Archive of Our Own

24 December 1979

This wasn't how it usually went. Usually, it was Hermione who played the sober sound of reason. More often that not, she had to be the one to tell Sirius he'd had enough or tuck a quilt in around a passed-out Remus or pass a bucket to a weak-stomached Peter. And James… He was always the loudest, singing at the top of his lungs from table or bar tops, drawing everybody to some rousing rendition of his favourite Beatles song. Tonight, however, she was the one who'd hit the bar harder than usual.

She blamed it on Ed. She hadn't expected to find out her ex-boyfriend was engaged when she joined the Potters at a Christmas party. She wasn't even entirely sure why this was hitting her so hard. She wasn't in love with Ed anymore. Edgar Bones had been her first everything, or nearly anyway. Hard as it was at the time, they had amicably split two and a half years ago. He was graduating Hogwarts then and she still had a year of school left. It made logical sense. They were in different places in life. But now, here she was, a year and a half out of Hogwarts, and her life felt so strange. War was happening all around them and her ex was marrying someone that wasn't her. What if they'd stayed together? Would that be her? Was that what her life was supposed to be now? Instead of Order meetings and Horcrux hunting. Was she supposed to be settling down and starting a family in the middle of a bloody war? That just seemed like poor planning.

It didn't stop her mind from turning the idea over and over until she found herself wondering if she was in a rut. How long would the war go on? Would she always be in this place? Just barely fighting back against Death Eaters and their power-hungry overlord. Constantly under the threat of losing people; friend and stranger alike. Muggleborns were being targeted in greater numbers than ever. Attacks on Muggle neighborhoods were being reported weekly. It was chaos out there. And here she was, attending a Christmas party, toasting her ex-boyfriend's engagement.

Hermione wasn't a sloppy drunk, just a giggly, affectionate one. Which might have been more embarrassing. She preferred to be in full control of her faculties, but that was hard to do when she felt like she was floating around the room. She spun around the dance floor, the room a colorful blur. She'd had plenty of dance requests and she wasn't being particularly discerning about partners. She just wanted to spin and float and forget. She didn't want to think about how much life had changed from the fun, carefree days of Hogwarts. About how she feared when an owl landed in her window and what news it might have brought her. How every Order meeting came with the overwhelming sense of doom. How every mission left her feeling terrified that she or her friends wouldn't return. Who would she mourn next? Remus? Sirius? Dorcas? Mary?

James?

Her stomach fell out and she came to a stumbling stop as her partner spun her away from him, leaving her adrift in a crowd of distracted couples. She wasn't sure who they were and had no interest in searching for whoever's hand she'd been holding a second ago. She stood in the center of a busy dancefloor, her buzz slowly wearing off, replaced by a truth she didn't want to acknowledge.

A hand skimmed along her lower back and a figure appeared in front of her. James, usually the life of the party, loud and proud, stared down at her with a furrowed brow. "All right, Love?"

Hermione tried to smile but her lips trembled. "Think I might need another drink. The fun is wearing off quicker than I want it to."

He hummed, his hand gently rubbing her arm. "Not sure a drink is gonna help with that."

Blinking quickly, she gave her head a shake. "Are you here for a dance? My card was full, but I seem to have lost my most recent partner."

He tugged her closer, until they were chest to chest, and raised her hand, their fingers folding together. "Do you remember in fourth year, when I asked you to be my date to the Yule Ball?"

"And you spent half of it throwing up in the bushes after you and Sirius drank too much Firewhiskey?" She smiled. "All too well."

"Pretty sure that's what Pete's doing currently." He started to move them in a simple pattern. "Mum made me take dancing lessons when I was a boy, but I was always begging off to fly. Had to ask Sirius to teach me. Didn't want to embarrass you."

Hermione shook her head. "You've never embarrassed me."

"No? Not even in sixth when my vanishing charm backfired and me and the boys had to run through the halls bare-arsed."

"Think you embarrassed yourself more than me. You gave McGonagall quite the eyeful too." She shrugged. "It helps that your arse isn't the worst I've seen."

