AN: Dearest followers and reviewers,

Thank you so much for your support and I hope you're enjoying the story as much as I enjoy writing it. I'm hoping to get rid of a pesky chest infection that is currently cottoning my mind, and post throughout the holiday period. To all of you I send warm wishes for the winter season, and whether you are celebrating or not, may you enjoy some time to rest and I can't wait to bring you all the next two chapters on the Christmas Day (for some) and on the 1st of January to aid your hangovers (you know who I'm talking about missy!) and hopefully make you smile with the start of the New Year.

Yours always,

Sybilla

"Is that the one you drew yesterday?" Hermione asked, looking over Roxy's shoulder at a somewhat confusing picture of Diagon Alley. It looked very little like Diagon Alley, more like a very colourful set of cubes with triangles on top of them, but if Roxy said it was Diagon Alley, she was glad she didn't have to try and guess.

"Uh-huh, and this is the bookshop, and this is daddy's shop, and this is uncle Freddie but he didn't believe me it was him when I showed him," she pouted.

Hermione smothered a chuckle and gently divided another section of Roxy's thick curls to condition and detangle. It has become a bit of a ritual for them. When Hermione could, she would stop by once week for an evening of detangle, wash, condition, and styling of Roxy's beautiful hair. Some of the potions sold in apothecaries were a godsend, especially when she discovered that they could be poured into spray bottles and sprayed directly on the hair to keep the tight curls healthy. "Uncle Freddie has no understanding of art," Hermione explained with a grin, jumping a bit when a small stinging hex hit her bum.

"I heard that!" came from somewhere in the living room, and George snickered while he wrestled a head of cauliflower into small pieces for roasting.

Roxy giggled and showed her another drawing, of her little figure drawn with a brown pencil, and three other figures drawn with a pink one. "And this is us in the park. Everybody was asking why mummy isn't like me, but I told them you weren't mummy, you are my god mummy," she beamed.

Hermione smiled fondly as she gently pulled out the last of the tangles and washed her hands. "Does it bother you that we look different?" she asked, now that they were side by side and the difference between Hermione's pale skin with a few freckles and Roxy's lovely caramel skin tone were very obvious.

Roxy looked like she was thinking for a moment before shaking her head. "I don't mind that we look different, you're still my Mimi," she said, her beautiful green eyes, the eyes of her grandmother, looking up at her with unconditional love only a child is capable of.

Hermione picked her out of her chair and pulled her up into her arms. "And you'll always be my Roxy," she smooched her cheek until the little girl giggled. "Now come on, let's go wash your hair before we plait it," she said as she secured the 7-year-old on her hip and carried her into the bathroom to use the sink.

Later that evening once Roxy was all boardgamed-out, settled and asleep, Hermione changed into a pair of shorts and a strappy top for her comfort, and padded back into the living room to join the twins. Three nicely chilled chocolate porter beers were already waiting at the table and George brought in some cheese and grapes to snack on.

"I swear she's getting more difficult to get to sleep. So many questions," Hermione grinned, reminded of herself when she was that little and the ever-present look of patience on her mother's face. That last thought made her smile sober a little but she picked up her beer and took a sip, ready to enjoy a nice relaxed evening in good company.

"You're not done with questions for tonight I'm afraid," Fred came in after changing into his pjs as well, and sat beside her, pulling her into a friendly embrace. She was warm and soft, and he loved the smell of her lavender shampoo. It was a shame that the witch was not on the market. As far as he knew, Hermione didn't date, period.

"I'm not?" she raised her brow questioningly.

George walked over to a small table and pulled a letter out of the drawer, handing it over. "We got this when we popped into the reception to wish the newlyweds good luck," he said with a hint of distaste, as the family rift has grown over the last few years and the twins barely ever chose going to the Burrow. "Harry didn't know your address and the letter kept returning to him due to your wards. He asked if we could deliver it to you," he explained.

Hermione took it from him and ripped it open, taking another sip of the flavoursome beer while she scanned the single page. "He says he has apologies to make and asks if I could possibly give him a fire call," she sighed and set it on the table, looking at it with melancholy weighing her brow.

"We didn't think you weren't speaking at all. Did he really show no interest?" Fred asked curiously.

