The fallout from the lake incident felt like it hovered over them all weekend, a weight none of them wanted to address but couldn't entirely ignore. Hermione had been kind of disappointed in Remus for not stepping in though she could understand it, with the moon so close and him not wanting to rock the boat in their relatively new relationship with Sirius. There had been no good time to fully discuss it though between the Ancient Runes exam on Friday and the full moon on Saturday night, which left them all ragged and utterly exhausted for Sunday. At least they made it out unscathed despite the tensions running high. By the time they were in any shape to think about it, the second week of O.W.L.s was upon them with a relentless force and Hermione chose to focus on that instead.

Monday's Potions exam consumed the morning with theory, followed by a gruelling practical in the afternoon. Tuesday saw Hermione, James, and the rest of the class wading through Care of Magical Creatures practicals, which Lily was fortunate enough to skip, not having that elective. Wednesday was a whirlwind of Astronomy and Divination (at least Hermione could skip the second one that afternoon), and Thursday's History of Magic exam in the afternoon was a slog. By Friday, Hermione felt like a walking textbook, her brain so saturated with information that it seemed ready to spill over, bone weary in both body and soul in addition.

Friday morning finally brought a subject Hermione felt fully prepared for: Arithmancy. She and Lily were the only two Gryffindors from their year who had opted for the subject, sharing a glance of camaraderie before entering the exam room. The afternoon, however, was a bit of a surprise. At least for Sirius.

When she arrived for the Muggle Studies exam, Sirius was already seated, drumming his fingers against the edge of the desk, clearly bored. He looked up as she took her place, a look of genuine shock crossing his face before it morphed into a smug grin.

"Well, well, Kitten," he drawled, casting a sidelong glance her way. "Didn't take you for someone who'd be taking every O.W.L. they could get their hands on."

Hermione, despite herself, raised an eyebrow, unable to entirely resist responding. "Not every O.W.L.," she corrected, her tone dry. "I'm not taking Divination."

"Ah, but of course." He smirked, leaning back in his seat, trying to look as nonchalant as possible despite the obvious curiosity in his eyes. "Couldn't see yourself peering into a crystal ball and predicting doom for us all, eh?"

She couldn't help a small smile. "No. Let's just say I have better ways to predict the future."

They shared a brief look, both too proud to acknowledge the underlying tension between them. For a moment, she thought he might say something about the lake incident, or even the uneasy silence that had lingered in the Shrieking Shack. But instead, he tapped his quill idly against his parchment and grinned again.

"So, Muggle Studies, huh?" he said, voice dropping slightly. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised, easy O for you. Didn't know you could take an O.W.L. without the class though."

Hermione glanced sideways, letting her own slight smirk surface. "Well, now you do."

Sirius tilted his head, studying her for a second longer than usual. "Let me guess—Molly give you a load of grief about signing up for it? Is that why you're only here for the exam?"

"Not everyone takes it just to get on their family's nerves," she replied coolly.

Sirius let out a bark of laughter, clearly enjoying the dig. "Guilty as charged," he admitted, though there was something in his expression—a hint of surprise, maybe even respect.

Hermione's fingers paused, her quill stilling on the parchment. She glanced up, reading the uncharacteristic regret in his eyes, an apology he'd never put into direct words.

Sirius shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, Hermione, I know I haven't exactly been tactful… especially by the lake." He sighed, letting out a reluctant but sincere admission. "I didn't mean to make things harder for you. I know I put your… situation on display."

Hermione's expression softened just slightly, though she kept her voice steady. "It wasn't entirely your fault, Sirius. Snape already had his suspicions."

"Yeah, but I gave him an opening to air them out," he muttered, clearly frustrated with himself. "So… I am sorry. For that, anyway. Forgive me?"

Hermione allowed herself the smallest of smiles, keeping her expression otherwise reserved. She knew he would never apologise for hexing Snape, and this was progress at least. "Maybe. If you can get through this exam without pestering me, I'll consider it."

He grinned, clearly relishing her response. "Done. I'll be a model student," he whispered, leaning in one last time.

The exam proctor called for silence, and Sirius straightened, throwing her a final look of mock solemnity before settling into his chair with a dramatic sigh. Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn't quite hide her amusement, feeling that, perhaps, peace with Sirius was just around the corner—at least for now.

The corners of Sirius's mouth twitched as he settled back in his seat, a quiet satisfaction evident in his grin as he managed, just barely, to keep from glancing over at her every few minutes. His quill scratched steadily across the parchment, and though she kept her focus on her own exam, Hermione found herself occasionally glancing over at him, surprised to find him actually concentrating.

