A/N: Thank you to my lovely Beta, lozipozivanillabean.
Chapter warning: Smut lol.
xxxxxiii.
oh god, i'm so tired of being afraid
(Six by Sleeping at Last)
January 31, 1981
"Is this really necessary, James?"
She huffed when James pushed her down onto the couch and deposited Harry on her lap. Warily, she watched as he quickly clambered onto the opposite side of the couch and tinkered with the Wizard camera, peeking at the lens and adjusting it as needed until he was satisfied.
"James…"
"Yes, it is necessary," he firmly replied, a tone of finality in his voice. "Ever since Harry was born, we haven't had a decent family portrait, Hermione. It is Pureblood tradition to hire an official photographer to get the family's picture taken once a new heir is born, but seeing how everything's fucked up right now, we really can't afford to do that now, can we?"
"Language," she hissed, immediately covering both of Harry's ears with her hands. "You know that Harry still hasn't said his first word!"
The corner of James's lips lifted into a small, apologetic smile. "Sorry, old habit," he said as he sauntered towards the couch and plopped down beside Hermione. "I'm trying my best."
"I'm going to hex you if Harry's first word is a curse word," she glowered, prompting him to widely grin. She then wildly gestured at the camera and added, "And I think this is still unnecessary, James."
"It's tradition," he insisted again.
Hermione sighed and frowned at the camera. They'd been cooped inside the house for a month and Hermione was starting to think James had already gone barmy. James Potter was an active, adventurous wizard after all. Of course he'd be the first one to grow restless, forced to hide himself inside the house without anywhere else to go.
"Hermione," he placated, "come on. Show a big smile. You don't want Harry to see your ridiculous frown on our first family picture, do you now?"
"This is ridiculous," she petulantly said. Plastering a smile on her face was ridiculous, especially considering their situation right now. Taking a photograph seemed a tad silly to the brunette.
James ducked his head and peered down at her, an understanding smile on his face. "Show that pretty smile of yours, love," he cajoled. "For Harry." He reached forward and lightly pinched Harry's cheek, who fussed on Hermione's lap and tried to shy away from his father's touch.
Hermione's eyes softened as she gazed down at Harry. At six months, he'd gained a few pounds. Her son still exhausted his parents, discovering new places with his recently acquired skill – crawling. It was terribly early for him to start crawling, although the baby books she'd slaved over during her pregnancy reassured her that some babies would start to crawl much earlier than others. James once pointed out that Harry had her genes; of course, he'd start acquiring skills that would be deemed a little advanced for his age.
"Hermione?"
She shook her head and sighed, glancing back at James. "I still think this is ridiculous," she muttered. "But…" She fondly looked at the gurgling baby on her lap and smiled. "For Harry."
"There it is," James said, breaking into a huge grin. He pulled out his wand, gave it a tiny wave, and the camera produced a soft 'click'. "The camera will flash on the count of 'five'."
Hermione finally directed her eyes at the camera and showed a small smile. Five seconds passed and there was a small flash of light, but of course, of course Harry would make it difficult for his exasperated parents. At three seconds he started to squirm, reaching out for the new family pet, a white cat named 'Snowball', and almost toppled off Hermione's lap.
The Potter family took a few more photographs, and after twelve tries and with very flustered parents, James deemed the photograph passable.
With another wave of his wand, the photograph was produced and he slipped it inside a small picture frame. He broadly grinned and gave it to Hermione for her to see.
A soft laughed escaped from her lips. The moving photograph looped again and again, of Harry suffocating Snowball as he tightly hugged the cat against his chest. James's hazel eyes were gleaming brightly in amusement while picture Hermione would grin, and then chuckle at the expense of their poor cat.
"You like it?"
Hermione flashed a smile. "It's wonderful."
March 31, 1981
"Harry," James cried in exasperation. "Please, please, please eat your food."
The eight-month-old loudly babbled incoherent words, his face comically scrunched up in frustration, as he started to fling various food towards his chest and, to his father's displeasure, on James's face. James was starting to smell like baby food, which admittedly grossed him out after trying it one time. Try as he might, he couldn't cajole Harry into eating the disgusting goop. James had once reasoned to Hermione that the weird concoction of various nutritious meals shouldn't be served to anyone, even babies, but his wife had assured him that Harry needed them for growth.
