October 10th, 2005.
Putting on the other pendant, Hermione stepped back and looked at the full body mirror, allowing a satisfied smile to seep through her lips.
She wore a long, pastel lilac wrap dress, with sheer short sleeves, a decent V-neck, and a waist-defining bow at the side. Feeling awfully giddy, she twirled around and relished the soft feel of the fabric against her legs.
She was extremely grateful for Ginny. The woman had made sure the bridesmaids were comfortable with the dress she'd chosen for them. If the redhead and Hermione liked it, she was pretty sure Luna and Sarah were also more than satisfied.
At the sound of someone clearing their throat, she turned around to find Sirius leaning against the entrance of the tent, an amused smile playing on his face.
She threw him a quick glare, though she hurried to join him and hold the arm he'd offered her. He looked quite dashing, she decided and made sure to tell him so as her eyes drank in the sight of him in silk robes; ones that enhanced his good looks and the fortune everyone was sure he owned.
"Your ethereal beauty has rendered me speechless, Hermione," he replied with clear awe.
She almost snorted at his elegant use of vocabulary, but his earnest look and tone made sure to assure her that he was entirely serious.
"Good thing we need the best man to stay quiet during the ceremony," she quipped, throwing him a sideways glance as they walked towards the altar. Her best friend—Merlin, he was getting married!—was pacing around, darting a hand through his now dishevelled hair every so often.
Shaking her head at his behaviour, she let go of Sirius's arm and instead placed a comforting hand on Harry's cheek. Bright, green eyes softened at the sight of her, and he let out a breath of relief.
"Hermione! Have you seen Ginny? What if she—"
She swatted the back of his head to cut him off before he could start rambling, and she gave him a reassuring smile. "Harry, breathe. I just saw her and she's honestly very happy. I know for a fact that she's been waiting for this moment since forever, and she would never leave you."
A wobbly smile appeared on his face, still showing signs of his nerves, and she couldn't quite blame him. Her two best friends were only twenty-five—of course, Hermione was a year older—and one of them was already taking the big step.
She couldn't believe they'd come this far. He had survived everything that had been unwillingly handed to him. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye because she was just, so - oh, so proud of him.
His eyes widened and his thumb wiped away the stray tear that had slipped on her cheek.
"I'm so happy for you," Hermione whispered, and he moved to engulf her in a suffocating hug that spoke louder than any words.
"Thank you," she heard him say and she hastened to pull away to check if she'd made him cry, too. That was the last thing she wanted to do! Harry deserved to be all smiles, on this day especially.
Giving him one last encouraging grin, she moved to the side, so that she could join the other two bridesmaids. Neville stood facing Luna, while Ron was on the opposite side as he looked at Sarah adoringly.
She narrowed her eyes at the arrangement—they were all couples and strangely enough, Sirius was standing in front of her. Not letting herself ponder on the thought for too long, she waved enthusiastically at James and Lily, who sat next to the Lupins as they held onto a very hyper Teddy.
He looked like he was scrambling to get to Hermione, causing her heart to swell at her Godson. They had obviously chosen a perfect Godmother, and she let herself be arrogant about that.
Despite the arrival of fall, the sun was shining brightly with hot streaks that reached out to every person, while they all looked on with fond smiles at the bride that walked towards the altar.
Mr. Weasley—Arthur, she corrected herself like he always did—let go of his daughter's hand and passed it to Harry, who was visibly resisting the urge to weep at the chance of finally marrying the woman he loved so dearly.
For the moment, everything was well, and she relished the beauty of love; an emotion so simple, yet so profoundly complicated with its gifts and hardships.
When her eyes finally moved away from the couple and found grey pinned right on her, she allowed a rare, shit eating grin to slip on her lips, and Sirius winked at her, looking over her face with an indecipherable gleam.
—
Hermione sipped on her wine, watching with amusement as Ron wobbled on his legs in an attempt at dancing while drunk.
She hadn't realized she had company until Sirius joined her side and nudged her shoulder with his.
"How you came to date Ron, I'll never know," he chortled, managing to look down at her despite the heels she'd worn.
Damn him and his height.
She raised a brow at him, looking back at the redhead with a small smile. "He's usually more composed than this."
"Hunted Horcruxes, but he's still shit at dancing."
"Hey, now," she began defensively, narrowing her gaze at him. "Stop insulting my best friend. I doubt you're any better."
With a slow smirk now playing at his lips, he leaned closer to her - so close that she could feel his breath, hot against her cheek. "My, my - is this your way of asking me to dance with you?"
"What?! No—"
"—Don't worry though, 'cause I'm brilliant," he finished with a satisfied smile and grabbed her glass to gulp down the rest of the drink. She couldn't even protest, too focused on the tongue that slipped out to lick the remains of the red liquor along his bottom lip.
