The Morning After

[Hermione Granger]

Memories flooded her dreams like an overflowing river flooding its own riverbank. They crashed over her; she feared she was thrashing in her broken sleep. A horrible grunting noise brought her attention away from the terrible comments she heard. It was a troll; he would kill her, surely. Except, by some miracle. . Harry and Ron were there to rescue her! . . .Lupin, in werewolf form, loomed over them, intent on maiming. Harry wrapped her tightly in his arms before Buckbeak came to their rescue . . . She had pushed past a tent barrier, wildly flinging her arms around Harry’s neck before a camera flash shook her attention. . . Harry was angry, yelling at them, before he lightened at her words. . . Dumbledore was dead, or so they thought, and she was sobbing on Harry’s shoulder. . . Ron had left, they were alone together yet scared. . . Bellatrix was dead; Voldemort fell too, they were elated. . . happiness. . .funerals. . . she was leaving for Australia. . .Harry was slipping from her frail grasp. . .

With a gasp, Hermione awoke. Her eyelids parted to reveal the scene to which she had fallen asleep, unexpected as it was. Hedwig still slept in her cage, Pigwideon leaning on her side. Sirius, still a large black dog, slept soundly on one corner of the mattress. Curled by his stomach lay Crookshanks, her part-Kneazle pet. Slightly in front of them, her daughter, Lily Minerva, slept, more peacefully than ever before, it seemed. Lily was a thrasher, never still when sleeping. James Albus, her twin brother, was the calm sleeper; he lay directly in front of Hermione, who was still a lynx. She felt the rhythmic beating of a heart behind her, and warmth seemed to flood her limbs. Harry, still a large black dog like Sirius, slept behind her, apparently not awakened by the nightmares as he had often been in his youth.

Daring only to move her head by inches, she noted that it was now seven in the morning. She’d slept later than she usually managed, but it seemed that Harry and Sirius were accustomed to sleeping even later than this. Knowing that she would manage no more sleep and determined to do something of use, as well as knowing she would never manage to lie still for long, she placed one of her paws on James’ sleeping form, scooping him closer to her and skillfully switching places with him, so that Harry’s limp paw dangled over James’ sleeping form. Meanwhile, she gathered herself up and transfigured herself back into her human form. Stealing a quick look back to ensure that everyone was still sleeping, she made her way into the kitchen.

The place was quaint and larger than she expected. Deciding to make breakfast, she set about finding all the necessary items - pans, eggs, bacon, and the like. Before long, Kreacher, Sirius’s house elf from Grimmauld Place who had undergone a striking change since their first meeting, greeted her quietly as though knowing the others were asleep. "Mistress should allow Kreacher to make breakfast. Mistress should go up to her room and look around. Masters would want her to rest.” Hermione, nearly shocked to speechlessness, grasped Kreacher’s hand, shook it, then urged him to rest. "I’ll make breakfast today, Kreacher. Please, I want to.” Though he seemed on the verge of arguing, he merely sighed and nodded before making his way up the stairs, likely to clean one thing or another.

In her quest to find something in which to scramble eggs, she opened a cabinet drawer. The result was immediate: galleons flowed out of the cabinet as if angry to be disturbed. Flustered, she gathered up the coins and stowed them back into the drawer before closing it softly. She didn’t seem to notice that three small coins still lay scattered on the floor in her earnest to return to the cooking. Her stance was taunt, rigid. She feared Harry’s waking, feared that, now that he knew she was safe, he would be angry with her. Livid, even, that she had not returned sooner, had kept the children away. These thoughts kept her preoccupied, close to tears, until a deep voice broke her reverie.

[Sirius Black]

"Hermione.” The voice was deep and calm yet still evoked a slight jump from the girl to whom it was spoken. Sirius Black, his hair hanging to his shoulders, wavy as always, had awoken to the smell of bacon. Since he’d spent so much time as his animagus form - a dog - he’d taken a liking to most things dogs do. Bacon happened to be both one of his favorite foods and one of his favorite smells. Though little could wake him from a deep sleep, the smell had touched his nose, and he’d gently moved away from Crookshanks to transfigure himself back to a human before he’d even reached the kitchen.

"How did you know bacon was my favorite? Though I must say, Kreacher could do all this you know. . . except you seem intent on doing it, the Muggle way no less. Oh, you do amuse me, Hermione.” Her face had turned pink but she had said nothing, causing Sirius some slight concern until he saw the three cold coins on the floor. He said nothing as he made his way to them, picking them up gently, fingering them, then opening the cabinet from whence they came and placing them there.

"He’s rich. Harry, you know. He had his whole inheritance. I, well, I had plenty too. Still own the old place, Number Twelve, Grimmauld. Sold a few things in it to get some money so I could buy a new place, get some land, live with Harry and Buckbeak and Hedwid, not have to work. You know, be a father to my godson. Harry gave that money from the Triwizard Tournament to George and Fred Weasley. I’m sure he told you. Well, they feel like they owe him, his being their first big investment. They send him money every so often, as gifts, they say as thanks for giving them their first loan. He always tries to pay me some rent, every month. I accept it - the boy’s stubborn - and always put it back. Bill comes by every few months to take a sack and put it in his vault at Gringotts, helpful fellow he is. Says Harry might have to move vaults soon, somewhere lower and deeper. Plenty of people with no heirs left him their possessions, simply because he was the chosen one. He shrugs it off, never spending any of it. Wretched since you left, he’s been. Positively a wreck.”

Sirius didn't say anything for what seemed to him like a long time. Instead, he watched her, mixing things together before putting them on the stove. Something about her reminded him of Lily, though he couldn't quite place it. Determined not to linger on the thought, he decided to keep the monologue moving.

"I see Kreacher's not here. You must've told him to let you cook. I assume he's up in your room, then. Cleaning it. I don't know what happened between you three and Kreacher after I deserted the place, but he seems to have found a bond with you all. You see, when I bought this place and invited Harry to live here, I picked a room for myself and told him he could pick from the rest. He asked for two rooms; one for himself, one for you, he told me. He spent months decorating it, gathering items for it, perfecting it. Then, after he'd finished it, he spent so much time ensuring that it remained spotless. Should you return any day, at any time, he wanted it perfect, everything in its place. He used to go in there everyday to clean it. Kreacher, wanting to obey his masters as well as having some bond with you both, took up the post also. Two times a day, he goes up there, dusts everything, ensures that every item is in place should you ever arrive here. Funny, you finally show up, and Harry forgets to even mention-"

A slight noise stopped him in mid-sentence, and Sirius froze as he turned back to the living room where Harry was stirring.

[Harry Potter]

The darkness was everywhere; as always. Those red eyes, haunting him, watching his every move hiding somewhere within it. He couldn’t escape it, never could; too much has happened because of it. He lost so many people he loved and cared for because of it. He almost lost her, Hermione. He lost Lupin, Charlie and Percy Weasley, his parents, he almost lost Sirius. He couldn’t bear to lose her, but he did. She was gone.

Harry shifted in his sleep, tense and haunted. He couldn’t wake though; no matter what he seemed to do, he couldn’t wake up, even when he wanted to. However, he felt soft, warm fur in front of him; a familiar scent coming even into his dreams.

Hermione. She was there; with him! She came back…and she brought twins…his twins! He remembered now, the images of the past few hours flashing by; flooding Harry with warmth. He relaxed in his sleep; snuggling closer to Hermione, relaxing of the feel of her fur against his. It seemed, as if, for once, things were going his way. His Hermione came back; he had a family, Hermione, James Albus, Lily Minerva, and Sirius. Hedwig and Pigwideon, his and Hermione’s owls, included; along with Hermione’s part-Kneazle cat, Crookshanks.

The images of their possible future seemed to play; First James and Lily, playing in the vast yard that he and Sirius bought originally for Buckbeak. Sirius joining in, barking in his animagus form. Then him and Hermione, holding hands, married, watching their children. Raising them together, with their Godparents, Ron and Luna; and Neville and Ginny visiting every so often; bringing their own children to play with James and Lily, the oldest of the bunch. Albus and Minerva, visiting once in a while, spending time with their to-be students. He, Neville and Ron would be Aurors together; the perfect team, watching each other’s backs; and keeping the world safe for their children. Hermione, waiting for him at home, or perhaps vise-versa. Hermione would be working, Harry couldn’t let her be a house-witch unless she absolutely wanted to without a doubt. The family would be spending time together every weekend, traveling or just staying home and playing outside. The perfect family.

The deep voice of his godfather, Sirius Black, seemed to penetrate the visions of his, their, the family’s future. He twitched, snuggling closer to the small bundle that he recognized, by scent, as James Albus. Shifting slightly, Harry allowed his son to snuggle against his animagus form, which, like Sirius’ was a large black dog.

