towards him, still in a hushed voice. "I'm the chairwoman of Tenby Magical Association, TMA? Surely Ms. Granger has told you about it... We have a large magical and squib population here in town and it's mine and the TMA's job to put everything and everyone in order, so the Ministry won't come in running." She rolled her eyes in annoyance at the mention of the Ministry of Magic.

Lily tugged on Harry's sleeve asking her father when they would pick up aunt Hermione so they could all head down to the beach together, therefore interrupting the older witch, who then realized her introduction had lasted longer than intended.

"Mrs. Butterfield, it was a pleasure to meet you, but I'm afraid it's the children's first day of summer and they are far too impatient and anxious to arrive at the beach."

"Oh, that's quite all right. Sorry for keeping you, loves." She said with a warm smile as she ran a gentle palm over Rose's rust-colored curls and looked at them tenderly. "See you all around then, enjoy your day!" With that she was off, humming a toon under her breath as she carried a basket of groceries and what looked like a paper bag with the name and logo of Hermione's bookshop on it.

"Mrs. Butterfield is a talker," Rose informed Harry, as they continued on their way, thankful for the blue skies and warm sun, even if it was still ten in the morning. "But I like her, she's very nice and bakes the best butter cookies. Better than the ones in the tins you buy!" She exclaimed. Harry chuckled at this, in a way glad to be in a town that wasn't solely comprised of muggles, where he could find other people besides Hermione and the children to speak of certain things with.

They arrived at the bookstore just as an older couple left with smiles on their faces, purchased items in hand.

"Granny!" Harry heard Hugo cry out and then run to embrace the woman's legs, which came as a surprise to Harry and the other kids, as Hugo was known to be the quietest and most introverted of all the children Harry knew, a stark contrast from the boy's equally redhead father and even his mother most times.

"Hugo, my darling!" She cried out and picked him up, filling him with kisses. The man at her side ran his fingers in the boy's ginger curls and greeted him with a smile and sparkle in his eyes. His eyes turned to see who had been accompanying his grandson and seemed pleasantly surprised to see his daughter's longtime best friend and former brother-in-law, finally in Tenby with his children for a visit. "Oh, Laurie, don't you think Hugo's grown an inch since we saw him last?"

"My goodness, Helena, you saw the boy two days ago!" He said with a chuckle before extending a hand to Harry and greeting all of the other children, including his granddaughter. "Harry Potter, now that's someone I had never expect to see around here. We'd given up on you ever coming for a visit, son! How are you?" Harry smiled and patted the older man, Hermione's father on the back.

Laurence Granger was tall, handsome and especially athletic. Hermione had once shared with Harry that her father could have been a successful heartthrob actor in his day, the next Richard Burton (and the man sure had the looks to prove it) if his father hadn't forced him to choose between law, medical or dental school. His eyes were the color of olive-oil and his light brown hair had become mixed with silver at his temples and above his ears. His skin was a bit tan from all the beach-going, Harry imagined, and his voice was of a deep, slightly husky baritone. Laurence Granger was pleasant; a man of elegance and of a natural grace and charm, a man of easy conversation who was friends with just about everyone. Next to him stood his wife, Helena, who was much shorter than him, but was beautiful as well. Hermione was the spitting image of her mother, what with the deep and large brown eyes framed by thick dark lashes, the plump rosy lips and the wild mess of curls on her head. The woman was curvier, but was also elegant, as always. She wore a pair of salmon linen trousers and a casually elegant blouse with Russian embroideries, eyes framed by a fashionable pair of red glasses that contrasted with the now complete silver of her curls. There were smile lines at the corner of her lips and eyes and despite the easy laughter he had always known Helena Granger to fall into, knowing she was always a happy and bubbly soul, underneath the image of someone so easygoing was also a woman of profound knowledge and intellect, who seemed to have read every single book known to muggle-kind. It was perhaps Helena Granger who had influenced her daughter the most.

"Quite all right, Mr. Granger, thank you. How has Tenby been treating the both of you, Hermione tells me you both have been making the most of your retirement!" The man nodded vigorously.

"Yes, yes. We've been doing quite a lot of traveling around Europe lately and we're planning a trip to Colombia to escape the winter this year. But the best part is really getting to see our Hermione so much more often, I'll admit. And our Hugo and Rosie as well!" He added as Rose wrapped her arms around her grandfather's, cuddling him and looking up in adoration.