The quiet stretched comfortably between them as they worked through the exam, Sirius throwing her a triumphant smirk each time he moved on to a new question. He was keeping his word, even if it was clear he was itching to toss a teasing comment her way.

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle, shaking her head as she gathered her exam parchments. "A miracle, really," she replied with an amused glance. "I'll be sure to keep it in mind. Don't make a habit of it, though—I'd hate to have my expectations raised."

Sirius laughed, his usual mischievous glint back in full force. "Wouldn't dream of it. But I'll definitely be collecting on this little bit of goodwill. How about dinner in Hogsmeade? Consider it a peace offering for, you know… being me."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I think James and Remus might have a few choice words about that invitation."

Sirius shrugged, unbothered. "Didn't say they couldn't tag along, did I? Besides, it's hardly a dinner date if half the Marauders aren't there to ruin it. My treat."

She paused, caught off guard by his sincerity beneath the usual cheekiness. "You do realise this makes it seem like you're trying to make up for something."

Sirius gave her a sidelong glance, looking uncharacteristically earnest. "Maybe I am. Maybe I overreacted a bit at the lake." He brushed it off quickly, but Hermione saw the flicker of self-reflection there. "Not that I'd do it differently, of course."

"Of course," she echoed, lips twitching as she fought to hide her smile. "Though, I have to admit… you're getting a little better at this whole 'apology' thing."

He shot her a faux-wounded look. "I'm practically a saint. And, believe it or not, I can tell when I'm in the wrong. Sometimes." He stuffed his parchment into his bag, throwing his arm over her shoulder as they walked toward the exit. "Just don't expect me to make a habit of that either."

Hermione shook her head, suppressing a laugh. "I'll try to contain my shock. But yes, dinner sounds… nice. All of us. Consider it your 'good behaviour' reward for the apology and the exam, I guess."

As they stepped out of the classroom the exam had been in, Sirius dropped his arm, holding out his hand with a smirk. "Deal?"

Hermione shook his hand firmly. "Deal."

"Perfect," Sirius replied, a mischievous gleam lighting up his eyes. "But I'll warn you, if I'm picking the place, expect something with a bit of trouble on the menu."

"Hmm," she mused, arching an eyebrow. "Considering the utter barminess we just survived in that exam, I think a Muggle place would be a safer choice. It might even ensure that you're on your best behaviour."

Sirius scoffed, feigning offence as he placed a hand over his heart. "Best behaviour? Me?" He shook his head, a wry grin creeping onto his face. "Kitten, I'm wounded you'd think I need any help in that department. I can blend in with Muggles just fine, thank you."

Hermione laughed, crossing her arms as she looked him over. "Oh really? Because I distinctly remember you getting a strange look from that Muggle waiter at the end of last summer when you went on about 'owl levels' and 'charmed matches.' I thought he was about to have us thrown out of that cafe."

Sirius chuckled, his face twisting in mock indignation. "I was enthusiastic! Besides, I thought the Muggles might appreciate a bit of magical lingo in their dreary day. Poor bloke was just jealous he couldn't summon his food with a wand."

"Or he thought you were certifiably insane," Hermione pointed out, grinning.

"Semantics," Sirius replied with a wink, "but fine, Muggle place it is. I'll let you choose the restaurant, if that makes you feel better. Though don't blame me if the evening gets a little… creatively chaotic. I am a Marauder, after all."

She let out a small sigh, a smile still tugging at her lips. "Alright, I'll make the reservation. But if you embarrass us, I reserve the right to revoke our deal."

He let out a playful gasp, his expression one of mock horror. "You'd just cancel our dinner? Merlin, what kind of monster are you?"

"One who expects her dinner partner to not accidentally expose us as wizards and witches," she teased, giving him a pointed look.

Sirius laughed, putting his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine. But I'll have you know I'm actually quite the gentleman when I want to be. No more 'newts' or 'floating candles.' I solemnly swear."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "I'll believe it when I see it."

Sirius smirked, leaning in just slightly, his tone dropping to a murmur. "Prepare to be amazed, then."


As they made their way back to the Tower, Hermione finally noticed the whispers. With her head buried in books and every ounce of her focus set on exams, she hadn't even realised that her name had become the new favourite of the Hogwarts rumour mill.

"What do you reckon? Is she just pretending?"

"Why does she even need Muggle Studies? She is practically one."

"Do the Prewetts even know she is using their name?"

"Can't be her real name—unless she's adopted or something."

"Still, what a disgrace for the Prewetts. Another blood traitor lot, taking mudbloods in."

