The next morning, the sunlight streamed through the large windows of Potter Manor, casting a golden glow over the remnants of the New Year's celebration. Hermione, feeling slightly groggy, made her way downstairs to find the others. She stepped into the dining room where everyone was already gathered around a large table piled high with breakfast pastries, fruit, and platters of eggs and bacon. Sirius, lounging lazily in a chair with a cup of tea in hand, was the first to spot her.
"Well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence!" he teased, flashing her a tired but mischievous grin. "I was starting to think you'd vanished into thin air last night. You disappeared right after midnight."
"I was tired from all the dancing," Hermione said, trying to sound casual and hoping he wouldn't push the subject. "It was a long night, and I just wanted some peace and quiet."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but before he could say anything more, Effie bustled into the room with a kind smile, holding a tray of small vials filled with a shimmering, amber liquid. "Hangover Potions, everyone," she announced cheerfully, handing them out one by one. "It'll clear that foggy head right up."
Hermione accepted one gratefully, downing it quickly and feeling the clarity of her thoughts returning as the lingering headache faded away. Around her, the other boys were doing the same, each looking a little more alert with every sip. Sirius muttered something about Effie being a saint, while Remus gave her a grateful nod.
Just as they were starting to feel more human, James bounded into the room, looking far too energetic for someone who had celebrated as hard as the rest of them the night before. His hair was even messier than usual, and he was holding a broom in one hand with an eager glint in his eye.
"Alright, everyone!" he declared with far too much enthusiasm. "Time for a little morning Quidditch! Perfect way to shake off the cobwebs, don't you think?"
Hermione's eyes widened, and she instinctively took a step back. "Oh, no, no, no," she said quickly, waving her hands in front of her. "I think I'll pass. I'm really not good on a broom."
"Come on, Kitten!" Sirius said, perking up with excitement at the prospect. "It'll be fun!"
But Hermione just shook her head firmly. "No, really, you lot go ahead. I'll stay inside. Besides, someone has to make sure the house doesn't fall apart while you're out there being lunatics."
James rolled his eyes but gave her a lopsided grin. "Suit yourself," he said. "But you're missing out on all the fun!"
Remus shot her a sympathetic smile, clearly understanding, and the boys all grabbed their brooms, heading outside with James leading the way, still going on about what positions they should play. Sirius followed, calling back over his shoulder, "If you change your mind, you know where to find us!"
As the door swung shut behind them, the house suddenly felt very still. Hermione let out a slow breath, grateful for the peace and quiet after the lively chaos of the previous night. She looked around the grand foyer, wondering what to do with herself now that the boys were occupied, and her eyes landed on a pair of elegant double doors at the end of the hallway. Curious, she made her way over and pushed them open, revealing a stunning library.
The room was enormous, with high ceilings and walls lined floor to ceiling with shelves filled with books of every size and colour. Sunlight filtered in through large arched windows, casting warm pools of light on the thick, richly coloured rugs that covered the polished wooden floor. A large fireplace dominated one wall, its mantel lined with curious magical trinkets and portraits that seemed to watch her with interest as she stepped inside.
Hermione's breath caught at the sight, her heart skipping a beat as she took in the sheer number of books. It was even more impressive than the Hogwarts library, though on a smaller scale. She moved slowly, running her fingers along the spines, her eyes skimming over titles she had never heard of before—rare tomes on magical theory, obscure histories, ancient spellbooks, and even a few Muggle volumes tucked away in the corners.
She found a plush armchair near the window and sank into it, feeling a sense of deep contentment as she pulled a heavy, leather-bound book from the nearest shelf. It was a collection of magical essays written by some of the greatest wizards of the last century, and she eagerly opened it, losing herself in the familiar comfort of words and parchment.
The house was quiet except for the occasional whoop of laughter and shouts drifting in through the slightly open window as the boys played outside. Hermione barely noticed the time passing, fully immersed in the magical knowledge spread before her.
Hermione was deeply absorbed in a dense passage about advanced transfiguration theories when she heard footsteps approaching. A faint creak of the door drew her attention, and she looked up to see James leaning casually against the doorframe, his hair windblown and cheeks flushed from the cold winter air.
"I should have known that I'd find you here," he said with a crooked grin, shaking his head in amused disbelief. "We've been looking for you for the past twenty minutes. You're like a ghost when you want to be, Kitten."