“…one for himself, one for you, he told me…”[/I] Harry’s ear twitched slightly. Picking up on bits and pieces of the conversation Sirius was having. ‘Who’s he talking to?’ shifting slightly, he remembered the lynx that used to be in front of him, before James was put there, ‘…Hermione…’[/color] he realized. “…perfecting it…”[/I] Twitching a little, Harry seemed to turn away from the future he saw, moving towards Sirius’ voice instead. “…He used to go in there everyday…” Wondering what the conversation was about, Harry hurried towards the deep voice of his godfather; intent on reaching there soon. “…Funny, you finally show up, and Harry forgets to even mention-"[/I]

Finally stepping out of his surreal dreams, Harry yawned, his tongue rolling out of his mouth, over to the side. Blinking sleepily, he lifted his head to look around. The first thing that he scented was food…bacon to be exact. Then he noticed the silence; Sirius was no longer speaking; in fact, he was looking right at him. Harry blinked, unsure of what to make of the sudden stop in conversation. Nudging James gently, towards Lily, Harry transformed back into his human self and grinned.

“Morning Sirius, where’s Her-- never mind. Morning ‘Mione!”[/color] He greeted, making his way towards the kitchen, with a smile. Then, he noticed the mood. Hermione seemed down…dare he say…sad? Worry crossed his features as he made his way to the girl he was in love with, and loved with all his heart. He sent a questioning look towards Sirius; concern evident in his emotion-filled eyes.

Deciding to try and lighten up the mood, to make Hermione feel better, Harry turned back towards said girl--er, woman, walked up to her, and hugged her from behind. “Of course you’d do it the muggle way, huh Hermione. I’m sure it’s better than our attempts at making breakfast anyway. Homemade is always the best.” he laid his head on her shoulder as he talked. Watching her cook up close.

Moving away, to stand beside her, he glanced back at the twins; love filling his eyes, before glancing back at Hermione. Tears filled his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them out. He took in every detail of her face, that he could see. The exact color of her eyes; the way her hair grew tamer in the years, the way her eyes expressed her emotions, just like him. It was sudden, and he didn’t realize what he was doing entirely. His hand shot out, and grabbed Hermione’s, stopping her in her cooking. Gently, turning her towards his, he looked her in the eyes; love and concern filled eyes looking into the most beautiful eyes he knew. Suddenly, he pulled her in and hugged her, almost afraid that if he let go, she’d be gone from his grasp.

“I really missed ya, Hermione.” The emotion in those words spoke more than he could ever tell.

[Hermione Granger]

Hermione jumped at Sirius’ voice but chose that saying nothing was a better alternative than attempting to comment. For some reason, hearing her name escape Sirius’ lips a second time grounded her to the reality that she was indeed back in the wizarding world even more firmly than an entire night in his home had. Her lips parted in a smile for a moment when he’d expressed that bacon was a favorite of his. She knew that Harry had loved it after becoming an animagus, and she had hoped that Sirius would too. She felt a need, deep inside, to appease any anger they might have towards her for her past actions. That latent anger spurred her to act perfect, mess up nothing, and walk a line straighter than any other. For that reason, Sirius seeing the coins scared her more than nearly anything else he could have done, save take a knife to her children. Certainly he didn’t think she’d come back only for money. Oh, if I’d only seen those coins! she groaned inwardly, cursing her slight mistake in observance. Clearly her nerves were affecting her ability to notice things.

She patiently listened to Sirius’ words, listening intently despite keeping up the appearance of being absorbed in making breakfast. The facade seemed to work, as Sirius merely plowed through with his words, not waiting for her to comment. Naturally, she had predicted much of what he said - buying a house, being a real godfather. She had also known, as Sirius suggested, that Harry had given his winnings to the Weasley twins for their joke shop that so many feared would flop quickly. A smile broke her lips again as she pictured Harry offer up money for rent, Sirius accept it, and then quietly place it back in the cabinet so that Harry would never know. Yes, Hermione knew how stubborn Harry could be. It sometimes annoyed her; oftentimes, in his absence, she relished it. But the smile was broken quickly as Sirius informed her that Harry had been a wreck after her departure. The pain, so fresh, spread over her like a dull aching. She tried to push it aside, to no avail, as Sirius continued. The thought of Kreacher being kinder lightened her heart, but the rest of the monologue burdened her. Harry had been worse than even she expected. She knew that he would pine, as she had, for some time. However, she had expected him to bounce back as he always had with every loss. Yes, they would burden him; he would find himself upset for a time. . . but each time, he came back strong. When Lupin was murdered, Harry grieved before seeked revenge. Perhaps the reason he had not let her go was because he had not yet been able to avenge her? Did he think her dead yet found himself unable to punish her killer, thus rendering him still trapped in a world where he still loved her because he had no alternative? She tried to forget such thoughts as Sirius continued. Tears filled her eyes as he told her of Harry’s toil to make a place for here, a room here, a home. Of course, with Muggle parents and her intelligence, he knew she had planned on remaining in the wizard world. But she had little money, spending most of it on their hunt for the Horcruxes. Did he love her so that he considered her in his choice of a room? Had he truly planned her to live with them? Certainly, Sirius would not joke about a matter so serious, so touching. . . A single tear fell before silence engulfed them, and she blinked even more furiously to clear her eyes of the wet mass.

Harry had stirred, his sleep finally broken. Determined not to let him see her cry anymore than she already had, she turned quickly from his form, back to the stove in front of her, knowing she wouldn’t be able to avoid his eyes for much longer. Only when he spoke did she realize how much of a mess she must’ve appeared. Her hair, though far sleeker and much more manageable than it had once been, was still messy from sleep. She stepped back from the stove for a moment, gathering a hairband from her wrist and pulling her hair into some sort of bun vaguely reminiscent of her hairstyle at the Yule ball so many years prior, still careful not to turn and face Harry. She stiffened as he approached. He’d greeted her; surely her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her so soon. He’d said ”Morning ‘Mione”, hadn’t he? But had he really? Had he truly called her by her old nickname, the one only he had really truly taken a liking to calling her? Ron had used it once, after hearing Ginny use it, but only Harry really used it often; only he said it just like that. . .

She knew she’d have to speak soon and, figuring it best to take the whole thing quickly, squeaked out, ”Morning Harry!” Her voice nearly cracked half-way through, but she managed to get the two words out in their entirety, even if they were soft and high-pitched as though having been emitted from a mouse. She sighed inwardly, glad she would have to speak no more. Yet that small comfort disintegrated quickly as Harry moved behind her, wrapping her in a hug. She nearly jumped at his touch, but his warmth flooded over her so comfortingly that it seemed to stem her natural reaction. Before she knew it, he spoke again, close to her ear. “Of course you’d do it the muggle way, huh Hermione. I’m sure it’s better than our attempts at making breakfast anyway. Homemade is always the best.” At first, she didn’t know how to react. Then he did something she didn’t expect at all: he laid his head down on her shoulder. She straightened slightly, instantly becoming more rigid. His head had broken her warmth like ice, drawing her back to her fears. Unable to find many words, she nodded and said quietly ”Huh? Oh yes, muggle way. I’m used to it.” She still hadn’t met his gaze, still remained careful to avoid his green eyes. His perfect, expressive green eyes.

He released her and moved away, so she busied herself with the cooking once more, until his hand shot out before her eyes, grabbing her own. She gasped, temporarily stunned with shock. As if in slow motion, he was turning her until she was facing him. She attempted to dart her eyes away so as not to make contact with his, but it was too late. She could avoid his eyes no longer. She closed her own, drew in a deep breath, and opened them again. She felt as though she’d been plunged into the ocean after a fifty foot drop. They looked the same. Perfect, striking, and filled with emotion. If she guessed correctly, love. Some concern too. For what? For her? She was not worth his concern. Not after her actions. Then, too soon, he’d drawn her into a hug. She could see his eyes no longer, but she could feel his arms around her, strong, protective.

The final words he spoke hit her ears. “I really missed ya, Hermione.” They were simple words. Yet in their simplicity lie the emotion that conveyed it all. Her resolve broke, and the tears began to fall, slowly, from her deep brown eyes.

[Harry Potter]

He felt hurt; did she not feel the same anymore? Was it only for their children that she was staying with him--them, again? He noticed when she tensed when he laid his head on her shoulder. Did she feel that…repulsed by him? Harry couldn’t understand why Hermione was doing all this; why was she running? He noticed how she didn’t look at him when he entered the room; not once, until he made her. He loved her with all his heart, more than life itself. He’d do anything for her and their children; anything, doesn’t Hermione know that? If she does, then why does it seem like she was running? She finally came back; he can’t lose her again.

Once she started to cry though; was when his lost all other thoughts other than comforting Hermione. He couldn’t stand when she cried; it looked wrong on her, he hated her tears she shed when she was sad. Sure, he didn’t exactly like it when she cried when she was happy, but it’s better than sad, or even angry tears. He couldn’t handle his Hermione being sad; anyone in his family, really. He closed his own eyes, trying to hold his own tears back. It was his fault she was crying, wasn’t it? Nothing could be perfect for him, could it? Holding her tighter, though not enough to hurt her, Harry couldn’t let go. He didn’t want to. Her tears soaked through his shirt, but he didn’t mind; she could cry on him all she wanted, and he still wouldn’t mind.