"You're a menace," James sighed, lightly pinching both of Harry's cheeks. Harry's babbles grew louder, as if marvellously retorting a good comeback that would make Hermione proud. James didn't doubt his vocabulary would be as extensive as his mother's, but right now, the babbles were an incoherent mess.
A soft snort brought his attention to Hermione, who had just finished washing the dishes. "When I asked you to feed Harry, I was hoping the food would be inside his mouth. Not everywhere but."
"He's a menace," James whined, placing the small, plastic fork back on Harry's plate. "I don't know how you do it, Hermione. I'm atrocious at handling Harry."
Hermione laughed. "You're doing great, love," she reassured. "Harry's just really a handful."
"But you take care of him wonderfully," he reasoned out. "I'm pants at it."
"You're doing great," she insisted as she sauntered towards the messy pair. She lifted Harry into her arms, who then instantly latched onto her curls and happily tugged them. James snorted at the pained grimace on Hermione's face. "Well, somebody needs to take a bath now."
Harry exclaimed a series of happy squeals, babbling more against his mother's ears as Hermione brought them both towards the bathroom.
Before crossing the threshold, she paused and glanced back at James. "You look like you need a bath too," she pointed out.
"Thanks," James sarcastically quipped. "I'll clean up after you give Harry a bath."
Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "Why don't you hop inside the bathtub too?" she suggested, then continued her journey inside the bathroom.
James huffed a laugh but followed them inside nonetheless.
Hermione was already waving her hand filling the bathtub with lukewarm water. She poured soap inside and deposited a naked Harry inside the tub when there were bubbles everywhere. Harry, who they'd discovered loved taking a bath, was already excitedly clapping his hands. His cheery babbles increased as Hermione conjured an invisible floating ring around his torso, just to keep his head above water without needing to hold him constantly.
"Hop in, James," Hermione commanded, her back still against him as she started to wipe away the goop on Harry's face and chest with a wet towel.
The bespectacled wizard sighed and stripped naked. Hermione gave him space as he settled inside the bathtub, his back pressed against the edge. Harry was grinning widely, offering him his beloved rubber ducky.
He silently watched as Hermione cooed at their son, placing random kisses on his wet cheeks until Harry was a giggling mess. His hazel eyes softened at how much she doted on Harry. He'd always thought she'd be the stricter of the two, but James already had this inkling Hermione would spoil Harry rotten, even though she'd try her very best to be a good parent.
Hermione, by then, had squeezed shampoo onto her palms and gently slathered them through Harry's messy hair. "Oh, Harry, Mummy loves you very much," she tenderly cooed, making sure that no shampoo suds got in Harry's clear, blue eyes.
The gooey feelings in his heart grew. James loved it the most when he was watching Hermione interact with Harry. Although she constantly assured him he was doing a good job of taking care Harry, she was infinitely better than he could ever dream of being. Perhaps, Hermione had already had plenty of practice mothering the Marauders at Hogwarts. They were a handful, after all, acting like a bunch of children with a streak of mischief. Of course taking care of Harry wouldn't be much of a problem for Hermione. Besides, from her numerous stories about Hermione Granger and her adventures with her ridiculous boys, it seemed like taking care of other people came naturally to her.
He had stayed silent, content in watching Hermione show her love for their son in her own little ways. Now, clean without any soap suds in his hair, Harry was happily flailing his rubber ducky around in the water, emitting little sounds of wondrous delight only he could understand.
"Your turn," Hermione said, blue eyes bright as she scooted towards James. Before he could protest, she was already gently cleaning his face and chest with the same wet towel she'd used on Harry.
James felt wonderfully soft and well-loved. He wasn't sure how he was looking right now, but if he could take a guess, he'd most likely have a besotted look on his face. He truly wanted to snipe a teasing, snarky comment, just to fluster Hermione, but he didn't want to disturb the peaceful look on her face, so open and full of love.
Hermione did the complete ritual she always did during Harry's bath. She squirted shampoo on her palms and spread them in James's messier, thicker hair. There was ridiculous concentration on her face, as if the simple act of lathering the slippery liquid through each of his strand was a difficult test she needed to ace.