Hermione blinked, momentarily disoriented as she pulled herself back from the world of magical theory. "Oh—sorry," she said, closing the book a bit too quickly. "I didn't mean to hide. I just... got lost in this." She gestured to the pile of books she had accumulated on the small table beside the chair, half of which were open to various pages, with a few rolls of parchment filled with her hastily scribbled notes scattered around.
James's grin widened as he stepped further into the room, taking in the chaos of her impromptu study session. "You're hopeless, you know that?" he teased, moving closer until he was standing just a few feet away from her. "We're all freezing our bums off outside, and you're in here, surrounded by books, all cosy by the fire."
Hermione blushed, feeling a bit guilty. "I really did plan on watching you lot play," she said, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips. "But then I found the library, and, well..."
"Yeah, yeah," James said, waving a dismissive hand but his tone was light and affectionate. "I know how it goes. Once you're in a book, you're as good as gone." He glanced down at the tome she had been reading and raised an eyebrow. "Magical Theory of the Twentieth Century? You don't do light reading, do you?"
Hermione shrugged, her fingers tracing the spine of the book. "I guess not," she admitted, her voice softer. There was something about James's presence that made her feel both at ease and strangely nervous at the same time. "But this library is amazing. I couldn't resist."
James's expression softened, and he settled down into the chair opposite her, his gaze warm and a little wistful. "I'm glad you like it," he said. "Dad's always had a thing for collecting rare books. Most of these have been passed down for generations. It's kind of his pride and joy."
"I can see why," Hermione said, genuinely awed. "It's... perfect." There was a comfortable silence as she looked back down at the open pages, feeling a sense of warmth that had nothing to do with the crackling fire.
"Hey," James said suddenly, his voice a little more serious. "We're going to play another round of Quidditch, but I thought... I thought maybe you'd want to come watch this time. You know, take a break from all this." He gestured at the books and parchment with a half-smile, his hazel eyes glimmering with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.
Hermione hesitated, glancing from the inviting pages to James's expectant face. She knew she should probably take a break, but there was a part of her that was terrified of breaking the fragile comfort she had found in this room. "I don't know," she started, chewing her bottom lip. "I really don't want to make a fool of myself."
"You don't have to play," he said quickly, his voice almost gentle. "Just come watch. It's more fun with you there. We've got plenty of time for books later."
There was something in the way he said it—so earnest, so genuine—that Hermione found herself nodding almost without thinking. "Alright," she agreed, her smile a little tentative but real. "I'll come watch."
"Brilliant!" James's face lit up, and he was out of his chair in a flash, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "You won't regret it, I promise."
He held out his hand to her, and for a moment, she hesitated, staring at his outstretched fingers. Then, with a deep breath, she slipped her hand into his, allowing him to pull her up from the chair. The warmth of his touch was oddly reassuring, and she felt her nervousness ebbing away.
"Let's go, then," he said, his grin widening as he led her towards the doorway. "We've got a match to finish, and I think Sirius is dying to show off his latest move."
Hermione rolled her eyes, laughing despite herself. "Of course he is," she said, feeling lighter than she had in days as they left the comforting sanctuary of the library behind them, hand in hand.
The next day, the ground was covered in a thick blanket of fresh, powdery snow. As soon as they finished breakfast, James practically dragged everyone outside, announcing that it was time for a proper snowball fight. The crisp morning air was invigorating, and even Remus, who had initially been hesitant, was soon bundled up and ready to join in.
"Alright, teams!" James declared, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Sirius, you're with Remus. Hermione, you're with me."
"Oh, so you think I'm not a threat?" Hermione shot back, raising an eyebrow as she scooped up a handful of snow, packing it into a tight ball. Her cheeks were already flushed with the cold, the tip of her nose red.
James grinned, undeterred. "I think you're a huge threat, Kitten. That's why I need you on my team."
"Your loss!" Sirius called from the other side of the snow-covered lawn, already gathering ammunition. Remus stood at his side, looking more amused than eager to get involved, but he seemed happy to be there.
The battle was fast and furious from the moment James shouted, "Go!" Hermione barely had a second to react before Sirius launched the first snowball. It hit James squarely in the shoulder, sending him staggering back with a laugh.
"Oh, it's on, Black!" James shouted, ducking and weaving as he retaliated.
Hermione immediately got into the spirit, using her smaller size to duck behind a nearby tree for cover. She peeked around just in time to see Sirius pelting James with another snowball while Remus took a more defensive stance, focused on building a small wall of snow for protection.
"Come on, Remus! Fight back!" Hermione shouted, emerging from her hiding place to hurl a snowball directly at Remus. He grinned, dodging it with surprising agility.
