That night, Hermione was jolted awake by the sound of soft whimpers. She blinked groggily, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from, when a small figure appeared at the side of her bed.
Her heart almost jumped into her throat, and her hand reached for her wand. But then, she squinted and realised it was Neville.
"Neville? Sunshine, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, quickly sitting up in bed and reaching out for him.
His little face was streaked with tears, and his hands clutched the edge of her blanket. Without a word, he hoisted himself up into bed with her, snuggling close, seeking comfort from whatever nightmare had disturbed his sleep.
Hermione wrapped her arms around him, gently stroking his hair. "Shh, it's okay, Nev. You're safe," she whispered softly, trying to soothe him. But before she could settle him completely, tiny footsteps padded across the floor. Glancing up, she found Harry, clutching his blanket, his wide green eyes filled with the same sadness.
"Nymmy, Nevvy," he whispered, pointing to Neville.
"Come here, darling," she murmured, and Harry climbed into the bed beside Neville, squeezing in close. Hermione's heart ached as she tried to comfort them both, but it was becoming increasingly clear that her bed wasn't big enough to hold all three of them. The boys were still sniffling, their tiny bodies pressed against her, making it difficult for any of them to get comfortable.
"Alright, boys," she murmured, her mind working quickly despite her exhaustion. "Let's make some more room, shall we?" She reached for her wand, intending to transfigure the bed into something larger. But before she could cast the spell, the door creaked open.
Frank stood there, looking surprised and concerned. "Sorry to interrupt," he said quietly, glancing between the two boys and Hermione. "I was just heading to bed when I saw them wandering into your room. I wanted to check on them. How did they even manage to climb out of their cribs?"
Hermione couldn't help but chuckle softly, despite the tension of the moment. "They're both magically gifted boys. Could've been accidental magic. Happens with kids sometimes, especially when they're upset."
Frank nodded, his expression thoughtful, but when Hermione raised her wand again to transfigure the bed, he stepped forward and stopped her. For a moment, she was hurt. Did he still not trust her enough to leave Neville with her for the night? She opened her mouth to protest, but Frank spoke before she could say anything.
"The furniture in the manor," he explained, his voice calm but gentle, "is charmed against transfigurations. It's old magic, set by my family generations ago. If you try to change it, the spell will rebound. But…" He hesitated for a moment, then continued, "My bed is the largest in the house. You can all sleep there, if you want."
Hermione's initial reaction was to refuse. The idea of sleeping in Frank's bed, even just to comfort the boys, made her uncomfortable. But then Neville's little fingers clutched at her shirt, and Harry's soft whimpers reached her ears again. They needed comfort, and right now, she was the only one who could give it to them. She sighed, nodding slowly.
"Alright," she agreed softly, her voice almost a whisper. "If it's okay with you."
Frank didn't say anything, but the brief flicker of relief in his eyes was enough. He stepped forward, gently scooping Harry up into his arms while Hermione picked Neville up, who immediately rested his head on her shoulder. As they walked down the hall towards Frank's bedroom, Hermione couldn't help but think how domestic it all felt—like they were a proper family. The thought filled her with warmth, but she quickly pushed it away, embarrassed by her reaction.
She avoided Frank's curious gaze as they walked side by side, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the weight of his presence, the way he occasionally glanced at her, but she kept her focus on the boys, silently willing herself to calm down.
When they reached Frank's bedroom, he placed Harry gently on the bed, the little boy immediately curling up under the covers. Hermione tucked Neville in beside him, but before she could step away, Neville's small hand shot out and grabbed Frank's hand.
"Dada!" Neville's voice was soft but insistent, and Hermione could see the plea in his eyes. He didn't want his father to leave. He wanted Frank to stay with them, to be there for him like he used to be.
Frank hesitated, his gaze flicking from Neville to Hermione. She could see the reluctance in his expression—the uncertainty. But he finally nodded, moving to the other side of the bed and lying down beside them. Hermione settled in on the opposite side, with the boys nestled safely between them.
"Owy?" Harry whispered, curling against her side.
Hermione was now mostly fluent in baby-speak, so she knew he wanted to hear a story. She smiled down at them and started.
"Once upon a time, a dragon was born in Hogwarts—a very small, baby dragon like you two—and he needed help. So, the Chosen One, a brave little boy, decided to help him. He said, 'Don't worry, I'll help you get out of here.' He knew the dragon had to be taken far away to a place where he could live freely without anyone seeing him."
Both Neville and Harry blinked up at her, their little faces full of wonder. Harry let out a small gurgle of interest, and Hermione chuckled before continuing.
"But helping a dragon escape wasn't an easy task. There were lots of things to worry about—like sneaking around the castle without getting caught by the teachers. And one of those teachers was very strict—Professor McGonagall. She was always watching, always ready to catch anyone breaking the rules."
At the mention of Professor McGonagall, Neville's little eyebrows furrowed in concentration, as if trying to picture the stern professor in his baby mind.
"And that's where another brave boy comes in," Hermione said, gently brushing Neville's soft hair. "Everyone called him the Snake Slayer. He was known for his courage, even though he didn't always believe in himself. When the Chosen One and his friends were trying to get the dragon out of the castle, the Snake Slayer decided to help them. He thought that if he could distract Professor McGonagall, the Chosen One would have a better chance of sneaking by."