Closing his own eyes, Harry tried not to cry himself; instead choosing lay his head on Hermione’s; afraid to open them and end up crying. He wanted to hold her until she stopped, to never let her go; but he knew he had to do something. Just being there physically won’t do anything; and it wasn’t enough for Hermione. She deserved so much more than just a hug until she stopped. Reluctantly letting her go, Harry glanced towards Sirius’ direction; his tear filled eyes asking for alone-time with Hermione. His eyes then moved towards the twins, who were beginning to stir, Lily moving about more than she had during the night; while James began to squirm. Their beautiful twins; their precious little boy and girl. His children, Hermione’s children…theirs. Closing his eyes, and willing the unshed tears away, Harry reluctantly stepped away from Hermione, hesitant in opening his eyes. He didn’t want to see the deep beautiful brown eyes he loved filled with tears, red from crying. He didn’t want to see it; but he had to, Hermione deserved so much more.

Opening his eyes and looking at Hermione, his heart broke; it was worse when he saw her crying. He couldn’t bear the thought of her crying because of something he did; but to actually see it…to see what he caused…it broke his heart. “Hermione…”[/color] he paused, unsure of what to say, before hesitantly continuing. “’Mione, what’s wrong?” he should’ve realized what was wrong; but he truly didn’t know. Did that mean he wasn’t good enough for her? For the woman he loved with all his heart? Was that not enough?

“I--I--I’m sorry. Whatever it was I did, I’m sorry.” he said, in a pleading voice. Pleading Hermione to forgive him for the mistake he didn’t know he did. Pleading Hermione to forgive him for not being enough for her. Pleading…pleading for her to forgive him, for everything. For making her cry; for making her feel unloved, for making her feel alone when she first raised James and Lily. He loved them, as much as he loved her; more than life itself. Was that not enough to make up for all he put her through? ‘No, no it’s not. She deserves something more...they deserve something more. They deserve nothing short of perfection…[/color] he thought, reaching out to grasp Hermione’s hand in his own. ‘And I’m not perfect.’ He made her face him, his other hand gently grasping her chin. He looked her in the eyes, those beautiful brown eyes.

“‘Mione, I--I…” he choked on his words, tears filling his own eyes, as he looked at her. He willed himself not to cry; but those tear-filled brown eyes were too much. They meant too much to him for him to let those brown eyes cry all on their own. So, one tear fell from his own green eyes. Then another, and another. Until, he too, was crying. “‘Mione, I want the best for you, and for our children. You know that, right?” Of course she did; she had to…she had to know just how much he loved them, how much he loved her. “I know I’m not perfect…I know there are others who can take better care of you, who can give our children a better life…but there is no one, no one that can love you and our children more than I do…So please…please ‘Mione…”[/b] he choked once more, his tear-filled eyes pleading with Hermione to stop running away, to stop doubting herself, him…to stop doubting them.

“Tell me what’s wrong ‘Mione…I can’t leave you to raise them alone, I won’t let you…and I’m not letting them be raised without you…so please, tell me what’s wrong?” He held her hand tightly, not wanting…not ready, to let go.

[Sirius Black]

Sirius half-smiled, half-smirked at the odd exchange occurring between the two. Despite the fact that he too had not seen Hermione in nearly three years, he felt as though some of her reaction was predictable. Hadn't Harry told him that her biggest fear was failure? Surely he must understand that now, more than anything, she was afraid that she had failed him as a lover; her children as a mother; and her friends and a friend.

However, Sirius felt the need to say nothing. They were twenty; if they were ever going to make anything between them work, they were going to have to learn to work out their issues. Hermione would have to learn to open up, and Harry would have to learn to pay more attention to know her better.

He stood there, growing more awkward by the moment, before catching Harry's eyes which were quickly filling with tears. Anything that made his godson or his friends cry pained him; yet this was different. He couldn't fix this; he knew that they had to change things, work through things, and all he could do was ensure that they were left alone to do it quietly, undisturbed.

Knowing that it would be rude to remain - and partially not wishing to be a part of something so intimate - he walked out of the kitchen and became a large dog once more, moving to gather up the children and keep them warm and calm, out of Harry and Hermione's way.

[Hermione Granger]

Hermione didn’t know what to feel, what to think anymore. She’d felt so many emotions since arriving in London the day before that she no longer knew what had hit her, if anything. She knew the basics. She knew her name, what and who she loved, and where she was. But some understanding, something in her, seemed missing. She felt lost, grasping for a truth that did not come. How did she react to Harry? How did she explain her pain, her sorrow, her guilt, her failure? How could she face the monster so big that it engulfed her so completely that she could feel and see only darkness? How did she put into words that she loved him, and it was for him that she craved, yet it was because of him she ran, unable to find true happiness because of the pain she’d caused him?

For a moment, she felt nothing. Emptiness shrouded her being. Then, suddenly, Harry’s grasp became tighter. She was shocked back to the time he’d protected her from Lupin, when he’d drawn her in so close she felt as though she were a part of him. She missed that feeling now, unable to focus on anything but her own fears. Her tears were now staining his shirt; she knew she should stop, but she couldn’t. She had no strength to stop crying, and no desire to pull away. For a moment, she pushed up against him, begging to be closer, for him to become bigger than her monster, to be the only thing that existed.

Then, a feeling of total safety settled upon her. Harry head now lay on her own, and she stopped crying, if only for a moment. Why couldn’t they stay there, just like that, forever? Why could time not freeze and leave her in this state? She didn’t deserve it; she knew that. He’d moved. His head now longer rested on hers, and she began to cry once more, feeling his absence strongly as though he’d left her entirely. She barely recognized that Sirius had left the room, off to tend to the twins, her twins. . . their twins. . .

Then Harry stepped further away, and coldness seeped into her. She gasped at this sudden change. It felt as though she’d gone from standing in the blazing sun to being submerged into freezing waters. It was a moment before she realized that her eyes were closed and that she could truly see nothing but darkness. It wasn’t until Harry spoke that she opened them. They hurt; they must have been red and puffy, for she hadn’t slept much and then she abused them by crying. Surely she looked more awful than usual.

“’Mione, what’s wrong?” That’s what he’d said. He wanted to know what was wrong. But couldn’t he feel it? What was wrong was all of the pain she’d caused him. What was wrong was that she had left him alone and that he had suffered because of her; worthless, pathetic, useless her. Did he not realize that she was what was wrong? That she was the cause of the problem? That she was crying, not because of any of his doings, but because of hers?

Before she could compose a response, before she could voice what was really wrong, his stuttering voice reached her ears, sufficiently cutting off any response of hers. He was. . . apologizing? He wasn’t angry? He wasn’t yelling? He was . . . apologizing? For what? “I--I--I’m sorry. Whatever it was I did, I’m sorry.” He was apologizing, and he didn’t even know what he did wrong. But he was apologizing for any fault of his, when he had done no wrong. How? Why? He was pleading, desperate? Hermione’s heart did a flip in her chest; her breath gave as a short, sharp gasp. Then his hand touched hers, grabbed it tenderly, as he’d done so many times before, when she was upset, when he wanted to calm her. Though her eyes hadn’t ceased to gaze over him, he now desired to ensure that her eyes met his. He used his free hand to guide her chin so that his eyes now bore into hers. They were perfect; beautiful, emerald eyes that showed every emotion he was feeling. He was so sad; this in turn made her sad.

She opened her mouth again to speak, but his emotions seemed to cause her own to rise so that she was again rendered temporarily speechless. Besides, he was talking again, choking on his words. His voice filled her head; oh, how she missed that voice! And his eyes; they always drew her back to him. They were filling with tears as her own had. They began to fall, and before she could stop herself, she’d stretched out the hand not holding his. Gently, ever so carefully, with the touch that only a mother could master, she wiped away the tears gathered under his eyes streaking their way down the side of his nose. She brushed them away as he continued to speak, remaining silent herself.

His words broke her; her heart felt wrenched in two as she realized the depth of the pain she’d caused, not just in being gone, but in returning. Even now, she was causing pain that she wished she could take away. Finally, it seemed that he had stopped speaking. Finally, silence fell upon them both. She moved stealthily, wrapping her free hand around his shoulder in a lopsided hug, not willing to release the hand of hers he still held.

Then she broke apart, letting go of him to draw in a large breath before clearing her voice and speaking. She was no longer crying, though her eyes remained puffy and wet, threatened to release their flood at any given moment. Still, she determined to press on, to speak what she knew she must.

“Harry. Harry, please. Stop crying. I’m not worth your tears - no, don’t interrupt. Her voice was growing bolder, stronger. She’s started at a whisper, begging; then she gained strength at speaking, knowing she had to continue. She felt bad, standing in his kitchen, making demands of him when she’d already asked so much, yet she knew she needed to finish, if he was ever to understand.

