I hope you enjoy this one!
"So, how are you feeling?" Minerva McGonagall asked looking at her with both sympathy and curiosity from behind her spectacles, as the spoke discretely in a corner of the cloak room. An hour had passed since court was dismissed for the deliberation and with each minute Hermione's anxiety grew. Despite the many messages of support received she was still unsure of the outcome and because of it she'd spent a great deal of time pacing the dark marble-tiled floors, swerving from Ron and her mother who were constantly offering her food. Though she had delighted in the sandwich and a warm cup of coffee, she felt the caffeine only made matters worse and the sandwich didn't sit too well, what with her nerves.
"How do I look like I'm feeling, Minerva?" She whisper-yelled with wide brown eyes, hands dramatically waving above, which elicited a chuckle from the older witch.
"You're looking like your eighteen-year-old self, stressing over your N.E. ," she had a teasing smile playing at her lips as she eyed her former student, "You know you've done brilliant and that you'll pass with highest praises, but you stress nevertheless because of your senseless lack of confidence…" Hermione sighed deeply and ran her nervous fingers through her curls.
"You think so?" Minerva nodded.
"I know so, Ms. Granger…" the headmistress looked around the room and saw the dark and imposing form of minister Shacklebolt, nodding in her direction, a question in his deep brown eyes. Minerva rolled her eyes in response and turned once again towards Hermione standing across from her. "I know it isn't the most appropriate of times, but the minister insists I speak with you on the possibility of you launching your candidacy for office as Nott's opponent. There is strong popular opinion in your favor…" Hermione froze for a long minute, taking a while to register those words.
It had once been her greatest dream and goal in life to become Minister of Magic and change her country for the better—but now she wasn't so sure. Being at court again was thrilling, having a case and defending it again equally amazing, but to be minister? So much had changed in her the past years and especially the last month and a half. There were other things she longed and starved for more and she was perfectly happy living in Tenby and managing her bookshop. She was happy being a mum like she never thought she would be and to return to London—because it was what the role implied—she didn't know if she was ready or if this was still a dream of hers. Her only ambitions in the moment revolved around protecting her home and to be with Harry and their kids and not for a second had she imagined a proposal like this would come about.
Her brown eyes, drowning in confusion gazed upon Minerva's and for a rare moment in her life, Hermione Jean Granger was essentially speechless.
"Think about, it." Minerva suggested, ending the conversation once Hermione simply nodded, dumbfounded.
…
Albus was becoming increasingly miffed with just how long they were taking to find Lily—as though a simple five-year-old girl could hide so well! He huffed in annoyance as Rose arrived breathless and crimson-cheeked followed by Hugo, she'd looked everywhere in the yard for the younger redhead while he searched by the quidditch pitch and his grandfather's shed.
"Do you think James found her? I haven't seen him since he went inside…" She asked, her golden-red curls escaping her ponytail, stray curls sticking to her skin from the sweat.
"I thought he was going to play that trick of his on us, but I don't understand what's taking him so long…" Albus frowned deeply and crossed his arms over his chest. "Did you look at the orchard?"
"Yes, we did." Rose confirmed, motioning towards her little brother who had helped.
"Let's look inside!" Hugo suggested, "Maybe they're in the kitchen, granny said she was baking a cake." He tugged his older sister by the hand and she shared a look with Albus—the sort of look she would usually send him when something was certainly not right. Rosie was Al's best friend and they knew absolutely everything about each other. To Albus, if the brilliant Rose was worried than he absolutely should be too. Albie followed his cousins inside and while Hugo headed for the kitchen, Rose checked the dining room and the cupboard where she'd found James earlier, with no success. Albus entered the living area and looked behind the sofas, shelves and Molly's large quilt chest. He checked inside the coat closet by the formal front door and no sign of his sister or his brother. He was beginning to feel desperate—and angry. As he passed in front of the large stone and brick fireplace, he saw some green floo powder spilt on the floor and its pot oddly on the very edge of the mantelpiece, a centimeter close to falling—as if someone very short had tried to reach for it. Immediately he pictured his reckless younger sister.
A deep feeling of dread overcame eight-year-old Albus, his emerald eyes widening in horror. He was certain that Lily and James' disappearance had something to do with the powder, not when granny's house was always so immaculately clean despite its shabby furniture.
