"You came back." Gideon's heart broke at the surprise on her face.
"We promised we would, didn't we?"
She nodded slowly, "People break promises." she whispered.
"We won't," he promised, barely resisting the urge to reach for her, not sure it would be welcomed.
She didn't look convinced but nodded anyway, "Joanna said you could play for a little while."
"Of course, we can," Fabian agreed instantly. "What would you like to play?"
She shrugged, looking unsure. "I was doing a jigsaw," she said finally.
Gideon nodded, looking at her seriously, "I am the King of Jigsaws," he informed her, making her giggle.
"Lies!" Fabian gasped, "I am the King of Jigsaws."
Gideon bent down, and whispered in Hermione's ear, "Because I use magic to help him. If I don't he gets sad."
She covered her mouth to stifle her laugh, her eyes dancing. It was the most adorable sight they'd ever seen.
"I'll prove it," Fabian declared, holding out his hand, inwardly elated when she took it, "Lead me to the jigsaw fair Princess and I will prove I am the King!"
With another giggle she tugged him forward, leading him into the dining room where jigsaw pieces were indeed scattered across its surface.
They sat down on either side of her; Gideon glanced at the box and frowned, "What…what are they?"
"Cabbage patch dolls!" she informed him, "Santa brought it."
"Ah," he nodded slowly, not having the faintest idea what a cabbage patch doll was but vowing to find out.
"Joanna says we have to do the outline first," she informed them seriously.
"Ah well then, we'd better do as she says," he agreed with equal seriousness, noting the way her lips quirked into a pleased smile..
They spent the evening completing the jigsaw before being introduced to her cabbage patch doll, who she very seriously informed them was called Matilda when she brought her down to inspect their completed puzzle.
Privately, Gideon thought it was terrifying but he was wise enough not to say it out loud given the reverent way Hermione was holding the doll. Afterwards, with Matilda watching from the safety of the bed, Fabian had been drawn into a game with bizarre looking dolls that looked nothing like a baby and everything like a grown woman. She'd called them Barbie but given that all four of them had the same name it wasn't clear if she just liked it or if it was the name of the toy. It was something else they realised they were going to have to work out. Despite that, watching his twin dress and undress the things at the behest of their daughter was quite honestly one of the funniest things he'd ever seen, his fingers far too cumbersome for the delicate fastenings and tiny shoes.
"Bathtime in five minutes Hermione," Joanna warned, a slightly indulgent smile on her face at the sight of them wrestling with tiny clothes.
"But…"
"Your Daddies will stay for story time, and if you want they can help with the bath."
She seemed to contemplate that, "With bubbles?"
"With bubbles," the woman nodded.
"Fine," she sighed, moving to scoop the dolls up so they could go back into the box.
Joanna paused at the door, "I didn't ask, do you have a preference for what I refer to you as?"
The twins glanced at each other, "We haven't discussed it." Fabian admitted, "Can we get back to you?"
"Of course," she agreed before she left them to it. "Just let me know when you decide."
With a flick of his wrist, Gideon sent all the toys back to where they belonged, Hermione watching with awe. "Can you come and sit down, sweetheart?" She tensed, moving slowly to resume her seat. "Joanna made a good point," at her frown he continued, "We didn't talk about what you wanted to call us."
"Oh." she whispered, "I…"
"It's ok if you don't know," Gideon interrupted seeing the indecision on her face, "If you want to just use our names, that's ok too. But if you want, when we talked about having children with your mummy, we thought that maybe one of us would be Daddy and the other one Papa. Can you think about it for me?"
She nodded solemnly, "What was mummy like?" she asked quietly, as if afraid they'd refuse to answer.
"Oh, Princess, she was…well. She looked very like you."
"Did she?" her eyes lit up and it hit them that she had no idea. That she'd had no one to tell her about her mother, or them. That all she had had was her own imaginings.
"Yes," Gideon smiled, refocusing his attention on his daughter, gently tugging on a curl, "She had curls just like you. Her eyes were blue though, you got our brown ones."