With a silly, smitten grin on his face, he ducked his head closer to Hermione's. She drew back a little in surprise, her fingers still weaved through his shampoo-filled hair. "Does Mummy love me very much too?" he cheekily asked.
The brunette blinked her wide eyes before she expelled a soft laugh, the corners of her eyes crinkling with genuine happiness. "Very, very much," she reassured.
James chuckled and pressed his lips against hers.
May 31, 1981
She was barely out of the shower when James suddenly burst inside the bathroom, his hazel eyes unbelievably wide.
"James!" she shrieked in surprise. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"Harry," was all he could breathe out.
Panic instantly seized her whole as she hastily secured a towel around her body. Her hair was still dripping wet, but Hermione didn't mind. Different scenarios ran inside her head as she quickly trailed behind James. Was Harry badly injured? Or, Merlin and Morgana, had Voldemort and the Death Eaters been able to find them even when they'd been very careful?
Her heart was thudding wildly inside her chest as she arrived in their living room. The whole floor was littered with Harry's toys. She saw Snowball curled against a stuffed stag toy, cracking one blue eye open to curiously glance at the panicky parents.
Hermione's eyes roamed around as she tried to see if there were intruders in their house. When she didn't see anyone, her eyes immediately sought out Harry. He was blinking owlishly at his parents, one hand anchored on the couch. He was wobbling precariously, as if he'd plop onto his bum soon.
"What's—"
Whatever she was about to ask didn't escape her lips. Hermione gasped, jaw dropping when Harry gave them a gummy smile and started cruising against the couch. Harry had started to stand up on his own and support himself against furniture and Hermione knew it was only a matter of time before he'd be able to walk on his own.
Beside her, James fell on his knees and opened his arms. "Come on, mate," he urged. "That's it."
Harry babbled excited sounds. He paused when he reached the end of the couch and almost toppled over, but he tightly held onto the couch and glanced back at his parents.
"Come on, Harry. Just a step," James continued to urge, the smile on his face wide and blinding.
Hermione held her breath as Harry's tiny hands unlatched from the couch. For a moment, he wobbled precariously. Hid arms were already spread out in front of him, ready to brace himself in case he fell. But he was a curious, little boy, and once he found himself balancing without falling, Harry took a tiny step towards his parents. Then, another. By the time he'd taken a third step, he'd toppled onto his bum and had burst into a round giggles.
The brunette had tears in her eyes, but the smile on her face was unmistakable. James was boisterously laughing on the ground, already crawling towards Harry to gather him in his arms.
"You berk!" she cried, kicking him in the bum. Surprised, James almost lost his balance. "I thought something bad had happened to Harry!"
"Language!" James laughingly pointed out as he reached Harry and lifted him into the air.
She was too giddy to realise she'd cursed in front of their child, also falling on her knees to praise her brilliant, little boy.
July 31, 1981
James Potter was very bored. So bored he thought he'd go ballistic soon.
He and his family had been in hiding for seven months already. The first few months were tolerable; he was just happy that his family was safe and he got to spend his every day with them. Harry was steadily growing into a bright, healthy boy and brought joy to both of his parents. James was endlessly thankful they were able to witness his firsts, and he was able to bond with Harry to his heart's content.
But then again, James was a reckless, adventurous man. He'd spent the previous months trying to explore every nook and cranny of the Potter Cottage his parents had gifted them. As far as he knew, this cottage used to be Linfred of Stinchcombe's home, before he procured enough money to foresee the building of Potter Manor. The house's attic held various, hidden notes from the Potter family's founding father and when Hermione and Harry were busy, James would find himself tucked inside the attic, practicing some obscure magic his ancestor had invented.
His transfiguration skills had improved marvellously and sometimes, Hermione would join him in his practice. She still managed to bewilder him with her magical prowess, teaching him some advanced spells. Most of them she'd learnt when she was Hermione Granger, explaining that most of them had saved her life too many times to count.
However, the novelty of these sessions with Hermione had long waned too, and James had taken up a new hobby instead. He'd always been a decent cook; when he was a child, he'd sneaked down into the kitchens of Potter Manor and demand Pokey teach him how to cook decent meals for his midnight snack. Now, with a family of his own, James took it upon himself to prepare their meals every day. Hermione was decent at cooking too, no doubt after helping Anya prepare their meals for years, but James had insisted to do this chore every day, happy to feed his family and improve his cooking skills at the same time.