His head fell back as he laughed and when he lifted it, grinning down at her, she felt her heart squeeze. "It was Pete's, wasn't it?"

Hermione scoffed. "I made a point of not looking. It's actually Lucius Malfoy's. Flat as a board."

His brow wrinkled. "When the hell'd you see Malfoy's arse?"

Hermione flapped the hand that had been distractedly fiddling with the collar of his jacket. "Third year. Pandora invited me over. They have a lake and he was skinny dipping with a few of his friends. I've seen more of Malfoy than I ever wanted to see. It's forever burned into my retinas. Did you know he has a tattoo on his—"

James shook his head. "I don't want to know."

Sniffing, she said, "A real best friend would share my traumas with me."

Laughing lightly, he bent and dropped his forehead to hers. "I can share your pain without having to visualize it."

"But can you ever really understand it? I'm convinced half the reason he's such a snob is because he's so uncomfortable. Him and his flat arse. Do you think he uses cushioning charms? It doesn't look nearly so flat when he's wearing clothes. I bet he glamours it. Which is mental, if you think about it."

"The length of this conversation is the most I ever have or will think of Malfoy's arse."

Hermione shrugged, her hand drumming along his shoulder. "Lucky you."

James leaned back and gave her a little spin, twirling her under his raised hand, the other skimming along her back and stomach. When he reeled her in, his fingers were spread along her lower back, thumb rubbing side to side. "You looked upset earlier. I tried to find you after Eddie made his announcement, but you'd disappeared on me."

Turning her gaze out toward the other dancers, Hermione took a moment to gather her thoughts. "I'm not jealous and I'm not still in love with him…"

James squeezed her hand. "But?"

"But… it brought up a lot of questions, I guess. About where I am in life, where I should be, where I want to be… About the war and the future and—" She shook her head. "I'm happy for him. She seems lovely. I just can't help wondering what life might be like if there was no war."

"You think you'd have been the future Mrs. Bones?" James raised an eyebrow, his lips pursed. "Eddie's a good guy. He's smart and I've got nothing against him. But I don't know if he was the one for you."

Hermione tipped her head. "No? He was top of his class. Headboy. He has a great Ministry job and he's trying to do good things with his position. He's kind and funny and smart."

"On paper, he's perfect," James agreed.

"Then why wouldn't he be the one?" She scrunched her nose. "I was heartbroken when we split, but I knew it was for the best. And now… Now I'm wondering if I was right. Or if I should've fought for us. If I want to be in his fiance's shoes."

"Is it Eddie you want or what he represents?"

Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"He's living his life like there isn't a war going on. He's getting married and working in a corrupt Ministry, pushing back against something he'll never be able to overcome, not from there. We both know that the only way this ends is if we find the Horcruxes and Dumbledore puts Him down for good. Eddie's a good man, but he's not fighting on the frontlines. And that's where you were always going to be. You care too much. You wouldn't be able to stand back and hope for the best."

Hermione drew a deep breath. "Maybe I'm tired of caring so much. Maybe I just want something of my own. Something not damaged by this war." She swallowed tightly. "He's not wrong, trying to have something good when everything else is falling apart. We deserve that, don't we?"

"We do," he agreed. "But there has to be balance. You couldn't lay down your wand and walk away any more than I could. That doesn't mean you can't fall in love and build a life. It just means it has to be with the right person. Someone who knows you. Knows how to fight with you against Death Eaters one day and debate magical theory the next. Who can get you to let loose and have a little fun but also knows when to let you raid the library when you've got an idea stuck in your big, brilliant head. And that's not Ed. He was just the first guy to realize how special you are. But he's not the last, not by a mile."

Hermione chewed her lip and stared up at him thoughtfully. "James?"

His thumb stroked down the length of hers. "Hmm?"

"Can we go home? I think I'm finished with this party."

"Sure." He took a quick scan of the room. "I'll let mum and dad know. Meet me at the coat check?"

Hermione nodded.

