A/N: Title from lyrics by Sister Sledge. Also, I have never been to London Pride so I'm basing the whole thing on what little I can find about the '99 event and the many Prides I've been to in my state. Also, please please Britpick if you find any egregious errors. I do what I can but I am one of those horrid Yanks despite my addiction to quality tea.

X-X-X-X

3 July 1999

On the first Saturday in July, nine in the morning found Hermione Granger buried behind a stack of books in the library of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Her NEWTs were just barely behind her, but placement tests for university were approaching far too fast for her ordered mind. She hadn't formally studied maths or English or science or muggle history since she was eleven, giving them up for charms, transfiguration, and potions.

She'd read, of course, skimmed review books for the GCSE's during the summers, and the A-Levels this past year when she needed a break from NEWT studying. If she hadn't been in an advanced program as a child, she never would have mastered trigonometry at the age of ten. It gave her an edge compared to the others she knew were joining her at Oxford – Luna was brilliant at all forms of zoology and biology, muggle and magical, but her knowledge of English literature outside of Shakespeare or Oscar Wilde was not even approaching acceptable. Padma was probably as much of a potions genius as Lily Potter if not more – how she taught Neville to properly brew just about everything on the Hogwarts curriculum while trapped in the Room of Requirement was amazing beyond words – but had never taken any formal maths or science classes. And Justin had been privately tutored in accounting theory by his family, but his understanding of business law was no where near adequate. Except for some required courses, she would likely rarely run into her Hogwarts classmates at Oxford unless they planned to meet for lunches or studying in the library.

So she returned to her reading. Queen Matilda and Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Gower and Richard II. A dabble of physics here and chemistry there.

Until Luna, dressed in a wild swirl of color, threw herself into the chair across from Hermione. "The nargles must have you in their grips. You can't study today, there are plans." With that, she grabbed her friend's hand and tugged Hermione to her room, where a pair of jeans and a pastel, fitted oxford were laid out. "Change! Harry's gone to fetch Teddy from Andromeda and we're leaving when he gets back."

Hermione just stared at Luna. They'd become close in the past year and a half, since Shell Cottage really, or maybe after fighting so many battles together, but she was utterly confused. "Leaving for where?"

"London Mardi Gras. Uncle Tim and Uncle Phil are already there with Bill and Jeffrey. We're going to meet them at Compton Street and take the tube to Finsbury Park."

Hermione continued to stare. "I have to study. I only have six weeks before my placement exams and you want us to take a household day trip to gay pride?"

"Yes, exactly," came Fleur's voice from the doorway. The blond was wearing a loose cotton skirt that went past her knees and a lightweight long-sleeved blouse, with the bottomless and weightless knapsack they used for outings with Teddy strapped to her back. A floppy broad-brimmed hat was in her hands, and her eyes were laughing. "You have studied every day since coming home; you will exhaust yourself before you even take your first exam. You're coming with us. You need a day in the sun away from your books."

"I need sun? You look like you're trying to avoid it as much as possible," Hermione commented. She knew she was pale for this time of year, holed up in the library as she had been.

"Yes. I am blonde. And my skin burns like your toast," Fleur grinned. Hermione hadn't been in the house for more than two full days last summer before Harry had banned her from the kitchen. Sometimes he or Fleur had her help chop ingredients – after seven years in potions class she could manage that – but she wasn't allowed near the stove without supervision unless it was to make tea, and even then they liked to keep an eye on her.

She looked at the books scattered on the side of her bed, more studying that she'd fallen asleep to last night. She was tired. Tired of studying to catch up to her muggle peers and tired of trying to outperform every pureblood at Hogwarts so she could prove once and for all that blood kept you alive and nothing more. Hermione bowed her head. "Fine. Fine!" She threw up her hands and looked at her friends, wagging a finger at Fleur, "But don't think hanging out with us is going to find you a girlfriend! You're carrying the spare nappies! That's not sexy!"

Fleur dissolved into peals of laughter. "I will have to rely on my natural charm then!" she choked out, holding her sides.

