1977 - late March - Dumbledore Manor
Hermione tucked her legs beneath her, clutching the blanket tighter as she gazed down at the pages of the book in her lap. The words blurred together, and for the umpteenth time, she realised she wasn't really reading. Her mind drifted to Greece, to the sun-dappled hallways of the villa, where they spent afternoons reading and laughing in the garden.
The quiet creak of the library door pulled her from the memory. She turned her head just enough to see Gideon leaning in, his messy orange hair engulfed by the soft glow of the hallway behind him.
"Mind if I interrupt?"
Hermione hesitated. She hadn't seen him since their first meeting a couple of days ago and had spent her days reading in silence. Now, with Gideon in the room, the quiet felt different—less suffocating. "I suppose not."
He grinned as he approached, a tray with tea and biscuits floating beside him. "Thought you could use some reinforcements." He placed the tray on the small table between the two armchairs in front of the fire.
Hermione watched him with calculated eyes. "Tea and biscuits? Are you bribing me, Gideon?"
He picked up on the smile tugging at her lips and feigned horror at the suggestion. "Bribery? No! It's...Encouragement. Totally different." He flopped into the unoccupied chair. Silence fell between them, and as he closed his eyes to enjoy the warmth of the fire, Hermione thought he looked exhausted. Her father told her that Gideon might be coming by this afternoon, but she hadn't expected him to look as if he hadn't slept in several days. His body sagged into the cushions, his exhaustion plain in the way he barely moved once seated.
"How was Hogsmeade yesterday?" Hermione enquired, her voice gentle as she closed her copy of Advanced Potion-Making in exchange for the cup of tea on the tray.
"Nothing out of the ordinary," Gideon replied, opening his eyes again and turning his head slightly towards her. His days since their last meeting had been filled with tasks for the Order of the Phoenix on top of his usual work as an auror. Today was no exception, as he found himself at Dumbledore Manor to meet with Alastor and Albus. He had been scheduled to patrol Hogsmeade the previous day and had yet to debrief them.
All he wanted to do was close his eyes and soak up the warmth of the crackling fire in front of him. He even missed yesterday's order meeting because the second he returned home, he got called in on a case by Alastor, which kept him late into the night. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls. The faint scent of aged parchment mixed with the herbal tang of the tea, wrapping the room in a blanket of warmth.
"The ordinary?" Hermione raised her eyebrow at his generalisation. While she was well informed about what was happening outside of the confines of the manor, the little information she was missing made it hard for her to follow.
"You ever heard of the self-proclaimed Marauders?" He leaned forward in his seat, leaving the comfort of the backrest, his leg bouncing with excitement.
"Not really." A small smile was tugging on her lips, watching him get excited. His eyes lit up like a child on Christmas being gifted a broom. Her father might have mentioned those students in the past, but she certainly wouldn't tell Gideon. She liked listening to him talk; his deep, soft voice felt like a blanket of comfort draped over her shoulders. Not that she would ever tell him that either.
"They are said to be the best prankster Hogwarts has seen in years. Some would even go as far as to say, The best in all of Hogwarts' history," he explained with a scoff. "Trust me when I say they're good, but not the best in all of Hogwarts' history."
"Let me guess, the best would be you and your brother," Hermione said with an amused smile crossing her face. From what her father told her about Gideon and Fabian, he was lucky the castle was still standing by the time those two had graduated.
"Why, I would never say that about myself, but if you insist..." He laughed when she rolled her eyes at him, waving her off. "Anyway, there's four of them. Peter, James, Sirius, and Remus. Best friends since their first year and always causing chaos and mayhem wherever they go. I never met them personally, but before we started patrolling Hogsmeade on the weekends, Albus told us about them."
"My father knows about them."
"Of course! He and Minerva have a soft spot for them, I think. The boys make sure no one gets physically hurt and that everyone involved can actually laugh about it—even the Slytherin students, though they probably go to the dungeons to laugh." Gideon leaned back into the sofa, popping another biscuit into his mouth.
Hermione watched in amusement as he got comfortable on the sofa. "How old are those boys then?"
"They're in their sixth year, so probably around 16. Why?"
"I bet Alastor was thrilled when Dad told you all about them," Hermione chuckled. She knew from her father that Alastor Moody was a very serious wizard with no time for jokes or pleasantries.
"How'd you figure?"
"I can't imagine an experienced auror like Alastor being too thrilled about four teenage wizards prancing about Hogsmeade causing chaos while he is supposed to be on the lookout for anything suspicious." She looked at him as if offering him to disagree.
"Spot on. You should have seen his face when your father told us," he replied with a laugh. "He even suggested they should be held at the castle and their Hogsmeade privileges be taken away."
"He did not!" Hermione was smiling, thinking about all the times her father told her about Alastor.
