Hermione closed the door to the flat softly behind her, the weight of the evening settling over her like a heavy blanket. The conversation with her parents had been nothing short of disastrous. Every word felt like walking on glass—sharp, painful, and leading nowhere. They couldn't understand why she wanted to move out so quickly, why she was so different from the girl they had raised. And Hermione wasn't about to explain the impossible truth—that she was no longer the same Hermione Granger they knew. How could they understand something she barely understood herself?
As she stepped further into the apartment, she noticed something unusual. The lights were already on, casting a soft, warm glow across the room. She wasn't alone. Remus was sitting on the couch, waiting for her, his expression calm but concerned.
"Why aren't you with Teddy?" Hermione asked, her voice softer than usual, the exhaustion of the day weighing on her.
Remus looked up, his gaze gentle. "He's fast asleep, Andi is there to handle things if he wakes up. I thought you might want company after seeing your parents."
Hermione let out a shaky breath, her emotions swirling in a confusing mix of frustration, sadness, and relief. She crossed the room slowly, dropping her handbag near the door and shrugging off her light sweater. "You didn't have to come," she whispered, though her heart swelled at the sight of him. "But… thank you."
Remus watched her quietly, his eyes never leaving her face as she sank down onto the couch beside him. "How did it go?" he asked softly, though he already seemed to know the answer.
She shook her head, rubbing her hands over her face. "Terribly. They don't understand why I need to get out, why I'm so different. I couldn't tell them the truth, but I couldn't lie to them either. It was like I was talking to strangers, Remus."
Remus reached out, taking her hand in his. His touch was steady, grounding her in a way that nothing else could. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, his voice filled with quiet understanding. "I know how much they mean to you."
Hermione nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "I just… I don't know how to be their daughter anymore. I'm not the girl they think I am."
Remus squeezed her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "You don't have to figure it all out tonight," he said softly. "Take it one step at a time. And remember, you're not alone in this."
Hermione looked up at him, her chest tightening at the warmth and care in his eyes. For the first time that day, she allowed herself to feel a small flicker of hope. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
The room seemed to shrink around them, the soft glow of the lights casting long shadows as they sat impossibly close. Hermione's breath hitched, her gaze involuntarily flickering down to Remus's lips, lingering for a heartbeat too long. She could feel the tension between them, palpable and electric, a current running just beneath the surface of their quiet conversation.
Remus, ever so perceptive, noticed the shift. His eyes softened, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. He didn't move away, didn't pull back, but instead held her gaze, searching her face with the same quiet intensity that had always made her feel seen, understood.
"Hermione…" he began, his voice a low murmur, but there was no reprimand, no hesitation—just a gentle acknowledgment of whatever it was they were both feeling in that moment.
Her heart pounded in her chest, the conflict of emotions overwhelming. She had been so lost, so displaced in her life, and yet here, with him, she felt something akin to home. It wasn't simple, it wasn't easy—there was so much between them, both past and present. But there was also something undeniable, something that had always been there, waiting.
Hermione's hand trembled in his, but she didn't pull away. "I—" she started, but the words caught in her throat. The moment hung in the air, fragile and uncertain.
Remus, ever the gentleman, shifted slightly, his thumb still brushing over her hand, his other hand hovering just near her cheek, as if unsure whether he should reach for her. "You don't have to say anything," he whispered, his voice steady but tinged with something deeper. "We don't have to rush."
Hermione's chest tightened, torn between the weight of the past and the pull of the present. She nodded, but didn't move away, her eyes still locked on his. "I know," she whispered back, the words barely audible.
And then, without thinking, without overanalyzing, she leaned in, her lips brushing his in the softest, briefest of kisses, a question more than an answer. It was tentative, a careful crossing of a line neither of them had fully acknowledged until now.
When she pulled back, her heart raced, her mind reeling with uncertainty. Remus looked at her, his eyes searching hers, but there was no shock, no rejection. Instead, he gave her the smallest of smiles, filled with warmth and something that looked a lot like understanding.
"We'll take it slow," he said gently, his hand still holding hers.
Hermione nodded again, her heart swelling with both fear and hope, the uncertainty of everything still looming—but, in this moment, it didn't seem quite as insurmountable. "One step at a time," she whispered.