As he released her and walked away, she watched him go, his tall figure cutting a path through the crowd. And then she took a deep breath and turned on her heel. She wove her way through the dance floor until she reached the edge and made her way out of the main hall to where the check in was. She approached the desk and smiled faintly at the house elf waiting there. "Hello. There's a red peacoat and a black trench back there under J. Potter. Would you mind gathering them, please?"

"Being one minute, Miss." The elf nodded eagerly before popping away.

Hermione shifted her weight from foot to foot as she waited. Now that she was sobering up, she realized the cushioning charms on her shoes had worn off and her toes were feeling pinched.

"Hermione," a voice called out.

Hermione turned to see, of all people, Edgar Bones approaching.

He grinned at her warmly, just as handsome as ever with his tousled red-brown curls and piercing blue eyes. For a moment, she felt like the sixteen-year-old girl who had been utterly mesmerized by him. With a shake of her head, she pasted on a smile. "Ed," she greeted. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." He ducked his head and combed his fingers back through his hair. "I'm the one that proposed but even I'm surprised to be here."

"She seems lovely."

"She is," he agreed. "Just strange to think of myself getting married. Feels like just yesterday I was leaving Hogwarts."

"I know the feeling." Hermione crossed her arms, fingers picking at the crocheted fabric of her sleeves. "Feels like ages ago and yesterday all at the same time."

"War has a strange effect on time." He tucked his hands in the pockets of his trousers. "You and James came together?"

Hermione nodded. "I'm spending Christmas with his family. My parents are taking an extended vacation." If she could call obliviating them and sending them off to Australia with no memory of her a vacation.

"Probably best with all these attacks on Muggles." He paused for a moment. She was familiar with the expression on his face; it meant he was thinking something through before he said what was on his mind. With Ed, he made sure his words had a specific intent before he voiced them. "When I saw you in the crowd, I hesitated for a moment, sharing the news. Not because I thought it'd hurt you. We've been over for some time. But I couldn't help but think back to our relationship and where we were at when we broke up. Before Chelsea, you were the most defining relationship in my life. There was a time when I couldn't imagine being with anyone else. I even held out hope for a while that when you graduated, we'd find our way back together."

Hermione stared up at him, wide-eyed.

"That changed when I met Chelsea. I realized how different I felt with her." He held a hand up quickly. "Not that I didn't value our relationship. I did. But there was always something hanging over it. I tried not to put much stock in rumor, and you never gave me any reason to question things, but reflection has a way of clarifying a situation."

Brow furrowed, she shook her head. "I'm not sure I understand."

"When we dated, it was never just the two of us. Dating you came with the addition of the boys. They were your friends, and they were good blokes. Troublemakers, definitely, but still good people. I was fine with that. They respected our relationship and you never made me feel like I was second to them. But James was always different."

Hermione pursed her lips. "If this is about those rumors that James fancied me—"

"He did," Ed interrupted. "He still does."

Pausing, she shook her head. "James was half in love with Lily Evans through most of Hogwarts. He's my best friend. I think I would know—"

"It's always harder to see when it's up close. With some distance, I think I saw it a little better." Ed half-smiled. "Like I said, I never doubted your feelings. I know you loved me as much as I loved you. But I also know what it is to be in love with you. I know what that looks like. So, I'm pretty confident when I say I wasn't the only one."

A lump formed in Hermione's throat and her gaze fell away for a moment. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because… I know what you look like when you're in love too. And I know how easy it is for you to talk yourself out of something. For as brave as you are, you've always been scared to make the first move. Maybe it's a fear of rejection, I don't know. But I know if you don't get a little push, you'll stay here, wondering 'what if,' instead of gathering up that Gryffindor courage of yours and doing something about it."

"What if you're wrong? I can't risk losing him. He's…" Her brow furrowed. "He knows me."

