Wow. Okay, you guys are being so awesome about this. I announced the possibility of this becoming a poly or triad fic as it progresses even though that wasn't the original plan, because I've seen in the past some readers get salty when an unexpected element is introduced into a fic where they were expecting 'this pairing only!' So, you can imagine how nervous I was in letting you guys know the pairing might not go as planned.

Thank you for taking that weight off my shoulders. *hugs*


Chapter Seven

The Funeral of Nymphodora Tonks

"Why don't you come back to Grimmauld Place with us?"

Hermione's brows shot up as she turned to look at Harry. They were all heading home from Hogwarts and Harry had suddenly seemed to decide he didn't like the idea of the witch going to a big, empty house by herself.

"Um," she started, aware that behind Harry, Remus had gone wide-eyed and James was pressing his fingertips against his closed eyelids as he winced. "No. You're still getting used to having your dad back in your life, you two need the time together. I wouldn't feel right intruding."

Harry frowned, making Hermione feel terrible all over again. She knew he could sense that there was some distance between them that hadn't been there before, but she wasn't sure what else to do. At the moment, it was expected that James would be wherever Harry was while they carefully pieced together their relationship from scratch, and she felt like perhaps she and James—and by extension Remus, for some reason—could move past the tension between them if they could get a break from being around one another.

She also wasn't a huge fan of the idea of staying under the same roof as James Potter just now. He looked particularly dashing in his dress robes and her mind was wandering down paths it shouldn't.

Especially with the way he'd opened his collar a bit and she could see the lines of his neck dipping down beneath the fabric and how a bit of dark hair peeked out from right below his clavicle when he turned his head just so. At first glimpse, her stupid wayward thoughts had conjured up an image of what it might be like to trail her lips down the side of his throat as she tugged his robes open a little further down . . . .

She'd given herself a hard shake and hurried outside, swearing the sudden color in her cheeks was on account of the pixie-draught wine and she'd just needed some air. And seeing as the simple observation that he'd loosened his collar had escalated so quickly, she was given to think that perhaps imbibing alcohol did have something to do with it.

But again, that left poor Harry not having a clue why she was being distant.

Laughing sadly, she slipped her arms around her best friend in a tight, suffocating, Hermione-hug, just as he'd become accustomed to receiving from her. He relaxed easily in her embrace, hugging her back. "I'm sorry, Harry. I know I'm always welcome in your home, but after spending the better part of a school year sharing a stinky tent with you and Ronald, I'm starting to enjoy having some time and space to myself."

Harry's lips pursed in thought as he looked off for a moment. "Yeah. I do believe I've since picked up a permanent phobia of tents, now that you mention it."

Again she laughed, leaning back enough to look at him. "So, we're okay?"

"O' course we are."

After bidding her farewells—which included hugging Remus, an awkward hug with James, because Harry clearly expected them to have no reason to feel any sort of tension around one another, and, of all things, a wave and nod to Snape, who'd been oddly amicable, if barbed, tonight—she'd made her way to the boundary of Hogwarts and Disapparated.

Appearing in the living room of her parents' house, she immediately clapped her hands over her cheeks after getting her bearings.

"Oh my God," she said in a whisper, shaking her head. If it had been just a stupid little kiss they'd shared, this would be so much simpler, but now she knew there was a genuine attraction there.

"It'll be okay, Hermione."

She was, of course, not going to let anything happen, and James' refusal to get too near her when they'd been alone in the library had shown that he wasn't going to, either. He was a grown man and she'd always been mature and level-headed for her age, they could certainly manage to not let themselves do anything stupid.

But then the very fact that he'd remained so cognizant of a need to keep his distance from her showed that she wasn't the only one having such trouble with the other's nearness.

Rather against her will, her mind once more whispered that maybe some things defied logical reasoning. Logically they should have no issue avoiding any problematic behaviors, even if their relationships with Harry forced them to be in close quarters.

Logically.

Shaking her head, she kicked off her shoes and started toward the bathroom for a nice, chilly shower.


The funerals for the fallen were brutal. There was no other way for her to think of them. The sobbing, the tear-choked eulogies, there wasn't a dry eye in the church or cemetery a single day. In a move that was meant to give each fallen war hero their proper due, a Ministry that was still in the first, struggling stages of renewing itself had decided each person who'd passed would get their own day for grieving. As far as honoring the dead went, it made sense, and since stasis charms were in no short supply, it was manageable . . . as far as logistics and preservation went.