“Harry, I know. I know you want what’s best for the children. I always knew you would. And yes, Harry, you are perfect. No, don’t say you aren’t. No one’s perfect, but you. . .you’re as close as it gets, Harry. No one could take better care of me. No one could love me, treat me, care for me, the way you do. The way you have, Harry. You’ve always been there. Always. Who could give Lily and James a better life? Who could love them more or protect them better, Harry? No one. We both know that.” She paused for a moment, catching her breath, her hand still in his.

“Harry, I’m what’s wrong. Me. Hermione Jean Granger. The failure. I failed, Harry. I was scared. When I found out I was pregnant, I thought you’d be upset. We thought we could have a good life, have fun, be with our friends, go back to school, have a career. Then I found out I was pregnant. I ruined things! Ruined them! It was my fault, I was now bearing children, I’d marred our plans, Harry. And I couldn’t get rid of them. No. They were mine. I was scared I’d failed you and that I would fail them, but they were mine, and I would raise them. I was afraid, so I ran. I used my parents as the perfect excuse, and then they were born, and I knew they were no mistake. They were perfect, Harry, absolutely perfect. They were mine - ours. But it’d been a year. I knew you would have moved on. I was sure that you had begun to live your life again, Harry, your life. How could I interfere? I had already ran. I’d already caused you enough pain. How could I come back, waltz back in as though nothing had changing, as though I had caused no pain? Insanity! That would have been ridiculous! I wanted to come back, but I was afraid, Harry. Afraid you’d be angry with me for running, angry with me for not telling you, angry with me for not returning sooner!” Her voice by now had risen, yet she calmed it slightly so as to not disturb the children, both of whom still slept next to Sirius and Crookshanks.

“I wanted to come back. I wanted to see you, to write to you, to talk to you. But I couldn’t come back and ask you to be a father to two children. You’re young. You’re on the fast track to being an auror, having a perfect wife, marrying the girl of your dreams and having your own children. How could I step back into the picture I had stepped out of and expect you to what, Harry, to accept me with open arms and to become a father at the age of twenty of not one but two children? How could I do that to you?”

“Harry James Potter, I love you. I never stopped loving you. But I was afraid of the pain I had caused you. That’s why I’m acting this way. That’s why I’m crying. Because I hurt you, Harry. Because, of all of the things I could have done, for all of my fears, I made the greatest mistake of all, Harry. I failed you.”

[Harry Potter]

Hope. When he hugged her, he thought she pulled him closer, hugged him back. Only for a brief moment did he feel like they went back to the times before she left. Like nothing ever changed. Harry wanted to savor the moment, afraid that after all this, there’d be no more moments like that. When he stepped away from her, he noticed her tears began to fall; she had stopped crying, if only for a moment. Now she was crying again; and it was all his fault. He should’ve kept her close, in his arms; he should’ve never let go. Was that all he could do? Make the woman he loves cry?

He felt her hand, wiping away his tears; and he leaned into her hand, missing the feel of the warmth she gave. Missing how their hands fit together perfectly, just like how they were now. It was as if they were made for each other; he was just the right height for her; they both were main contributors to winning the war; he stuck by her as she stuck by him; but most of all; they loved each other, unconditionally. He loved her more than anything; he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. That was why he was depressed; why he was such a wreck. He couldn’t let go; his love for her was too deep; no one could compare. When she gave him a one-armed hug, but still held his hand; he felt complete. Like nothing was missing, like everything was there and nothing could go wrong. As it always was for him, something did go wrong; it ended; Hermione stepped away.

“Harry. Harry, please. Stop crying. I’m not worth your tears - no, don’t interrupt”[/I] she knew him better than he knew her apparently; as he opened his mouth to argue she was indeed worth every tear. That she was worth so much more. He closed he mouth, a slight desperation in his eyes as he looked at the witch before him. Praying to every being he could think of, Harry hoped that she wouldn’t run away again; that she’d stay, that they’d work things out. He prayed with all his might for something to go right for once in his life. He prayed and prayed, until she began to speak again.

His looked at her, directly into those beautiful, deep brown eyes he usually found himself lost in. As she continued, he smiled slightly; he missed her voice, he missed how she would explain everything to him; how she would scold him, talk with him, confide in him. He missed it all; but this time, he couldn’t feel the same. This talk; these tears, her tears, her voice, it was all so important to him. Why? Why was it more important than the previous times? He felt like he should say something, anything; but he knew he couldn’t. He had to listen if he wanted to know why. Why Hermione was running; if he wanted to know why she cried and felt she wasn’t worth his tears.

He gripped her hand; his smile faded, and his eyes filling with tears once more. It was pathetic; he was supposed to be a wizard, a man. He shouldn’t be crying like this; he shouldn’t be; but he couldn’t stop. Not when it involved the one witch he loved more than life; the one witch he needed more than life itself. As soon as she stopped talking, Harry felt his arm, the hand holding hers, go limp.

Shock. That was the first thing he felt. Had she really thought he wouldn’t want the twins? Did she still think that? How could she; the twins would never be the burden she thought they would be. Never. They were his, theirs, and he would have loved them then as much as he had now. “How could you ever think that, ‘Mione? I love you. The twins would never--could never ruin anything! You could never ruin anything, ‘Mione.” He stepped towards her, grabbing both her hands in his, looking directly into her eyes; her beautiful, wonderful eyes.

“I would have--will be glad to be a father at twenty. Age is but a number, right Hermione?”[/color] he smiled slightly as he said this, softly, almost as if anything louder would break them both. “You gave me the best thing ever; children, ‘Mione! Our children! I couldn’t be angry at you for that. I could never.” He looked at her once again, his eyes full of unconditional love.

He pulled her in for a hug once more, holding her tightly, nuzzling against her still semi-bushy hair. “For someone so intelligent, you sure don’t act like it.” he laughed slightly, holding her tighter. “You should know, no matter what you do; no matter what happenes; you would never hurt me, ‘Mione. Never. No matter what; I’ll support you in what you do; I’ll support your choice. As long as you’re happy, ‘Mione; then I’m happy. As long as you’re smiling, genuinely smiling; then everything is perfect.” He pulled away, holding her shoulders tightly and looking her in the eyes.

“You could never fail me. Nothing you do, nothing you did, and nothing you will do, will ever fail me ‘Mione. Nothing.” His eyes bore into Hermione’s own; so many emotions swirling through them. So many unsaid things that he couldn’t figure out how to say. Instead he settled for grabbing her hands once more, keeping his eyes locked on hers. After what seemed like eternity, Harry finally spoke. A soft smile lighting his face and a renewed light in his eyes as he gazed into her own.

“I love you ‘Mione. I always have, always will. Nothing can change that. Not three years apart; not children. Nothing. You are the love of my life. You are my life.”

[Hermione Granger]

The movement was so slight, the pressure so soft, that Hermione thought for a moment that she had imagined it. She’d gone to wipe his tears away, and it felt as though he had moved forward, pushing his head against her hand ever so lightly. She wasn’t sure. She really didn’t know if this was her imagination again or reality sweeping down her. Perhaps it was a bit of both; she would never know for sure.

She knew that telling him not to interrupt would surprise him, but she also knew that her statement would cause him to try to interrupt. Of course, she also knew that it was true. She was not, in any way, worth his tears. She’d broken his heart; that much was plain and clear. She had run, left; in doing so, she had become worthless, nothing; less than nothing. The smartest witch of the age had broken the heart of the boy who lived - twice. How pitiful. How painful. How ironic. So much for being the smartest witch of her age, to go breaking the heart of someone so precious, so dear to her.

The pain it caused her to see his desperation nearly silenced her, but she pressed on, knowing she had to. His eyes captured hers, and she wished nothing more than to stop talked and look into those eyes and never look away for as long as she lived. Yet she knew she would never - could never - have that life until they’d worked everything out, until she was herself again, until she could be herself again. Unfortunately, that would take time, and she knew Harry. She knew that he could be impatient, that he would want things to go back to the way they were immediately. And yet, again, in her weakness, she knew she could not handle that; that she needed his love and yet some space to get her own emotions in order. As if I couldn’t have done that in two years. . . She chastised herself silently, knowing she loved him but also knowing there was a but to that statement. The problem seemed to be that she didn’t know how that sentence was to continue. I love him, but. . . but what? Her mind seemed to fight itself until his smile drew her attention back to his face.

He was scruffy. She hadn’t noticed it early in the euphoria and shock, but it looked as though he hadn’t shaved for a few days. She didn’t quite know what she thought of the look, only that it was different than when she had left. I was the one who left. . . It’s not my business what he’s chosen to do in my absence, the absence that I chose. He seemed to want to talk again, his smile twisting ever so slightly the way it always did when he wanted to speak, but she kept plowing through her words, determined to release them all so that they would no longer haunt her.