Hermione's heart tightened at the words, but before she could fully process them, Sirius had whipped around, his wand drawn and pointed directly at the boy in green tie who had dared to speak that last one.

"Didn't hear you quite right," Sirius sneered, voice dangerously low. "Care to repeat for the whole class to hear?"

The boy paled, opening his mouth and closing it again, clearly regretting his choice of words. But before Sirius could fire off the hex simmering in his eyes, Hermione gripped his arm tightly, pulling him back, her fingers pressing into his wand hand.

"Sirius, stop," she murmured, her voice soft but edged with exhaustion. She looked up at him, eyes pleading. "Please, let's just go."

Her tone held an unexpected weariness that made Sirius pause, his fury flickering out in the face of her quiet request. For a moment, his grip tightened on his wand, knuckles white, but with a sigh, he finally lowered his arm.

"Alright," he muttered, casting one last glare at the boy before turning back toward the Tower.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, the unspoken tension lingering between them until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. When they stepped inside, the Gryffindor common room was already ablaze with music, chatter, and laughter, the end-of-exams party in full swing.

James spotted them as they entered, his brow furrowing slightly when he noticed the two of them together, Sirius's face still grim. But when he saw Hermione patting Sirius's arm in a gesture of thanks before releasing him, he visibly relaxed.

Hermione barely had time to look around the room before James pulled her into his arms, lifting her off the ground with a triumphant grin as he spun her around, kissing her soundly. She melted into the embrace, her stress ebbing away as he held her close.

"All done. Finally," she breathed as they broke apart.

James beamed, his eyes warm with pride. "Congrats, love. Knew you'd make it."

She laughed, running a hand through his hair as he set her back down. "It feels surreal, honestly. I'm not sure what to do with all this free time now."

"Free time?" he teased, looping an arm around her shoulders. "You've forgotten how to have that, haven't you?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her smile. "Well, I suppose I'll just have to follow your lead, won't I?"

"You couldn't be in better hands," he assured her with a wink.

Meanwhile, Sirius had hung back, watching the exchange with a faint, wry smile before he turned away, grabbing a drink from the nearest table. Remus noticed and approached him, draping an arm around his shoulders.

"Everything alright?" Remus asked quietly, glancing over at Hermione and James.

Sirius gave a half-shrug. "She stopped me from hexing a little Slytherin tosser who called her… well, that."

Remus's expression tightened momentarily but softened as he looked back at Sirius. "You did the right thing, Sirius. She's been through a lot, especially with all this nonsense about her background. She doesn't need the added drama you would have created."

"Still doesn't make it right," Sirius muttered, looking down at his drink, his jaw clenched. But after a moment, he exhaled, shaking off his frustration and giving Remus a small, genuine smile. "Guess I'm better at reining it in than I thought."

Remus chuckled, squeezing his shoulder. "We all are, for her. Come on, let's go join them. Maybe you can show her a proper Gryffindor celebration now that she's free of all that studying."

As the two made their way toward the centre of the room, the music grew louder, and the festive energy in the air pulled everyone together. Hermione shot a look back at Sirius, gratitude shining in her eyes, and he raised his glass to her with a subtle, apologetic nod.

And for a brief moment, amidst the laughter and celebration, it felt as though all the tension and rumours outside the common room walls had faded, leaving only a warm sense of camaraderie, of family, in its place.


The soft, golden light of the late afternoon filtered into Dumbledore's office as Hermione sat across from him, her expression a mix of frustration and thoughtfulness. The school year was ending soon, but the recent incident by the lake—Sirius's hexing of Severus Snape and Snape's retaliatory slur toward her—had left a mark on her peace of mind.

Dumbledore folded his hands on his desk, his gaze keen and sympathetic as he addressed her. "Miss Prewett, I trust you understand that the… reveal of your heritage to certain students is a rather delicate matter. It's unfortunate it has come to light in this way."

Hermione shrugged, maintaining a calm façade despite the roiling emotions beneath it. "I've already had to hint at my background a couple of times due to various circumstances, and the excuse I've used is that I was adopted by the Prewetts. I don't mind this becoming the official story. That should be enough to keep things under wraps, don't you think Professor?"

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, his eyes twinkling. "Yes, indeed. That is perhaps the best approach, given the circumstances. Your presence here, as part of a respected wizarding family, will shield you somewhat. I do regret that you must navigate these waters at all."

She offered him a small, polite smile, knowing he was right but still feeling the sting of the recent events. "It's all right. I can handle it."

Dumbledore's gaze shifted, his expression subtly calculating. "I must commend you, Miss Prewett, on your recent efforts in Occlumency. I daresay it will serve you well."