"ROSE!" He yelled frantically and seconds later his alarmed cousin came running in, with Hugo at her heal.
"Albie, what is it?" Albus couldn't muster the words as he looked at her, his skin pale from worry, his eyes as wide as saucers. All he could do was point towards the fireplace. Rose at first thought him crazy, but when her brown eyes caught sight of the evidence as well, she gasped. "We've got to tell granny!"
It was Hugo who made a dash for the kitchen, before the two others could make a move. Molly Weasley was bent over pulling a large cake from out of the heated oven when Hugo tugged forcefully on her skirt. The little boy, not being much of a talker and not at all having in him the nature to yell, much like his granddad Arthur, shouted frantically:
"GRANNY! James and Lily are GONE!" Startled by her grandson's outburst and then feeling the cool sense of dread overcome her very being as she registered his words, the Weasley matriarch dropped the hot chocolate cake on the ground, cake-pan crashing loudly onto the ceramic floor, everything ruined.
…
Almost two hours had passed since Judge Finch and the members of both the Wizengamot and Magical House of Commons stayed in court to deliberate. Hermione had eaten away both her hunger and a great deal of her nerves, but she couldn't deny that Harry's little note moved her. Her entire being felt lighter and tingly—just thinking that they were both so very close to becoming something more… It was exhilarating, and she couldn't wait to see him again.
When Kingsley Shacklebolt entered the cloak room followed by Regina Butterfield, who he'd been talking with for quite some time, the first thing he noticed on his former colleague's face was the deep rose-color on her cheeks as she stared out of the window at the busy streets of London, arms crossed over her chest. Now, Kingsley was a well-lived man and having worked for over a decade with Hermione Granger it was obvious to him that she was glowing and glowing in the way that only a woman in love could do. He suppressed a smile and decided not to breech the subject for now, in front of everybody else, there was after all, business and politics to be discussed.
"Hermione—" He said, his deep voice shaking her from her thoughts. The witch turned slightly toward him, a small smile playing on the corners of her lips, eyes twinkling.
"Yes?" She had an inkling as to where this conversation might lead, McGonagall had given her a bit of a heads-up earlier.
"Have you read the papers this morning, or listened to the wireless and all the people manifesting their support and admiration of you?"
"Not all the people, Minister." Kingsley waved his hand nonchalantly and Hermione humorously rolled her eyes.
"Many of them though, and you know it. I have a proposition for you…" She found herself frowning at the sound of his words and catching her breath. "I know it's been years and that you've moved and gone on to work with different things, but I still have the memory of a bright and idealistic young witch imprinted in my brain, one who desired nothing more than to change the world for the better. An absolutely brilliant witch who dreamed of one day becoming the United Kingdom's Minister of Magic and doing a hell of a lot better job than I or anyone else ever did." His dark eyes bore into hers, his gaze so intense she couldn't bring herself to turn away. Hermione's frown deepened and she sighed heavily, biting her bottom lip.
Minerva McGonagall was well aware of the sort of conversation her favorite pupil and the Minister were having across the room. She politely excused herself from Regina and the Grangers and walked in Hermione and Kingsley's direction.
Hermione felt a cool hand snake around her arm affectionately, something she still hadn't grown used to, but accepted the supportive touch thankfully. Her brown eyes met with Minerva's and suddenly she felt calmer and less cornered into a wall… Not that it was Kingsley's intention to impose on her, it wasn't. It was just this talk of her returning to London, leaving her life in Tenby and throwing herself into the ministry again that was terribly overwhelming. Returning to London, leaving her home would come with the job.
Beyond that, however, Kingsley Shacklebolt was right. Being Minister of Magic had once been her greatest dream, but things changed, her life had changed, and now, just as she had confided in Minerva days ago, Hermione wasn't so sure being Minister was her life's desire anymore. She found herself having a much greater longing for other things—spending time with her family, traveling the world, maybe even write a book or teach. Hermione simply did not know if she still had it in her to be minister, and it killed her, how could it not, she was Hermione Granger after all… Not knowing was torture.