Harry had started to cry. It was a slow reaction; the tears built behind his eyes before flowing freely. Was she hurting him now? Was she saying the wrong things now? His arm went limp; the hand she’d held of his seemed to relax in her hand. Was this it? Was it over? Had she said everything she meant to, and now, he would kick her out, push her away, tell her how he hated her and couldn’t believe her or ever love her after what she’d done? She hadn’t said everything the way she meant to. Some things had come out wrong. Did he pick up on those things? Did that make him angry? Was it really. . .over? And what would she do now?

As his hand feel limp, she scrabbled with her own to grab it back, as if it were hers and he were merely taking it from her. His face was . . . She couldn’t tell. The emotion covering his face was one she barely recognized. Was it shock? Or was she so removed from him over the two years that she could no longer read his face, his expressive eyes? Yes, it was her fault. . .all her fault. . .

Then he began to speak, and she leaned closer to take in every word. “How could you ever think that, ‘Mione? I love you. The twins would never--could never ruin anything! You could never ruin anything, ‘Mione.” Okay, so that was better than she expected. He didn’t think that the kids ruined everything - or that she did. She gasped slightly, not expecting such a kind or welcoming response. Before she could respond, both of her hands were in his and he was speaking again. There were his eyes again; oh, how they always made her melt.

A smiled creased her lips as he joked softly. "Age is but a number, right Hermione?” She knew she shouldn’t speak, knew she should let him continue as he had allowed her, so she contented herself with a smile and a nod; a slight chuckle even forced its way past her lips, lighting up her eyes. Then he was speaking again, then hugging her. It was a whirlwind of action and emotion. She pressed closer to him as she had done once before. His head was on her hair; hers rested against his slightly, ruffling it ever so gently. His mouth was closer to her ear now; he sounded louder as he joked again - could he really love her so much as to joke, even after being so broken? “For someone so intelligent, you sure don’t act like it.”

He’d spoken again; he never seemed to stop speaking, and though she wanted to speak, she couldn’t will him to stop. His voice was too speak. Still, he pulled her away, gripping her shoulders, and she softened, weakened, let him support some of her weight. Then her hands were in his again, and she smiled, realizing that she now could speak.

"Harry, I’m sorry. I need you to know that. I’ve hurt you. I know I have. I left you, I deserted you. And not only that, I kept you away from your children. I should have given you a choice, but I was scared. Scared that you would be angry, and I still am. I’m still afraid that this fairly tale is going to break and reality is going to crash in and everything is going to be wrong.”

“I want you to love the children. I knew you would, and I’m glad that you do. They need a father, just as much as they need a mother. I can’t keep hiding that from them - who their father is. They need to know you. We’re young Harry. But you’re right. Twenty is just a number. We’ve been through more than most people have by now. We’re some of the youngest parents I know, but we can do this. I just - we just - need to work some things out, Harry.”

“I know I haven’t acted all too brilliantly. You’ve been selfless, Harry; and me? I’ve been selfish. I’ve done everything my way. I haven’t asked you, I haven’t consulted you, I’ve just taken the lead and done things my way. When you do that, it works. Why I do that? Well, it hurts people.” She chuckled, her eyes watering, though a light was in them, playful, nearly happy.

"I love you too, Harry. You know that. I hope, more than anything, that you know that. But I - we - have to figure some things out. Like living! I have no money, Harry. I’ve been living off of my parents money, and, well, they’re Muggles. And my dad, Harry, we came back because he has cancer. Can I just up and leave him? And if so, where am I going to go? I can’t just find a rock and turn it into a home, you know,”[/color] she said, her voice stronger now, more like normal. She was even acting more normal, growing even stronger, straightening up and thinking logically, acting as she had so many times before when confronted with a problem.

And, only seconds later, Harry would realize how much of her old self she'd become in a few quick moments. With a jolt, she turned away, remembering her breakfast. "Oh, the eggs! They'll burn. Sirius, can you come in here and help set up the table?” she called out, moving to the stove to mix them up before they burnt. Emotional or not, she was still Hermione, and, well, she was observant. And she was never going to let good food go to waste. Ever.

[Harry Potter]

When she smiled, his whole world seemed to light up. It was like the dawn of a new day; when the sun would come and chase the darkness away. Harry smiled softly, trying to imprint her smiling face forever in his memory. He wanted time to stop right there; to capture it. The first time he’d seen her smile in what felt like forever. It reminded him of their first year; when she smiled, the first time they became friends. It was after the Mountain Troll incident. His memory brought him back to second year; his fear and worry about Hermione as she lay there, petrified. Then her smile, his own smile, as she ran into his open arms, once she was healed. Third year passed by before his eyes; when he held her, to protect her from werewolf Lupin; Merlin bless the man where he was now and the family he was taken from.

Then fourth year came; when she gave him a hug right before his first task. When he saw her descend the stairs, placing her own arm in Viktor Krum’s. Though he fancied Cho as the moment, he felt a bit jealous; like Ron, as he watched Krum waltz around with Hermione. Just a bit; he wasn’t so in tune with his emotions to notice his slight fancy of Hermione. Then fifth year; when she felt so mischievous just for thinking up of Dumbledore’s Army; the way she stood up to Umbridge in her own way. How she cried, how she lied for him; to save him from being crucioed by the toad of a witch. How she went with him, along with Ron, Ginny, Luna and Neville, to go help Sirius…or at least, they thought they were going to help Sirius. Hermione was right on that part; it was a trap, and Sirius wasn’t actually hurt. He almost lost Sirius that day though; he remembered, he remembered how he felt so guilty. Hermione was hurt, as was the others; but Hermione was hit was some unknown curse, as she silenced Dolohov before he could say the spell.

Shaking his head, Harry looked at the witch in front of him. She was talking to him; she wanted…time away? After all this? He wanted to become angry, hurt, anything; anything but understanding. He wanted to yell; to cry, but he couldn’t, because he understood what she was saying. He didn’t want to; but he had. All because it was Hermione. The girl that stuck with him through all the years. The girl who was almost killed in her first year by a troll, because of him and Ron. The girl who was petrified by the Basilisk in second year. The girl he protected in his third year. This girl, this woman; Hermione Jean Granger.

“Hermione, I’ll wait for you, if that’s what you want. I’d wait forever for you.”[/b] He said, smiling at her. Of course, he’d wait forever for her; no matter how long. Why? Why after all she did? Simple, because no one could compare to her. Sure, she left him depressed for the past couple years; but she always stuck by him; it was his turn now. Even now, when she wanted time to figure things out, when she wanted to work things out; he was fine with it. He understood why; he felt the same when he denied his feelings about her, just a few years ago. They’ve known each other since they were eleven; since they began Hogwarts; and he knew, Hermione was back. She was thinking about the future, planning for it. She wanted everything to be right for it; for them; for their children.

Harry glanced out towards where Sirius was, curled up next to his beautiful twins; James and Lily. Hermione named them selflessly after his own parents; then after their ‘mentors’, for the lack of a better word. James Albus and Lily Minerva. He’d have to talk to her about their godparents; but he was sure she’d agree. Ron went through too much with them not to be a godparent; same with Luna, and Ginny and Neville. The six of them fought the first battle of the war together, before the Order showed up and saved their fifteen/fourteen year old arses. They went through so much together; he was sure that Hermione would come around.

As she spoke of finding a place to live; Harry remembered the room he kept clean; the room he asked Sirius for; the room he and Kreacher worked relentlessly on to make perfect. Her room. “Well, you know Hermione, you and the twins, you all could stay here…with me---us.”[/color] he stuttered, unsure of whether or not he should’ve put the offer out. What if she rejected it? What if she thought it was just a way to get closer to her when she wanted to sort things out? What is she didn’t want to live with them? Harry didn’t know what he would’ve done, if she said no. He wanted to wake up and know she was there; even if she was not next to him. He wanted to be able to play with his children whenever he wanted; and try to be the best father there was. So he prayed that she’d accept his offer; there was just too much at stake for him…them, if she said no. “I mean, you don’t have to…it was a suggestion…I mean, we have plenty of rooms where you could stay and all…”[/b] he tried to play it off; like he hadn’t meant anything by it. He was sure his stuttering gave him away. His voice and eyes too, probably; they always gave him away. According to well, everyone he knew.

Still, to see the sparkle in her eyes again, made him smile. All his worries about her rejection seemed to end once he looked into her deep, beautiful brown eyes. Everything seemed to be right once again, for Hermione was happy. Hermione straightened up, and he could see her thinking about what she was to do. There she was; the ‘Mione he knew; the one he fell in love with all those years ago; the one he was still in love with, after all these years. There she was, standing in front of him, before rushing to make sure that breakfast didn’t burn; calling for Sirius to help her set the table. Harry smiled; this was how it was meant to be, he supposed. ‘Well, for now anyways.’ he thought as he looked at his twins; the ones without married parents….yet.