"That's exactly why you should take the risk. That doesn't come along every day." Ed grinned at her. "It might be selfish of me, wanting you to be as happy as I am, but I figure you deserve it. You were my first love and now I've met my last. I think you have too." He reached out then and took her hand, lifting it to press a kiss to her knuckles. "It was good seeing you, Hermione. I don't know when it'll happen again, so just in case… Have a good life."

Hermione squeezed his hand. "You too."

He stepped away from her then and their hands were slow to part. She stared after him, the weight of his words heavy on her mind.

James appeared then, a hand gently cupping her elbow. "All right?"

Looking up at him, she took a deep breath. "Yeah. Yes. He just… He was just giving me some advice."

He raised an eyebrow, but before he could ask, the elf cleared her throat, drawing their attention to where she was holding up their coats.

"Oh, thank you," Hermione said.

James took her coat from the elf and held it open for her to slide her arms through the sleeves. He donned his own and held an arm out for her to take. Anti-apparition wards meant they would have to step outside to get back to Potter Manor.

"You told your parents?"

He nodded. "Found Sirius and Remus too. Let them know we were heading back. They're going to stick around a while longer. After puking in the rosebushes, Pete took himself home to his mum's."

"Probably for the best. He worries about her when he's gone for too long."

James grimaced. "With the way Pete's been talking about her health, I'm not sure how much longer she'll be around."

"Poor Pete."

They stepped outside and Hermione shivered as the cold winter air bit at her skin. James wrapped an arm around her, drawing her into his warmth as they walked down the sidewalk until they felt the wards give. And then he was side-apparating her back to Potter Manor. They landed in front of the house; a quarter-moon lit the sprawling fields spread out beyond the house. There was a carriage house that had been remodeled into something of a club house. It was filled with plush sofas and armchairs, a washroom, bunk beds, and hanging lamps. There was a bookshelf that James had installed for Hermione that first summer she'd come to visit and wanted something to read while the boys were horsing around. Every subsequent summer had been spent at the Potters except for half of third year, when she joined her parents on a trip to France. Euphemia had insisted that Hermione have her own room and had spent a week designing it with Hermione. It ended up being much more feminine than the rustic bunk beds were with their hand-stitched quilts that Dipsy had made herself. The Potter house was her second home and had been the moment she first arrived. Euphemia and Fleamont had been so welcoming, so eager to meet all of James' friends, and Hermione had quickly become like a daughter to them. She loved them as much as her own parents.

James tugged on her hand, walking toward the main house, but Hermione pulled him toward the carriage house instead. "For old time's sake," she said.

They still hung out in their old club house occasionally, especially when Sirius wanted to discuss Order business. Euphemia and Fleamont weren't officially part of the Order and it seemed safer not to tell them anything that could end up putting them in danger.

When they stepped inside, there was a table covered in her Horcrux research. The lamps blinked to life and, for a moment, she was thirteen years old, and James was showing her the closet with all his brooms and Quidditch gear, going on and on about how they could fly every day and he could show her all the tricks he'd been practicing.

A wooden ladder led to the loft, where the boys' slept; it looked out on the lower floor. Under the loft was a small kitchen with a cupboard of dishes, a fridge, kettle, and pantry. For the most part, Dipsy did all the cooking and kept the fridge stocked with snacks and leftovers. To the right of the kitchen was a washroom and on the left was Hermione's bedroom.

Hermione shrugged her coat from her shoulders as she walked to the table. With a wave of her wand, her research was neatly put away in piles of parchment and books. Potter Manor was unplottable and very few people had any access to it, which was why she often came here to do her research rather than bring it home. If it also meant she got to spend some time with James' parents and Dipsy, she wouldn't complain. Time away from missions and spent with her second family was always treasured, and they made sure to come dig her out from her research to have supper and chat whenever she dropped by.

James had removed his trench coat and suit jacket, laying them both over the back of the sofa as he watched her fiddle.

She was feeling much more sober than she had been a short while ago, but even so, she made her way to the bathroom to grab one of the many sober up potions she'd stocked there for when the boys came home after a night at the pub and wanted somewhere familiar to pass out. She couldn't count on two hands how many times she'd showed up to do research and found a hungover Sirius sleeping in an armchair. She never understood why he folded himself into a chair when the sofas and bunk beds were available, but without fail, he was always found sprawled out on an armchair and woke up complaining that he slept funny.