Hermione's polite smile faded, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Were you… testing me again, Professor?"

She wasn't sure she liked the idea that Dumbledore could do it without her even noticing.

He offered her a slight, almost unapologetic smile. "Merely a gentle assessment, I assure you. And I am pleased to report that I wasn't able to glean anything. Though," he added, his gaze unwavering, "I wasn't trying too hard."

Hermione's jaw tightened, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Professor, I've told you before, I don't appreciate it when you—when anyone—enters my mind without permission."

Dumbledore inclined his head, neither apologising nor wavering under her stare. "Your point is well taken, Miss Prewett. But your success here should be celebrated. Occlumency is a most difficult art, and you've progressed well enough that even a… gentle attempt on my part bore no fruit. I urge you to continue practising."

Hermione's expression softened slightly, though the frustration lingered. She knew that Dumbledore had her best interests at heart, but it didn't ease the feeling of vulnerability that came with having her mind probed, even if he called it "gentle." She took a breath, steadying herself.

"I will keep practising, Professor," she said firmly. "But I'd like your assurance that you'll ask next time."

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled, an almost teasing hint of pride in his gaze. "Consider it noted," he replied, his tone lighter. "And do remember, Miss Prewett, that in our world, few gifts are as valuable as a well-guarded mind."

She nodded, holding his gaze. "I understand."

Dumbledore sat back, his expression as inscrutable as ever. "Good. Then I believe we both have preparations to make for next year. And remember, my office is always open to you."


The train rumbled along the tracks, Hogwarts slowly disappearing behind them as students settled in for the journey back to London. Hermione sat by the window, gazing at the Scottish countryside rolling past, a pang of nostalgia already settling in her chest. This time had grown on her, in ways she hadn't expected.

"So, Hermione," he started, his grin stretching from ear to ear, "now that Mum and Dad know you're not just a 'friend'—" he said with exaggerated air quotes, "you've got to stay the whole summer with us. There's a family trip planned for late July, and Mum's already asking me to make sure you come along."

Hermione laughed, though she shook her head. "James, you know Molly would probably have something to say about that. Besides, don't you think your parents need a little break from your antics?"

James looked scandalised, his mouth dropping open in mock horror. "They'd miss me terribly! And think of it, Hermione—endless summer nights, Quidditch matches, camping, whatever we like. It'll be brilliant!" He caught her hand, giving it a hopeful squeeze. "And… they might have fewer questions about you and me if they get a little more used to it."

At that, Sirius groaned, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, Prongs, can you sound any more whipped?" He crossed his arms, leaning sullenly against the compartment window, his expression a mix of amusement and irritation. "Let's just all pack up and move to Potter Manor, shall we? Except for me, of course. I've got a nice, dark corner in Grimmauld Place all ready for me."

The levity in the compartment dissipated, and an uncomfortable silence settled over them. Hermione glanced at Sirius, her heart tightening at the bitterness etched across his face. She knew from whispered conversations and veiled comments that Sirius's home life was anything but supportive, but the look in his eyes was even darker than usual.

"Look, Padfoot," James started gently, his teasing tone softened. "You know you don't have to go back there. My parents have always said you can stay with us anytime."

Sirius just shrugged, staring out the window. "Yeah, right. Nothing my mother loves more than knowing I'm shacked up with the Potters. And it's not like I can just disappear all summer. Even she'd notice if I did that."

"Well," Hermione spoke up, hoping to ease the tension, "maybe you could manage a visit at least? Just a little escape now and then."

Sirius shot her a half-smile, though his eyes held a flicker of appreciation. "As long as you two aren't glued together the entire time, maybe. Merlin knows I'll need a decent excuse to get away from that madhouse."

"Perfect!" James declared, clapping Sirius on the back. "We'll come rescue you—me, Moony, and Hermione. And," he added, smirking, "we can even keep the 'couple' business to a minimum."

Sirius gave a mock shudder. "Please, do. If I have to hear another 'Hermione, my darling,' I might hex you both on sight."

"James doesn't even say that!"

"Not your face, he doesn't!"

As laughter spread through the compartment, the weight of Sirius's earlier moodiness lifted slightly. Hermione knew he was still dreading the weeks ahead, but the thought of a summer that could include friends—even if only briefly—seemed to bring him some comfort.

"Anyway, maybe we can all get together at least once or twice," Peter said, meeting Sirius's eyes hopefully. "It wouldn't be summer without everyone together."

Sirius's sullen expression softened, and he gave her a small nod. "Thanks, Petey," he murmured, clapping him on the back.