“I’ll go get the kids, while you and Sirius finish setting up. I’m sure there’ll be cranky waking up alone…” he paused, his eyes glinting as he turned back towards Hermione. “Probably because they could smell the bacon, but know they need one of us to bring them here. Hm, sound like my children all right.”[/b] Flashing a grin, he moved to the living room; pausing for a moment as he took in the forms of his beautiful twins. Then he paused…how was he supposed to get both? With a sigh, he bent down and picked up his little princess; Lily Minerva, who was wriggling as if about to wake. He kneeled down by James Albus, struggling for a second before he finally got both twins in his arms. Both twins seemed to be finally waking up, wriggling in his grip and letting out soft cries; James moving about then looking at him with a giggle; followed by Lily. Chucking he entered the kitchen.

”Come on you two,”[/b] he said softly, bringing them into the kitchen. “We’re having bacon kiddos! You’ll soon learn from me and Sirius that bacon is one of the best breakfasts ever.”[/b] He set them in transfigured baby chairs; he forgot what they were called. This was how it was meant to be; but just for the moment. It would change, there was no helping it, but it would only change for the better. He could feel it.

[Sirius Black]

While all of the conversation amongst the young ones was going about, Sirius had taken the time to enjoy the presence of children – his sort of grandchildren, if he dared to be so bold. They reminded him of his little brother, though he loved them far more. They were cute little bundles, just sleeping; they were far more peaceful than he or his brother had been, yet he knew that such a thing would change as they grew older. If they had any Potter in them at all, they would find themselves in all sorts of trouble. Sure, Lily had never been much of a trouble-maker, but James sure was. The ringleader of the Marauders, he had caused more trouble than he ended. And Harry; well, he didn’t so much cause trouble, but trouble sure did have a far of finding him without much trouble.

He had left the kitchen by Harry’s unspoken request, but he was glad for it. Being locked in Azkaban and then spending years as a dog most of the time left him slightly out of touch with his emotions, at least such emotions as they were feeling. He loved Harry as a son – even as a brother. But love was Sirius’ weak spot. As a teen, he had often obtained girlfriends because of his lovely, wolfish smile. However, nothing ever really came of those relationships. They were skin deep, and, well, the Marauders weren’t the type to be burdened down by love. Peter Pettigrew could find no girls. Lupin, kind and sweet, gained attention that he refused to accept because of his furry little problem. James, like himself, was the girl-grabber, always catching eyes because of their looks and confidence. Yet neither of them could hold down a relationship until James fell for Lily; Sirius was happy for them, but by the time he had grown old enough to actually be mature with his emotions, a war was in the makings, and he had no time for love. Then his friends were being murdered, he was being blamed, and he was sent off to Azkaban. There weren’t many opportunities for love there. And, alas, he was finally free – and running from the Ministry. Then there was another war; finally, he could settle down to care for his godson, but he still hadn’t found much time to get out and find his emotions to be his own once more. Love, like the kind between Harry and Hermione, wasn’t all too natural for him, and it seemed to stretch his limits too far.

Once more, he was a dog, leaning on the two children, licking them and keeping them warm and comfortable. He overheard bits of the conversation travelling from the kitchen, but he did his best to avoid eavesdropping, despite the natural instinct. However, sometimes, even a dog has to do something bad, and he did indeed listen to some things, noting comments he would have to make once he regained the power of human speech. Before he’d really taken the time to decide when to jump in, Hermione had called his name to come set the table. Knowing the time was perfect, he transformed into a human again, flashed a giant grin, and walked into the kitchen.

Speaking to neither of them, he stood by the large table with ten seats around it. With a wave of his wand, the large table became a small, round one with five seats – three normal, two high chairs. Before Hermione could ask, he added, “Changing table. Seats up to ten, can change both shape and size. Cost a few more galleons than I would’ve liked, but it seemed like a nice touch.” He flashed another grin before looking back at the two of them and shaking his head, his hair still longer than it probably should have been.

“You know, I always thought you two were smart, an equal match for Voldemort and Bellatrix. But if they could hear you know, they would roll over in those wretched graves of theirs. To think, they were defeated by two teens who aren’t even thinking! Well, I’ll give you credit, Harry, you did remember the room you fixed up for her. So, Hermione, that’s settled. You have a place to live. It’s not unusual for you, if I understand properly. You’ve spent many a summer and Christmas break at the Burrow and Grimmauld Place, so living with others isn’t new to you. As for the money, I think I informed you earlier that Harry was rich. And, well, they’re his kids, so I think he’ll take care of them fairly well. I mean, sure, he’ll probably stick them in some hand-me-down robes and buy one-hundred year old books, but they’ll have the bare necessities,” he smiling jokingly, clearly sarcastic. “And if I remember correctly, you said you’d kept all of the things he’d sent you – money included. So you have plenty for now, until you work, should you choose to. If not, I believe I can support you by selling off a Black family heirloom or two. Kreacher might have your head for it though. As for your parents. . .Well, you and Harry will go visit them. Today. They need to meet the father of their grandchildren. And Harry, you need a haircut and a shave before you go. You need to impress them, eh?” He said all of this while gathering plates and utensils, setting them before each place marking at the table. While he usually wasn’t one for planning, he had learned a thing or two from James, Lily, and Lupin. And the things they taught him he would never forget.

[Hermione Granger]

Well, that was better than I thought, was the first thought that formed in Hermione’s mind. When she woke up, she was sure that Harry would be angry. And if he wasn’t angry then, he’d be angry after speaking to her. That’s why she had gotten up so early to make breakfast; she figured that she was walking on thin ice and needed to be absolutely perfect if she was to avoid his wrath. She had planned on skating around the deepest truths until she was sure he could handle everything and not yell. Instead, he’d handled the worst with little more than a loud whisper. She really was a lucky girl, if nothing more than for him to take the truth as well as he had, much less the fact that he still loved her, that. . . that he said he would wait for her forever.

He was smiling, though she barely recognized it past her own smile. She hadn’t smiled like that, so widely, in a long time. Her hair had begun to fall out of his delicate bun, but even then, she didn’t care. It had grown tamer, straighter, less bushy, over the years. If he could hear all of that and not turn her away, surely her less-than-perfect hair wouldn’t turn him off to her now. Naturally, her gaze followed his into the living room where Sirius lay next to the twins. The picture kept her smile wide. She had always imagined having his children and watching Sirius play with them. Granted, she had pictured her and Harry older, and Sirius graying, but. . . Well, she could deal with the time difference in her fairytale. Still, seeing Sirius with the twins reminded her that the children needed godparents. Would Harry agree to letting the other four act as godparents, should anything happen to them? And what of Sirius? Would he be grandpa to the children, or uncle? Well, that was more of a matter for Sirius to answer, not Harry.

Yet the only thought that burdened her remained strong in her mind: there were things that had to be considered. Her living arrangements, for one; money and a job was another. And who would watch the kids, if not her parents? And speaking of her parents, what would she tell them, if anything?

“Well, you know Hermione, you and the twins, you all could stay here…with me---us.” Of course Harry would have an answer prepared for her. Why didn’t she see that coming? Then again, he was stuttering. Was he embarrassed? Then he seemed scared, as though wishing he could take back his offer. Her smile faltered. Was he reconsidering everything he’d just said? Then he continued, as if trying to cover up his words, as though they were too brash, too open. She paused, her hand moving to her chin. It was an interesting offer. She would be able to stay close to Harry without actually staying in his room. It would be like their days in the Burrow or at Grimmauld Place, minus all of the other kids. Granted, they’d have kids of their own. It would let her stay in the wizarding world for only a few galleons. She could cook and clean, and they would probably let her stay for free. That would work out a few problems. Plus, if Sirius wanted to spend time with the kids, she’d have a live-in sitter whom she trusted. . . It would make sense. . .

“Yes, I’d like that, Harry. I think the kids would too. You know, it’d keep them close to you and Sirius, and it’s the least I could do after stealing two years from your relationships with them.”

Her mind made up on that - and no longer as burdened as it was before, her smile began to creep back onto her face. Of course, that smile only widened at Sirius’ arrival. She had always respected him, looked up to him, despite his immaturity. “Oh yes, Sirius, you had me there with that table. I have to say, it is a piece of work.” She smirked, half-serious, half-sarcastic.

Then Harry was talking about the kids. Oh yes, they were certainly his children. She was certain, by the way Harry spoke, that he would make a good father; he was already not wanting them to wake up alone, something she had always ensured never occurred. His grin made her knees feel weak and she sank an inch or so before catching herself. I’m a mother. I need to keep my emotions more in check. These twins need a strong mother, not a weakling who breaks at Harry’s every smile, she scolded herself. Nevertheless, her smile didn’t leave her face.