"Harry, we spoke to Hermione just now and were wondering if you all wouldn't mind coming to our place tomorrow for dinner, eat some local dishes and just enjoy ourselves over some wine. What do you say?" Helena asked Harry with eyes so hopeful that he didn't have the heart to say no, even if he had nothing better planned for tomorrow.

"I would love to, Mrs. Granger. It would be a pleasure actually!" Helena beamed and held Harry's face impulsively, placing an enthusiastic motherly kiss on each cheek. "It's a date then. Dress comfortably, all of you, no need for any former attire or anything, just family." Harry nodded and smiled. It had been two or three years since he'd last seen Hermione's parents and honestly, they were wonderful.

"Well, then we should go now, Laurie, Harry, and Hermione have a date with the children at the beach and we have shopping to do for tomorrow!" Helena turned and bowed to the kids' level, kissing each one, even Harry's three who looked at her with fascination, the image of what their aunt Hermione would look like as an older woman. "I'll have a delicious strawberry and custard pie waiting for you lot and treacle tart for Harry as I know he loves it." Harry blushed at the fact that she remembered but then realizes that it was quite obvious as she did, probably having heard it only a hundred times before from her daughter. "Bye, bye, everyone!"

-/-

Hermione's bookshop was in a charming corner row house with an aged brick facade, a large glass display up front with white frame and flower boxes containing flowers of all sorts of colors. There were three sets of ornate white iron round tables in front, each one with two or three matching chairs and next to the bright yellow door was a chalkboard with the day's specials from the café inside, the announcement of a book reading in the following evening and a special sale on children and YA literature.

The bookstore sign was a lovely and elaborately ornamented oval bracket-sign with a yellow background and black letters spelling out "Sea Otter Books & Coffee", with a sketch of the cute face of an otter in black, a name Harry knew was directly linked to the fact that Hermione's personal Patronus was a sea otter.

As Harry opened the yellow door for them all to go inside, finally, the little bell at the top rung and his quick, Auror-trained eyes immediately caught sight of Hermione's gaze shifting towards them, as she helped a gentleman customer locate a specific book. Behind the counter and minding the register was a young man, no older than twenty who Rose promptly informed her uncle was called Owen and worked their during the busy summers when he was off from university. At the café a woman with bright blue hair, certainly not natural, served cappuccinos, pastries, bread and soups to the customers in line. The woman was a new friend of Hermione's, she'd mentioned her in a few letters but Harry couldn't remember her name, only that her son was in Hugo's class and had shown sign of accidental magic.

"That's Susan, she works with mum," Rose told him. "Uncle Harry, I'm going to look at the books now if that's all right." Harry chuckled at just how seriously the little girl took her job as his personal (and bossy and bushy-haired) tour guide;

"That's fine Rose-Petal, I don't mind. I'll let you know when we're ready to leave." The girl nodded and pulled Albus and James by the hand as Hugo and Lily trailed behind, climbing up the wooden stairs into the children's section above.

Harry looked around at the tall wooden shelves with detailed carvings, to the brim in books that Hermione had separated by theme and in alphabetical order by author. There were at least two cozy-looking window seats in the large room that provided a comfortable reading corner for the muggle bookworm and soft and aged leather sofas and armchairs scattered about. Towards the back where a large stone fireplace was the main focal point, with black and white framed photographs of Tenby in the old days and oil paintings Hermione had collected from antique shops and local artists, was a similar area to that of the Gryffindor common room where he and Hermione along with Ron had spent a good portion of their youth. A large brown suede sofa sat on top of a large and beautiful Turkish rug, a love seat to it's left and to its right two armchairs of teal velvet in elegant Louis XIV style, minus the gold. In the middle was a large wooden coffee table with scented candles, a few mugs of tea and coffee and books some customers had taken out to look at. Harry imagined that this entire shop could very well be heaven on Earth for Hermione, a blatant contrast to her office in the ministry where he had only known her to be stressed, forehead creased, always sighing heavily, whether out of exhaustion or annoyance.

Here, he could tell, she was in her element. She helped the locals find the books they needed but would also chat with them about life or something or other that was happening in the small town or suggesting a certain book or other.