"I'm sure that'll work for you," Hermione grinned. "Now out! Out! I need to change!"

X-X-X-X

Since the War ended, Hermione had occasionally found herself in large crowds, in Wizarding areas like Diagon or Hogsmeade or even in the halls of Hogwarts. They still made her uncomfortable, her body frequently tensed for the next attack. The mostly muggle crowd she found lining the streets for the pride march was huge, but by leaning her back on a solid brick wall she had both a good view and felt safer. She noticed that the rest of the group she found herself with – a mix of witches, wizards, and squibs, all queer of some sort or the family and friends thereof – did much the same. As a group, they stood near the building she was against. Instead of feeling smothered, they made her feel comfortable, as though she was covered by a large gay safety blanket.

She shouldn't have been so surprised that this particular group of magical people could actually blend into the crowd. Even Tim's rainbow feather boa, for this environment, made perfect sense. She juggled Teddy for a moment, the toddler utterly fascinated by the colorful crowd around them, the loud music and many people who paused to wave at one of the children starting to pop up more and more at gay pride events. His godfather had left Teddy with her while he took Luna off to fetch food and drinks. Hermione stood with the little boy cradled in her arms and they crowd-watched together, Teddy fascinated by the parade floats.

Fleur moved next to her, their shoulders brushing together, "Having fun?" she asked, a light laugh underlying her question.

"Yes, I am. And you're right, a bit of sunshine is good for me," Hermione replied. "Are you having fun? Found a nice girl to sweep off her feet yet?"

Fleur raised her eyebrow, the hint of a smirk on her face and in a flirty tone said, "I believe I am talking to a nice girl. But alas, I am not her type."

Hermione's face turned bright red. "Fleur Isabelle!" she hissed, as Teddy giggled and turned his skin red too.

"Hermione Jane!" Fleur mocked lightly. "Ah, ma chère, I am only teasing. I would offer to find you a nice boy, but in this crowd," she waved at a group of young men in nothing but short shorts and rainbow beads wandering down the street with their arms around each other and then to another group in Rocky Horror outfits, "I don't think it would do you any good."

Hermione giggled, "No, this won't do much for my dating life." She lightly elbowed her friend, "But you should give it a chance. You deserve someone lovely, Fleur."

"Perhaps I will. I am, after all, a young divorcée. I still have my looks, despite my desperate and hopeless marriage!" She grinned widely, as she often did when joking about her marriage-of-necessity to her best friend.

"You were quite heartbroken when the divorce went through," Hermione laughed, remembering Fleur's impromptu dance around Grimmauld Place to commemorate an owl from the Ministry declaring her paper marriage over.

"I was," Fleur nodded solemnly, with only a single quirk of her lip to show her humor. "Shall I take Monsieur Lupin for a moment? Your arms must be getting tired."

Hermione grinned, "Sure. I see Harry coming back with food for me anyway. If you don't mind?"

"Of course not." She held out her hands for Teddy, and he went gladly to his Tante Fleur. From the group perhaps ten feet away, a young woman called to Fleur, and with a glance at Hermione, she walked over, Teddy's head swiveling to take in the crowd still.

Accepting a wrapped sandwich from her best friend with quiet thanks, Hermione bit into her meal, chewing slowly as she took in the sights and sounds of the crowd. Teddy caught sight over her over Fleur's shoulder, and she waved at him, grinning. His wide smile stretched across his face, one of her knitted caps covering his forever-changing hair color. She watched as the woman who'd called over Fleur laughed, and set a gentle hand on Fleur's upper arm. Her roommate grinned in response, shifting Teddy in her arms so she could make a broad gesture in their conversation.

Hermione felt a twist of something in her gut at the other woman's physical closeness to her friend. Diverting her attention, she turned to Harry, who was standing next to her munching on a sandwich as well, his eyes wide and happy as he observed the crowds. She'd seen the same look on his face when she took him on tourist trips around London – to see the sights he'd been denied as a child. She'd even seen that look when she'd taken him shopping to replace his worn, often oversized muggle wardrobe after the war. After a year of washing their clothes in cold creeks, both of them had needed some new things, and she'd dragged him to Marks & Spencer. That wonder at something so basic and simple – new clean clothes in his size – had been written across his face just like his wonder at this mass of happy - no – this mass of gay muggle humanity. She giggled lightly to herself at her play on words, letting the light amusement distract her from the twisting in her gut.