"I should go, let you settle in," Remus said softly after a while, rising from the couch, but he didn't move away immediately.
Hermione's hand lingered in his, and for a moment, they just stood there, close, the air between them charged with unspoken words. She looked up at him, her heart still racing from the kiss they had just shared. It was soft, tentative—filled with the kind of hope that had been absent from her life for far too long. She wasn't sure how they had found their way to that moment, but now that they had, it felt right, like a door she had been afraid to open for weeks had finally cracked wide.
"You don't have to go," she said quietly, her voice barely a whisper, but enough to make him pause.
Remus stopped, turning back toward her, his eyes searching hers. His expression softened, and he gently brought his hand up to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "It's a lot to take in, Hermione," he murmured, his thumb grazing her cheek. "For both of us. But we'll figure it out… together."
She nodded, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders, the tension of the past few days easing just a bit. "I know. It's just… going to take some time, isn't it?"
He smiled, the warmth of it reaching his eyes now. "Yes. But we have time. We don't have to jump into anything."
Hermione squeezed his hand, feeling reassured by his steady presence. "Thank you," she whispered again, her voice softer this time, but filled with a quiet certainty that hadn't been there before. "For being here. For understanding."
Remus chuckled lightly, his forehead resting against hers for a brief moment. "I'll always be here, Hermione."
The room didn't feel so empty anymore, and the loneliness that had settled in her chest earlier had eased with the knowledge that whatever came next, she wouldn't have to face it alone.
Remus leaned in one last time, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before stepping back. "I'll give you some space for tonight, though. But I'll see you tomorrow?"
Hermione smiled, feeling lighter. "Tomorrow."
A soft smile tugged at the corner of Remus's lips. "If you want, I can bring Teddy over?" His voice was gentle, offering yet another piece of his life that he was ready to share with her.
Hermione's heart softened further at the mention of his son. She nodded, the idea of meeting Teddy bringing a flicker of joy she hadn't expected. "If you're sure…"
"I'm sure," Remus replied, his eyes lighting up at the thought. "You didn't get to meet him last time, right?"
Hermione shook her head, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips as she remembered the chaos and heartbreak of the war. "No, I didn't. He was just a month old… and with us all on the run, everything happening at once…" Her voice trailed off, the weight of those dark memories filling the space for a moment.
"Yes," Remus said softly, understanding filling his eyes. "I can imagine. But he's here now, and I'd like for you to meet him properly this time. He's—well, he's a bit of a handful, but I think you'll like him."
"I'm sure I will," Hermione said, her smile widening at the thought of Teddy, the little boy she had heard so much about but never truly had the chance to know. The idea of meeting him felt like another step toward a new beginning—a future she could actually picture herself in.
Remus chuckled, his face softening at the mention of his son. "He's been the brightest part of my life these past two years. And I'd love for him to get to know you."
Hermione felt the warmth in her chest expand, knowing that Remus was offering her something precious, something that anchored him in this new timeline, just as she was trying to find her place in it.
"Tomorrow, then," she said softly, the promise of new beginnings in her words.
"Tomorrow," Remus echoed, giving her one last, lingering look before he turned to leave, a smile still on his face.
As the door closed behind him, Hermione stood in the quiet of the flat, feeling more at peace than she had in weeks.
Hermione glanced around the flat, memories from the 70s washing over her like a flood. The decor had changed—Sirius must have done a renovation at some point—but the layout, the elevation change between the living room and bedroom area, was familiar enough to tug at her heartstrings, filling her with a deep sense of nostalgia. She could almost hear the echoes of their laughter, the quiet conversations late into the night, and the warmth of having a home filled with love and hope, despite the war raging outside.
With a quiet sigh, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her shrunken trunk. She whispered a quick incantation, and the trunk enlarged back to its normal size with a soft thud on the floor. Hermione paused for a moment, contemplating which room to settle in. There was only one choice, really—their old bedroom. The room she had shared with Remus in the past.
She levitated her trunk to the familiar doorway, her steps slow as she crossed the threshold. The room felt both new and achingly familiar. The furniture had been replaced, the colours on the walls slightly different, but the bones of the space were still the same. It was like stepping back in time, yet everything had changed.