Before she or Kingsley could say anything else, a tall wizard dressed in thick black robes entered the room and announced that it was time for the verdict and for everyone to move back into the court room. Butterflies overcame Hermione's stomach and Minerva felt the strong pulse of her beating heart against her hand.
"It'll be fine," the headmistress reassured her, hazel eyes with a solemn expression from behind her spectacles. Hermione launched herself into her old professor's arms, something that slightly surprised the older witch, regardless she hugged Hermione back and patted her on the head in a matronly manner.
"Break a leg, my love!" Helena Granger exclaimed, hopping up from her seat and placing a kiss on her daughter's cheek. "We'll go out for your favorite ice cream after this…" She winked, wearing a smile. Hermione blushed as it was somewhat a tradition of hers and her parents, whenever she did something considered special Helena and Laurence Granger would take her for a treat at Nightingale's Creams in Soho, a place with ice creams delicious enough to rival Fortescue's. Despite appreciating it, her mother's comment made her feel a tiny bit like a little girl again, and it wasn't the sort of image she wanted to give all of the authorities surrounding her. Noticing her daughter's blush and eyes widen, appalled, Helena chuckled and rolled her eyes. No mother could be prouder than she was.
"Course we will, Mum—thank you."
Hermione followed the wizard back into the courtroom with Minerva and Kingsley right behind her, needing desperately to calm down again. Her hands were cold and sweaty, to the point of shaking. When they stopped in front of the huge wooden doors she paused, eyes boring right into its intricate carvings. She gently pressed her hand to her stomach and let out a long breath, for a second closing her eyes. Everything will be fine—you've never lost a case. It was Harry's voice from long ago that she heard, from a trial judging on the death of a House Elf by the hand of his master, autumn of 2009 was it? With his voice echoing in her mind she felt her heart settle into a slower rhythm and she let out a long breath she'd been holding. She wiped her sweaty hands on her robes and raised her chin defiantly. A split second later, the doors automatically opened and Hermione's eyes once again took in the magnificent courtroom, not a trace of uncertainty could be seen on her face, on the contrary, as she made her way to her designated seat in the front row, next to Regina. The curly-haired witch was the picture of grace and confidence and all eyes and cameras were on her—lights flashing, a million whispers and murmurs erupting, filling the room with a buzzing noise. Just a few minutes later Judge Cordelia Finch made her entrance and solemnly banged the gavel three times.
"The members of the most noble Wizengamot and House of Magical Commons have deliberated on the subject of Tenby, Wales. I call on Lady Andromeda Tonks on behalf of House Black to read the verdict."
"Thank you, your Honor—the Wizengamot and House of Magical Commons declare the Tenby Magical Association innocent of the crime of disobedience of the Statute of Secrecy…" Cheers, shouts and the roar of applause could be heard from the streets even from inside the courtroom and a few wizards even whistled in approval from the inside, cheering, only a minimal amount of wizard-kind booing. Andromeda Tonks cleared her throat dramatically to draw attention back to her pronouncement and gradually the manifestations inside quieted down. Hermione felt warm all over and her heart beat so rapidly in her chest she could barely hear anything else. "Furthermore, no sanctions will be made to prohibit the people or status quo of Tenby, but we require a formal report with propositions on ways to more efficiently protect and obey the Statute of Secrecy in six months' time. This report will be read by the members of this parliament and will either be approved or disapproved. If not approved, a second report will have to be issued with appropriate changes in three months' time. If still not approved by the parliament, the Ministry of Magic and this noble court will compile its own measures and policy for the town." Andromeda barely finished reading and once again the crowds were wild. Journalist commented live and from within the very courtroom directly to the wireless broadcasting, others scribbled impossibly fast in their rolls of parchment, eager to make the next day's headlines.
Judge Finch had to bang the gravel a countless number of times in the period of nearly ten minutes, before everyone quieted down again. Hermione held in her tears of business accomplished, joy and relief, while a smiling Regina squealed and wrapped her in a tight hug.
"I now call upon Mrs. Regina Butterfield, president and chairwoman of Tenby Magical Association to declare her agreement before this court and jury and take an oath."
From then on it was all rather a blur to Hermione—she couldn't wait to eat that ice cream.