As far as the toll that took on the hearts of the grieving, however, it felt more like a marathon of misery before they even got to Tonks' funeral.

The one bright spot was that Hermione finally got to meet little Teddy Lupin. An adorable, pudgy little thing with his father's green eyes and his mother's nose . . . as well as her knack for wild, ever-changing hair colors. Of course, a funeral was hardly an appropriate place for an infant, but both Andromeda and Remus had equal right to be there, and anyone who might've babysat was also in attendance.

Hermione wasn't quite sure how, but she'd ended up seated between Harry and Remus, James was on Remus' other side, and Andromeda was beside him, all squished into the front row of the small church in Godric's Hollow. She hadn't felt right about that, but it had been insisted that she was family.

Teddy had slept most of the event as it was, but as they gathered in the churchyard to watch the casket being lowered, he awoke.

Remus' eyes were full of tears he refused to shed as he looked from the gleaming wood surface disappearing into the ground to his son's squishy little face. Hermione could tell what was going through the werewolf's mind just then—the heartbreaking notion that somehow, little Teddy had sensed the very real idea behind this symbolic act of his mum's casket being set into the ground.

That his mother was gone.

Remus' lower lip trembled as he sucked in a breath, trying to comfort his son as his tears started to fall. "I . . . I can't . . . ."

Hermione and James seemed to move as one from either side of him. "Here," the witch said, smiling gently amid her own tears as she reached out to take Teddy while James clamped a supportive arm around his friend's shoulders. "Let me. It's okay, Remus."

Nodding, he settled his son in her arms and let his face fall into his hands. Andromeda, over on James' other side was just as much of a mess, and Harry shot up from his chair to hurry over to her side and comfort her.

Hermione felt strangely like she knew what was going on as she looked over for a moment, catching James' gaze with her own. He knew, too. This was why Remus had been so focused on them, and on the recovery efforts of Wizarding Britain. As long as he had something else, something outside of himself to concentrate on, he hadn't had to confront his loss.

She'd never had much experience with babies and so she did what she'd observed Andromeda doing in the church earlier. Rocking slowly back and forth, she delicately patted his little, diapered bum in a gentle rhythm.

Those already leaf-green eyes locked on her face as he gurgled a cooing sound, as though he found her the most fascinating thing in the world—given that he was a baby who only ever saw the same faces and her face was new, she imagined she probably was.

She cooed back at him and his shock of turquoise hair flashed bright purple as he unleashed a loud giggle.

Hermione winced, looking about. She and little Teddy Lupin now had everyone's attention fixed on them.

It started with Andromeda. Sitting there with Harry, and now Ginny, crowded around her, Teddy's grandmother sniffled and let out a laugh at the happy sound.

That laugh seemed to reach out to the other mourners, seeping into them and bringing smiles to their watery-eyed faces. It seemed barely a few heartbeats passed before everyone was laughing through their tears.

Hermione turned to look at Remus. His gazed was locked on Teddy in her arms for a moment as he listened to that bizarre mix of mirth and sorrow that was helping all those gathered to get the release they needed.

He nodded, forcing a smile as his eyes met hers. "She'd have liked this better. She would have kicked every last one of our arses for blubbering like that."

She huffed out a quick sigh and leaned over, resting her head against his shoulder even as she kept up that soothing rhythm that was stopping Teddy from doing anything more than cooing and giggling.

For Remus' sake, Hermione pretended she didn't feel the way he shook, still quietly crying as he rested his cheek against the top of her head.


How they managed to cram everyone into the Tonks house, Hermione had no idea. Feeling a bit like Teddy had taken a liking to her, she let Andromeda spend that time with the others, trading stories about her daughter.

At last, Teddy nodded off in her arms while she paced the nursery and she let out a breath. She kept up that cooing tone as she said to the sleeping bundle in her arms, "Too bad no one taught me how to set you down without waking you."

"You could ask for help, you know."

A half-smile curving her lips, she turned to see Remus leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb. Shaking her head, she returned her attention to his son. "Well, now, only if you can also convince him to release the death grip he's got on my hair without waking him while you're at it."