As Hermione placed her trunk by the foot of the bed and began unpacking, her hands moved with a kind of detached efficiency, folding clothes and placing them neatly in the drawers. Each item was a small, comforting piece of normalcy after the whirlwind of emotions she'd been through.
But as she opened the wardrobe, her heart skipped a beat.
There, tucked away in the back were a few remnants of her past life as Mina Delacour. Her old robes, slightly faded now, hung with an air of nostalgia, the fabric carrying with it memories of long nights at Hogwarts, secret meetings with the Marauders, and the countless battles fought in the shadows. There was also a small beaded bag—a familiar one—filled with odds and ends from her time undercover in the 70s.
She hesitated for a moment, her fingers brushing over the soft fabric of the robes. The sensation sent a wave of memories crashing over her—the late-night conversations with Sirius, the stolen moments with Remus, the endless strategizing with Lily and James. It all felt like a lifetime ago, and yet, here it was, staring her in the face.
Hermione pulled out one of the robes, her mind flashing back to the days when she'd worn it. She could almost hear Sirius teasing her, calling her "Minnie" as she rolled her eyes at him. She could picture the Room of Requirement, the Marauders laughing, oblivious to how much danger they were in. And Remus—his gentle smile, his quiet strength—how close they'd become, how she'd tried to protect him.
With a soft sigh, she carefully hung the robe back up and continued unpacking. This was her reality now—an amalgamation of two lives, two timelines. One where she had fought beside Harry and Ron, and another where she had loved, lost, and fought with the Marauders.
Her mind drifted to Remus. She couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking, how he was processing everything. The bond they had shared was still there, that much was clear. But the weight of the years apart—of him losing her and finding Tonks, of raising a child without her—was something they both would have to navigate.
Hermione placed the last of her belongings away, then stood in the centre of the room, taking in the space. It felt strange, reclaiming this room after so long. She wasn't the same girl who had lived here with Remus in the 70s, but maybe, just maybe, she could find her way back to some version of that girl. Some version that could find happiness again in this new life.
She sat on the edge of the bed, running her fingers over the soft duvet. Tomorrow, she would meet Teddy. Tomorrow, she would take one more step toward the future. But for now, she let herself sit in the quiet, letting the familiar surroundings ground her, letting the memories flow freely without the ache that had so often accompanied them.
This was a new beginning.
Hermione jolted awake at the loud flare of the Floo. Her heart raced as she instinctively reached for her wand, though the familiar voice that followed quickly dispelled any thoughts of danger.
"Hermione!" It was unmistakably Harry, his voice echoing through the flat with urgency.
She groaned, pushing the duvet off and sitting up, her hair a wild mess from having collapsed into bed the night before, emotionally exhausted. Clearly, Harry had been told. About her. About the alternate reality she had saved him from. And now, it seemed, he wanted answers.
With a sigh, Hermione rubbed her eyes and forced herself out of bed. She padded across the room and into the living area where Harry was standing, looking both shocked and relieved, his green eyes wide behind his glasses.
"Harry," she said softly, though she wasn't sure what else to say. What could she say?
He stared at her for a long moment, taking her in—clearly adjusting his mind to this version of Hermione, so different yet somehow the same. "Is it true?" he asked finally, his voice quieter now. "What Mum and Dad said? That… that you were Mina Delacour? That you… saved me, saved us all before I was even born?"
Hermione bit her lip, her mind racing. She had known this conversation would come, but standing here in front of him, seeing the weight of it on his face, it was harder than she expected. She nodded slowly. "Yes. It's true."
Harry sank into the nearest chair, running a hand through his messy hair as he processed the confirmation. "Merlin…" he muttered. "I don't even know what to say. I—I don't know how to… thank you."
"You don't need to thank me," Hermione said quickly, moving to sit beside him. "I didn't do it for recognition. I did it because it was the right thing to do. Because you—because all of you deserved a chance at a better life."
"But it was you," he insisted, his voice thick with emotion. "You were the one who took Voldemort down. Why didn't you say anything all these years?" Harry asked, his voice low, clearly struggling to make sense of everything. "You've known all this time, haven't you?"
Hermione shook her head slightly, offering him a sad smile. "No, Harry. I only returned to this reality about two months ago. Before that... I wasn't here. Not really. Just my counterpart from this timeline. Do you remember that awkward hug I gave you in the Great Hall? The one that didn't make any sense to you at the time?"