…
It was close to getting dark when the large group of Weasleys and their kin gathered around the Burrow's table, all with worried and pained expressions on their faces. Since the moment little Hugo informed his granny of Lily and James' disappearance they had been searching. Uncle Percy and his wife Audrey were causing havoc at the Ministry, having the Department of Transportation try to find where the two children went off to; Molly, Arthur, Fleur and Bill along with their teenage daughters searched all over the Burrow and its grounds for any sign of them, Rose, Hugo and Albus helping along. George and Angelina turned the small village of Ottery St. Catchpole upside down as they searched for their nephews and Ron and Luna who had just left the Tenby trial apparated directly to Harry's house at Godric's Hollow to look for the children, while owl after owl was sent out to family members and friends notifying them of Lily and James' disappearance and if anyone had news of their whereabouts.
Harry and Teddy both arrived at the Burrow as fast as they'd been able to riding on their broomsticks, but the heavy downpour and lightning they'd been caught under along the way slowed their journey. Harry was in disbelief. He was worried sick with his son and daughter, salty tears mixing with raindrops as he flew like a madman—crossing the country in order to find them. He felt like a failure as a father—he'd left his children and now they were nowhere to be found. His heart was heavy as he caught sight of the Weasley family home in the distance. He maneuvered and landed by the backdoor running despite his sore legs and barging inside the house, drenched head to toe from the rain, Teddy coming in seconds behind him.
Fleur held a crying Molly Weasley in her arms, softly coaxing her to sip some tea, to no avail. The now elderly woman, usually so brave and haughty, was now dissolving into tears and sniffles. She hadn't paid attention on them, it was all her fault. She'd lost Fred and then Ginevra and now she was responsible for the loss of her grandchildren as well.
Albus came running down like a bullet, throwing himself into his father's arms, nearly knocking him down once he saw him, his green eyes full of worry and not caring if his father was so wet and cold. Harry pulled Albus up into his arms, hugging the eight-year-old boy tightly, planting a kiss on his silky raven hair.
"No sign of them yet, daddy—they left through the floo." The boy told him, voice laced with worry.
"We'll find them, Al—don't you worry." The boy nodded and Harry put him down.
"It's Lily's fault, I'm sure of it—" The boy informed his father, knitting his thick dark eyebrows together, angrily. "She had a terrible mood all day long…"
Upon hearing the sound of Harry's voice Molly jumped off her sofa, trying to control her sobs, blue eyes puffy and red from crying so long and hard.
"Harry—my clock seems to be broken, Harry—it keeps saying Lily and James are at home, but they are not at Godric's nor here! We have searched everywhere there was to search… I—I'm so sorry!" Her voice broke again as her shaky fingers pointed towards the Weasley family clock, filled with clock handles, one for each child, grandchild and in-law.
Harry had never known for the thing to fail and he examined it carefully finding that Lily and James' handles were indeed at 'home', whereas Albus, Rose and Hugo's for instance, and even his own, pointed to 'Burrow'.
"Ron and Luna are at Godric's searching for the children and waiting to see if they'll show up." Arthur announced, holding up an owl that just arrived. Only a handful of people were accepted within the wards of Harry's home and his two friends were among them.
Harry didn't know what to think or do. He was shivering from the cold and desperately needed a change. Where could those two have disappeared off to? He sighed heavily, massaging his temple for a second.
"Ted, keep an eye out for them for me, will you?" He asked, pointing to Albus and Hugo who were sitting by the window seat, downcast and worried. Teddy had just come out of the washroom having changed into a clean and dry set of clothes.
"Of course, uncle Harry—you don't even need to ask." Harry patted the blue haired boy's shoulder and sighed. He climbed up the rickety wooden stairs and entered the bedroom that once had been Ginny's, but now held several beds for him and his children when they came over. The room still smelled faintly of her jasmine perfume, but this time, the scent of her was no consolation.
Harry was surprised to see Rose sitting by the desk, looking out the window with her thoughts far away. It was odd to see her in here, not when usually she and Hugo were accommodated in Ron's old room.
"What're you doing up here all alone, Petal?" He asked her and she sighed, turning to look at him with those big no-nonsense brown eyes, the spitting image of her mother.
"The clock keeps saying they are home—but they're not are they?" She asked. Harry nodded, wearing a deep frown. "It doesn't make sense for them not to be at Godric's Hollow when that's where they live. Don't people usually call the place they live their home?"