James cleared his throat, lifting Hermione's hand in his with a proud smile. "See, Padfoot? A summer full of brilliant ideas already."

As the train continued its journey, the group drifted into lighter conversations—about Quidditch, next year's mischief, and plans for a Marauder summer "operation." Hermione glanced out the window, her heart both heavy for Sirius and alight with James's contagious excitement. Whatever summer brought, she knew it would be one to remember.


The train finally came to a halt at King's Cross, and the compartment bustled as students gathered their belongings, casting last glances at each other before stepping back into the world outside Hogwarts. Hermione felt a bittersweet pull as she glanced around at her friends—this departure marked another layer of attachment to a time she hadn't quite meant to stay in.

As they moved to disembark, the scene on the platform was a chaotic yet heartwarming mix of hugs, laughter, and a few teary-eyed goodbyes. She caught sight of the Weasleys chatting with Effie and Monty, the two families instantly falling into comfortable conversation. Molly's belly was protruding quite a bit now.

But Sirius had barely stepped off the train when the air turned chilly; Walburga Black stood like a dark shadow by the barrier, her sharp gaze locking onto him as she took purposeful strides toward them. Hermione felt a pang for him as Walburga gripped his arm, practically yanking him away without even a glance at the other Marauders.

Sirius barely managed a resigned nod in their direction, mouthing a silent "see you" before disappearing into the crowd. James's expression darkened, but Monty laid a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder, a subtle reminder that Sirius would always have a place with them.

Turning back to Hermione, James's mood brightened instantly. With his usual easy smile, he said, "I'll miss you, you know." Then, before she could answer, he leaned down and pressed a quick, gentle kiss on her lips. "Write me, yeah? I mean, in our notebook—every day if you can."

Hermione smiled, a little dazed but happy, and nodded. "Of course. And maybe I can visit soon—if Molly allows it."

That seemed to remind Molly of something, and she arched an eyebrow at Hermione. "Well, now, Hermione, you didn't mention you'd taken to dating James Potter this year."

Hermione's cheeks burned, and she ducked her head, her mind flashing through her letters home, which had indeed been brief and infrequent. She felt a rush of guilt, and her voice came out a little sheepishly. "I… well, I suppose I haven't written as much as I should."

But Effie Potter only laughed, giving Molly a knowing look. "Now, now, Molly—young love has a way of sneaking up on everyone. I think we should make plans for them to spend some time together properly. After all, these two will hardly want to be apart."

Molly's eyes sparkled with intrigue, and she gave Hermione a sidelong look before nodding, her tone amused but thoughtful. "Well, if James is going to be important to you, Hermione, it's only fair that we get to know him as well. But I insist on having you over first for a proper visit, James—no escaping that."

Effie's face brightened even more, and she nodded enthusiastically. "And the same goes for you, dear. Hermione, you have an open invitation to visit us anytime—you'll be like family soon enough."

Hermione felt a mix of emotions: warmth at Effie's kindness, surprise at Molly's easy acceptance, and a faint, lingering anxiety about navigating this new relationship around both of their families. But as she glanced back at James, who was still grinning, she felt her nerves ease.

With a warm smile at James, she nodded. "So… I guess I'll see you at the Burrow soon?"

"Tomorrow, then?" James said eagerly, giving her hand a quick squeeze. "And don't forget—write me tonight."

She laughed, promising she would. With one last look, he followed his parents toward the exit, giving a final wave as he disappeared into the bustling crowd.

Molly chuckled softly beside her, shaking her head. "Come on, Hermione. Let's get you home. It looks like you have a lot to catch me up on." She placed a gentle hand on Hermione's shoulder, guiding her towards the exit.

As they walked, Hermione felt a warmth settle over her. The idea of "home" had never felt more real, even in a time and place so different from her own.


Molly glanced up from the stew she was stirring as Hermione entered the kitchen after putting her trunk in her room, a thoughtful expression on her face. Sensing something was on her mind, Molly set down her spoon, giving her a warm, attentive smile.

"Everything all right, dear?" she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

Hermione hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Yes, everything's fine. It's just… something happened at school, and, well, the official story now is that I was adopted by the Prewetts. Cat's out of the bag regarding being a Muggleborn."

Molly's eyes softened, and she reached out to pat Hermione's hand reassuringly. "If anyone asks, that's what I'll tell them," she said gently, her tone both understanding and supportive.

Hermione relaxed, grateful for Molly's unwavering acceptance. "Thank you, Molly. I just wanted you to know."

Molly smiled, squeezing her hand. "Of course, love. Family's family, no matter how it's made."