When Remus tipped his head in question, she turned around, letting him see Teddy's chubby little fingers clenched tight around the end of one lock.

"Ah, well," he said, stepping into the room as he reached out. Gently guiding his son's hand to cling to his finger instead of her hair, he said, "I've never been so grateful to have short hair."

"Oh, he'll eventually find a way to get at it, I'm sure." She eased him into the crook of his father's waiting arm.

Remus, with an expression as though he was about to perform some highly sensitive surgical procedure, turned and settled Teddy into his crib. Slowly easing himself up to stand, he caught the angle of Hermione's gaze as she continued to stare in at Teddy, her brow furrowed.

He followed her attention. "Hmm." He breathed the sound as he saw Teddy's death grip was still clamped around his finger. "Suppose we only traded problems, didn't we?"

She stood on her toes, dropping a kiss on his cheek. "I think I'm going to go find Harry."

"All right. I'll be down once my son decides it's time to release his hostage."

Snickering, she nodded and started out of the room.

"Hermione?"

She stopped just over the threshold, pivoting on her heel to face him. "Yeah?"

"I know . . . I know minding a baby's not something your used to. So, thank you." The werewolf shrugged. "You were slightly amazing today."

Waving a dismissive hand, she shook her head and ignored that she could feel a blush flaring in her cheeks at the praise. "Anything for you, Remus. You know that."

As she disappeared through the door Remus stared after her, his expression blank.

Teddy interrupted his father's mind trailing back over the picture she presented, caring for his son like it was second nature.

Remus arched a brow as he looked down into his son's sleeping face. "Oh, don't you snore at me like that. You thought it, too."


She found Harry sitting with Ginny and his dad. Andromeda looked up at her presence on the main floor of the house and immediately stood up. She gestured toward the staircase, proceeding forward even before Hermione had the chance to respond.

"No, no, he's fine. Sleeping. Remus is with him."

Andromeda nodded, a watery smile playing on her lips. "I feel so awful that I couldn't . . . that I couldn't hold him during the funeral. I just—"

"No one is going to blame you or judge you for that. I can't even imagine how you're not in worse shape right now."

The elder witch sniffled, uttering a small, surprised laugh. "You're too kind."

"No, I'm honest. Sometimes they just so happen to be the same thing." Hermione was sharply aware that all to often her honesty was not viewed as being even remotely 'kind.'

"Thank you, Miss Granger." Andromeda cast a glance over her shoulder at the other mourners. "I'm actually feeling quite tired, now that it . . . now that it's done."

Hermione spared a moment to get Harry's attention before she went on, making sure he knew to come over to them. "Why don't you get some rest," she offered, taking Andromeda's hands in her own. "Remus is with Teddy, and we can see everyone out and clean up for you."

And immediately Hermione considered she might've chosen the wrong thing to say, because Andromeda's huge eyes welled up and her lower lip trembled.

She blinked, drawing in a shuddering breath as she said in a teary whisper, "That's so thoughtful of you. Thank you."

With that, Andromeda went around the room, bidding farewells and thanking everyone for attending the service before she made her way up to her room.

When she was out of earshot, Harry turned to look at Hermione. "Dear God, I thought you were about to make her breakdown all over again!"

Hermione shrugged, her expression baffled. "How was I to know? I've never really been in this position before."

"Fred's is tomorrow," Ginny said in a quiet voice as she came up on Harry's other side. "Mum's been the same way. One moment, she looks like she's handling everything, the next she's bursting into tears because one of us offered to wash the dishes for her."

Hermione and Harry both sagged under the weight of it as they remembered this was far from the last funeral. They were certain by the time they finished, not a single citizen of Wizarding Britain was going to have any tears left in them for the rest of their days.

"Speaking of washing dishes, why don't Ginny and I see everyone out, and you start the clean up?"

"Sure," Hermione said with a smirk, nodding. "I did sort of volunteer you for this, so I should do the heavy lifting."


"How was Remus?"

Startled, Hermione turned from the sink-load of dishware, looking like she was ready to defend herself with the sponge. Shaking her head and exhaling sharply as she turned her head back toward her task, she said, "What? You've talked to him today, shouldn't you—?"

"I mean since coming back here," James answered, stepping into the kitchen. He stayed on the other side of the room, leaving the table between them. "With their son, in the home she was raised in. Can't be easy."