"He did. But you know what was even funnier?" Gideon asked with a gleam in his eyes and didn't even wait for Hermione to answer. "Euphemia and Fleamont were both rather red in the face from embarrassment. Fleamont was less so than Euphemia, but they were both noticeably uncomfortable with the news."
"One of them four is their son?"
"One, but Euphemia would argue that two of them are her sons. James is their biological son, and Sirius has been under their care since he ran away from home last year." Gideon watched the gears in her head turning, most likely filing away everything she had just learnt.
"I know my father isn't much for the gossip, but this is much more entertaining than the status reports he gives me now and then," she huffed.
"I'll tell you all the gossip!" Gideon laughed while refilling his cup of tea. "When I was walking through the streets of Hogsmeade yesterday, I saw Sirius Black waltz into the Three Broomsticks. Knowing his history with Madam Rosmerta and his weekly declarations of love for her, I decided to follow him. Before I could fully enter the pub, I was greeted by Madam Rosmerta pulling Sirius by his ear to the door."
Hermione looked at him with big eyes. "She pulled a 16-year-old student by the ear."
"She sure did. She hauled him out by the ear, all the way to the door, and said, 'If you think I'm serving a firewhiskey to a Hogwarts student, you've got another thing coming!'. He tried arguing with her for a bit, but she cut him off every single time. I think the last thing she said was, 'If you continue to argue with me, you won't even be served a glass of water in my pub!'. Brilliant, really." Gideon had trouble containing his laughter while retelling Hermione the story. The images from the previous day were etched into his brain, and he could still picture Sirius trying to fix his hair like it would save his pride.
"She sounds like a strong witch. I guess she'd have to be, with all the students running around," Hermione said. Madam Rosmerta's no-nonsense attitude reminded Hermione of another pub owner she'd only heard about—her Uncle Aberforth. She'd never met him. She wondered if Aberforth even knew about her mother's death—or about her. Would Aberforth even want to know her?
Hermione sipped her tea, the corners of her lips still curved in a faint smile. It felt strange, the way laughter could fill the gaps where silence usually pressed down on her. But as the warmth of the moment lingered, so did the ache of everything she couldn't forget. Hermione didn't notice the quiet that settled over them as she lost herself to her thoughts, but Gideon gazed at her with worry. He cleared his throat to gain her attention again. "You know, I've been thinking."
"Dangerous territory," she replied with a smirk, hoping to play over the tension she had created when she was pulled into her mind.
"Oh, it's not that bad." He laughed, but Hermione could see that his laugh wasn't reaching his eyes. She turned to look at him more seriously.
"I've just been wondering if I'm... I don't know, being helpful to you?"
Hermione looked away from his face for a moment. It was as though Gideon was waiting for her to say something important, but she didn't know how to answer. Saying it out loud felt like admitting defeat, but there was something in his gaze—steady, patient—that made her feel safe.
"It helps," she finally said, looking back at him. "More than I expected. I'm not used to feeling like this."
"Like what?" he asked gently, surprised by her honest answer. He wasn't sure why her words mattered so much to him, but seeing her shoulders ease, even slightly, felt like a victory. She was strong—that much was clear—but he wondered if anyone had ever let her be vulnerable before.
"Like I can't fix it. I want to be strong and useful. But most times it feels like everything is too much... Like my mind is too much." Hermione could feel her throat tighten. "When you're here, talking to me and telling me stories... it feels like my mind is finally getting a chance to breathe."
Gideon watched her quietly, noting the way her shoulders seemed less tense than the last time they'd spoken. He hadn't expected her to open up this much—not yet—but hearing her say that his presence helped her was more than he'd hoped for. He wasn't sure why he cared so much, but there was something about Hermione Dumbledore that made him want to stay.
"You don't have to fix this on your own, Hermione." His voice was sincere, and Hermione was surprised by the shiver that ran down her spine. "I can imagine you're used to being in control, doing everything by yourself. But it's okay to need someone else, too."
He placed his cup down on the table and leaned forward slightly, his expression more serious than before. "You don't have to do it alone. Not with me."
For a moment, her heart skipped. She hadn't realised how much she needed those words—how much she needed to hear that she wasn't alone. "Thank you," she said softly. Gideon hesitated for a moment, then reached out, his hand brushing hers briefly before pulling back.
Before either of them could continue the conversation, they heard the fireplace of the kitchen come to life down the hall, followed by the voices of her father and Alastor. Gideon stood to leave, picking up his cup of tea.
"Same time tomorrow? I'll bring more tea and biscuits. Maybe we'll even get a bit of reading done."
"I'll see you tomorrow, Ginger Snap," she replied with a smile, and Gideon noticed that while her smile was still hesitant, it looked more genuine than the last time he saw her.
"I look forward to it." He threw her a wink as he stepped out into the hallway.