After the disastrous 'tea' was cut short, Hermione groaned and dropped her head onto the table with a soft thump.

"Nee," Neville whined, tugging on her sleeve. "Awas!"

"You want to show me something?"

Neville nodded excitedly, so Hermione got to her feet and trailed behind him towards the flowerbed, smiling softly at his antics. His little face was alight with enthusiasm, and he turned and called out to Harry, "Ha-Wee-Wee!"

Hermione pursed her lips to stop herself from laughing at Neville butchering Harry's name. She sat down near the flowerbed when Neville tried to pull her down. Once she was seated, he and Harry stumbled across the grass, occasionally grabbing fistfuls of dirt and, to her dismay, attempting to eat it.

"Merlin's beard, is this what you wanted to do?" Hermione groaned and leapt forward to stop them. She settled herself even closer to the bed of vibrant flowers, keeping a close eye on the boys as they frolicked in the grass.

"No, no, Harry, dirt isn't for eating," she gently chided, reaching over to wipe the soil from his chubby fingers.

Neville, not to be outdone, promptly stuffed another handful of dirt into his mouth. Hermione sighed, trying to explain in the simplest terms why dirt was not a suitable snack, but the boys only giggled, clearly more entertained by the game than her words.

As she continued her vigil, she noticed Frank approaching from the house, his steps slow and hesitant. The tension in his posture was unmistakable, and Hermione braced herself for another awkward encounter. She watched as he drew nearer, his eyes darting from her to the boys, his expression guarded.

"Augusta sent you out here, didn't she?" Hermione said with a secretive smile as Frank finally reached them.

He nodded, the tension in his shoulders evident. "She thought I could use some fresh air."

Hermione resisted the urge to laugh at how uncomfortable he seemed. Instead, she gestured to a spot near her. "Why don't you sit down? The boys are just... exploring," she added, as Neville made another attempt to feed Harry some grass.

Frank hesitated, glancing at the children before reluctantly sitting down beside her. He still looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, his jaw clenched tight.

In an attempt to ease the awkwardness, Hermione decided to steer the conversation towards something neutral. She didn't want another awkward tea with him. "Why don't you tell me about your school days? I'm sure you must have some interesting stories."

He seemed caught off guard by the question, but after a moment, he began to relax—if only slightly. "My school days…" he started, his voice still tense. He looked out at the boys playing, as if searching for the right words. "They were... different. Hogwarts was a refuge in some ways. A place where I could escape the expectations at home."

Hermione listened intently, noticing how his demeanour softened as he spoke about his past. There was a hint of nostalgia in his voice, a distant look in his eyes. For a brief moment, she could almost see the boy he had once been—before the war, before Alice, before everything.

Hermione nodded, sensing that Frank's words carried a weight of unspoken stories. "I can understand that," she said softly. "Hogwarts was the first place I ever felt like I truly belonged. I mean, I was muggle-born, so the whole world of magic was... overwhelming at first. But it was also incredible."

Frank glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His smile was so unexpected that Hermione had to blink twice. "I can imagine. Being muggle-born, you must have felt like you were stepping into a completely different world."

She laughed lightly. "Oh, absolutely. I remember reading every book I could get my hands on before my first year, thinking I could prepare myself. But nothing really prepares you for the first time you see the castle or when the Sorting Hat talks to you."

Frank chuckled, and the sound was unexpectedly warm. Wow, he had such a nice laugh. Wonders never cease! He said, "The Sorting Hat... That was nerve-wracking. My parents expected me to be in Gryffindor, of course. I remember sitting on that stool, sweating under that hat, hoping I wouldn't disappoint them."

"Did it consider any other houses for you?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious.

He nodded, his eyes distant with memory. "It mentioned Hufflepuff. Said I had a strong sense of loyalty and fair play. But I guess it sensed that Gryffindor was where I belonged—where I needed to be."

Hermione smiled, imagining a younger, more carefree Frank sitting under the hat's brim. "I was almost put in Ravenclaw," she confessed. "I was so nervous about not being sorted there. I thought it was the only house that would fit me, with how much I loved to study."

"Ravenclaw? I can see that," Frank said, nodding thoughtfully. "But you ended up in Gryffindor."

"Yes," she replied, her smile growing. "The Hat said I had plenty of bravery. More than I knew, I suppose."

Frank's expression softened. "It seems the Hat knew what it was talking about."

Hermione blushed slightly at the compliment, quickly shifting the conversation back to him. "What about you? What was your favourite part of Hogwarts?"

He leaned back slightly, thinking it over. "The camaraderie, I think. Being surrounded by people who were going through the same things—learning the same magic, facing the same challenges. There was something comforting about it. And, of course, the Quidditch. I wasn't on the team, but I loved watching the matches."