"He seems . . . to be doing as well as expected, I suppose. I mean, it's still a fresh wound."

"Why are you washing them like that? Why not just use your magic?"

Hermione shrugged. Oddly, it never much occurred to her to handle simple chores with magic. That was probably one of the glaring differences between Muggle-borns and pure-bloods. "It's grounding, actually. Sort of cathartic. You'll never understand how angry you are with someone until you're scrubbing something straight to death after a row."

James snickered.

"What was that like for you?"

Her tone was cautious and immediately his features pinched. "What was what like?"

"Well . . . ." She cleared her throat awkwardly, but hell, one of them had to mention it sometime. "You also lost your wife. You of all people should understand what he's going through."

His sigh was audible through the otherwise empty kitchen. "I do, but I also don't. I'm going to be there for him as much as I can, same as any of you, but . . . I think it's hardly a far-gone conclusion that my circumstances in handling my grief and his are different."

She couldn't look back at him.

"I marked the days. Not because I wanted to. It was just one of the things I did to not lose my mind." James sucked his teeth as he watched the kitchen light bouncing off the toes of his shoes. "Two years, nine months, and three days before I could wake up without feeling like thinking of Lily was tearing out my heart. Twice that before I could go to sleep without being sick to my stomach with worry over what Harry's life was like. I suspect those acceptances might've come sooner, though, if I'd had the company of those who cared for me, as Remus does."

Her vision had gone a bit hazy and her hands went still in the water, a lump threatening to form in her throat. "Must've been awful to manage all that alone."

He laughed, but it was a small, sad sound. "You do what you must to survive. I knew that if I let me losses break me, I'd never be able to find my way back to my son. I wasn't completely alone, though. Not always."

"Yes," she said, giving herself a shake and getting back to the chore in front of her. "I'm sure Yaxley was delightful company."

"Oh, no." James smiled. Perhaps he should've liberated his old cellmate when he'd made his escape. "I'm talking about Willowsby."

She couldn't help a quick glance over her shoulder as she laughed. "Willowsby? Was that Yaxley's cat or something?"

"Oh, no, it was a spider—well, a family of them, anyway—that took up residence in one of the corners. So, I suppose I'm actually talking about Willowsbys I through XI."

"You named the spiders?"

James nodded. "They kept me company, of course I did!"

"Like father like son."

A brow arching, he shook his head. "What d'you mean?

"The spiders that 'kept Harry company' under the staircase. He told me once since the were the only ones who really seemed to pay attention to him when he was little, he had considered naming them sometimes."

"What are you talking about?"

A chill went through Hermione at the lethal tone edging James' voice. She stopped what she was doing, carefully setting down the dish and sponge in her hands.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head as she switched off the faucet. "I . . . I misspoke, it wasn't my place to—"

"Hermione." He made the decision to round the table, coming to stand behind her. It seemed obvious that she only now realized she was telling him something he hadn't already known about. Something distinctly unpleasant about his son's childhood that had been kept from him.

"If Harry wants to tell you, then that's between you and him. I shouldn't have said any—"

He slid a hand around her arm and turned her to face him, his hold gentle. "Spiders under what staircase, Hermione?"

She could see the anger in his eyes. He wanted to know. He wanted to go make whoever'd subjected his son to neglect pay.

Her brow creased and her eyes welled up a little. She'd always wanted to just pop up on the Dursleys' doorstep one day and kick Harry's Uncle Vernon right in the bollocks for how his family had treated Harry. But she knew it was only likely to bring Harry trouble.

So many random days it struck her how awful his childhood had been and it would be all she could do to keep from crying.

And all those tears she'd saved up seemed like they were threatening to burst out of her now as she stared back at James Potter.

"I'm sorry, Harry probably didn't want you to know. He probably didn't want to upset you or hurt you!"

"I'm bloody well hurting now and I don't even know the entire story!"

"I mean he didn't want you feeling like it's your fault for not being able to be there for him!"

"What the hell is going on in here?"

James and Hermione both looked toward the kitchen entryway. There stood Harry and Remus.

James' hand slipped from Hermione's arm as he locked his gaze on his son. "What's this about spiders under some staircase keeping you company?"

Harry's jaw fell open and he looked to Hermione.