After using the loo and taking her sober up potion, she stared at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands. It being Christmas Eve was a time for miracles, wasn't it? So, maybe these lingering feelings that she had always been so uncomfortable labelling were due to be shared. Drying her hands on a towel, she took a deep breath and left the bathroom.

James was waiting on her, hands tucked in the pockets of his trousers. Maybe it was a trick of the light or the tailored shirt he was wearing, but his shoulders seemed broader than usual. In rare form, his collar was still buttoned. Usually, he got tired of how stuffy formal clothes could be and would start unbuttoning and loosening things so he always looked just a little dishevelled. It was a look she'd always appreciated; a reflection of who James was. Easy going and casual and an open book in so many ways. Here, now, he looked more polished than usual, and strangely enough, that was just as attractive.

Crossing the room, she hooked a hand around his forearm and tugged him toward her bedroom. She flipped the switch on the wall, turning on the lamp, and kicked her too-tight heels off. She immediately lost a few inches of height, and made her way to the bed, taking a seat on the edge. She spread a hand across the quilt that covered the bed; it was made of various patches of fabric, perfectly matching the white and lilac theme Hermione and Euphemia had gone with for the room.

"Your mum picked out this quilt. She was so excited when we were shopping."

"She always wanted a daughter." James took a seat next to her. The mattress dipped under his weight and she was pressed to him, from knee to shoulder.

There was a window in front of them that looked out on the tall grass of the field. A line of trees made up the left side. The Potter estate was massive, though much of it was just open land. James used to say they could all build houses on it and be next door neighbors for life. She wondered if he still dreamt of that. When they weren't visiting his parents for the hols, James shared a flat with Sirius and Remus. Pete was still living at home, but he spent enough time at the flat that it was his home too. Hermione had her own place. She'd shared it with Dorcas for the first year, but she and Mary were making a real go of it and had moved in together. Hermione had considered getting a new roommate, but instead went with changing the spare room into an office. Much like at the club house, James had installed the bookshelves for her, reaching from floor to ceiling and overflowing with books.

"What was Ed's advice?"

Hermione turned to look at him. The warm glow of the lamp lit his side profile. She admired the crisp white of his button-down, tucked into pressed black slacks. Sometimes she wondered if it was just a pureblood thing, how good he looked in suits. They were tailored, of course, so they streamlined his broad shoulders and lean frame into something that might have seemed intimidating to someone else. Someone that didn't know him so well.

Hermione remembered Euphemia once telling her that fashion was a tool; a shield against scrutiny and a sign of one's status. Hermione had only ever seen clothes as a necessity and tended to prefer whatever was most comfortable. But Euphemia enjoyed shopping and had been eager to help Hermione try out different fashions. Over time, she found it helped with her confidence, making her feel more comfortable in her changing body throughout the years. Hermione wouldn't call herself a fashion expert, but she did have a better eye for what looked good. Then again, James had a way of making anything attractive. She'd seen him in his rattiest joggers and a holey pullover he refused to get rid of and even that looked warm and inviting. Maybe that was just her perception though; she heard his mum complain enough that he should throw those old things out already that it could be just her who appreciated them.

"Believe it or not, he gave me love advice."

"Did he?" He smiled faintly. "Don't tell me he asked you to run away with him."

She knocked her shoulder against his. "Oh, please. Can you really see me running off and eloping with someone on the fly? That's not me at all."

"I think you're a lot more spontaneous than you ever give yourself credit for." He raised an eyebrow. "You befriended a werewolf in your first year after all."

"So did you!"

"Yeah, but I didn't know until second year. You figured it out after a few months and still went out of your way to make friends with him." James grinned. "Even covered his tracks a few times."

Hermione sniffed and fiddled with the hem of her dress. "Rosier and his little cronies were always spreading rumors. No one took them seriously."