"Quidditch was fun to watch," Hermione agreed, "even if I never really understood the obsession with it. I was always more focused on my studies, I suppose."

Frank chuckled again. "I wasn't obsessed with it either, but it was hard not to get caught up in the excitement, especially when Gryffindor played Slytherin."

"Those matches were always the most intense," Hermione agreed, her eyes sparkling with the memory. "I remember Harry's first match—it was terrifying! I think I was more scared than he was."

Frank smiled at the mention of Harry, glancing over at the boy who was currently kicking Neville in the ribs and making him laugh. "Is it… difficult for you to think of your past and know that it won't happen like that for them this time?"

Hermione's smile faltered slightly, but she nodded slowly. "It is. But... I'm glad I could be there for him, even if it is hard."

There was a brief silence between them, filled with the sounds of the boys' laughter and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze.

Hermione, feeling a bit more comfortable, decided to keep the conversation going. "What were your favourite classes?" she asked, genuinely curious. "And who were your favourite professors?"

Frank seemed to consider this for a moment, his eyes still on the boys playing nearby. "Defence Against the Dark Arts, without a doubt," he said, his tone warming slightly. "I always felt like it was the most practical class, the one that really prepared us for what might come. Professor Flitwick's Charms class was a close second. He was such a kind teacher, and he really knew how to make the subject come alive."

Hermione smiled, nodding in agreement. "Professor Flitwick was wonderful. I always admired how much he cared about his students. And Defense Against the Dark Arts... well, I suppose it makes sense, given that you became an Auror."

Frank gave a small smile at that, though there was a hint of something sadder behind it. "Yes, it did set me on that path. I think it was also because of Professor Moody. He was a tough teacher, but he really pushed us to be our best. No nonsense, but always fair."

Hermione's eyes widened slightly at the mention of Moody. "Moody taught you? We were supposed to have him as our DADA professor in fourth year, but, uh…we got someone else instead. But yes, Moody was... intense."

Frank chuckled softly. "That's one way to put it. He was terrifying at times, but you knew he had your back. He was the kind of teacher who made you want to be better, to live up to his expectations. And he never sugar-coated anything, which I respected."

Hermione found herself nodding again. "I can see why you'd appreciate that. I always liked professors who challenged me too, though I think my favourites were McGonagall and... well, Snape, in a way."

Frank raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Snape? He was your professor? And your favourite? That's... unexpected."

Hermione laughed lightly, feeling a bit sheepish. "I know, it sounds strange. He wasn't exactly kind, but he was brilliant. I think I learned more from him because he was so demanding. And McGonagall—well, she was just incredible. A true Gryffindor through and through."

Frank smiled at that. "McGonagall was one of the best. She had this way of making you want to prove yourself to her. And she was always fair, even when she was strict."

"Exactly," Hermione agreed, her own smile widening. "She was tough, but you knew she cared. She wanted us to succeed, to be the best versions of ourselves."

There was a comfortable silence between them as they both reflected on their school days. It was as if, for a moment, they were back at Hogwarts, two students talking about classes and professors, rather than two adults navigating the complexities of their current lives.

Finally, Frank spoke again, his voice softer. "It's strange, isn't it? How much those days shaped who we are now."

Hermione looked at him, seeing the wistfulness in his expression. "Yes, it is. Hogwarts was more than just a school—it was home. It's where we learned who we were, who we wanted to be."

Frank nodded, his gaze distant as if he were lost in his memories. "It was. And I suppose, in some ways, it still is."

Hermione felt a pang of sadness at his words, thinking of how much they had both lost since their school days. But there was also a sense of connection, a shared understanding that made the conversation feel important.

He didn't mention Alice, and Hermione didn't ask. It was a subject too raw for both of them, and she wasn't sure how to navigate it without reopening wounds that were still too fresh. Instead, she simply nodded along as he continued, offering quiet encouragement with her presence.

As Frank spoke, the tension between them gradually ebbed. It wasn't much, but it was enough for now. They didn't need to solve all their problems in one conversation. For the moment, it was enough that they were sitting here, talking—two people trying to find a way forward in a world that had changed so much for them both.

The boys' laughter filled the air as they tumbled through the grass, their joy infectious. Hermione found herself smiling, not just at the boys, but at the small progress they had made today. Frank was here, talking to her, and that was more than she could have hoped for a few days ago.

And as they sat there, surrounded by the beauty of the garden and the innocence of the children playing at their feet, Hermione allowed herself to feel a small glimmer of hope. It wasn't much, but it was something—and for now, that was enough.