That evening after dinner, Hermione settled in her room at the Burrow with her notebook open on her lap, smiling as James's familiar handwriting appeared on the page.

Why didn't you tell Molly about us?

She laughed softly, dipping her quill to respond.

Honestly, it slipped my mind. Writing an owl at all, that is.

My parents hated owls showing up at odd hours back home, and I didn't know how to explain half of what was going on. Eventually, I just… stopped writing about it.

Guess I never got into the habit while at school even in this time.

There was a brief pause before his reply appeared, slightly smudged, as if he'd written quickly.

That makes sense. At least Molly didn't seem too upset.

Once she got all the gossip, she calmed down, Hermione wrote back.

Oh? What gossip?

Oh, you know—the usual. When did this start, how much did I fancy you, and, of course, whether you were treating me right.

And what did you say?

Hermione couldn't help grinning as she thought back to Molly's raised eyebrow, her keen interest when Hermione mentioned a certain Valentine's stunt involving a broom.

That the flying "Hermione, will you come to Hogsmeade with me?" banner spoke for itself, honestly.

She could almost imagine James's triumphant smirk as the ink scrawled its reply.

You mean the grand romantic gesture that nearly gave Lily and Marlene a laughing fit? You missed the whole reaction behind your back, you know.

Oh, yes. And the one that nearly got you a detention.

Totally worth it. His handwriting sprawled confidently across the page. Though if you ask me, flying up to the fifth-year dormitory window is the pinnacle of romance.

Oh, naturally, Hermione wrote, her laughter almost spilling over the page. I mean, why wouldn't a swooping broom and a freezing February wind make for the perfect setting?

Now you get it, he replied, the ink settling as though he were trying to look very dignified. It's like something out of a fairy tale.

One where the prince ends up in the hospital wing for frostbite?

Close. His reply came quickly. One where the prince blows a kiss, does two backward loops to impress the lady, then flies off looking amazing.

Hermione rolled her eyes, her heart swelling.

Well, I have already admitted it was a little impressive.

Only "a little"? I'm hurt. She could almost picture his exaggerated pout.

Don't go fishing for compliments, it doesn't suit you. You know well enough it was a bit more than a little, she conceded.

The ink shifted, and she could almost feel his smile as he wrote.

Ah, there it is. My ego is restored, all thanks to you.

I'll be at the Burrow bright and early tomorrow. Don't think you're getting rid of me now.

Wouldn't dream of it.

After a moment, his handwriting appeared one last time, softer, as though he'd thought about it carefully.

Goodnight, Hermione.

Goodnight, James.

She closed the notebook, her heart racing a little as she set it aside, her thoughts lingering on him—and that unforgettable Valentine's Day surprise—as she drifted off to sleep.


James stepped out of the Floo into the Burrow and took a moment to absorb the warm, inviting chaos that filled the house. His gaze wandered across the cosy room, catching sight of the various knick-knacks and charms that filled every corner, lending the house a unique charm unlike any place he'd ever been.

"Lovely place you've got here, Molly," he said, his voice full of genuine admiration. "Absolutely one of a kind—and you're glowing, if I may say." He offered her a dazzling smile, his eyes alight with easy charm.

Molly laughed, patting her round belly fondly. "Ah, well, it's not every day we're expecting another Weasley in the house, you know."

"Congratulations!" James exclaimed, his face lighting up. "Always something special happening here, isn't there?"

Molly and Arthur exchanged a glance, both of them smiling warmly. But then Arthur's expression shifted to something more serious, a fatherly concern settling over his usually jovial face.

"James, we're very glad you could join us for a proper visit," Arthur began, his voice warm but carrying an unmistakable note of seriousness.

Molly folded her hands, her gaze growing thoughtful as she gave James a look of quiet intensity. "Hermione's family here, you know," she said, casting a brief look at Hermione, who felt a flush of warmth creep up her neck. "She's… well, she's been through a lot to be with us."

Arthur nodded, his gaze steady. "Very special," he added, the weight of his words unmistakable. "We wouldn't stand for someone hurting her."

Hermione could feel her cheeks heating up further, the embarrassment creeping up as the implications of their words sank in. She glanced at James, hoping he wouldn't press for more details, but thankfully he nodded solemnly, his gaze shifting between Molly and Arthur with sincere understanding.

"She's brilliant, and I'd never take that lightly," he said, reaching for Hermione's hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You have my word on that."

Molly's stern look softened, a pleased smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Hermione felt her heart racing, the warmth of James's hand steadying her. But as the moment lingered, her embarrassment grew. She gave him a quick, pleading look, and without a second thought, she tugged at his hand.

