Hermione's plan was simple: she would Apparate to the outskirts of the orchard near the Burrow, sneak into the house through the back door, and grab that filthy rat before anyone could see her. She had an arsenal of spells at the ready if Percy accidentally saw her—of course, she wasn't going to attack him; he was a child. She would put him to sleep, Obliviate the memory of seeing her, and place the memory of watching his rat Scabbers get eaten by a stray cat. Then, she would take the rat out of there, gift-wrap him and send him off to the Aurors in a nice, little package.
She was ready.
Hermione wrapped her robes tighter around herself as she tiptoed out of her room and walked through the narrow hallway. The dimly lit corridor felt suffocating, the weight of the past few days bearing down on her. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mix of anticipation and dread coursing through her veins. She was about to take a life-altering step, one that could reshape their future, and the gravity of it was almost too much to bear.
She was just about to take the stairs when she heard a quiet whimper. Her ears twitched at the painful sound, and her feet automatically began moving towards Neville's room.
She glanced at the door, wondering if she had some time to calm Neville down before leaving for her mission. Maybe Neville would stop crying soon enough…
But then, Neville let out another pitiful cry and a weak, "Mama! Nee!"
Hermione's heart broke at the sound of his distress. She didn't hesitate. She opened the door and hurried to the cot where she had placed Neville down. Shushing him gently, she picked him up and began rocking him from side to side. "Shh, it's okay, it's okay, I'm here…"
Neville sobbed and clutched onto her shirt with his little fist. "Nee…"
"I'm here, sunshine," Hermione whispered in the dark room. "You're okay."
The vulnerability in Neville's cry, the way he clung to her as if she were his lifeline, made Hermione's resolve waver. Her heart ached, not just with sadness but with a fierce protective instinct. She knew she had to be strong for him, but at this moment, all she wanted to do was hold him close and shield him from the world.
Neville's eyes were still shut as he cried, but he soon calmed down as Hermione continued rocking him in her arms. His cries turned into small sniffles before he was fast asleep, his lips parting and a quiet snore escaping his nose.
Hermione's heart swelled with tenderness as she looked at the sleeping child in her arms. The trust he placed in her, the way he found comfort in her presence, was both heartwarming and heartbreaking. She lowered her head to kiss his forehead, her lips lingering against his soft skin as she murmured, "Sweet dreams."
She began to lower him back into the cot, but when she laid him down, Neville's eyes snapped open and he cried, "Nee! No go!"
Hermione's eyes widened. That was the clearest he had spoken to her, and here he was, begging her not to leave him. She had an important job to do, but looking at the tears brimming in Neville's beautiful brown eyes, she realised she didn't have it in her to leave him alone right now.
"What do you want me to do, sunshine?" she whispered, stroking Neville's cheek with her knuckles.
Neville tried to tug her into the cot with him, his sleepy eyes narrowed with determination. Hermione chuckled when she understood he wanted to cuddle with her. She scooped him up and out of the cot. "Do you want to cuddle with me?"
Neville nodded and placed his head on her right breast, looking up at her hopefully. He didn't know he didn't need to give her puppy dog eyes to get her to do his bidding. He had her fully wrapped around his finger.
She cupped the back of his head and his bottom as she carried him out of the room and toward hers. "Alright, you can sleep in my room with me. But just for tonight, okay?"
"Hmm, 'kay," Neville mumbled and buried his face in her shoulder, clutching onto her sleeve and collar.
As she carried him to her room, a wave of fierce protectiveness washed over her. This little boy had lost so much, and she couldn't bear the thought of causing him more pain. She adjusted him on her hip and pulled the covers back before climbing into bed, her mind a tumultuous mix of emotions.
She carefully placed Neville's head on the pillow and laid down beside him. He immediately rolled over onto his side and slid his arm under her armpit, which felt a bit ticklish, but Hermione simply held him close and began humming to make him fall asleep. It was what she'd done with Crookshanks when he was crying and whining, and she had a feeling Neville would like that too.
The gentle rise and fall of Neville's breathing, the warmth of his small body pressed against hers, was incredibly soothing. Hermione's own tension eased as she hummed softly, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on his back. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her ribs lulled her into a sense of calm she hadn't felt in days.
Soon, the little boy had fallen asleep. He soon began snoring, which Hermione found very endearing. It was such a loud snore for someone so tiny. She watched him for a while, caressing his back with the tips of her fingers and patting his head when he snorted and sniffled in his sleep.
The sight of him, so peaceful and vulnerable, filled her with a fierce determination. She couldn't let anything happen to him. She had to protect him, no matter the cost. But the mission she had set out on was equally important. She couldn't let Peter Pettigrew roam free, posing a threat to everyone she cared about.