"Traitor!" he teased, finally throwing his first snowball at her. She squealed and ducked, the snowball flying harmlessly overhead.
The fight grew more chaotic as the minutes ticked by. Sirius was relentless, laughing loudly with every successful hit, while James became increasingly determined to win, darting and dodging with the enthusiasm of a true Chaser. Hermione, meanwhile, quickly realised that Remus was actually a pretty good shot once he warmed up, and she found herself having to work hard to keep up.
At one point, Hermione managed to sneak around behind Sirius, catching him off guard with a perfectly aimed snowball to the back of his head. He whirled around, mock betrayal in his eyes, before lunging towards her.
"Oh, you're dead for that!" he shouted, chasing her around the garden with a handful of snow. She shrieked and laughed, running as fast as she could, but he was too quick. He caught up to her in no time, and she let out a breathless gasp as he tackled her gently to the ground, both of them falling in a heap in the snow.
"Got you!" Sirius crowed, brushing snow off her face with a teasing smile. Hermione laughed, breathless and red-cheeked, the cold melting away in the warmth of the moment.
"You'll regret that!" she said, shoving a handful of snow into his face before scrambling away. He spluttered, wiping the snow from his eyes and laughing as she darted back towards James, who had just managed to corner Remus by the old greenhouse.
"Good one, Hermione!" James cheered, grabbing her hand to pull her behind his hastily built snow fort. They ducked together as a volley of snowballs came from the other side.
"Retreat!" Hermione laughed, both of them diving behind the fort just in time. Snow flew over their heads, and she could feel James shaking with laughter beside her.
By the time the snowball fight ended, they were all breathless, cheeks flushed and clothes soaked from the snow. The teams had fallen apart somewhere in the chaos, with everyone pelting each other indiscriminately in the last few minutes. In the end, it didn't matter who had "won"—they all ended up collapsing into the snow together, laughing and exhausted.
"Well, that was a workout," Remus panted, flopping down onto his back and staring up at the bright, clear winter sky.
"I think I'm numb," Sirius added, sprawled out beside him, but his grin was as wide as ever. "Totally worth it, though."
Hermione lay on her back in the snow as well, a huge smile on her face as she looked up at the grey sky. For a brief moment, everything felt perfect, and she realised that despite everything—despite the secrets, the complications, and the looming dangers—she was truly happy here, with them.
"Let's go inside before we freeze," James said, sitting up and brushing the snow from his clothes. "Mum's probably got hot cocoa waiting for us."
They all scrambled to their feet, Sirius throwing one last playful snowball at Hermione's back as they trudged back towards the house, their footsteps leaving a tangled trail in the pristine white snow.
After the snowball fight, the Potters insisted on warming everyone up with hot cocoa by the massive fireplace in the living room. The room was cosy, with rich wooden panelling, plush armchairs, and an old Persian rug underfoot. A massive Christmas tree still stood in the corner, glittering with enchanted fairy lights that twinkled like tiny stars.
Effie had prepared a tray of hot cocoa for each of them, complete with whipped cream and a dash of cinnamon. She handed each of them a mug, her eyes twinkling as she watched them curl up in front of the crackling fire.
"This," Sirius declared, holding his steaming mug with both hands as if it were a sacred chalice, "is the best hot cocoa I've ever had."
"High praise," James said, grinning at his mother, who beamed in return.
They all found places around the hearth, Sirius sprawling out on the floor with his back against the sofa, Remus sinking into an oversized armchair with a sigh of contentment. James and Hermione shared the couch, a comfortable silence settling between them as the warmth of the fire slowly seeped into their chilled bones.
Hermione sipped her cocoa, feeling the sweet, rich warmth spread through her, relaxing muscles she hadn't realised were tense. She felt James shift beside her, stretching his arm casually across the back of the couch. It was such a natural movement that she almost didn't notice it until she saw Sirius's eyes flicker over to them, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. Hermione pretended not to notice, focusing instead on the dancing flames in the fireplace.
"So, what does everyone want to do tonight?" James asked, his voice breaking the comfortable quiet. "We've got the place to ourselves, after all."
"How about we just stay here?" Remus suggested, his eyes half-closed as he settled deeper into his chair. "It's been a long day, and I don't think I could move if I wanted to."
"I second that," Sirius added, stifling a yawn. "I'm still thawing out."
"I third that," Hermione said, leaning back against the couch and pulling a blanket over her lap. "This is nice. I feel like I could fall asleep right here."