X-X-X-X

Parade over, the crowd organically followed the last of the floats to the stage area where various musical acts would be performing over the course of the day. She mulled over the pamphlet a young man had been handing out. "I only recognize four of these groups!" she said, displeased at her cultural ignorance.

"You've been stuck at a castle in Scotland without a radio since you were eleven. I don't recognize a single one of them," Harry remarked, peering over her shoulder. Teddy was back in his arms, and the little boy reached out to grab at her hair. "No, Teddy, what did I say about pulling hair?"

"We need to update the house record collection," she grumbled.

"If you can find half of today's acts on vinyl, go ahead. But we're not lacking in things to listen to," Harry shrugged. He was rather pleased to have inherited the music collections of his parents, Remus, and Tonks. In fact, he played various records daily, gaining an appreciation for music he'd never had before, locked in the Dursley's cupboard.

"Records will make a comeback," Hermione declared. "And until then, I'll have to find some stores that carry them at all." She glanced at Teddy, "Does he need a change?"

"I think so," Harry made a face, handing him over so he could search in the pack Fleur had passed off to Hermione when she wandered off with some acquaintances. Once he'd located the changing pad, clean nappies, wipes, and the enchanted bag they put the dirty diapers, he pulled Hermione off from the flow of people around them. At the same moment the music started over loudspeakers, Luna danced up.

"Come on, Harry!" she coaxed, a wide smile on her pale features. "Hermione and Teddy will be fine!"

Hermione laughed. Even buried in her books, she had noticed her two friends getting closer. She settled Teddy on the changing pad, and waved Harry off, "We'll follow as soon as this young man hasn't a stinky bum anymore." With a serious look to ensure Hermione was really alright with being left to change Teddy's nappy, Harry suddenly grinned, and followed Luna into a small group dancing at the edge of the main crowd.

With efficient movements she had never expected to develop so young – no cousins to tend, no chances to sit the neighbor's children, and certainly no unplanned pregnancies – Hermione changed Teddy's nappy, tickling the little boy to distract him as she did, and stuffing the dirty nappy as well as the used wipes into the bag she'd personally enchanted to be waterproof, leakproof, and smellproof. Returning everything to the pack and strapping it to her back, she rearranged Teddy more comfortably in her arms as he wiggled about.

Laughing, dancing – it all seemed so wondrous. During the war - when she'd been cold, tired, hungry, afraid all the time - she hadn't even been able to really remember what it was like to be free and happy. Now the war was over, they had been victorious despite their many losses of friends, lovers, family. She juggled the little boy in her arms as he clapped off-beat to the music – even parents. It seemed like some horrid epic hero cycle, something from an opera or a Russian novel, the loss of the Potters and the loss of the Lupins, leaving behind their orphaned boys in epilogues to the wars they had fought. Except that instead of the cupboard Harry had been sentenced to, Teddy was surrounded by those who loved him, would protect him and tell him the truth about his parents as he grew. For a moment Hermione just watched her friends dance together, Luna twirling much as she had done at Fleur and Bill's wedding, Harry waving his hands in the air like the carefree boy he'd never been. She couldn't spot Fleur in the crowd, but didn't worry. There would be no Death Eaters to mar the day, most of Riddle's minions dead or imprisoned or lying low to avoid capture.

"A pretty bird like you shouldn't have her boyfriend run off to dance with another girl," said a voice off to her side.

She started, looking over at a young woman with short-cropped brown hair, in a battered oversized tee and men's cargo shorts. "Huh?"

A wide, charming grin met her confusion, "No good bloke would leave his sprog and girl behind to dance with some tart. Maybe I can steal you away, then?"