All too soon, Sirius had begun speaking again and the food was nearly done. She didn’t know whether to feel insulted at his words or not, but she knew he had a point. She was supposed to be the smartest witch of her age, and she had an uncanny memory; yet she’d forgotten something he’d told her less than an hour ago. It must be the emotions. I’ve got to stay focused. Then continued to think. Okay, so this room for me. . . It is real, and apparently I’ll be seeing it soon. Good thing I said yes to living here; Sirius wouldn’t take no for an answer. I already sort of knew that. And he does have a point about it being like breaks. . .Besides, Luna, Ron, and Ginny live just down the way, so it’ll be an ideal location to settle down. They must have thought that through completely. But Harry being rich? No, she wasn’t here to take his money.

A slight frown graced her features now, her brow wrinkled in thought. “Sirius, I did not come back here looking for a free ride or galleons. You both need to understand that,” she said, her frown fading to a slight smile as he joked about the hand-me-downs. She did remember him mentioning Harry’s money, and if she knew Harry, she knew the children would have the best money could buy. Her face lightened, the twinkle in her eye coming back quickly.

“Yes, I did keep all of the things he sent. I would have felt guilty spending any of it. I meant to give him back all of the galleons - they’re his, not mine. The other things. . .well, I think I’ll keep those,” she sighed contentedly, half-joking and half-serious. She did intend to give back the galleons; the other gifts she felt she could not part with.

Still, she was shocked at how Sirius was stepping up and acting like a parent. Her respect for him swelled even greater. Yes, settling here with the children was a good idea, especially if Sirius had grown so mature as to think through deep matters like this so well. “Yes, I really should go see them, today. I told them I’d be coming home today. Harry, is that all right? Going to see my parents today?”[/color] she asked, turning her attention back to Harry.

Then, as if triggered back once more to breakfast, she turned to the stove, scrambled the eggs one last time, and moved to the table with them, scooping out healthy amounts to each of the plates there before going back to grab the pan of hot, sizzling bacon.

[Harry Potter]

Harry was about to nod and walk away, his gaze on the ground; but then her answer ran through his head. “Yes, I’d like that, Harry. I think the kids would too. You know, it’d keep them close to you and Sirius, and it’s the least I could do after stealing two years from your relationships with them.”[/b]. His head snapped up to look at hers, had she just agreed? He had to think about it for a moment. For once in his life, something was going right! Hermione began to smile, and Harry soon found himself doing the same thing, Smiling, that twinkle back in his eyes. “Really?”[/color] then he realized that he sounded a little too excited. He was though; he would have missed her everyday; but he still would’ve waited, no problem. “I mean, that’s great. I’ll show you to your--a---your room, after breakfast. Ok, ‘Mione?”[/b]

As Sirius walked in, Harry felt like he was going to explode with happiness. Everything was going right for once; and there was no downside to it either. He had a family; his godfather, who seemed more of a close uncle or older brother than anything; his children, whom he thought were the most beautiful things in the world, besides their mother of course. Their mother, his love; Hermione Granger. She was there, she was really there. He smiled, he could already picture her with the children, acting like the wonderful mother he knew her to be. Their children would grow up in a safe world, where they could live happily and have no worries; he’d make sure of that.

When he returned to the kitchen after setting the children in those baby chairs--he still didn’t know what they were called--Harry turned to Sirius with a frown. Though he was frowning, his eyes shone with that same twinkle that could be found in Albus Dumbledore’s eyes. He was happy, no, he was more than happy; he was ecstatic. His eyes then moved to Hermione as she began to speak; his frown becoming a real one once he heard her talk about not coming for any money. He already knew that; he figured Hermione would go out and find a job, probably could get any, but he didn’t expect her to just lay back and relax as he and Sirius spent their money on her. He knew her better than that; but he sent her the money to make sure she would be well-off. To make sure, if she didn’t have a good job, which he doubted, that she would have the money for food and everything. He only sent the money the past few years to stop his own worries. After Hedwig would arrive, carrying no reply; but no money bag either, he felt a little more satisfied. At least, he knew she had money when Hedwig came back.

“You really expect me to believe you’d come to get a free ride anyway?” he asked, an eyebrow raised as a joking smile came to his lips. “If that happened, I would have you at wand point asking, ‘Who are you, and what’d you do with Hermione?’”[/b] he laughed slightly. Of course Hermione wouldn’t want the money; but he’d put it in her Gringotts bank account later; when she was doing something else so he couldn’t get caught. Maybe he could get Sirius to do it; he probably would. His smile grew larger as he heard she kept all that he sent her. ‘So she did get them…and she liked them…’[/I] his smile softened; it was smaller than before, but the meaning behind it was greater.

“As for your parents. . .Well, you and Harry will go visit them. Today. They need to meet the father of their grandchildren. And Harry, you need a haircut and a shave before you go. You need to impress them, eh?”[/I] Harry blinked at Sirius. Shoot! Merlin, how could he forget he had to meet her parents! His hand almost immediately went to his chin though, where he felt some stubble. How long ago was it that he shaved? He couldn’t remember; but he knew he had to right after lunch, especially if they were going to meet her parents. To tell the truth, Harry was nervous; he wasn’t this nervous when he was facing Voldemort for goodness’ sake! He turned to Hermione, as she began to speak.

“Yes, I really should go see them, today. I told them I’d be coming home today. Harry, is that all right? Going to see my parents today?”[/I] Harry sighed and nodded. It wasn’t as if he wanted to keep her there forever, or not meet her parents. Really, he was just nervous about it all. “Got it, ‘Mione. When are we leaving? Sirius is right; I have to clean up first. You know, make a good impression.” he smiled at her. For her, he’d try his best to make a good impression. For his children, he’d try his best to show her parents he would be the best husband for her…in time. For them, he’d try his best to show how much he loved his family. He’d try his best, for his family.

As Hermione scurried off to the stove to finish the breakfast, Harry sat in one of the chairs; it was right next to Lily, who was playing with the plastic spoon that was there. He smiled, and reached in front of her, blocking her sight on the spoon with his hand. Lily gurgled and giggled as he pulled his hand away, only to reveal a stuffed teddy bear in front of her. She grabbed it, still gripping the spoon, but holding the bear to her tightly. He smiled at the sight, as she snuggled with the stuffed bear; making cute little sounds babies make. Oh, how he loved being a wizard. He looked at James, who seemed to look like he was going to throw the spoon in front of him, and almost immediately did the same. Covering little James’ eyes, Harry thought about what he wanted to give his son. Then it came to him, and he moved his hands away, watching in satisfaction as James threw the spoon to the ground, which he picked up, and hugged the stuffed broom to him.

“I’m going to make a Quidditch player out of you yet.” he grinned, placing a kiss on James’ head as breakfast was served. Returning to his own seat, he watched the scene before him with content; relaxed…at least until breakfast was done and he had to clean up and get ready to meet the parents. Were the children coming with them? Probably, he assumed, since they would want to see their grandchildren. At least, he hoped the twins would be going with them; it would’ve been much less nerve wrecking if they did.

[Hermione Granger]

The pretense of setting up breakfast was any excellent way for Hermione to hide her reactions. She noted, half-heartedly, that Harry’s gaze concerning her staying there had met the ground before she’d given an answer. Tempted though she was to quell his seeming unease and say no, she said yes, and his reaction was gratifying. He’d snapped out of his apparent reverie and began smiling. His stuttering was actually cute, reminiscent of their Hogwarts days whenever he’d found himself embarrassed or overexcited. But this room. . . the idea intrigued her. I’ll show you to your--a---your room, after breakfast. Ok, ‘Mione?”

Her heart leapt at the idea that this supposed room for her was, indeed, real. Sirius talked about it so loftily that she thought he might actually be kidding about a room that Harry had built for her and perfected; a room that he and Kreacher had kept pristine for the day she arrived. It seemed a bit too good to be true, too fairy-tale-ish, and Hermione was too logical to fall victim to the thoughts associated with fairytales. However, she couldn’t distinguish the hope that such a room existed and that it was indeed ready for her. The idea that Harry had left after the battle, come to live with Sirius, and set out to ensure a place for her held an air of romance that she couldn’t entirely ignore. She wanted to know the truth, but didn’t want to be too open about it or sound too excited. She forced her voice to be as level as possible as she spoke, her eyes forced on the pancakes which she was now almost done cooking. “So this room Sirius informed me of – it’s real, is it?” Her voice got a tad higher toward the end, but she hoped it wasn’t too noticeable and she turned from the food and glanced from Sirius to Harry, then back to the food. If it wasn’t, well, that was alright. If it was . . .

Her mind travelled quickly from that to the galleons. She still had all of them he’d sent. . .and he’d sent quite a lot. She understood now, having seen the cabinet, the immensity of his wealth. She’d known that his father, James, had never actually had a job. His parents had been wealthy and he’d graduated school shortly before the first major war so he never had the opportunity to join the work force. Still, his wealth had been enough to support himself, Lily, and Harry, as well as Sirius and Lupin, who found it difficult to hold a job for long because of his status as a werewolf. Still, Harry’s wealth was none of her business. So long as he was willing to help her out with the children, she would find a way to manage her own expenses.