Harry nodded as he followed her line of thought, though he felt he really needed that change of clothes. He was shivering, his teeth chattering, but Rose seemed not to catch the hint.
"Unless…" She trailed off and he furrowed his eyebrows.
"Unless what?"
"Unless they don't feel Godric's their home anymore..." She took a piece of paper from the desk and handed it to Harry. The drawing was messy and full of the scribbles typical of Lily's hand, but even so he could easily recognize the people portrayed in it and the building standing above them in the color blue. There was a figure that looked like him, black hair and green eyes and round glasses, two identical figures but smaller in size to his left, likely Albus and James. On the other side of him was a figure with big brown curly-cues for hair and dark eyes and next to her a girl with big dark red hair, also curly and a boy and girl with orange hair, the girl wearing pigtails and a pink party dress—he knew her to be Lily and the woman next to him, she could only be Hermione. They were all holding hands in the drawing, though those were little more than little sticks bunched together. He looked at the blue building, full of windows and boasting a bright red door.
Harry's heart beat rapidly as he took all of this in—James and Lily were home.
"Rose Weasley—you are brilliant, girl!" He exclaimed, his eyes bright with hope after a long few minutes as he stood there taking it all in. Rosie smiled triumphantly and left the room without a word, so that he could change.
As Harry rubbed himself dry with a clean towel once he managed to peel off his clothes, he replayed a mantra in his head, the closest thing he could manage to a prayer:
Let them be home.
Let them be home.
Let them be home.
…
Hermione Granger was exhausted and her feet now had blisters from walking around in high heels all day. She should have known better, it had been years since she'd last worn them during her great-aunt Cressida's funeral and even on that day it had been sheer torture. So, she decided to walk home carrying them in her hands, basking in the gentle breeze and the salty scent of ocean that it carried. Hermione took her sweet and patient time, having flooed along with her parents to their flat above the bookshop earlier and briefly checked in with Louisa and Susan who were sipping celebratory wine.
Hermione had won the case and could hardly believe it—perhaps with some pinching… She smiled to herself and looked up toward the sky with its sunset hues—pinks, lilacs and oranges swirling together beautifully. With each step she took there was a tiny bit of pleasure, her bare feet touching the warm stone of the street pavement. She freed her hair from the tight formal twist she'd worn exclusively the past few days and it was glorious. The wind made work out of blowing her bushy golden-brown curls and Hermione was suddenly hit with the realization that now she knew what Luna Lovegood felt—always barefoot, hair always free, wandering about, she smiled at the thought as she rounded the corner of what was Oceanview street and passing three colorful houses, stopped in front of the three-story blue one with a bright red door, white lace curtains adorning the windows from inside. A wave of warmth overcame her and she knew it was because her magic recognized this as her home.
When Hermione unlocked her door and entered it was already six in the evening. She could hear the grandfather clock chime as she walked inside. She hung her purse in the wooden hanger by the door and dropped her shoes there, she would deal with them later.
She began to unbutton her sapphire-colored legal robes as she made her way to the kitchen, slipping out of the thick heavy fabric, dressed only in a cream silk underdress that went down to her knees. She unfastened her tight bra and pulled them off with ease, hanging it along with the robe over the back of the chair.
And then her eyes landed on two glasses sitting by the sink, stained with milk, one of them half-empty. Hermione only ever had milk with her tea or coffee and it couldn't possibly be Rose or Hugo's because they'd spent the last few days between Ron's house and the Burrow. Hermione reached for her wand in the robe's pocket and held it at her side, alert. Looking around, she found the cookie jar empty, the yogurt and grapes that had been in her refrigerator just that morning all gone. There were only crumbs in her bread basket, when she was positive two small loaves were left there that morning.
She tiptoed back into the living room, the house cast in darkness aside from the yellow glow of the table lamp. Perdita the owl was perched elegantly on her spot on the shelf above Hermione's neat desk, but as soon as the messenger bird caught sight of her mistress, flew across the living room, circling the sofa desperately. Hermione came closer and peeked at the sofa and gasped when she saw the image of Lily and James Potter huddled together under a throw blanket, fast asleep. On the coffee table were the bowl of grapes, now empty except for the seeds, yogurt cups and half-eaten sandwiches abandoned on top of a plate.