But then, like all hobbies he'd acquired during their forced hiding, James had grown bored of cooking also.
He knew it was a ridiculous thing to feel when he should be thankful he and his family were still safe and very much alive. But there were times when he'd reminisce about his Auror missions, fighting alongside his best friends to catch the bad guys, and he missed that feeling.
He tried to hide these feelings from Hermione, knowing she'd partially blame herself for getting them in this situation, but sometimes, he'd catch her looking at him with such sad, guilty eyes. They'd tiptoed around topics about the outside world, keeping their conversations about friends and family at a minimum, lest they made everything depressing. James had already made a mistake once of wondering out loud if the Order had made a plan to defeat Voldemort since all of his horcruxes were already destroyed, and Hermione had spent the remaining day worrying herself sick. She'd written a long and winding letter demanding Dumbledore give them an update, but Dumbledore had yet to send a reply and Merlin, bloody Merlin, James was soon going to lose his mind.
The merry 'ding' from the oven roused him back to reality. James lightly shook his head to rid him of such depressing thoughts. It was Harry's first birthday after all.
Hermione soon came in, carrying a suspicious lump on a tray. She was still wearing her favourite worn apron, pink and frilly, as she settled the tray on the table. Harry, who was sitting on his high chair, babbled merrily at the sight of the cake, already extending his hands to try and grab it.
"Are you sure it's edible?" James asked, warily surveying the cake she'd insisted on making. He trusted her cooking, of course, but the cake really did look suspicious.
She threw him a light glare. "Then don't eat it, Potter," she snapped, an annoyed frown on her face.
"Berk!"
James snorted in amusement and looked at the excited toddler. Hermione's cheeks reddened as Harry continued to chant the slur, although James noticed that she was trying her very hardest not to laugh.
"Oh Harry, sweetheart, please. That's a bad word," Hermione pleaded, prompting James to snort once more. She pierced him with her narrowed, blue eyes. "You're never going to live this down, are you?"
"Nope," James merrily replied, popping the 'p' with much gusto.
Harry had started to talk, quipping one-worded replies to relay what he truly felt. It just so happened that his very first word was, hilariously, 'berk' which he undoubtedly copied from his mother. James clearly remembered how his wife threatened him not to speak bad words in front of their growing son, lest he copied him. Funnily enough, it was Hermione who'd taught Harry his very first word and the brunette had been mortified about it ever since.
"Mama! Mama!" Harry then excitedly cried, trying to reach for a fistful of cake. Hermione immediately sliced a small portion and placed it on Harry's plate. The child had no qualms in grabbing a few chunks and ramming them inside his mouth, whilst smearing some on his chubby cheeks. Harry hummed in delight and suckled on his fingers, his blue eyes wide and bright with happiness.
"Well, at least someone's enjoying your cake," James teased, absentmindedly conjuring tissues out of thin air to wipe Harry's messy cheeks. "Come on, Harry, say 'Dada'."
"Mama!" he echoed.
"No, Dada."
"Mama!"
James sighed and frowned at Hermione. "Why won't he say it?" he whined.
"Well, obviously it's because he loves me more," she cheekily replied. James scoffed in protest, watching as Hermione lifted Harry out of his high chair and started to cuddle the birthday boy. Hermione didn't seem to care how Harry's messy hands and cheeks smeared chocolate onto his mother's thick curls.
"Your hair's going to suffocate Harry in the near future. I'm sure of it," the bespectacled wizard joked, extending his hand to pinch Harry's cheek.
Hermione grimaced in pain as Harry happily tugged one of her curls. "He seems awfully happy with my hair, though," she pointed out. She then broke into a huge grin when Harry happily babbled, as though he was trying to tell his mother how his day went. Hermione's gaze was solely on Harry, indulging the little tot by answering him with words that prompted Harry to continue his incoherent tirade.
James fondly grinned and rested his cheek against his upturned palm, content in watching the mother-son duo interact. The gooey feelings he always felt when watching them resurfaced in his heart once more and truth be told, he could spend his whole day just watching them together, love and happiness evident between them. Although he got annoyed at times, when Hermione quipped Harry loved her more, James couldn't help but secretly agree. Because really, how could Harry not? Hermione was amazing with him, patient with him, and looked at him like he was her whole world.