It was so relaxing, cuddling with Neville, that Hermione found her own eyes fluttering shut. She had to widen her eyes to keep herself awake. She couldn't fall asleep now. She had a job to do. She needed to get to Peter before he could do anything dangerous too.
But Neville's steady heartbeat thumping against her lower ribs sent her into a fitful sleep.
Some time later, something startled her awake. She gripped her wand under the covers and stiffened her shoulders, her ears pricking up to listen for the sound that had woken her up. Finally, she heard another sound. It was as if someone was stomping around the hallway in a tizzy.
She remained silent and waited for something else to happen. And it did.
The door of her room slowly opened, and she heard a whispered, "What the fuck?" from the doorway.
Recognising the voice as Frank's usual growl, she closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep. The sudden fear that gripped her was almost paralysing. Memories of their previous encounters, the anger and hostility in his eyes, came rushing back. She braced herself for another confrontation, her heart pounding in her chest. She was in no mood to argue with the man. Yes, he had lost Alice and a friend who was in love with his wife, but that didn't give him the right to scream at her whenever he wished.
Frank tiptoed towards her bed, the sound of his footsteps like death knells in the silent room. Still pretending to sleep, Hermione waited for him to shake her or hex her awake. He was probably furious at her for Neville's presence in her bed. He'd probably claim she was trying to take Neville away from him—though that wasn't the case at all. She just wanted Neville to be happy. That's it.
But when Frank loomed by her bed, his presence in the room making her heart thump painfully against Neville's temple, he didn't wake her up. Instead, she felt him lower his hand to Neville's forehead and gently push the sweat-dampened hair off his eyebrows.
"Neville," he whispered, his tone soft and relaxed for once.
Hermione kept her eyes open just enough to see what was going on. She also worked to keep her breathing calm. She couldn't let him in on the fact that she wasn't asleep. Who knew what he would say to her? She didn't want him to wake Neville up with his scorn and hate-filled speech.
Fortunately, Frank simply stood by her side, his fingers running through Neville's hair. Finally, he leaned down all the way over her, his Adam's apple brushing against the side of her nose, and kissed Neville's forehead.
The tenderness in his gesture was unexpected, and for a moment, hope flickered in her chest. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a part of Frank that could heal, that could find a way to coexist with her for Neville's sake.
He was too close for her comfort. The memory of his fingers wrapped around her throat, constricting her airways, slammed into her with a force she hadn't expected. Hermione stopped breathing and instinctively stiffened.
Her accidental actions were enough to alert Frank that she was awake. She could feel it in the way his chest tightened and expanded right against her upper arm. Still, he didn't move. Hermione wondered if he was going to just Avada her right away, but instead, he slowly straightened up and walked back out of her room.
The door shut behind him with a soft click and Hermione finally let out her breath in a quiet whoosh. The room felt cold and empty without his presence, the tension slowly ebbing away. She clenched her eyes shut and tried to calm her suddenly racing heart. She was safe. He wasn't going to kill her. Not yet. Maybe in the morning, if she were lucky.
Once she was calm enough, she reminded herself that she had a job to do. She gave Frank a few minutes to get back to his room, if that was where he was heading, before she carefully extracted herself from Neville's tight grip. For a boy who was barely one and a half years old, he had a fierce grip that could rival a Beater's.
She finally managed to get Neville's hand to slacken, and when she was free, she rolled out of the bed and began casting charms on the bed to make sure Neville would be safe when she was gone. She didn't want him to accidentally roll out of bed or hit his head on something if he was suddenly startled awake by a nightmare. Just in case, she even added a charm that would alert her if he woke up in the middle of the night.
Look at her, mothering the boy who would have grown up to be called the Snake Slayer. She couldn't help but chuckle as she imagined an adult Neville looking at her with shock if she told him she had changed his nappies and put him to sleep.
But then she remembered she wouldn't be able to return home, to her original timeline, now that everything had changed so drastically. Her smile was wiped off her face the instant the realisation hit.
The weight of her actions, the consequences of altering time, pressed heavily on her. She tried to push the thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand. She couldn't afford to be distracted now.
Ignoring her thoughts before they could spiral was a technique she had learnt on the run with Harry and Ron. If she only decided to worry and stress about something at a future date, she somehow managed to keep herself from feeling anxious. She calmly told herself that she would panic about her changed timeline thirty years into the future (her mind didn't care what date she chose as long as it knew she would be free to panic later on).
Once the ball of anxiety in her stomach disappeared, she walked to the door and opened it. Glancing back at Neville one more time, she closed the door behind her and left the Manor.
It was time to bring Peter Pettigrew to justice.