She fluttered her hands in front of her face as the tears broke free. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I—I didn't know you hadn't told him!"

"I don't even know what it is I haven't been told," James said, even as he heard Hermione sobbing behind him. He pivoted, feeling caught between his son and the crying witch. "And I did not mean to make her cry."

She waved her hand at him, even as Remus—shaking his head and scowling—crossed the kitchen to pull her into the protection of a hug. "It's not you. You didn't . . . you didn't do anything."

Harry sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. Hermione finally went and did it; she'd always said thinking about his childhood made her want to cry and now she was making good on that warning.

Ginny came up behind Harry's shoulder just then. Peering into the kitchen wide-eyed, she saw the back of Harry's head hanging, Remus holding onto a sobbing Hermione and James Potter shaking his head as the expression on his face pinged back and forth between confusion and anger.

The ginger-haired witch held up a finger, ready to ask what she'd walked in on. Just as fast, however, she rethought that. Clamping her lips together, she lowered her hand and stepped away from the scene.

"Okay." Harry said, nodding, his voice reasonable. "Fine. Dad, I'll tell you what Hermione was talking about. But not here. Let's go home and I'll tell you everything you want to know, but—" He frowned, shaking his head at his father. "You need to promise me that no matter what I tell you, you will not do anything. I've made my peace with everything. Tearing open old wounds never solves anything."

Hearing such wisdom from his son, James nodded. It was hard to let go of the anger that naturally resulted from even what little he'd heard, but he wanted to do whatever he could to make Harry happy. "Okay."

After she was calmed, Hermione slipped out of Remus' embrace and returned to washing the dishes. She was aware of Harry coming over to drop a kiss on her cheek before he left, and James . . . patting her shoulder, and Ginny's warm hug.

She was aware of Remus settling at the kitchen table, his face in his hands as silence finally overtook the Tonks house.

When she was finished with the last touch of wiping down the sink, she set the sponge aside and turned. Bracing her hips back against the lip of the sink, she let out a weighted sigh.

He looked up. "What?" he asked, a curious half-grin playing on his lips.

"I just can't believe I managed to make the day of a funeral worse than it already was."

Remus folded his lips inward before responding. "Well, you are Hermione Granger. If anyone's going to find a way to do the impossible . . . ?"

"Oh, you're just so funny."

"C'mon." He unfolded his lanky frame from the chair and stretched. "I'll walk you to the gate. You can Apparate home from there."

She nodded. Letting him guide her through the house with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I was a little nervous when I saw Harry had caught you and James talking like that," he admitted when they were out on the porch and descending the steps.

"Why? There was nothing going on."

He held up his free hand in a placating gesture. "I know, I know. But you didn't look like two people who barely know each other. You looked . . . ."

Hermione turned on her heel to face him as they reached the gate. "Looked like what, Remus?"

He shrugged, searching for a way to explain the feeling. "You looked like two people who've gotten comfortable enough to argue with each other."

Her brows shot up and she shook her head. "You and I are comfortable enough to argue with each other and you don't raise a fuss about that."

Shaking his head right back at her, he laughed. "Yes, but not after only knowing each other a week and a half."

She winced. "Oh. I see your point."

"Look, I trust you and I trust him, and if you're both sure nothing's going to come of what already happened, then I believe you." He sighed. "But I'm worried that if you're not careful someone else, for example Harry, might catch on to how comfortable you two seem around each other."

Hermione tried not to grin, but failed as she said, "I'll try to remain uncomfortable around him at all times."

Remus snickered, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. "Goodnight Hermione. See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight Remus."

He watched her Disapparate and then turned on his heel to walk back to the house. Andromeda had more than graciously said he could use the guest room as long as he needed—though he wouldn't say it, he knew it was because she wanted to keep Teddy close to her as long as she could.

He hoped a good night's rest would give the lot of them the strength they'd need to make it through Fred's funeral tomorrow.

And he hoped James would be able to keep his promise to Harry and not go after the Dursleys for their treatment of his son. Oh, yes, had anyone dared to treat Teddy that way, Remus would camp himself on the guilty party's front porch on full moon and just wait for nightfall.

He could almost feel the anger he knew was going to tear through James at Harry's revelations, and the guilt at literally having been barred from stopping any of it. But Harry was right.

No good came from tearing open old wounds.