"Um, maybe we should go outside?" she suggested, a bit more brightly than she'd intended, already steering him toward the door. "It's such a nice day out."

James shot her a knowing grin, clearly amused, but allowed her to lead him out of the house. As soon as they were outside, Hermione let out a long breath, covering her face with her hands.

"Oh, Merlin," she muttered, peeking up at him through her fingers. "I think they just gave you the shovel talk."

"Oh, definitely," he replied with a laugh, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "I think I passed, though. Hard to resist my charm."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione led him toward the garden, grateful for the fresh air. They strolled along the stone path, enjoying the colours of the early summer flowers, when suddenly a small, scruffy creature darted out in front of them, colliding with James's ankle.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, hopping back as a garden gnome glared up at him before scurrying away.

Before it could escape, James crouched, catching it by its leg and lifting it up with an intrigued expression. "I knew these existed, but I've never actually seen one in person. No gnomes at the manor."

Hermione chuckled, crossing her arms as she watched him inspect the squirming, glowering creature. "The house-elves probably keep them out."

"Ah, right," he said, holding the gnome up a little higher as it wriggled, baring its crooked teeth at him. "So what exactly are you supposed to do with these?"

With a grin, Hermione took the gnome from his hands, spun it up above her head, and with a flick of her wrist, sent it flying over the garden wall.

"Gnome-tossing, that's what," she said, brushing her hands off with a satisfied smile.

James laughed, clearly impressed. "You'll have to teach me that sometime."

They wandered past the garden and into the fields surrounding the Burrow, falling into an easy silence as they strolled through the knee-high wildflowers under the early summer sun. Eventually, they reached the edge of the forest, and Hermione glanced over at James, a spark of excitement in her eyes.

"Fancy a bit of mischief?"

He grinned, catching on immediately. "Thought you'd never ask."

Without a word, he shifted, his form shimmering and transforming into a majestic stag, antlers crowning his head as he gave a playful huff. Hermione mirrored him, shrinking down into her Animagus form—a sleek white ermine with a black tuft at the end of her tail. She darted up to him, circling his legs with nimble movements before scampering into the underbrush.

They dashed through the forest, James's stag leaping over fallen branches while Hermione's ermine wove through the undergrowth, quick and graceful. They darted and looped, chasing each other in circles, their silent laughter echoing through the trees.

By the time they returned to the house, flushed and exhilarated, they had shifted back into their human forms. The smell of lunch greeted them warmly as they stepped into the kitchen, and Molly waved them over to the table with a pleased smile.

"I've made Hermione's favourite," Molly announced, setting down a beautifully spiced roast chicken, the aroma filling the room with warmth and rich herbs.

As James took a bite, he sighed in appreciation. "Molly, this is incredible. Now I see why this is Hermione's favourite."

Molly's expression softened, a proud smile tugging at her lips as she served him another helping. "Well, James, you're welcome here anytime. Always happy to feed someone with such good taste."

Arthur chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Good taste indeed," he said with a grin.

Hermione glanced at James, her heart swelling with affection and relief as she watched him easily embraced by her new family. It was as if two parts of her world had come together seamlessly, creating a sense of belonging that felt more like home than she'd ever imagined.

As the afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the Burrow, the front door burst open, and in stumbled two small, red-headed whirlwinds. Bill and Charlie Weasley had returned from a sleepover with their Prewett cousins, and their energy seemed boundless as they tumbled into the house, still buzzing from their adventure.

"Mum! Mum!" Bill's voice rang out as he bounded across the room, tugging on Molly's sleeve. "We played hide-and-seek, and I found everyone first!"

"Did not!" Charlie piped up indignantly, toddling in right behind him with a sleepy pout, though his eyes lit up at the sight of the new guest. "Who's that?"

James, who had been lounging comfortably next to Hermione, perked up, giving the boys a friendly grin. "Name's James. Nice to meet you two!"

That was all the invitation they needed. In an instant, Bill and Charlie launched themselves at James, their initial shyness vanishing as they climbed onto him, tugging at his arms, eager to bring him into their games.

"James, you have to be the dragon!" Bill declared, eyes wide with excitement.

"No! He should be the knight!" Charlie countered, struggling to stay on his feet as he clambered up onto James's lap.

James laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright! Whatever you say, I'm in."

Before Hermione knew it, the boys had dragged James to the middle of the room, and he dropped to his knees, adopting a fierce expression as he played along with their every whim. Roaring like a dragon one moment, wielding an imaginary sword the next, he was a natural, shifting from one game to another with a genuine enthusiasm that had Bill and Charlie squealing with delight.