"Alright, alright," James conceded, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Fireplace it is. Sirius, you still up for that Muggle game you wanted to try?"
"Oh, yes!" Sirius said, his face lighting up. "I almost forgot! Wait here, I'll go get it!" He leapt to his feet, setting his mug down with a dramatic flourish before dashing out of the room. Hermione looked after him in curiosity.
"What game?" she asked James, who was laughing at his friend's enthusiasm.
"Twister," he said, his grin widening. "Sirius is obsessed with Muggle stuff, especially anything that might annoy his family. He picked up this game ages ago and has been dying to make us play it."
Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "Twister? You lot playing Twister? This should be interesting."
"Oh, it's going to be chaos," James said with a chuckle, shaking his head. "I don't think Sirius even knows how it's played."
"I'm not sure I know how it's played," Remus admitted, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"It's easy," Hermione said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You'll pick it up as we go. But don't expect me to go easy on any of you."
By the time Sirius returned, triumphantly holding the Twister mat and spinner, they had rearranged the furniture, clearing enough space in front of the fireplace for the game. Sirius threw the mat down with a flourish, and they all gathered around, intrigued.
"Alright, rules are simple," Sirius began, holding up the spinner. "We take turns spinning this, and it tells you where to put your hands or feet. The last one standing wins."
Remus looked sceptical but intrigued. James was already rolling up his sleeves, looking far too competitive for a game that involved brightly coloured circles and awkward positions.
"I have a feeling this is going to end in disaster," Hermione said, laughing as she kicked off her shoes and settled into the game.
"Probably," Sirius agreed, flashing her a wicked grin. "But that's the point."
The game started off easy enough, but it quickly descended into chaos. They twisted and turned, elbows and knees tangling as the spinner directed them into increasingly ridiculous positions. Sirius, naturally, was the most competitive, laughing loudly as he contorted his body into impossible shapes. Remus, surprisingly flexible, held his own, while James's face turned red from the effort of holding his balance in a particularly awkward position.
"Left foot red!" James called out from his position as the spinner. Hermione found herself practically draped over Remus, while Sirius somehow managed to stay balanced with one leg over her shoulder.
"I'm regretting this decision," Remus muttered, his face inches from Hermione's as he tried not to topple them both over.
"Right hand green!" Sirius shouted gleefully, and James let out a yelp as he overbalanced and crashed to the floor.
Hermione's arms were starting to ache, and her breath was coming in short gasps as she fought to stay upright. But it was clear that neither she nor Sirius were willing to give up. Finally, in a last-ditch effort, Hermione shifted her weight and reached for the nearest green circle—only for her elbow to give out, sending her sprawling onto the mat with a shriek of laughter.
Sirius crowed in victory, collapsing beside her in a heap, their tangled limbs making it impossible to separate who had won and who had lost. They were both laughing too hard to care, breathless and red-cheeked.
"I call that a draw," Remus said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly as he stretched out a cramp in his leg. "You both went down at the same time."
"Fine, fine," Sirius conceded, still chuckling as he helped Hermione to her feet. "A draw it is. But we'll have a rematch one day, Kitten."
"Anytime, Black," Hermione replied, shaking her head in amusement. "Anytime."
They settled back down around the fire, the room filled with the sound of their laughter and the crackling of the flames. And as the evening wore on, Hermione felt a warmth settle in her chest—a sense of belonging she hadn't felt in a long time. It didn't matter who had won or lost, who had fallen or stayed upright. They were together, and for the first time in ages, she felt truly content.
After a delicious dinner prepared by the Potters' house-elves, they gathered once more in the sitting room, where a warm fire crackled merrily in the hearth. The flames cast a golden glow over the room, making the dark wood panelling feel even cosier. Hermione sank into a plush armchair, feeling content as the warmth seeped into her bones. Effie soon appeared with a tray laden with another round of hot cocoa, each topped with a swirl of whipped cream, and a plate of homemade cookies.
"Now, don't drink it too fast," Effie warned with a smile as she handed out the mugs. "You'll burn your tongues."
James, sprawled out on the rug near the fire, raised his mug with a cheeky grin. "Thanks, Mum. No promises."
Sirius was already dunking a cookie into his cocoa, leaning back comfortably in his seat by the window, his legs stretched out in front of him. Remus had chosen the corner of the couch nearest the fire, already nibbling on a biscuit.
They started with light conversation, Effie joining them for a bit before heading upstairs with a fond goodnight, leaving them to their own devices. Soon, the conversation turned to childhood memories, and it was James who started them off.