Hermione laughed uncomfortably. "He's not my boyfriend," she replied, unused to such overt attention from anyone. People simply didn't flirt with her. Men or women. Glancing down at Teddy, who had for the moment adopted her brown eyes and had a bit of Harry's unruly black hair peeking out from under his cap, she smiled at the boy in her arms as she tried to come up with the easiest explanation for their relationship, "And this young gentleman is my nephew." It wasn't a terrible stretch of the truth – she felt like Harry was her brother, and he certainly considered Teddy his child.

"So a beautiful woman like yourself might perhaps be looking for some company?" came the flirtatious response.

"Hermione! There you are!" Fleur interrupted, dashing up. "Phil has found the most wonderful pastries. Come, you must try!" She laid a casual hand on Hermione's arm and reached over to chuck Teddy gently under his chin.

"Oh! Oh, sorry," said the woman to Fleur, backing off a step, "didn't mean to chat up your bird."

Fleur turned a confused glance at her friend, while Hermione reddened slightly. She let out a delighted laugh. "Ah, it is fine. Who would not be tempted by her?" Sliding a casual arm around her friend's shoulders, she grinned widely. "But we must be going, my apologies." Tugging Hermione along, the two of them left the disappointed woman behind.

A minute later, as they made their way through the crowd, Hermione burst out laughing. "First she thought Harry was my boyfriend, two-timing me with Luna while I stood there with our son in my arms, and then, she thinks I'm with you. Apparently I'm lucky enough to have either a handsome bloke or the most beautiful woman here!"

Fleur blushed prettily at the compliment, "It is not a surprise to me, eh? Of course you would!" She grinned with mischievous intent, "And she was not the first to think you are attempting to seduce the Boy-Who-Lived."

Hermione groaned. Ever since the end of their relationships with the youngest Weasleys, the rumors had run rampant in the Daily Prophet gossip columns about her and her best friend. Especially once it had somehow gotten out that they were living together. "Because of course that is what anyone would do, eh? Didn't the Prophet say last month that you had 'converted' to heterosexuality just by spending so much time in his company? As if no woman can resist the allure of a dark lord destroyer with knobbly knees and mad hair."

Fleur roared with laughter, hugging Hermione to her. For a moment their bodies were pressed together from knees to shoulders, just little Teddy keeping them from molding into one. "Of course! It is a cure for all the lesbians, oui? We shall have to spread the word! I'm cured! I want the boys!" Releasing Hermione, she smirked. "But what shall cure the men? Perhaps the brightest witch of her age? With untamable hair like silk?"

For a moment, Hermione flashed back to the war, to Shell Cottage, where she had arrived exhausted, broken, bleeding. Fleur had carefully stripped her down to her pants, cleaned her body of dirt and broken glass, healed the wounds adorning her body as well as possible (the scratches and bruises were easy, but the word Bellatrix had carved into her skin was done with a cursed knife and Hermione still bore the scar), and then washed her hair in a large basin before dressing her in a pair of borrowed pajamas. Between the physical wounds and the after-effects of the Cruciatus, Hermione had not been able to help at all, submitting to the gentle care silently, her mind still trying to come to terms with her experiences. It had been the solitary occasion Fleur had really touched her hair – washing it, drying it, doing a simple plait to keep it out of her face – before she'd settled Hermione into bed and made her drink a Dreamless Sleep potion. It had been the only time since she was a child that someone else had really cared for her so. Her parents had, of course, but no one else. In the midst of the horror, Fleur's tenderness had been a balm and a blessing.

She shrugged herself out of her thoughts. "I think I've spent enough time with Bill, Jeffrey, Tim, and Phil to disprove that theory, Fleur!"

"Ah, well, we shall have to continue to suffer our deviancy, then. I shall say the affections of a beautiful woman suit me far better than some," she tossed her free hand into the air and laughed, "some brutish man!" Pointing to their left, she said, "Look! That café there! They have the most lovely pastries. You must try them!" She waved to their friends, clustered out front and all chewing enthusiastically. "And perhaps a treat for young Monsieur Lupin!"

Hermione smiled. With Fleur by her side and sweet little Teddy in her arms, she was ready to enjoy the rest of their day.