"No, but just in case, you made sure Remus had a solid alibi. And I know you snuck into Honeydukes more times than I could count and stole him some chocolate to cheer him up."

"It's not stealing if I leave money behind."

"What about when you made Polyjuice potion for us in third and got turned into a cat?"

Hermione pinched him. "We promised to never speak about that."

He laughed under his breath. "You were a cute cat; you should be proud."

"James!" she groaned. "I don't want to remember any part of that."

"You had a tail." His eyebrows arched humorously. "I won't be forgetting it anytime soon."

"A tail Sirius stepped on. It hurt like hell."

"He tried to pet you after to make up for it."

"Yes, and I hope the Skele-grow he had to take after I broke his hand tasted as awful as he deserved."

"You let me pet you." He nudged her. "Right between your ears."

Hermione sniffed dismissively. "You were gentle."

"I think you purred."

"I did not."

He grinned down at her, his eyes warm and soft and lovely. "What about becoming an Animagus and spending every full moon gallivanting around with a werewolf?"

"That was hardly spontaneous. That took years to get right. And it wasn't my plan. It was yours and Sirius'."

"You went along with it. The firstie I met would've probably had your head if she knew what you went on to do. What was it you said after our first adventure? You followed us when went looking for a troll some Slytherin told us had gotten into the castle. Nearly pissed ourselves when we heard noises coming from that abandoned classroom on the fourth floor. When we got back to the tower, you said the funniest thing." Clearing his throat, he mimicked her (quite poorly, in her opinion, her voice was certainly not that high pitched!), "Now, if you four don't mind, I'm going to bed before you come with another clever idea to get us killed, or worse, expelled."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You'll never let me live that down."

"That line alone was exactly why we became friends."

"Why on Earth would you befriend me when I seemed to be the antithesis of everything you and the boys were up to?"

"If you ask Sirius, it was because no Gryffindor should be that uptight." James grinned. "But I just loved your fire. You were so passionate. You still are. And you never hesitate to do what you think is right, even if it means chasing after a bunch of miscreant boys and possibly fighting a troll."

"All we found in that room was that strange mirror."

"Did you ever look in it?"

Hermione turned to gaze at him thoughtfully. "Yes, but I imagine my greatest desire as an eleven-year-old is wildly different to what it'd be now."

James hummed. "I remember exactly what I saw in first year… And what I saw in seventh."

"You went back?"

Shrugging, he ran a hand through his hair. "Suppose I was curious to see if anything had changed. In first year, I was holding the Quidditch house cup. Seeing as I'd already won that a couple times, I thought the mirror might show me something different."

"The Quidditch world cup," she teased.

"Nah. With the war where it was at, I think I shelved any dreams of professional Quidditch."

Hermione hummed. "Seventh year, you would've been with Lily then. Dream come true."

"Thought so." He clasped his hands together, thumbs rubbing anxiously. "It was a few weeks before graduation and I think I wanted confirmation… It's not uncommon in pureblood families to get engaged shortly after leaving Hogwarts. Think mum was expecting me to come asking to root around the family vaults for a ring."

A weighty feeling filled Hermione's stomach. "I had no idea you were thinking of getting engaged back then." She paused. "I mean, you proposed to her a lot, usually in very grand fashion, where everyone could hear. But that was mostly bluster and you just being, well, the center of attention, as per usual."

He chuckled under his breath. "Sometimes, I was pretty convinced she was it. We'd ride off into the sunset on my best broom and live happily ever after."

Having witnessed the end of James and Lily's relationship, Hermione pressed her shoulder to his in comfort. "And other times?"

"Well, that was where the mirror came in. I thought… if I look in the mirror and Lily's there next to me, then it's meant to be. And if she isn't, then it's time to let go."

"A few weeks before graduation is when you two split up," she realized. "So, an educated guess says she wasn't there."

