December 25, 2003

In the small village of Talmaciu, a young woman trudged along the snow filled paths leading to her home. A young child, of about two years, was perched on the her hips.

"Mama! Zăpădă!" the young girl screamed in delight.

"Da, prețiosul meu," cooed the woman with the wild hair.

Hermione hated the snow and the bitter winters. Though the day was illuminated with brilliant sunlight, the cold had not lessened a bit. She wrapped her shawl snuggly around the young girl.

Hermione no longer celebrated Christmas. The village had people of different cultures staying in it and hence it didn't seem odd for them to not celebrate. Scorpius had been too young when she had run away and he had become accustomed to the village oddities since. However, the white blanket around the small village constantly reminded her of the horrors of the past. Shaking her head, Hermione made her way to the secluded property at the edge of the village.

The protective charms held up against the harsh winters, surrounding the warm wooded cottage with foliage. It wasn't much, but Hermione had grown a few vegetables for her family. The flowers had grown on their own.

Her little home was perfect. It wasn't nearly as huge as The Manor, but it was perfect for Hermione and her children. Hermione had also made sure to place strong wards over the property.

"Scorp, we are home! I brought sweets! Come down or else Cassie will eat them up!" Hermione called out for her son and winked at her daughter.

A young boy screamed and rushed down the stairs, Scorpius was four years old now. He was a cheerful little boy, bubbling with a childlike innocence. Her daughter Cassiopeia and Scorpius were like two peas in a pod. They were inseparable; Scorp was the ever protective young brother to Cassie.

Scorp started to tickle his sister and soon both of them were in a fit of giggles. Winky was whistling an old Romanian song at the other end of the house. That elf was such a character!

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Hermione sat down at the edge of her own bed after putting the children to sleep. She sighed as she laid down; her protesting muscles after a long day finally content with her action. She let her mind wander off and found herself thinking about the past three years.

Hermione had run away three years ago. She didn't know if Draco were still alive. It was a conscious decision on her part to not have any sort of contact with anyone back home. She did not want to take any chances. She wasn't alone now; she had two young children to take care of. Draco probably had gone ballistic when he had learnt of her action. Her plan had been perfect; Winky had acted as a middleman, carrying messages from the Weasley brothers back and forth. Together they had decided on Romania to be Hermione's hideaway. Voldemort's reign was thankfully only limited to the United Kingdom and although he had tried to capture more states, his efforts had not come to fruition.

The village of Talmaciu was perfect. It was secluded and had a very tight knit magical community. Charlie had been here for some time and was in good terms with the village head. Vasile Georgei had accepted Hermione as his own and vowed his protection to her.

It didn't take long for her to settle down in the small village. What she didn't know, was that she was not alone at the time of her trip from England.

She was with child.

Emotionally, Hermione had still not come in terms with her loss. A part of her still felt love for Draco, in spite of what he had done.

How could she forget him when she saw him every day; in her children – Scorpius and Cassiopeia? Scorp did ask for his father once in a while, when he saw other families in the village. But the memories of Draco were very vague and hence he did not remember Draco as much as she feared he would. She would tell them the truth when they were old enough. But not now.

Hermione shook her head and got up. Tiredness creeped into her; running around with her young children wasn't easy, but she was happy and content with her new life.

She was still very beautiful. The two pregnancies had brought along new curves to her body. Not that she noticed. Many unwedded men in the village had asked her out, but Hermione always refused them politely. She had abandoned the idea of love long ago.

Sighing again, Hermione changed into her night clothes. She grabbed a silk robe and a scarf over her short negligee and went down the stairs. The house was silent. She could hear the sounds of night owls hooting through the night outside. Humming to herself, she began to prepare her nightly glass of almond milk in the moonlit kitchen.

She had only turned to move to the living room to grab a book, when she caught her reflection on the large mirror in the hallway and froze. A familiar face appeared behind her as a strong arm gripped her waist and a cold voice drawled in her ear...

"Hello, my darling! Miss me?"

Fin