Finally out of her stupor, she crossed her arms and gave him a calculating gaze. "Me thinks you're too drunk."
"Me thinks you should get on your damn feet," he mocked and offered her a hand, making sure to seize her hand in his as they walked to the dance floor.
"And you say I'm the one trying to get you to dance," she murmured, a hand on both shoulders as he placed his own around her waist.
She couldn't help but cherish the gentle touch, warmth spreading through the cool fabric and throbbing her veins with an intense feeling - one that she couldn't name just yet.
"I'd just like to show you my fantastic charms," he explained in a solemn tone, grinning at her as he twirled her around.
He blew away a strand of hair that had sprung back from her french braid and her lids fluttered at his closeness, hoping he couldn't hear the loud boom of her heart over the music.
"You don't have to prove anything to me."
His smile faltered, instead sporting something much more solemn. She often forgot what he looked like when he wasn't smiling. Sure, it had only been around five months ever since he'd come back, but she had gotten so used to his amused glances and teasing words.
Hermione hoped that with this second chance in life, he will smile for much longer and for many more things to be happy about.
"Thank you," he said, his voice suddenly hoarse, a myriad of emotions swimming in his molten, grey eyes. Her heart stuttered at the intensity of his look, and she tilted her head at him, confused.
"What are you thanking me for, Sirius?"
"The question is what am I not thanking you for," he corrected her, clearly desperate for her to understand him. "You've done so much. I—there's nothing for me to complain about. You've given me a life, given my best friends a life, kept my Godson alive. Merlin, what have you not done, Hermione?"
She swallowed thickly, unsure of how to respond to that. They'd already thanked her enough; more times than she deserved. "It was something I could do, so I just did it. Really, if you'd been in my place, you would've done the same thing."
Or so she hoped, anyways. She wasn't exactly aware of just how fond each person was of her. Deep down, she still felt like the little, bushy haired girl who sat under a tree, with the company of a book and not any friends.
Completely unaware of what she was thinking, he let out a whoosh of air, seemingly trying to rid himself of the strong emotions he was caught with.
"Still . . . thank you," he murmured, and his hand moved to cup her jaw, leaning closer and closer until his soft lips met the skin of her cheek, lingering on the kiss for a little moment before moving away.
When he pinned her with an unsure look, searching for any complaints and failing to find any, a genuine smile spread on his face, and she couldn't help but find herself enjoying each and every moment of that day.
October 22nd, 2005.
"James," exclaimed Hermione, her tone mixed with surprise and confusion as she entered the kitchen.
She looked back at him once more as he said, "Hey, Hermione," before moving towards the tea kettle and pouring herself a cup.
She placed a scone on her plate—thanking Kreacher silently for his good behaviour recently—and set it up on the table just as she sat in her usual seat.
Her best friend's dad, who should be older but magic had other things in mind, darted a hand through his mop of hair, resembling his son even more than he already did.
"What are you doing here?" she asked casually, no longer caring about being careful around him and Lily.
The couple had sat everyone down a couple of weeks after returning back to life, pleading for everyone to not treat them as people older than they really were. Of course, Harry still called them 'mom' and 'dad', but everyone else proceeded to consider them friends, or even younger siblings.
It was quite funny, now that she thought about it.
"Lily is mourning Snape, and I don't know what to do," he blurted out quickly and then proceeded to wince.
Sighing heavily, she allowed herself a second to remember the fallen man. Sure, she held respect for him for keeping allegiance to the Order, but just like with Professor Dumbledore, she couldn't help but begrudge him with other acts that had nothing to do with his position as a spy.
Nonetheless, she understood that he'd been Lily's best friend and an ache formed deep in her chest at the thought of what her friend might be going through.
"The grieving period has finally hit her, and I'm not saying you should let it happen, but you could give her happy memories that remind her of him - make her smile just like . . . Snape would have, had he been here," she said carefully, pride growing for the man who was listening intently to keep his wife content.
"You're a good husband," she commented, hoping to lighten the atmosphere, and he grinned at her, plopping a piece of omelette in his mouth.
"And Kreacher is a good cook - much better than you," he teased, letting out a chuckle at the affronted look on her face.
She huffed, pursing her lips into pout like a child who'd just been chastised for doing something wrong. "Honestly," she muttered, exasperated. "What's with everyone hating my cooking?"
She eyed him carefully and he shrunk in his seat, even as a shirtless Sirius finally joined the seat next to his best friend and laughed at the two.
"One of these days, I'll bake something and you two will be desperate to eat the delicacy!" she exclaimed, her voice getting higher as she shoved down a bite of her scone.
"Well, just tell us when you're going to do that, so that we can move before this shithole burns down."
"You're making me rethink of actually buying the flat I've found," she threatened, pointing her spoon at him as though it was a weapon that could scare him away.