She then caught his gaze and her wide smile faltered. "What?" she asked.
"You're very pretty," he answered without much thought. "Do you know that?"
Her cheeks bloomed red as her expression turned shy. "Stop teasing me," she spat, throwing him another light glare. "I know I'm already covered in chocolate because of Harry's messy hands."
His grin grew wide, noting the chocolate streaks on her nose and chin. Still, she was unbelievably pretty; Hermione should have known.
"I wasn't teasing," he protested, already cradling his palm against her cheek. "You're really very pretty, Whiskers. Sweet Merlin."
She laughingly batted his hand away, but James grinned and leant forward to give her a kiss against her lips. Harry whined and tried to push his father's face away, prompting Hermione to burst into soft chuckles.
"Tough luck, mate," James tutted at the annoyed tot. "You're going to have to learn to share your mother."
-ooo-
Hermione finally finished washing the dishes the Muggle way and wiped her hands clean against her apron. She then removed it from around her waist and hung it on a small hook.
When her blue eyes scanned the kitchen, she absentmindedly swished her wand to put everything back in its place. She threw an exasperated glance at Harry's high chair, predictably the messiest amongst all the furniture in their small kitchen. She flicked her wrist once more and was only satisfied when his chair was spotless.
She then strode out of the kitchen and into the living room, noting that both James and Harry were already in the bedroom. James had fixed Harry's scattered toys but had missed a few playthings hidden under their couch and the table.
Once everything was clean, Hermione proceeded to double check their wards.
Satisfied that the wards she, Dumbledore, and James had placed were still intact, Hermione flicked her wand for the last time, turning off the lights.
Hermione then sauntered inside their bedroom, a soft yawn tearing out from her lips. It had been quite an eventful day, what with Harry's first birthday and all, and she couldn't wait to cuddle beside James and sleep the night away.
She faltered in her steps, spotting her husband already snoring softly on their bed with Harry peacefully on his chest. Hermione couldn't stop the wide, bemused grin from appearing on her face, noting how even asleep, the father-son duo looked marvellously alike. From the way their foreheads creased or how their mouths were both slightly ajar, it was undoubted that Harry would grow up to look like James in all ways but his eyes. Hopefully, Harry's ego wouldn't be as huge as James, though.
Her smile turned fond as she slowly pulled Harry from James's chest. Harry softly whimpered in her arms, and Hermione slightly jostled him, humming a soft lullaby under her breath until he'd quietened once more. After making sure her baby wouldn't awaken, Hermione placed a kiss on Harry's forehead and laid him down inside his crib.
Hermione then changed into her nightclothes and sauntered back to the bed. She grinned at the crooked glasses still perched on James's nose and gently pulled it away. She then placed it on their bedside table and climbed into bed beside James, placing her head on his shoulder. He instantly wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close despite being asleep. She smiled against his shoulder and placed a kiss against his jaw, murmuring a soft 'I love you' under her breath. A string of incoherent words flew out of his lips before he started snoring once again, obviously too deep asleep to be roused.
She still felt very much awake though, her thoughts once again filled by a plan she'd been formulating for weeks.
They'd been in hiding for seven months already, and Hermione was slowly losing her mind. She could see that James was growing restless and it pained her how he was doing his very best to hide how he was truly feeling, lest he worried her. But she still saw how he was growing impatient from all the waiting. Dumbledore had yet to give them any news about what he was planning to do to bring Voldemort down, and it was starting to frustrate her. Sev was the only one who corresponded with the family since he was their Secret Keeper, but even his letters were vague, merely assuring them that the Order was doing their best to fight Voldemort's tyranny.
Hermione at first accepted their fate and patiently waited for Dumbledore's plan to come into fruition, but after seven months in hiding, Hermione knew she had to do something already. This could not go on like this. Halloween was fast approaching and the agony of anticipating Voldemort's inevitable arrival was eating her alive. She trusted Sev with all of her heart, and she doubted her family would be betrayed by him in the end, but Hermione had this inkling that in order to finish Voldemort once and for all, he had to find them in the end.