"Did I ever tell you lot about the time I tried to fly Dad's broom off the roof?" he asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
"Oh no, not this story again," Remus groaned, but he was smiling.
"Tell it!" Sirius urged, already laughing. "I love this one."
"Well," James said, settling in with an air of importance, "I was seven, and I thought I was already a fantastic flyer. I mean, come on, I was born for it. So, naturally, I decided that the garden wasn't enough—no, no, the roof was where a true Quidditch star should take off from."
Hermione snorted into her cocoa. "You didn't."
"Oh, he did," Sirius said, grinning widely. "Go on, James."
James chuckled. "I waited until Mum and Dad were out shopping, dragged the broom up to the roof, and jumped. It was brilliant. For about five seconds."
"You were a menace," Remus said fondly. "I'm surprised your parents let you near a broom after that."
"Well, I broke my arm," James admitted, his grin unabashed. "But Mum said I took it like a champ, didn't cry until I realised I'd ruined my new jumper in the fall."
Sirius and Peter burst out laughing, and even Hermione couldn't help but giggle. She could easily picture a young James, all bravado and stubbornness, launching himself off the roof with a reckless confidence that was so distinctly him.
"So what about you, Kitten?" Sirius said, turning his attention to her as he sipped his cocoa. "Any wild stories from your homeschooling days?"
Hermione hesitated for a moment, feeling a slight twinge of guilt. She had to be careful—so much of her past was tangled up in events that couldn't be shared. But she smiled, deciding to lean into the safer, modified versions, drawing inspiration from Ron and Harry's escapades with the Ford Anglia as well. "Well... there was one time my dad tried to teach me about Muggle technology by fixing the old car we had. I ended up accidentally making the car float off the driveway when I got too excited about using magic to help."
Remus's eyes widened. "You made a car float? How did you manage that?"
Hermione laughed, feeling a bit more comfortable. "I was twelve, and I was really proud of learning how to levitate objects. Dad wasn't so thrilled when the car nearly floated over the hedge and into the neighbour's yard."
"Bet your dad never let you near a car again," Sirius teased.
"Pretty much," she admitted with a sheepish grin. "We had to cast a memory charm on poor Mrs Brown next door. She was convinced she'd seen a flying saucer."
They all laughed, and the conversation flowed naturally from one story to another. Sirius was in his element, sharing exaggerated tales of their Hogwarts pranks—like the time they'd bewitched the Slytherin robes to turn neon pink in the middle of dinner, or when he and James had convinced a particularly grumpy suit of armour to stand guard in front of the Gryffindor common room and only let students in if they correctly guessed the armour's favourite Muggle sweet.
"Oh, I hated that one," Remus said, his tone mock-exasperated. "I was late to class three days in a row because of that stupid riddle. Who even knows what 'wine gums' are?"
Hermione bit back a laugh. "They're Muggle sweets! You've never had them?"
Remus shook his head, and Sirius chimed in, "I made the riddle up! Thought it'd be fun to stump everyone, and only Muggleborns knew the answer."
"You did that just to mess with us?" James said, shaking his head but clearly amused.
"I have no regrets," Sirius declared, tossing back the rest of his cocoa with a flourish. "Though I still don't actually know what wine gums taste like."
"I'll get you some next summer," Hermione promised, and he gave her a lopsided grin in return.
Hours passed like that—talking, teasing, sharing stories. For the first time, Hermione opened up a bit more about her "homeschooling," using Ron's wild chess games as an example of her competitive streak or mentioning Harry's love for strange, impromptu adventures, though she left out any details that could have given her away. Each carefully selected story wove her deeper into the group, and the boys listened with genuine curiosity, laughing and groaning in all the right places.
By the time the fire had burned down to embers and their mugs were empty, Hermione felt a deep sense of belonging—a connection to each of them that had grown stronger with every shared laugh and secret.
"Alright," Sirius yawned, stretching out lazily in his armchair, "I think I'm calling it a night. Can't stay up too late. Got to be well-rested for tomorrow's very important... nothing."
James laughed, standing and offering Hermione his hand to help her up. "Don't listen to him, Kitten. We'll find something fun to do tomorrow."
"I'm sure you will," she said, feeling the warmth of the fire still lingering on her skin.
As they all said their goodnights and drifted off to their rooms, Hermione felt lighter—like she'd been given a glimpse into something she'd never had but always wanted. A family, a place to belong, and people who cared. And for now, that was enough.