“I’m glad you still think so highly of me as to know I’d not go to anyone for a free ride,” she said, a glint returning to her eyes at Harry’s joke. She caught his smile at her words about the gifts. She had indeed loved and treasured every gift he’d sent. And, though technically they were his, she had no intention of returning them. She treasured the gifts to greatly to part with them at any point, especially the necklace he’d sent which she still wore around her neck, though it was tucked beneath her shirt so that they likely hadn’t even seen it yet.

Still, the idea of the money still weighed on her. She didn’t have much; though there was some in her Gringotts account. The money Harry had sent her was enough to last her for a good while, and it’s not like he would be missing it anytime soon. Perhaps, there was a way for her to get what she needed. If that’s the job I really want. . . there will be training involved. . . I won’t be getting money for a while. . . Harry probably wouldn’t mind. . . but I’ve already asked for so much. . . She argued with herself silently before turning from the stove again to look at Harry. “Harry, that money you sent me. . . Is there any chance you would, uh. . . Perhaps let me consider it a – well, a. . . a loan?” she stuttered, not quite knowing how to phrase her request and sounding a bit like Harry as he talked of her living there. She quickly continued, “Just until I get a job. I’ve got to get in and get settled, and I need to go shopping to buy some things, my parchment’s all wrinkled, and my quills don’t have much ink left, and I’ll be paying you rent, of course. So, if you’d let me use the money as a loan, I’d have enough to buy some things and pay you rent until I can – uh – figure out a job to pay you back. How would that be?” she asked, now setting a huge plate of pancakes – some normal, some with chocolate chips – in the center of the table for them to grab at will.

Then she moved back to the sink as Harry continued to speak. “Got it, ‘Mione. When are we leaving? Sirius is right; I have to clean up first. You know, make a good impression.” She caught his smile and sent him one back before washing her hands, glancing behind her occasionally, and just in enough time to catch him playing with the children. She’d known when she had the children that he would be a good father given the chance; this fact was reaffirmed as she watched him with Lily and then James. “Already determined to make him a Quidditch player like his old man, eh?” she asked, joining them at the table and taking a seat next to James’ high chair. She figured that, though Harry would want to, he would let Sirius buy little James a broom, since he had bought Harry his first toy broom.

However, before she said any more about toys, she remembered that they needed to meet her parents. “I don’t mean to be pushy, Harry, but Sirius is right. You’re a bit scruffy,” she smiled, reaching out a hand to touch the hair that’d begun to grow on his chin before turning back to her own plate of food and snatching a chocolate chip pancake. “Well, I was thinking. . . My parents are expecting me back sooner rather than later. So how about, after breakfast, you go get cleaned up while I take care of the dishes? While you’re getting ready, I can get the kids cleaned up too,” she said, pointing to her black purse that she had set on the counter. “Remember than undetectable extension charm I used on that handbag we took on the hunt for the horcruxes? Well, it was handier than I thought. I brought a change of clothes for the kids and myself, so I can get them cleaned up and changed. Then once you get ready, I can take a shower and get cleaned up – I’d like to look a bit nicer to go see them. If we’re quick, we can make it to lunch with my parents. . .It means I won’t get to see the room now, but I’m sure my parents will be busy, so we could probably be back here around three or four. Then you can take me on the grand tour of the house and let me explore and see my – the – a – room – before dinner. What do you think?”[/color] she asked, trying to skirt of the delicate issue of the supposed room before jumping up suddenly.

“Oh shoot, I forgot Kreacher!”[/color] she exclaimed before jumping slightly as Kreacher appeared before her. “Yes, mistress? Kreacher is here to serve.” She smiled, grabbing an extra plate on the counter and handing it to him. “No serving needed, Kreacher. I just made you some breakfast too. Enjoy!”[/color] she smiled, watching him bow and then scuttle out of the room.

[Harry Potter]

Harry looked at Hermione; her reaction to the idea of her room. Remembering Sirius’ previous words concerning his own remembrance of the room brought him to realize that Sirius had spoken to Hermione about the room. When? Probably when he was still asleep; sending a look to Sirius, one between thankfulness for telling her, and partially anger, for not letting him tell her first. Still; the thankfulness was stronger than the anger he felt towards his Godfather. It was only with the best intentions Sirius probably did it in; and so he couldn’t be angry for that. The ex-convict was just looking out for him was all; and he appreciated it. Bringing his gaze back to Hermione, he noted with some satisfaction that she seemed excited to see her room. When she questioned if it was real, Harry rolled his eyes good naturedly.

“Of course it is…--er--what exactly did Sirius--uh--well, tell you?” Surely Sirius wouldn’t let her know all his hard work on it. How weird would that be? I mean, a boyfriend you haven’t seen in forever, ok, that was an exaggeration, but a boyfriend, if he can still be considered that, keeping a room perfect for his girlfriend until she comes back? He didn’t want her to think anything strange about him. He was not obsessive or anything…not unless Old Voldie came back and took over his mind and all again; but then again, not like that would ever happen again.

When Hermione mentioned his thinking highly of her, Harry smiled. Of course he thought highly of her; how could he not? She was beautiful, intelligent, she saved his arse too many times to count, and she always stuck by his side. No matter what happened, Hermione was always there, supporting him. Even when she thought he was doing something wrong or something was actually wrong, she still remained by his side. How could he not think highly of her after all she’s done for him? Even if he didn’t love her as much as he does, he would still think highly of her; and he’d make sure that everyone knew that. He’d make sure everyone knew what she did for him; that she contributed to Voldemort’s downfall as much as he had. He was going to make sure, Hermione Jean Granger was known as a hero--er, heroine.

“Harry, that money you sent me. . . Is there any chance you would, uh. . . Perhaps let me consider it a – well, a. . . a loan?”[/I] Harry blinked at her. Did she really just ask that? Then as she continued speaking, he couldn’t help the grin that made it’s way to his face, or the laugh that he tried to hold in. He tried covering it up by grabbing some delicious smelling pancakes and smiling; but it was to no avail. The laughter began to bubble out of him. “I--I’m--I’m s--sorry ‘Mi--’Mione.” he managed to say, through his laughter. He didn’t want to offend her or anything; but he sent her the money for a reason. It was hers to keep. “Sorry ‘Mione, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything; but I gave you that money. It’s yours, not mine.” there was no way he was going to let her pay a single knut on something she didn’t have to. He was going to make sure of it. Besides; what was he to do with all the other money he had in his vault? Collect cobwebs?

As Hermione made the comment about making James a Quidditch player, he grinned; glaring at her teasingly. “Hey! I’m not that old! That’d be Sirius!” his mirthful green eyes turned towards his Godfather. Sure, he wasn’t considered old yet; but hey, Harry had no one else to poke fun at. “Besides, he’s got the love for a broom already! He’ll be ecstatic once he gets his first toy broom; you’ll see. James was born for Quidditch!” his eyes glanced meaningfully towards Sirius when he mentioned James’ new broom. Of course he’d want Sirius in his children’s lives; what better way than to be that old man that buys them their first gifts? Excluding his own gifts he just gave them.

“I don’t mean to be pushy, Harry, but Sirius is right. You’re a bit scruffy,”[/I] Harry’s hand almost immediately shot up to his chin once again. The same thoughts from before; when Sirius mentioned it, seemed to replay through his head. When was the last time he shaved? He shrugged, “No, you guys are right. I am getting a bit scruffy.”[/color] His hand left his face, and he returned back to breakfast, listening to Hermione the same time he was taking a bite of her homemade pancakes. ‘Merlin are these delicious!’ were his initial thoughts. Then his mind went to something else; a grin coming to his face.

“Sounds great ‘Mione. Maybe I can show you before we get ready. It’ll give you a nice private room to get ready in anyways.”[/color] he added on, after swallowing and before taking another bite. His eyes closed as he chewed, making him seem almost thoughtful. The grin was still there though; and he was thinking. He was thinking about a way to not have Hermione pay any rent or feel the need to pay for anything in this house. ‘Hm, what if she were to “pay” her rent by making a delicious breakfast everyday? She surely gets up early enough for it…and, knowing her, she won’t stay here doing nothing.’ Harry glanced at Sirius, his eyes seeming to ask the unspoken arrangement about Hermione.

‘Sirius won’t mind, would he? Probably not; Hermione’s cooking is way better than ours any day anyways.’[/color] Shaking the thoughts from his head, Harry turned his attention back to this children. Sirius would be here to take care of them once Hermione finds a job; seeing as he still had Auror training to do. With a sigh, Harry turned towards Sirius, hopefully he won’t mind taking turns with the children. Luna and Ginny might like some time with them too; if Hermione agreed to let them be the Godmothers. “So Sirius, what are ‘ya going to be doing while we visit her parents? Surely not staying here.” his eyes glanced at his Godfather; letting him know that he won’t let Sirius stay in the house while they were gone, all alone. Perhaps Sirius could visit the Weasley’s or something; anything to get him out and not alone. After all, of all people; it was Sirius who never deserved to be alone.