Hence, the gears inside her mind had turned for weeks, trying to come up with a plan herself on how best to lure Voldemort into a trap. She had stayed up late at night a few times to perfect her plan. A part of her felt guilty for hiding it from her husband, but Hermione wanted everything to be perfect in her mind first, before she pitched her idea.
She wasn't even sure if it would work… if she would even come out alive. But truth be told, she was so tired of hiding, of running away from an evil wizard that had made her life miserable – past and present.
With a resolute glint in her blue eyes, her hold on James tightened.
Her plan was already finished and she promised herself she'd start to put it into action tomorrow.
August 1, 1981
Hermione was frustratingly distracted the whole day. She wasn't sure if James had noticed it, but her husband hadn't commented, too busy playing with Harry in their living room.
Dinner had ended and Hermione was now washing the dishes in the sink. She welcomed the monotony of washing them the Muggle way as her mind ran a hundred miles per hour, repeating her plan again and again until it was all she could think about.
Such was her distraction she didn't even notice when James slipped inside the kitchen. It was only when he was pressed behind her that she realised she wasn't alone anymore.
"Hi," he whispered, his warm breath washing over the exposed skin of her neck, prompting goosebumps to erupt there.
Whatever she was thinking flew out of the window, terribly distracted by something hard poking against her bum. James placed a kiss against her neck and the plate she was holding almost slipped out of her grasp.
"James!" she breathily chastised, but James merely smirked against her neck and gave her another warm kiss.
"Where's Harry?" she managed to ask.
"Asleep," he reassured. "I have you all to myself now."
His hold on her hips was tight and secure. Her breath hitched when he slightly tilted her head so he could have full access to her slender neck.
"I'm not done with the dishes," she whined, tightly closing his eyes when his tongue soothed the sensitive spot underneath her ear.
Without pulling away, James grasped his wand and gave it a small swish. Instantly, all of the dishes she still hadn't washed turned clean, one by one flying towards the rack placed beside the sink.
"There. All done," he said with a smirk. Hermione huffed a laugh and craned her neck to meet his lips.
"I can take you here," he groaned, pressing himself harder against Hermione's back. "Bent over the sink. So warm and ready for me. Holy shite."
Her cheeks flushed at his filthy words as warmth pooled in between her thighs. James's hand slowly crept underneath her blouse and palmed her uncovered breast, trapping her pebbled nipple in between his fingers. Hermione hummed her approval and furiously met his lips once more.
Sudden loud wails from their bedroom halted their activities. James groaned in frustration as Hermione laughed, reluctantly stepping away from his warm hold.
"Nice timing, Harry," the bespectacled wizard complained as Hermione reached forward and fixed his askew glasses.
"I'll check up on him," she volunteered, but James shook his head.
"Let me," he sighed. Before Hermione could protest, he'd hooked an arm around her waist and had pulled her flush against his chest. James placed a breathtaking kiss against her lips and then pulled away. There was a warning glint in his hazel eyes as he peered down at her flustered face. "This isn't over, Whiskers."
He gave her hips one last squeeze before pulling away and walking out of the kitchen.
Hermione took a few, deep breaths to calm her frantically beating heart. A snort escaped from her lips, amused that James could of course distract her from whatever important agenda she had planned for tonight.
Hermione then proceeded to clean the kitchen and the living room. She did her usual ritual of double-checking the wards, before turning off the lights with another wave of her wand.
Harry had long quietened down by the time she'd walked towards their bedroom. When she crossed the threshold, her eyes widened in surprise, a soft shriek escaping her lips. "James Potter!" she admonished, clearly not expecting to see her husband waiting for her in the dark, stark naked and very confident. Her eyes strayed towards his proud member, her cheeks flushing red at how ready he was for her.
A small smirk appeared on his face as he slowly strode forward. "I told you it wasn't over," he lowly reminded. His hazel eyes glinted dangerously in the dark, prompting Hermione to thickly swallow. Her heart went into another frenzy and Merlin, dear Merlin, she was afraid her heart would burst free from anticipation.
"Harry," she managed to say. "Where's Harry?" Her blue eyes landed on the crib, noting that it was empty.
"In the nursery," James reassured.
Hermione frowned in disapproval. Although Harry's room was fully furnished, with brightly painted walls and toys scattered on the floor, Hermione insisted she'd only sleep soundly if Harry was in their room. James whole-heartedly agreed because they knew Harry would be safest if he was sleeping with his parents.