Harry blinked, the memory surfacing. "Yeah, I remember. It was... weird. I didn't understand why you did it."
"That was the first moment I saw you again—this version of you," she explained gently. "I didn't tell you because... well, everything had changed. In the timeline I remember, you and I were... close. You were like a brother to me. But in this reality, you didn't know me like that. We didn't have that kind of relationship anymore, not the one I remembered from before the time travel."
Harry frowned, trying to process it all. "So, you didn't think you could just... tell me? Even when you came back?"
Hermione hesitated. "It's not that I didn't want to tell you, Harry. I did. But I honestly didn't know how. You'd have thought me crazy. How could I have started to explain to you a different reality that never existed for you. You had a life, a family, a normal upbringing—something you wouldn't have had in the timeline I knew. You got the chance to live the life you deserved, and I was also hesitant to take that away from you by bringing up the past I knew."
He looked at her, his eyes filled with understanding, though still tinged with confusion. "Yeah, it's a lot to take in," he admitted. "All these years, you've been... Mina? You've been the one who changed everything?"
She nodded, her throat tight with emotion. "Yes. But I've always been Hermione too. The Hermione you've known these past years, she's still me, just... another version of me, now with a lot of things added on that I couldn't explain."
Harry was quiet for a moment, absorbing the weight of it all. "So... what happens now? You're back, and everything's different. What do we do?"
Hermione smiled softly. "We keep going, Harry. We move forward. I'm still here, you're still here, and we'll figure this out together. Just like we always have."
Harry chuckled softly, the irony not lost on him. For him, there had never been an "always figuring things out together" with Hermione, not in the way she remembered. But now, standing there, he felt like maybe he could do that. Maybe they could build that kind of relationship, even if it was different from the one she had known.
"Can you tell me a bit more?" Harry asked, curiosity replacing the earlier confusion. "About me, about how we were, what we did in that other timeline? Mum and Dad were kind of vague about it. I guess they didn't know all the details either."
Hermione smiled, her heart warming at the question. It was the first time he'd truly asked her to share her past with him, and she felt a flicker of relief. "There's a lot to tell," she said softly, leaning back on the couch as she tried to figure out where to start. "You were... everything, Harry. You were the bravest person I'd ever met, and you carried the weight of the world on your shoulders. We met on the Hogwarts Express in our first year—well, technically, I barged into your compartment looking for a toad that wasn't mine." At his nodding she added: "I guess this moment is the same, but you had no idea you were famous at first, and Ron—he was there too—thought you were the coolest thing ever when he realised who you were."
Harry's eyebrows raised slightly. "I didn't know I was famous?"
"No," Hermione replied with a small laugh. "You grew up with your aunt and uncle—terrible people, really. They didn't tell you anything about magic or your parents. When you got your Hogwarts letter, it was the first time you learned about your heritage and what had happened."
"That sounds... horrible," Harry muttered, his brow furrowed in thought. "But we were friends, right? You and Ron and me?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes, we became inseparable after the first year. We fought together, studied together, broke more school rules than I care to admit... You had a knack for always finding trouble, and Ron and I followed right behind you. We went through a lot of dangerous things together, but somehow, we always made it through."
"And Voldemort?" Harry asked, his voice quieter now. "What was my role in all that?"
Hermione hesitated for a moment before answering, knowing this part was the hardest to explain. "In the other timeline, Voldemort was obsessed with killing you. There was a prophecy... one that said you were the only one who could defeat him. So from the moment you were born, you were marked as his equal, and he tried to kill you—when you were just a baby. That's when your parents... when they died."
Harry swallowed hard, clearly struggling to process the weight of those words. "And I survived?"
"Yes," Hermione whispered. "You survived. That's why you were famous. You were the Boy Who Lived. But that meant Voldemort spent years trying to come back and finish what he started. And we fought him. You, Ron, and I—we stood by each other through every battle, every challenge. You were the leader, Harry. You were the one who brought everyone together."
Harry was silent for a long moment, letting it all sink in. "It sounds like a lot... but also like we were... close."
"We were," Hermione said softly. "Like family. The three of us against the world."