"Dear Merlin, what have you both done?" She whispered with worry in her voice, circling the sofa to stand directly in front of them. She went on her knees and ran her fingers through Jamie's hair until he stirred and she softly called his name to wake him. "James… James, wake up please."
The boy's emerald-eyes fluttered open, drowsy from sleep—but once the dark and blurry image that was Hermione became clearer, he more than quickly launched himself in her direction, wrapping his arms around her neck, burying his face in her curls. She knew he was crying when his chest pressed against hers began vibrating and warm tears began to land on her skin.
Hermione held him and rubbed soothing circles on his back until he stopped crying and sniffled, letting himself be held.
"I'm never going on the floo again!" He told her and Hermione gently pushed James away so she could look at him, the shock and disbelief in her expression not going unnoticed by the ten-year-old.
"James Sirius—what on Merlin's name are you going on about the floo? Did you illegally ride in it with your sister?" Hermione's voice was now stern and cross. He nodded, though sheepishly. Hermione's eyes widened and her lips became a straight line as usually happened when she was angry and upset. "Where are Albus and your father?"
"I didn't mean to, I swear…" Tears filled his green eyes, he didn't want her to be mad at him. "Al's at the Burrow and I think dad is still at the forest with Teddy."
Hermione was examining him all over, poking and prodding almost as James were a mannequin, her instinctual 'survival mode' leftover from the war making itself show. She checked his arms, hands, head, legs, almost every part of his body for any sign of splinching or injury, but there were none. She allowed him to sit back on the edge of the sofa, his fingers laced together over his lap.
"Is Lily all right?" James nodded. She let out a sigh of relief.
"She was the one who threw the powder in, I jumped after her when I saw—dad told me to be in charge while he was gone, and I didn't have time to call granny for help before we were on our way!"
"This was Lily's doing then?" James nodded sheepishly.
"She wanted to see you." Hermione ran her nervous fingers through her hair and covered her face with both hands for a moment, taking it all in. She could only imagine the sheer panic all of the Weasley's and Harry were in, looking for them. Before she knew it, a sob escaped her lips and tears were falling freely down her cheeks. She felt this was her own fault in a way, she'd been so busy with the trial that she'd neglected the little girl, especially when their last encounter at Ron and Luna's baby shower had been so dramatic. Lily was just a brash five-year-old girl who wanted her mummy…
They were all extremely lucky that the children were safe—they could have died or been lost forever and Hermione would never forgive herself for it.
"I'm sorry…" James said and Hermione nodded, wiping her tears away. Running her fingers gently between his dark bangs, soothing him.
"You must have been so scared, I'm just happy you're both home now…" She pulled him into her arms again for a tight bear hug. "I love you so much, Jamie—you're the best older brother, you know that? Lily and Albus are so lucky!" Hermione felt him nod against her neck and between tears she managed a chuckle. A little while later she remarked: "Merlin you smell like a monkey James, go take a shower!" She ordered and he unwrapped himself from her embrace, eyes red and puffy, but wearing a tired a smile.
"Towels in your wardrobe?" Hermione nodded.
"And soap bars in the cupboard in my bathroom!" She called as he made his way upstairs, eager to obey her or there could be hell to pay later.
"I know!" He yelled back from up the stairs.
"He knows…" Hermione whispered to herself, crossing her arms over her chest, eyes landing on Lily only to notice the girl's eyes staring straight back at her, wide awake. "I hope you know you're in trouble, Lily Luna." The girl frowned and nodded, casting her eyes down in shame. "Something very bad could have happened to you and James—what you did was very dangerous and I expect you to never do it again."
"I won't," the little girl whispered, and Hermione sighed deeply, caressing her red curls and placing loving kisses across her forehead. "I missed you, mummy."
"I missed you too, my darling girl."
"Do I need a bath as well?" Hermione made a show of sniffing Lily all over, which caused her to giggle from the tickling, her cheeks turning a bright pink and her green eyes glowing.
"Yes, of course you do! No smelly Potters in this house!" Lily giggled and hopped off the couch, secretly relieved that her plan had worked. "Your brother should be finished, ask him to draw you a bath—I have to tell your granny you're here, she's probably out of her mind with worry." Hermione got up from the floor, her knees slightly sore by now and Lily made her way upstairs loudly calling James' name.
