Hermione had been running herself ragged since Christmas now, slipping out of the manor at odd hours to work on her research for the goblins. The hours in the depths of Gringotts (mostly at night) were long and gruelling, filled with complex studies of ancient goblin ailments and remedies, and she often found herself coming back exhausted, her mind buzzing with information. Today was one of those days.
Hermione had barely pushed open the door to the nursery when she was met with a chorus of squeals. Neville and Harry, who had been playing quietly moments before, suddenly spotted her, and their faces lit up with pure joy. Hermione's heart melted at the sight, despite the exhaustion that weighed her down like a heavy cloak.
Frank, who had been sitting on the floor with the boys, looked up as she entered. "Back already?"
Hermione nodded, too tired to muster a proper response. She dropped her bag by the door and stepped further into the room. But before she could even think about what to say, Neville and Harry were already on the move.
"Nymmy!" Harry babbled, his chubby little legs working overtime as he rushed toward her.
Neville wasn't far behind, his movements slightly more coordinated but just as enthusiastic.
"Nee!" he chimed in, a gleeful smile spreading across his face as he toddled after Harry.
Their small bodies collided with her legs, nearly knocking her off balance. Hermione let out a surprised squeal as she teetered backward, trying desperately to keep her footing. But the boys were persistent, their tiny hands grabbing onto her trousers, pulling her further off balance.
"Whoa—whoa!" she yelped, feeling herself tipping backward.
Before she could fall, Frank was suddenly there. He lunged forward, his hand wrapping around hers in a firm grip. But instead of steadying her, he pulled her with a bit too much force. The next thing she knew, she was flying into his chest, the momentum sending them both tumbling to the floor.
"Frank!" she gasped as they landed in a heap, the boys wedged awkwardly between them.
Frank's arms instinctively wrapped around her to cushion the fall, but it only resulted in them being even closer. Hermione found herself practically nose-to-nose with him, her breath hitching at how close they were. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, it was as if the world around them had frozen. The memory of that kiss—the one they'd shared in a moment of vulnerability and too much firewhiskey—flashed through her mind, making her heart race.
Frank's gaze flickered, as if he was remembering it too. His eyes softened, and for a second, Hermione thought he might say something. But before either of them could process the moment, they were brought back to reality by the giggles of the two boys wedged between them.
Harry, who had somehow ended up squished against Frank's chest, was wriggling and laughing uncontrollably, his tiny hands patting Frank's face as if trying to figure out what had just happened. Neville, meanwhile, was lying half on top of Hermione, giggling and kicking his legs in the air with sheer delight.
"Harry… Neville…" Frank's voice was strained as he tried to sit up, but the boys' relentless squirming made it difficult.
"Calm down, you two," Hermione said with a laugh, trying to adjust herself without toppling anyone over further. But the boys were having none of it—they were too busy enjoying the chaos they'd accidentally caused.
Harry, still giggling, finally managed to roll off Frank and crawled onto Hermione's lap instead, his little hands tugging at her sleeves. "Nymmy!" he babbled again, clearly enjoying the game they'd unintentionally started.
Neville, not wanting to be left out, wiggled out from under Hermione and joined Harry in climbing onto her lap, making her laugh even harder.
"Okay, okay, you two! I'm not a jungle gym!" she protested, though the warmth in her voice betrayed how much she was enjoying their antics.
Frank finally managed to sit up, running a hand through his hair as he gave her a bemused look. "They're a handful, aren't they?"
Hermione grinned, still holding onto the boys who were now both clambering over her. "Just a bit."
For a few minutes, they all just sat there on the floor, the room filled with the sound of Harry and Neville's infectious laughter. The boys took turns bouncing between Hermione and Frank, each one vying for attention in their own way. Harry would grab at Frank's hands, trying to pull him back down whenever he tried to stand, while Neville seemed determined to claim Hermione's lap for himself, snuggling against her as if he never wanted to move.
After a while, Harry found himself entertained by one of the soft toys scattered on the floor and Neville soon followed, leaving Hermione and Frank sitting side by side, their knees brushing.
The warmth of the moment lingered, and as she watched the boys play, Hermione couldn't help but feel a sense of peace settle over her.