Harry glanced at her, something warm and grateful in his eyes. "I think... I think I'd like to hear more about that. About us. Even if it didn't happen here, it still feels like... I don't know, like a part of me."
Hermione smiled, her heart swelling with emotion. "I'd love to tell you more, Harry. Anytime you want."
"Did we really ride a dragon out of Gringotts once?" Harry asked, his voice filled with both awe and disbelief.
Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. "Sirius told you about that, I bet."
"No, actually," Harry said, shaking his head. "Dad did. Padfoot hasn't been by yet since we left King's Cross. I'm guessing Auntie Marly is still chewing him out for keeping this whole thing from her back then."
Hermione grinned at the thought of Sirius trying to dodge Marlene's wrath. "That sounds about right," she said. "He didn't really have a choice, though. I had them under a secrecy vow from the moment they figured out I was from the future."
"It's such a head trip, imagining you being friends with my parents back then. They always told stories about Mina Delacour, it's hard to reconcile that picture with... well, Hermione Granger, the uptight girl who had been bossing everyone around into behaving in Gryffindor."
Hermione laughed softly at Harry's words. "I suppose it does sound strange from your perspective," she admitted. "But in a way, I was both of those people. I had to be Mina Delacour back then. It was a role I took on to survive, to protect everyone and make sure things happened the way they needed to. But Hermione Granger—the girl who bossed everyone around and stuck to the rules—that's still me too. I just... I guess I grew into different versions of myself, depending on circumstance."
Harry shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around it. "It's just so bizarre," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Mina Delacour was like this legendary figure in my parents' stories. And then to find out that she was you, all along? It's like two different worlds colliding."
"I understand," Hermione said gently. "And to be honest, it's still strange for me too. Coming back to this time, seeing you and everyone else living your lives without the shadow of Voldemort hanging over you... It's everything I fought for, and I'm grateful. But it also makes me feel a bit... out of place."
Harry looked at her thoughtfully. "I guess that makes sense," he said slowly. "I just don't get why we didn't become such good friends without... well Voldemort."
"Without Voldemort, there was no Quirrel as DADA teacher in first year, and without Quirrel, no one let a mountain troll into the castle at Halloween," she tried to explain. "One that you and Ron accidentally locked into the girl's lavatory with me. Then rescued me from it of course, but that was the defining moment that actually started our friendship."
Harry listened intently, his brow furrowed as he tried to piece it all together. "So... without the troll incident, we never became friends?" he asked, the idea sounding almost surreal to him.
Hermione nodded. "It sounds silly, but yes. That moment changed everything for us. You and Ron saved me, and after that, we were inseparable. But without that, I was just... well, like I said, the insufferable know-it-all. I didn't have many friends, and without a reason to prove myself otherwise, I guess you and Ron just never saw me in a different light."
Harry let out a low whistle. "Blimey, that's... a lot to take in. So basically, we bonded over saving each other from trolls and facing dark magic, and without that, we never clicked." He chuckled lightly. "I can't believe it's something as simple as that. Makes me wish I had done something sooner."
Hermione smiled softly. "You couldn't have known. This timeline was always different, Harry. You didn't have to grow up with that kind of danger hanging over you. And honestly? That's the way I wanted it to be. I wanted you to have the kind of life I knew you deserved."
Harry was quiet for a moment, absorbing her words. "Still," he said finally, "I wish things had been different. I wish we had become friends earlier. But I'm glad we're here now."
Hermione's smile widened, her heart warming at the sentiment. "Me too," she said. "And who knows? Maybe this time around, we'll have an even better friendship, without all the danger and darkness."
Harry grinned. "Yeah, maybe we'll find something else to bond over—something a bit less life-threatening than trolls and Dark Lords."
"I'd like that," Hermione smiled softly.
"Can I tell Ron?" Harry asked, his tone hesitant, as if he already knew the answer.
"Please don't," Hermione replied quickly, her voice firm but laced with a bit of uncertainty.
"Why not?" Harry pressed, frowning slightly.
Hermione sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I... I don't know. It's just too much baggage. He already thought that because I hexed him, I must be interested in him. If we add into the mix this whole history of friendship and shared adventures from another timeline, he'll never accept that the most we would ever be is just friends. And I'm not even sure of that anymore."