"She's the bookworm whisperer" he heard a voice say from behind him, to which Harry slightly jumped. A tall and lean blonde man, about Harry and Hermione's age, smiled warmly as he too watched the woman across the bookshop from them. "She looks at you, a small chat here a little comment there and boom, she knows just the book you need to make life less miserable." He chuckled.

"I'm Corin, Corin Hewitt. You're not from these parts, are you?" He spoke with a typically Welsh lilt to his voice. Though he seemed quite nice there was a tiny part of Harry that was in a way disturbed about how he seemed to know so much of Hermione's ways and the openness with which he stared at her...

"Uh, no, actually. From London. I'm Harry, Hermione's best friend."

"Oh, nice, pleasure to meet." They shook hands for a moment. "I'm her neighbor, I live right across the street from her and those adorable kids..." Somehow he seemed to notice a small glimmer of anger mixed with jealousy that even Harry didn't realize he had let on through his emerald-colored eyes. "With my husband." He added, with a chuckle.

Harry instantly seemed to relax his tense muscles at the words, that moment he noticed Hermione approaching them, a pencil tucked behind an ear.

"Harry—what took you so long, I can't believe Rose didn't know the way..."

"Not at all, she was perfect. Just happened to meet a number of people on the way here." Hermione chuckled and nodded in understanding.

"Corin, how are you? Looking for anything specific today?"

"Oh, just stopped by for some coffees and pastries, Herm. Mark's waiting for me at home. We are coming for the book reading tomorrow, the author's a friend of ours. Will we be seeing you here?" Hermione shook her head.

"No, not tomorrow. I have the entire weekend off with Harry and our kids, I promised no work. But Susan will be here and Owen as well." He nodded.

"Splendid. I was telling Harry that you're the towns book whisperer... No one really thoroughly and enjoyably read before you arrived. Now it's like there's no more televisions or phones in this town." He said with a sarcastic laugh to which Hermione playfully slapped him on the arm.

"Hey, if it weren't for me you'd never come across Oscar Wilde!"

"That's... very true. I would never have given him a chance if it weren't for you." He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "Lovely seeing you, darling."

"Same. Tell Mark I said hi." Corin nodded and left with his coffees and bakery orders in hand and Hermione turned to Harry, who had simply watched the encounter and banter of what seemed like two old and intimate friends.

"Shall we then, Harry?" She asked him, as she unceremoniously slipped a hand into his. He nodded, mesmerized by the glow on her face and about her, seeing so happy and looking so lovely. There were no words. Hermione looked at him quizzically, almost as though she probably was asking herself why the cat had caught his tongue. She pulled Harry behind an empty row of bookshelves, doublechecked around her and sent her otter Patronus to call after the children, visible only those who were magical.

In just a minute or two dark haired boys followed by three redheads came running down the stairs animatedly. Lily and Hugo held on to a hand of Hermione's each while Harry held Rose and James', Albus at his cousin Rose's side as always. They all took a different path once again through the townhouses towards the beach, passing colorful houses, restaurants, shops, and inns as they enjoyed the heat of the sun against their skins. The children conversed amongst them with excitement, but between Harry and Hermione nothing really needed to be said, neither one felt obliged to break the silence, and they kept on their way with the sound of the ocean's waves becoming gradually louder and closer. From the corner of his eyes he watched her, hair golden from the sunshine and she watched him, thinking to herself that she was yet to see him smile, happiness in his green eyes.

They arrived at the beach where already tourists had set up their beach towels in the sand and parasols. As the two adults sat on top of the large green beach towel Rose had packed, they appreciated the view and the contrasting shades of cerulean of ocean and skies, their children splashing in the water and building forts and castles in the distance.

"Did I mention I'm glad I came?" He told her, finally. Hermione just looked at him with the left corner of her lip rising ever so slightly, threatening to open up in a smile. She rummaged inside the picnic basket Harry had brought and pulled out a bottle of white wine and two glasses that he'd charmed not to break. She poured them both and lifted her glass up, meaning to make a toast.

"To Harry Potter in pursuit of happiness..." She said, voice filled with humor.

"To Hermione Granger in pursuit of love..." He cracked a smile at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling, which awoke the butterflies in her stomach, her cheeks blushing in a furious pink. They clinked their glasses and drank in pleasant companionship, interrupted only by the occasional approximation of one or more children asking for something or other.

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