His arms raised in surrender before his jaw went slack and brows furrowed in confusion. "What flat?"
"Oh, you know," she mentioned casually, "one in Malton — it's pretty cheap."
"But that's too far," he spluttered, and James began moving his head to look at the two, each time one of them spoke in turn.
"Sirius," she began slowly, sounding like someone who was addressing a five-year-old. "We have magic."
"Well, fuck me."
"Sorry, Padfoot. But I'm a married guy, y'know," James butted in and his best friend flipped him off, ignoring Hermione as she snickered at his expression.
"Are you sure this is it?"
Eyeing him from the corner of her eye, Hermione nodded in assent and peered over the edge of the wall, glancing around the other room to find it empty.
She moved away from the doorway and Harry followed, looking carefully around the place. The sofas, dressers, and even the carpet looked perfectly intact, showing no form of life at the moment.
They'd received a message that same morning: someone had managed to catch a glimpse of one of the Death Eaters that was still free. She was surprised to see that the location was still in England, considering others had been found in foreign countries across Europe.
"Check again," he insisted, and she tapped her wand, casting a second Homenum Revelio.
The spell informed them of another presence in the house, causing Hermione to take a deep breath to reinforce her level of patience and to keep moving.
"I'm going to check the bedroom," she called in a hushed tone.
Harry gave her a brief nod. "I'll go to the kitchen."
With that, she moved away from the counters, filled with expensive, ceramic vases and what appeared to be Dark Arts books.
Her brows scrunched together when her eyes flickered towards the far-end room, and she swiftly walked towards it, a firm hand grabbing the knob and turning it.
The door creaked loudly, and she strained her ears to hear any other sound, though she found the action to be futile when her eyes immediately met the sight of a frightened house elf.
The small creatures looked at her with big, bright brown-green eyes, continuing to fill with tears at each step she took forward.
"Hey," she said in a quiet tone. "I'm not going to hurt you."
One more step forward and she was close enough to kneel on the floor and level a careful stare at the house elf. "But we need you to tell us everything we ask you. Is that okay?"
When she—Tully, she soon found out was her name—gave Hermione a shaky nod, the Auror called for Harry, who was quick to enter the bedroom with a curious look.
She told him how she'd found Tully and they whispered to each other of what the course of plan should look like. Once they came to an agreement, she looked back to the elf, who still stood shivering in the corner.
Hermione gave her a hesitant smile, hoping it would comfort her, even if just a bit. "Now, can you tell us who your Master or Mistress is?"
"Tully's Mistress be Mistress Clara, but Mistress be telling Tully to listen to Master Carrow."
A contemplative silence stretched between them, allowing Harry to ask a follow up question, "And what is your Mistress's relation to Carrow?"
"Master be her lover, but Mistress is no more. No, she's not," Tully croaked with a trembling mouth, shaking her head frantically.
Hermione moved closer to the house elf and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Can you tell us where Carrow is?"
"Master Carrow left after he received a letter. Tully does not know where he goes!"
"Do you know who it was from?" Harry questioned, trying to hide his alarm.
"It was from a bad woman, but Tully knows no name."
"Do you know what she looks like, Tully?" she asked, barely being able to contain how desperate she was to drink in all the information they were able to get.
"Tully saw her once. She saw a picture, she did!" she exclaimed with a nod.
"Which one? Where is it?"
When small fingers gripped the front page of the Daily Prophet, they found themselves facing a woman they knew all too well.
Her pulse quickened and at his sharp intake of breath, she looked back at Harry to find him staring at her with a similar, silent question.
What do we do now?
Her hands were lost in the mass of curls, desperate to ease the growing headache with a tentative massage.
Moving to tuck her pen behind her ear, Hermione looked back at Harry with a pensive expression.
"The thing is that Carrow had power in the Ministry and at Hogwarts. This means that he had enough time to secure a place in a girl's home, if a time to hide were to come."
"You're right," he muttered, rubbing along the edge of his jaw absentmindedly. "And since his girlfriend died in the war, he didn't have to worry about her confessing anything about him. He was even still able to hide in her house."
"He stayed there for Merlín knows how long, Harry! We've found almost all of them in Norway or Romania, but Carrow was here all along . . ."
"Or at least he was, until he got a letter from her," Harry added, spitting the last word in revulsion.
At the reminder of the woman, she could feel the angry drum of magic swirl around their office, both sharing more than enough resentment towards their newfound suspect.
It felt like a heavy stone had been set in the middle of their investigation. Sure, they'd gotten a new lead, but it was one that they didn't like, at all.
All Hermione knew was that the woman wasn't aware of what was coming for her. She rejoiced at that, and allowed herself to shut her eyes, even if just for a moment.
A/N: Oh God, I'm so late, but I hope you enjoy the update. Happy new year and thank you so much for all the support you've given me so far!