"No." His gaze fell to the floor. "No, and I should've expected she wouldn't be. If I have to look in a mirror to convince myself, it says something, doesn't it?" He sighed. "I loved Lily. I spent a long time thinking that if she just gave me a chance, we'd be perfect together. And we did work in a lot of ways. I was happy with her. Maybe if I'd never looked in the mirror, we'd still be happy."

Hermione rested her chin on his shoulder. "But you looked."

"I looked." He stared out the window. "What did you see in first year?"

"I saw myself with a perfect academic record, a Head Girl badge, and… and friends. They didn't really have faces then. Later, I imagine they would've become you and the boys, my best friends, still next to me, years later." She took a deep breath. "For as loud and very sure of myself I seemed, I was really quite insecure. I'd never had friends before. I got on better with adults than I did kids my own age, and I was always so focused on grades and learning and proving myself that most didn't want to spend their time with me. It was a bit of a shock when I wound up in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw. I thought for sure they'd all grow to hate me and tell me I'd been sorted wrong." She swallowed tightly. "And then I befriended Remus and you three followed and I found my place. For a while, I was scared that one day I'd do or say something wrong, and it would all fall apart. But even at my swottiest, you stuck around."

"You're one of us." He turned his head to meet her eyes, the tips of their noses brushing. "You always will be."

Hermione swallowed tightly.

The moment hung there, suspended, with neither of them moving forward or back. A tension in the air that she could nearly taste.

And then he'd turned away, blinked, and cleared his throat. "It's late. I should let you sleep." He stood from the bed, a hand flattening down his front. "Christmas tomorrow, Dipsy'll have us up early." He turned to smile at her, his brow furrowed.

Hermione remembered, suddenly, what Eddie had said— For as brave as you are, you've always been scared to make the first move. And— if you don't get a little push, you'll stay here, wondering 'what if.'

So, before he could leave, Hermione reached out. She gripped two of his fingers in her own, and said, no louder than a whisper, "Stay."

He stared at her searchingly, "Hermione…"

Gathering up that Gryffindor courage, the same that knew better than to place her in Ravenclaw, she took a deep breath. "The love advice that Ed gave me… He said that he knew what I looked like when I was in love and that I should take a risk on it before it was too late."

"Did he," he murmured, a statement more than a question.

"He also said he thought you had feelings for me in Hogwarts. Which, I didn't believe, not really. Lily was the love of your life… until she wasn't."

"Ed said a lot." James pressed his lips flat.

"If he was wrong, you can be honest with me. We'll… Even if it's ridiculously embarrassing, I'm sure we can move past it and—"

"Remain friends?"

"Best friends," she whispered. She stood then and tilted her head back to meet the weight of his gaze. "You promised me in fourth year I would have you forever."

"I did, didn't I?"

"I believe your exact words were, 'Hermione Granger, you will never get rid of me. Not for the rest of our lives.'"

"Bit dramatic of me."

She smiled. "Suppose that's part of the appeal."

Humming, he rubbed his thumb along the length of her index finger. "You were upset. Muggles and Muggleborns were being attacked. You thought your parents would pull you out of Hogwarts if they knew. You'd lose your magic and never be allowed to see us again."

"And you told me that could never happen. You said you'd hide me in the club house if you had to."

His mouth inched up. "I was convinced I could, too. Had a plan to funnel lessons to you if the school wouldn't let you come back without their permission."

Her heart swelled. "A plan? I'm impressed."

"That was the first time I'd felt any real impact with the war. It all seemed so strange before that, like it was going on far away from where I was. But then it was hurting you and it became real. I knew if it was still going on when we graduated, there'd be no other choice than to get involved."

"And now, here we are, members of The Order, hunting Horcruxes of all things…" She shook her head. "Hogwarts feels like a lifetime ago."

"Maybe it was. We're not those kids anymore."

"No, not entirely. But they are where we started. We're not so innocent or sheltered, but the core of us is still the same. Brave, loyal, protective, loving. I don't need a Sorting Hat to tell me that. I see it in you every day."

He stared at her a long beat before wondering, "What else do you see in me?"