Hermione stayed back, leaning against the wall as she watched the scene unfold. There was something utterly endearing about the way James interacted with the boys, so at ease, playful yet patient, giving each of them his full attention. He would catch her eye now and then, grinning as he let out an exaggerated roar or mock-growled, "You'll never defeat me!" before letting Charlie tackle him to the ground with a triumphant giggle.

A warmth spread through her chest as she imagined James with Harry one day, running around, laughing, letting himself be caught up in the innocent thrill of a child's games. She could almost see it—a future where he'd be just as devoted, just as willing to join in, making every game an adventure.

Lost in thought, Hermione didn't notice Molly had sidled up beside her until she spoke, her voice soft and a bit amused. "He's good with them, isn't he?"

Hermione smiled, nodding. "Very good."

Molly gave her a gentle, knowing look. "A rare trait in a young man. He'll be a fine father someday, I reckon."

Hermione's heart skipped, and she felt her cheeks warm. "Yes," she murmured, eyes still on James as he let Bill scramble onto his shoulders, pretending to be a noble steed. "I think he will."

Molly patted her arm and returned to the kitchen, while Hermione continued to watch, her heart swelling with a quiet, hopeful joy as James lifted Bill into the air, spinning him in circles while Charlie squealed in excitement below, reaching up for his turn.

Finally, as the boys' energy began to wane, James helped them set up a makeshift fort in the corner, draping blankets over chairs and cushions, where they promptly crawled inside and declared it a secret hideout, giggling all the while.

James returned to Hermione, slightly breathless but still grinning. "I think I've found my new calling as the Weasley Dragon."

Hermione laughed, taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "You were brilliant with them, you know. They're going to be talking about you for weeks."

"Good," he said, still catching his breath as he squeezed her hand back. "I reckon they make pretty excellent little knights."

As they shared a quiet smile, the chaos of the day settled into a peaceful warmth, and Hermione couldn't help but feel that she was catching glimpses of a future she hadn't even dared to hope for.


After James had finally left, and the little ones were out in the shed with Arthur, Molly glanced around the Burrow, now blissfully quiet after an afternoon filled with laughter and play. She set her hands on her hips, watching Hermione with a thoughtful expression.

"Hermione, dear," she said, her tone gentle but laced with a motherly seriousness, "why don't we have a little chat?"

Hermione felt her cheeks warm slightly, sensing this wasn't an ordinary chat. She nodded, allowing Molly to lead her to the kitchen table. Once they were settled, Molly reached over and patted Hermione's hand, her eyes kind but searching.

"Now, I've seen many young romances come and go over the years," Molly began, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. "But what I saw today… well, it's clear that what you have with James is more than just a passing fancy."

Hermione swallowed, her heart fluttering slightly at Molly's words. She could feel the truth of it, the depth of her feelings for James, but hearing it from Molly somehow made it feel even more real.

"I know it's serious," she replied quietly, meeting Molly's gaze with a soft but certain smile.

Molly nodded, but her expression grew a touch more serious. "That's good, dear. But… I have to ask, does James know about… well, your origins? That you're from the future?"

Hermione blinked in surprise, taken aback by the directness of the question. She hadn't expected Molly to bring it up, but now that she had, Hermione felt a surge of relief at the openness. She nodded slowly. "Yes. He knows. I told him… I didn't want there to be any secrets between us."

Molly's eyebrows lifted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her face, but then she nodded, her expression softening with approval. "Good, good," she murmured, her hand still resting on Hermione's. "It wouldn't do to start a relationship on lies or false assumptions, after all."

Hermione let out a small sigh of relief, grateful for Molly's support. "I thought so too. It was… hard to explain everything to him, but he was wonderful about it. I think it's brought us closer, really."

Molly's face broke into a gentle smile, her hand giving Hermione's a warm squeeze. "I'm glad to hear it, Hermione. That's the kind of thing that'll see you through thick and thin. He'll know you, truly know you, and that's a rare thing."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Molly's hand still resting on Hermione's as they both absorbed the conversation.

Finally, Molly spoke again, her voice softer. "You're a remarkable young woman, Hermione. And if James Potter has the good sense to see that—and to love you just as you are—then I think he's worth holding on to."

Hermione felt a wave of gratitude and affection for Molly, knowing she'd found not only a family here in the Burrow but a confidante who supported her, even with all the complexities of her past—and future.

"Thank you, Molly," she said softly, her voice filled with sincerity.

Molly patted her hand once more, her eyes twinkling. "You're very welcome, dear. Now, let's get started on supper, shall we?"