Frank leaned back on his hands, watching the boys with a fond smile. "They really missed you today."
Hermione's heart swelled at his words. "I missed them too," she admitted softly. "It's… hard, being away so much."
"What are you doing anyways?" Frank asked cautiously. "I… I saw you leaving the manor at night too. You'll tire yourself out if you keep doing this to yourself."
She knew this conversation was coming—Frank wasn't oblivious, and she had been slipping out more frequently. She turned to face him, her expression guarded. "I'm just… trying to manage things."
Frank's brow furrowed, concern deepening in his eyes. "Manage what? Hermione, you've been running yourself ragged. You're taking care of Harry and Neville all day, then slipping out at night. What are you up to?"
Hermione looked down, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. She bit her lip, contemplating whether to tell him the truth.
Finally, she took a deep breath and looked up at him. "I've been going out… to earn money."
Frank blinked, taken aback. "Earn money? For what? Isn't… Isn't my mother paying you enough?"
Hermione shook her head quickly, her eyes dropping to the floor. "No, it's not that. Augusta offered, but… I didn't want to accept her money. It didn't feel right."
Frank's disbelief was palpable. "What do you mean 'it didn't feel right'? You're looking after Neville, doing more than most people could handle. You deserve to be paid for that."
"It's not about the money," Hermione said quietly, meeting his gaze again. "I didn't come here to get paid. And accepting money from you for that… It feels wrong. Like I'm putting a price on something that's priceless."
Frank stared at her, his expression softening as he absorbed her words. "But… why are you doing this to yourself, then? Why are you going out, working on top of everything else?"
Hermione sighed, her shoulders slumping as the weight of her choices pressed down on her. "Because I need to provide for Harry—and Neville. They need things… and I can't just rely on Augusta for everything. It's not fair to her, and it's not fair to them. I need to be able to take care of them on my own terms."
Frank took a step closer, his voice gentle but firm. "Hermione, you don't have to do this alone. We're in this together. My mother and I—"
"I know," Hermione interrupted, her voice trembling slightly. "I know you and Augusta would do anything for them. But I need to do this. I need to contribute in my own way. It's the only thing that makes me feel like I have some control over… over everything."
Frank's eyes softened as he watched her struggle with her emotions. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone, Hermione. You're already doing more than enough."
Frank bit his lower lip and looked away, his gaze flickering with a sudden, uncomfortable awareness. The silence between them stretched on, heavy and charged with unspoken emotions. Hermione could sense the subtle shift in his demeanour—the way his shoulders tensed, how he seemed to withdraw ever so slightly.
She hadn't meant to bring up old wounds, but the mention of letting people down must have touched a nerve. Hermione knew that Alice's memory loomed large in Frank's mind, especially with how close her death was tied to Hermione's sudden arrival in this timeline. The grief, the loss—it was all too fresh.
"I'm sorry, Frank," Hermione whispered, realising too late that her words might have stirred painful memories. "I didn't mean to—"
"No, it's… it's fine," Frank cut her off, his voice tight. But his eyes told a different story. He was struggling to keep his composure, his expression strained as if he was grappling with the weight of everything unsaid. The warmth that had been there between them just moments before seemed to dissipate, replaced by an awkward tension.
Frank shifted on his feet, his gaze darting around the room as if searching for an escape. He cleared his throat, avoiding her eyes. "I should… I should go… get something to eat."
The excuse felt flimsy, but Hermione didn't push. She offered him a small, understanding nod.
Frank nodded, though he still didn't meet her gaze.
Turning on his heel, he headed toward the door. His footsteps echoed in the hallway as he left, the sound fading into the quiet of the manor.
Hermione stood there for a moment, staring at the empty doorway. A pang of regret hit her, and she realised that in trying to connect with Frank, she had inadvertently pushed him away. The room felt colder now, and she wrapped her arms around herself, the warmth of their earlier connection slipping away like sand through her fingers.
As she sat there, the ghost of Alice's presence was even stronger—an invisible barrier that had been erected between her and Frank, a reminder of the life that had been lost, and the fragile connection that they were both trying to navigate in its wake.