…
She's sitting on the sofa with a glass of white wine, the television broadcasting some silly comedy show she's not even paying attention to as she idly twirls the drink between her fingers. Her entire being is tingling with anticipation because she knows he will be here any minute now, it's been a half-hour since he fire called from the Burrow.
...
It's half-past eight when Harry floos into her living room—their eyes lock immediately and he doesn't even care to brush off some of the soot. Both their hearts are beating wildly in their chests.
Harry is awfully ready for this whirlwind of a day, his birthday of all things, to come to an end. He's exhausted and his muscles are all tense from flying and worrying.
"They're asleep now—upstairs." Her voice is soft and slightly hoarse, tired as well, but just hearing it makes almost all of his cares melt away. She has that crazy ability over him, of being so infuriating but also the only person capable of soothing him just with her presence. It is, perhaps, the scariest thing in the universe to love and want such a person, be so dependent on her, with such intensity... "I gave them a good talking to, so don't you worry." Just like that his eyes sparkle and her heart skips a beat—he smiles that lopsided grin of his that's always driven her utterly stupid. He inches closer to her, she holds in her breath, toes curling into the Turkish rug from anticipation.
"If it's any bit like the talking to you'd give me and Ron…" He lets out a dry laugh, eyes never leaving hers. Harry is so close she can feel his warm minty breath against her cheek. "You were brilliant at the trial." Her eyes flicker with recognition and move from where they were fixated on his lips back to his gaze.
"I'm always brilliant." She remarks wearing a smirk and he can't help but full on laugh at her humor. Indeed, Hermione Granger was always brilliant, but oftentimes she forgot this important fact and usually before a serious event would briefly let her nerves get to her. Almost. He still remembers her as a teenager, stressing over exams, and also the many times over the years where he would meet with her in the corridors of the ministry and hold her while she hyperventilated. He could tell from her eyes that she'd been nervous today, but despite that, victorious. He admired Hermione like he admired no other.
"Hmm, yes, which is partly why for me it is so hard to conceive that you could possibly love me, be in love with me, the way I love and am in love with you."
"Oh, so I'm in love with you, now?" He rolls his green eyes. Hermione has a cheeky smile playing at the corner of her lips. Her fingers find their way to the pale blue linen of his shirt, literally and figuratively playing with his buttons.
"'Course, and I'm madly, stupidly, unmistakably in love with you. Even though you're a little batty," he scoffs playfully, "Merlin, who am I kidding, you are a raging control freak and bossy little know-it-all!" She laughs in that loud and unapologetic way of hers, throwing her curls back, both wild and tinged golden from the glow of the lamp, exposing her delicate milky skin. He thinks there's not perhaps one sound in the entire world more beautiful than Hermione's laugh.
"But also brilliant?" Her fingertips are wandering to his overgrown beard.
"Oh-so brilliant, and beautiful…" Harry's hand winds up around her waist and he pulls her possessively against him. "and sexy as hell…" he whispers into her ear, the sensation of his breath and the barely-there grazing of his lips and beard against the sensitive skin of her earlobe causing her to shiver with desire. Her fingers grab a fistful of his shirt, while her other hand supports her, as standing on the tip of her bare feet, she presses her hungry lips onto his.
Hermione feels as though she's on fire when he kisses her back and soon their tongues battle for dominance, desperate, wild and haphazard hands and limbs eager to make up for the lost time. Her entire being pulses, perhaps never having felt so alive.
When they finally part for air -blasted air!- he rests his forehead on hers, trembling from the intensity of it—the edges of her curls are glowing like fire—he knows she feels the same electricity coursing through her veins and around her body, the fire is her magic, her burning love, and desire for him.
"I love you, Hermione." He whispers, green eyes brighter than she's ever seen them. She bites her bottom lip and nods—she knows and she loves him too.
"Perhaps you might want to see the kids now?" He sighs and nods, her soft hand captures his and he laces their fingers together.
Harry was home, at last.
Reviews are greatly appreciated, I always feel rather self-conscious when writing kissing or sex scenes, so I could really use your feedback on this one.