He froze as she stood, tiny hands bracketing his face, as she peered closely at him. "So I do," she mumbled. Taking a chance he tugged her back down so she was curled on his lap. "She was brave, so brave. And very, very clever. She loved reading. The school we went to has a huge library, and your mummy and her best friend decided that, between them, they were going to read every book in it."
"Did they?" she breathed.
"I think they came close," Fabian laughed, "Unfortunately we came along and distracted her a bit."
"Oh. That wasn't kind!" she reprimanded with a frown.
He just grinned unrepentantly, "She didn't mind. She quite liked us. Do you want to see a picture?"
"Yes!"
With a nod, he pulled a picture of their wedding day from his wallet, handing it to her. "Oh," she breathed, her lip wobbling as her tiny fingers traced her mother's face, startling slightly when she moved.
"Magical pictures move remember, Princess," Fabian murmured gently.
She nodded, her eyes glued to the picture in her hands.
"Hermione, bathtime!"
"I…"
"How about this, we'll sort a frame and you can keep it, we've other ones at home," Fabian offered.
"Can I?"
"Of course, you can, sweetheart." he pulled a quill from his pocket and transfigured it into a makeshift frame. "There you go, pop it in here and we'll put it on your bedside table.
With clear reverence, Hermione handed the photo over, watching as he put it in the frame and set it where she wanted it.
"Bathtime now then Princess," Fabian prompted, "I promise it'll still be there when you get back."
With one last look at her mother, who waved out at her from her frame, Hermione turned and led them to the bathroom.
Running back the moment she was redressed in her pyjamas, Hermione let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the photo still sitting where they'd left it. Neither twin had the words for how much it hurt to watch her stare longingly at her mother, knowing that there was nothing they could do to bring her back.
"Into bed then sweetheart," Gideon murmured, "She'll watch over you while you sleep."
"Where is she?" she asked quietly.
With matching looks of horror, her lack of understanding hit them viscerally. They'd been so desperate to meet her, to be allowed to get to know her that they had missed several vital steps. Privately, they each wondered briefly why neither the social worker nor Mrs Granger had mentioned it to her, before accepting that they should have at least asked, should have checked that she had as much information as her age allowed for. That they shouldn't have left her wondering if her mother was now going to appear out of the blue too; from the look on her face it was clear she had at least thought it.
"She…she got hurt and we couldn't help her Princess," Fabian tried utterly unequal to the task of telling his little girl her mother was dead.
"She… she's gone to the angels?" she checked. Realising the explanation rang a bell, he nodded, hoping it was the right answer. "The angels don't give you back," she whispered, her lip wobbling as tears filled her eyes.
"No they don't, sweetheart," Gideon sighed, "We wish they did." At that, he pulled his now sobbing child into his lap and cuddled her close.
"Why'd they take her?"
"Because someone hurt her," he murmured, rocking her, "She was very brave and tried to help stop other people getting hurt. But sometimes, people are so hurt that we can't fix them. And then the angels take them and look after them so they're not hurt anymore."
He wasn't sure what to make of the way she didn't answer but instead burrowed further into him, one hand fisted in his t-shirt, the other reaching for Fabian, as if she were afraid they were going to be taken away too.
Half an hour later, Hermione was sandwiched between them, sound asleep, her breathing still uneven after crying, her grip on them still tight.
"Well that was fucking awful," Fabian muttered, smoothing small wayward curls off her forehead.
"I can't believe we never mentioned it. What sort of parents are we that we're already buggering this up?"
Fabian sighed in response, "The only ones she's got left."
"Poor kid," Gideon muttered before he turned to look at his twin, "When do we tell Molly?"
"Not yet," Fabian murmured, "I'm not ready to share her yet and we both know Molly can be…"
"Overbearing?"
"Yes," he sighed.
"Right then. Not yet," he agreed, silently allowing himself ten more minutes before he even attempted to extract himself from his daughter's unrelenting grip, not really wanting to leave at all.