"Nope, not when I broke it off with Ron. Harry wanted to be an auror but when Ginny broke up with him, he went down the same route as Ron and had some fun. I didn't disagree with his lifestyle, I would never judge him. But for the first time in our friendship, he judged me on my actions to let Ron go and focus on myself. I don't even know what happened, we just….didn't talk. At all," she said, to this day saddened and mystified by the end of her closest friendship. They had survived living in a freezing tent in the middle of the Forest of Dean, and yet they just drifted apart like they were strangers once their duties were done.

"Will you give him a call?" George asked as he pulled her crossed feet up into his lap and rubbed her tired ankles.

"I'll have a think on it. For now, let's plan. So, holiday this year, winter, or summer, or both?" she asked, changing the subject completely.

After a few suggestions and another beer, they cleaned up the kitchen and headed for bed. Hermione reached into the bedside table in the guest room and with a smile found that they've left a new book to read for her in the drawer, most likely George's idea who's forever talking books with her now that Roxy could read and demanded her own library.

She didn't even realise she dozed off until a vivid dream gripped her and the face of Sasha in all its dangerous icy beauty appeared before her. "We are coming for you…." he whispered, the words echoing in her mind and sending her sense into overload. His piercing blue eyes were different than the last time she had seen them in pictures. Darker, more dangerous, more wild, as if insanity was gripping his mind even further now. "We will find you, and take you…." his thin lips parted to speak the words before a laugh that sounded like the gates of hell opening up made her bolt upright in the bed.

"Hey, it's just a dream," Fred was holding her shoulders and tried to calm her down as she worked on slowing her breathing. She wiped her damp forehead and accepted the warm embrace of his arms. "Are you alight?" he asked worriedly. It wasn't unusual for them to have nightmares, sometimes he even dreamt about the war again and the brick wall falling on him, but Hermione was usually much calmer in the face of fright. To see her this shaken was a new experience.

She managed to gather herself and pulled out of his arms. "I'm fine, just one of those reoccurring dreams," she tried to downplay the situation and scooted back in the bed, the book that has fallen into her lap sliding down onto the bed. "Oh by the way, thank you for the book," she offered a small smile, hoping it would change the subject.

Fred did not look convinced but if she didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't push. "That's George's doing, he said you'd enjoy it the next time you stay around," he offered and watched her calm down and caress the cover of the now closed book. He could see her enjoyment of books every time she found a new one and just couldn't help herself but caress the front cover, like a woman caressing her lover before they embarked on a journey of discovery and pleasure together.

"Well thanks anyway, I've wanted to get this one just haven't gotten around to it yet," she mused. "And sorry for waking you up. I hope I didn't wake up Roxy?"

"Np, she's out like the light. She sleeps as heavily as George these days," he snickered. "Do you want me to stay?" he asked, wondering if she needed comfort. He knew it may not be a good idea, her shorts were…well, short, and her top did nothing to disguise the rise of her chest with each breath, but he was her best friend first and foremost and if she wanted him there, he would be by her side.

Hermione paused, unused to comfort anymore and not sure she could sleep after the dream but nodded and scooted back, letting Fred crawl in beside her under the covers. He let her settle and roll into his arms before holding her tight until he saw her eyes close. Content in the knowledge that she was going to sleep again, he pressed a featherlight kiss to her forehead and was back asleep in minutes.

Once his breathing evened out, Hermione's eyes opened and she began to focus on the dream she had. It was starting to feel less like a dream and more like a message. But in order to deliver a message in the dream, Reznikov would have to utilise magic in one of three possible ways;

a) a dream manifesting potion,

b) dark arts that focus on her energy which worryingly meant he had a personal item of hers to syphon her magic and target her dreams, or

c) he has become a vampire.

All three options were terrifying, but only one seemed acutely possible. Sasha Reznikov has been bitten and now is one of the undead. The piercing wild eyes, the hypnotic voice and the fact that he was manifesting in her dream were all a dead giveaway. She was supposed to be on a break but this was information she had to pass onto her colleagues first thing in the morning.

Also, he said something about coming for her, finding her and taking her. That clearly posed an issue. They must know what she looks like if they were able to manifest in her dreams. It also means they knew about her involvement in Danilenko's death, and potentially where she lives despite it being classified. She would have to distance herself from the twins and Roxy to prevent them being associated with her, if they already haven't been spotted. For the first time in her life, Hermione felt uncertain whether her work and her private life could stay separate.

In the meantime, she would catch some sleep because she sensed he would not disturb her dreams after delivering the message. Fitful sleep in the arms of a man she considered her best friend, and someone whose company she enjoyed but kept at arms length in order to protect them both. If only she had known what the fates had in store for her…..