Harry looked at her, clearly taken aback. "What do you mean? You don't think you could even be friends with him?"
Hermione shook her head slightly, her expression pained. "He's been awful over the years, Harry. Not just this time around. Back then, we always had some kind of danger looming over us—something bigger than ourselves—that forced us to look past our differences. To stop bickering. Mostly for your sake, to be honest. But without that kind of pressure, I just... I don't think I can be friends with him the way I was before. Even if he found out the truth, it wouldn't change how I feel now."
Harry was silent for a moment, his eyes searching hers. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I never stepped in. I should've stepped in. I never quite understood the reason for—or agreed with—the viciousness he went after you with."
Hermione let out a dry laugh. "Well, me telling him he had dirt on his nose the first time we met on the train probably didn't help."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "That's a pretty petty reason to hold a grudge for years."
"My subsequent attempts over the years to get him to behave probably didn't help either," Hermione added with a wry smile.
"I personally just found them funny," Harry admitted, grinning.
"Well, glad to be your source of entertainment," she replied, rolling her eyes but smiling a little.
"Hey, you know what I mean," Harry chuckled. "But seriously, Hermione, you deserve better than the way he treated you—both then and now. I'm glad you're not settling for less."
Hermione nodded, feeling a bit lighter. "Thanks, Harry. I appreciate that."
"Anytime," he replied, his expression softening. "And don't worry—I won't tell Ron. I get it."
Hermione gave him a grateful smile. "I knew I could count on you."
There was a soft knock on the door, and when it opened, it was Remus standing there with a small, cheerful Teddy in tow. "Is this a bad time?" Remus asked, his eyes flickering to Hermione, still in her pyjamas, her hair a wild mess of bedhead.
Hermione's cheeks flushed pink at being caught in such a state. "No, no, it's fine!" she stammered, quickly getting to her feet. "I'll just... change real quick." She darted towards her bedroom, the door clicking shut behind her.
In the meantime, Teddy, ever the bundle of energy, had already sprinted across the room towards Harry. "Ary!" Teddy squealed excitedly, throwing himself into Harry's arms with all the enthusiasm a two-year-old could muster.
Harry laughed, catching Teddy with ease, the little boy's hair morphing into a familiar jet black as he settled into his arms. "You've grown, Teddy!" Harry exclaimed, ruffling the boy's hair affectionately.
Remus, watching from the doorway, chuckled softly, his gaze drifting back towards Hermione's closed bedroom door. He looked slightly awkward, as though unsure whether he'd intruded or not, but Harry, holding Teddy close, grinned at him.
"It's fine, Uncle Moony," Harry said, noticing the slight awkwardness in the room. "You know Hermione—it'll take her a moment to pull herself together. Actually, you probably know better than me."
There was a light teasing in Harry's tone, an edge of curiosity that lingered. He hadn't forgotten the stories his parents had shared about Mina Delacour and how she had been Remus's girlfriend all those years ago. It was a strange thought, to reconcile that version of Hermione with the one he knew now, but somehow it made sense, even if it was hard to fully comprehend.
Remus smiled warmly, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "She's always been a bit like that," he replied, his voice laced with a soft nostalgia as he shifted Teddy's bag onto the couch.
There was a moment of silence, filled only by the soft giggles of Teddy and the distant rustling of Hermione getting ready. Remus's thoughts seemed to drift back to a different time, a time when he had known her as Mina. But even now, seeing her again, in this life, he couldn't help but feel that same pull, that same connection.
"Do you think she'll be alright?" Harry asked quietly, pulling Remus from his thoughts.
Remus glanced at him, then back at the door. "She's been through more than most could ever imagine, but... she's strong. Stronger than she knows. She'll find her way."
"Yeah, I guess she always does," Harry agreed, his voice softening with affection. "I just hope she knows she doesn't have to do it alone anymore."
Hermione reemerged, her hair neatly combed and braided, and dressed in casual Muggle clothes, matching the attire of both Remus and Harry. She glanced around, feeling a bit more put together and ready for the day. "So, what's the plan?" she asked, her voice light, but carrying a hint of eagerness.
Harry perked up, a hopeful look in his eyes. "Mind if I join you? I haven't seen my godson since Christmas."