"I've spelled the baby monitor to alert us immediately if Harry needs something," he promised, his smirk melting into a soft smile, recognising the worry in Hermione's eyes. "Harry is safe, love. Nothing's going to happen to him."
James had now trapped her between him and the wall. "We're going to get Harry and let him sleep in his crib here once I'm done with you," he placated, already lowering his mouth to press a kiss on the junction between her neck and shoulder. "I'd rather my son doesn't have weird memories of his parents having wild, noisy sex, Hermione."
A snort flew out of her lips, prompting James to grin widely against her neck. "Berk," she muttered, craning her neck to give him more access.
He met her lips and slanted her face, allowing him to deepen the kiss until Hermione was breathless with wanton desire. James only gave her a few moments to gulp in huge breaths when he pulled away and ripped her clothes off her, until her warm skin was flush against his toned chest.
James hoisted her upwards and Hermione instantly wrapped her legs around his waist. His erection mercilessly poked against her abdomen, unforgivingly teasing her until she was mewling in protest. "Still very impatient," he murmured, his lips travelling south to catch a stiff nipple.
"You know," she breathed out. "Our bed is right there."
He snorted and shifted her slightly in his arms. "Where's the fun in that?" he cheekily asked. His tongue darted and drew lazy circles on her breast. Her grip on his hair tightened, arching her back to give him more skin to devour. James responded in kind, his lips moving furiously until she was softly begging to be relieved.
James hissed as his finger swiped against her wet folds. "I'm ready. Please, please," she pleaded. A soft moan flew out of her lips when he plunged two fingers inside, thrusting them at a slow, punishing pace but it wasn't enough. "Please," she begged once more, tightly clamping her thighs around his fingers just to get the proper friction she needed to get her release.
She whined when James pulled out his fingers, only to moan once more when his member entered her wet folds in one, swift thrust. She braced herself against his shoulders as he furiously plunged inside her, distractedly aware of the dirty words he whispered against her ears that brought her nearer the edge.
Just when she thought she would explode from it all, James stopped his ministrations all together. Hermione gripped his hair tighter and protested, but James fondly chuckled against her neck and pulled her away from the wall.
Without slipping out of her, he carefully brought them towards their bed. Instead of laying her down on the bed, James sat down, his back pressed against the headboard. He placed Hermione on top of his lap with such tenderness. She blinked at the contrast in how furious he'd been taking her a few moments ago.
His bright, mischievous eyes then met her gaze, his fingers digging into the skin over her pelvis. He rolled his hips upward, prompting Hermione to release a pleasant hum. With their new position, she felt marvellously filled, with James able to hit that very same sensitive spot which always drove her insane.
She desperately rocked her hips, pressing herself closer to James and meeting his lips in a furious kiss. James matched her thrusts in an eager pace and Hermione was near. So, so near.
"Please," she cried.
"What do you want?" His hot breath washed over her flushed skin. "Tell me what you want, Hermione. I'll do anything for you. Everything. For you. Only you."
"More," she demanded. "More. More. Harder."
James suddenly pinned her down on the bed, bracing his arms against the sides of her head. Hermione slipped a finger between her thighs while James picked up his pace. With a few swipes of her finger, Hermione cried aloud as pleasure ran through every nerve in her body, leaving burning trails that made her feel very much alive.
While basking under the throes of her own pleasure, James softly pressed kisses on her skin, reverently whispering words of his devotion.
As she came back from her high, wonderfully sated, Hermione cracked her eyes open and met hazel. His pupils were blown up with desire and she prettily grinned, pulling him down so she could meet his lips.
James had picked up a dizzying pace once more for his own release. Hermione swallowed down his clipped groans, dutifully pressing kisses on his lips until he'd reached his orgasm. He quivered, spilling inside her, until he turned into jelly and plopped down on top of Hermione.
"I can't breathe!" she squeaked, prompting James to lowly rumble. He rolled off of her and buried his face against her neck to press a few, lazy kisses there.
Her murmured something under his breath and Hermione felt a familiar warmth around her abdomen. She lightly grinned, knowing James had reverently practiced how to place a Contraceptive Charm on her wandless just so they could avoid another happy accident. He murmured another incantation, this time spelling them both clean.