Hermione paused, seeing Neville's eyes widen with anticipation. She could almost hear the gears turning in his little head, as if he was trying to figure out how he, too, might become as brave as the Snake Slayer one day.
"So, the Snake Slayer stood in front of Professor McGonagall, trying to think of the best way to keep her from finding out about the dragon. He tried to talk about homework, about plants—anything to keep her attention away from what the Chosen One was doing. But Professor McGonagall was very clever. She quickly realised that something was up."
Hermione grinned, the memory of that night in the castle corridors vivid in her mind. "The Snake Slayer tried his best, but in the end, he couldn't stop Professor McGonagall from finding out. Still, he was very brave, and everyone knew that. Even when things didn't go exactly as planned, the Snake Slayer never gave up. And because of that, the Chosen One and his friends were able to get the dragon to safety."
As she spoke, Hermione felt a deep warmth in her chest. These stories, these memories, were precious. They connected her to a time and place that was both familiar and distant, and sharing them with Harry and Neville, even in this small way, made her feel closer to her old friends.
"Do you know what happened next?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.
Neville and Harry both stared up at her, their tiny faces expectant.
"Well," Hermione continued, her smile softening, "even though they got caught, Professor McGonagall didn't punish them too harshly. She knew they were trying to help, and deep down, she admired their courage. And as for the Snake Slayer—everyone respected him even more for his bravery that night."
She watched as Neville gave a sleepy yawn, his eyes drooping as he snuggled closer to her. Harry, too, seemed lulled by the gentle rhythm of her voice, his tiny fists clenched and unclenched as he settled into a more peaceful sleep.
"And that's the end of tonight's story, my little heroes," Hermione whispered, leaning down to kiss the tops of their heads. "Remember, even when things don't go exactly as planned, being brave and doing your best is what matters most. Just like the Chosen One and the Snake Slayer."
As the minutes passed, the boys slowly drifted off to sleep, their breathing evening out, their little bodies relaxing into the warmth and safety of the bed. The room was quiet, filled only with the soft sound of their breaths.
Frank shifted slightly, his voice barely a whisper. "Was that story real too? Did Harry and Neville really help a dragon?"
Hermione smiled and closed her eyes for a moment, remembering how terrified she had been when they were caught. "Yes, we did. It was in our first year, and we were all so young and reckless. But there was this dragon—a Norwegian Ridgeback named Norbert. Hagrid had gotten him as an egg, and, well, things got out of hand."
Frank chuckled quietly, careful not to disturb the boys. "Hagrid and his creatures. Some things never change."
Hermione smiled at the memory of the half-giant's unwavering love for all manner of beasts. "Exactly. He loved Norbert, but it was dangerous to keep him at Hogwarts. So, we came up with a plan to get the dragon out of the castle. It wasn't easy. There were so many close calls…"
Frank turned his head slightly to look at her, the dim light casting soft shadows across his face. "And Neville? Did he really try to distract McGonagall?"
Hermione nodded, her smile turning a bit wistful. "He did. He was so brave, even though he was scared out of his mind. I think that was one of the first times I realised just how much courage Neville had. It wasn't the loud, flashy kind of bravery, but something quieter, deeper. He tried to stand up for us, even when he knew it might not work."
Frank seemed to mull over her words, his gaze distant as if he were imagining that moment. "Neville's always been like that. Strong in ways people don't always see."
Hermione studied Frank's profile for a moment, noticing how his features softened in the quiet of the night. He looked different—less guarded, more vulnerable. The tension that usually lined his face seemed to have eased just a little. Maybe it was the darkness, the calm of the sleeping boys between them, or the fact that they were finally talking, really talking. She found herself feeling more at ease too.
"Do you ever miss those days?" Frank asked suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper. "The days when things were simpler… even with all the chaos."
Hermione paused, considering his question. "Sometimes," she admitted. "I miss the simplicity of knowing what I was fighting for, having a clear purpose. But... It was also so hard. We were constantly in danger, always on edge. It's strange, but even in the midst of all that, there were moments of peace—like when we were with Hagrid or just sitting by the fire in Gryffindor Tower. I miss those moments the most."
Frank nodded slowly. "I get that. It's like... even though we were always fighting, we had something to fight for. Something to hold onto."
Hermione shifted slightly, her hand brushing against the soft curls on Neville's head. "What about you, Frank? Do you ever miss Hogwarts? Or the time before… everything changed?"
Frank was quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as if searching for the right words. "Sometimes," he finally said. "I miss the simplicity of it all."
He didn't say anything else, and Hermione knew better than to poke the bear by asking him to elaborate. It was a miracle he was actually cooperating with her for once, so she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Frank then glanced over at her and murmured, "I can leave now if you'd prefer."
Hermione looked at him over the sleeping forms of the boys, her heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. She hesitated for only a moment before reaching out, her hand finding his in the dark. She squeezed it gently, her voice soft but firm. "Stay."
Frank didn't reply, but he didn't move either. Hermione closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax, the warmth of Neville and Harry, the (barely there) feel of Frank's fingers near hers, lulling her into a peaceful sleep. For now, this was enough.