Hermione smiled, her heart warming at that familiar detail, unchanged despite the accelerated timeline of Remus's relationship with Tonks. It was comforting, seeing Harry and Teddy connected in the same way she remembered. "Of course. The more the merrier," she replied.
Remus glanced down at Teddy, who was already tugging at his leg as if impatient to start their adventure. "How about a park?" Remus suggested, looking between Hermione and Harry.
"Sounds lovely," Hermione agreed, feeling a flutter of anticipation. It was simple, something she hadn't had in years—just a peaceful day with friends and family. She could use that, even if everything still felt a little surreal.
Teddy giggled happily at the mention of the park, his little hands reaching out to Harry, who swooped him up into his arms without hesitation. "Alright, little man, looks like we're off on an adventure," Harry grinned.
As they made their way out of the flat, the weight of the past few months seemed to lift just a little. For now, at least, there was no urgency, no hidden agendas—just a chance to enjoy the simple pleasures of a day out, to reconnect with the people who meant the most. Hermione found herself grateful for that, allowing herself to relax and enjoy the moment.
Having Harry along turned out to be a stroke of genius. Teddy, with his boundless energy, ran circles around them, and Harry, ever the godfather, seemed more than happy to chase after him, letting Hermione and Remus steal moments to chat in between the chaos.
"Harry's good with him," Hermione remarked, watching as Harry swooped Teddy up with a laugh after the little boy had tried to climb up a tree. "Teddy really adores him."
Remus smiled, a mixture of pride and warmth on his face as he watched Harry and Teddy. "He's always been like that with Harry. It's like he instinctively knows he's family."
Hermione nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "It's nice to see things like this. Peaceful. Almost normal."
Remus glanced at her, his expression softening. "You deserve this, you know. A little normalcy."
She met his gaze, feeling a rush of gratitude. "So do you," she said softly. They shared a quiet moment, the weight of everything they had been through hanging unspoken in the air, but with a sense of peace.
Teddy ran up to Hermione just then, his little face lit up with the joy only a child could muster after finally warming up to a new person in his life. In his tiny hand, he held out a crumpled little flower, its petals slightly wilting but offered with all the sincerity in the world. Just as Hermione reached out to accept it, he sneezed—right in her face—without any warning.
For a second, the world seemed to pause. Then Hermione burst into giggles, wiping her face with the back of her hand as she took the flower from him. "Bless you," she said, her laughter soft and fond. "And thank you for the lovely flower, Teddy."
Teddy, blissfully unaware of any faux pas, grinned up at her with that innocent, toothy smile that instantly melted her heart.
Remus shook his head, half-amused, half-apologetic. "He gets a bit enthusiastic when he's outside," he said, smiling fondly at his son.
Harry, catching the scene from a few paces away, laughed. "Careful, Hermione. That's how it starts. First, it's flowers, then he'll be dragging you on all his wild adventures."
"Wouldn't be the first time," Hermione replied with a wink, giving Teddy's hair a playful ruffle. "Though I don't mind. Keeps things interesting."
Teddy giggled and wrapped his tiny arms around her legs, clearly having decided that Hermione was part of his trusted circle now. Her heart warmed at the gesture, and she caught Remus watching her with a soft look in his eyes. It was a peaceful moment, and for a brief second, she allowed herself to bask in it, feeling like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.
Teddy sneezed again, his little nose scrunching up as he wiped at it with the back of his hand. Hermione's brow furrowed in concern. "I hope he's not coming down with something," she said softly, glancing at Remus.
Remus gave a reassuring smile but his eyes mirrored the same hint of worry. "He was just getting over a cold," he explained, already moving towards Teddy. "But you're right—better safe than sorry." He crouched down, gently scooping his son into his arms. "Come on, buddy, let's get you back inside and out of this heat."
Though the day was warm, the exertion from Teddy's constant running had left him a little flushed and sweaty. Hermione noticed how Remus automatically smoothed down his son's hair, checking his temperature with the back of his hand. It was a gesture filled with such quiet care that it made her heart ache a little.
Harry, walking alongside them, glanced over and grinned. "He's got the energy of a Quidditch team, doesn't he?"
"That's one way to put it," Remus said with a laugh, though there was no mistaking the affection in his voice. Teddy yawned and snuggled into his father's shoulder, clearly worn out from all the excitement.