"I love you," he sighed, draping an arm around her middle and pulling her close.
Hermione smiled and wove her fingers through his messy hair. "I love you too," she replied.
It didn't take long for James to start softly snoring, undoubtedly tired from their delightful activity. Hermione also felt very tired, but she knew she couldn't afford to sleep yet. Not when she was determined to put her plan into action if she wanted to defeat Voldemort as soon as possible.
She made sure that her husband had fallen into a deep sleep before she slipped out of his grasp. Hermione stilled, waiting to see if he would awaken, but James merely shifted on the bed and continued to sleep. She fondly smiled and grasped their duvet, draping it over his body.
Hermione quietly went towards their cabinet and pulled out denim jeans and a black shirt. After donning her clothes, she gingerly crept out of their bedroom and went straight to Harry's nursery.
Her baby was sprawled out in his crib, a gummy smile on his face. Hermione wondered what he was dreaming about, smiling fondly when Harry would lightly flail around, as if chasing something in his dream.
She gently lifted Harry into her arms and jostled him a bit. Thankfully, Harry didn't wake up.
Hermione then strode back into their bedroom and placed Harry in his bed. For a moment, she just watched her son sleep, tenderly brushing his unruly, dark hair from his forehead. "Mummy loves you very much, Harry," she whispered, bending down to press a light kiss on his forehead.
She did the same to James, whispering how much she really, truly loved him, before Hermione determinedly walked out of their bedroom.
Hermione instantly turned into her Animagus form and was about slip out of their house's backdoor when a soft meow stopped her.
She turned her head and met Snowball's inquisitive gaze, the family cat's head cocked to the side.
Snowball meowed. "Where are you going, Mistress?"
Hermione fully turned to meet Snowball's gaze. "Never mind that."
The cat looked disgruntled at her dismissal, but Hermione meowed again to placate her. "Please take care of the boys," she pleaded. "I will be back soon."
Snowball's eyes pierced Hermione for a moment, before she finally meowed in acknowledgement and slinked into their bedroom.
Hermione continued to sprint out of their backdoor. She slightly shivered as she passed through the strong, Fidelius Charm protecting her home. Without stopping, she determinedly ran towards the Apparation point. Hidden amongst the thickest of trees, Hermione changed into her human form and Apparated almost immediately.
She reappeared instantly just on the outskirts of Hogwarts. The whole place was still blessedly dark, but Hermione didn't want to take any chances and placed a Disillusionment Charm on herself.
She was relieved the barriers of Hogwarts allowed her to enter. She already had an inkling Dumbledore had been alerted of her presence in his school.
Hermione breezed through the vast grounds and the numerous corridors of Hogwarts until she arrived in front of the stone gargoyle, panting and very much flustered.
"Liquorice wands," she murmured. The gargoyle sprang to life and stepped out of the way, revealing the revolving staircase that would lead her to Dumbledore's Office.
Hermione stepped in and removed the charm on herself. At the same time, she composed herself and organised her thoughts, knowing full well she wouldn't leave this school until Dumbledore had completely agreed with her plan.
It didn't surprise her when she saw that Dumbledore's door was already ajar. When she pushed the door wider and went inside, Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk. There was a frown on his face, but Hermione noted that his blue eyes were impossibly twinkling.
"What are you doing here, Hermione?" he asked, a note of disapproval in his voice.
Words wanted to burst free from Hermione's mouth but she steeled herself. She had to do whatever it took for Dumbledore to agree to her plan, after all.
Taking a deep breath, her sapphire eyes met his in a determined stare.
"We need to talk."
A/N: If you asked me which scene in this story I can perfectly picture in my mind, I'd instantly tell you it's the bathtub scene. I can legit picture everything – from the pink bubbles to the odd angles of James's shampoo-filled hair. Y'all, if I can really decently draw, this is the first scene I'd draw. But since I'm shite at that, I'm just going to stick to my imagination ahaha.
Also, I'm not sure if an Animagus can communicate with the same species in their Animagus form but let's all just pretend that he can ahahaha.
Sorry for the cliffhanger lol. A few more chapters left!
P.S. Follow me on tumblr (kimmy-writes)!