"I… I see a man. A man who would do anything for the people he loves. Who never retreats, never lets his fear control him. Who is ridiculously stubborn and confident and rather cocky. Who grew from a reckless little boy into a strong, brilliant, utterly charming man. A man that's never let me down. Who has always treated me as his equal. A man I admire and trust and who…"

He brushed a few stray curls back from her cheek. "Who…?"

"Who I love."

He swallowed, his gaze searching hers. "Love how?"

"As my best friend, my family, my… my partner in all things."

The tips of his fingers trailed behind her ear and down her neck. "Do you love me like you love Sirius and Remus and Pete? Like mum and dad or Dorcas and Mary? Or do you love me like a witch loves a wizard? Like a woman loves a man? Like I love you."

"And how do you love me then?" She raised her chin stubbornly. "What do you see when you look at me?"

"The most frustratingly wonderful witch I have ever met." Grinning, James shook his head. "You are kind and brilliant and so very annoying when you know you're right, which is almost always. I see a witch who has fought for me and with me from the moment I met her. Who has challenged me to be the best version of myself; someone I can be proud of, someone she can be proud of… I see the first witch I ever kissed as a- a silly little boy who was all ears and elbows and wanted to know what it felt like because Sirius wouldn't stop bragging that he'd snogged Clarissa Greengrass. I see that bossy little girl who would have rather died than be expelled and who would have fought a troll if we'd found one. A girl I've loved since I was fifteen, even if I never knew what it was I felt. Not until I looked into a mirror and you were standing there next to me and I'd never seen anything look so right." He cupped the nape of her neck, his thumb rubbing circles beneath her ear. "A woman I am madly, desperately in love with."

"You never said. I couldn't have guessed." She shook her head. "Fifteen?"

"I was a bit slow on the uptake. Took me a while to figure out that how I felt about you wasn't the same as the others. Then I told myself it'd fade. You were with Ed and I still fancied Lily. By the time you and Ed were over, Lily gave me a chance. And I convinced myself those feelings weren't still there. But I had to know for sure. So, I used the mirror. I figured it would be honest even if I couldn't be with myself. And when I saw you, I knew it wasn't right to stay with Lily. She deserved better." He half-smiled. "Hurt like hell to let her go. I loved her. Just not enough. Not as much."

Hermione swallowed. "And ever since?"

"Didn't think you felt the same. Thought I was like a brother to you. We've all been so close for so long, I didn't think you'd ever see me different than the rest of them."

"You've always been different. You're all my best friends, but you… You're James. You've always set yourself a part." She smiled slowly. "I've always felt something for you, I just never really took the time to define it. But tonight, when we were dancing, you said that I deserved to be with someone who saw me, and I realized… That's you. You've always seen me. At my best and worst, you've always known exactly who I am. And then Ed was telling me not to be a coward and… I realized if I don't say it now, I might never say it."

He grinned, slow and smug. "Then say it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I love you. I'm in love with you. And… I see you too."

"Was that so hard?"

Huffing, Hermione frowned up at him. "Says the man who waited—"

James dipped his head down and kissed her.

It wasn't like the kiss they shared when they were thirteen years old, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the club house, their knobby knees pressed together. Close-mouthed and tentative, worried about whether their lips were chapped or their breath smelled, counting to ten in their heads. They'd come a long way from those innocent, inexperienced children.

This kiss was firm and confident. He kissed her with the certainty of someone who knew his mouth would fit precisely with her own. And so it did. His arm wound around her waist and pulled her in until she was standing on the tips of her toes. Her hands slid up his front, fingertips pressed down against his firm chest. If his shirt wasn't so fitted, she might've had fabric to latch onto and pull him closer. His tongue dragged along her bottom lip as he bent, tightened his grip around her, and lifted her right off her feet. She let out a little gasp as her legs dangled. She could feel him grinning, chest rumbling with a laugh. She buried her fingers in his hair and nuzzled his nose. Tilting her head, she sucked his lip between her teeth, biting down gently. He stared down at her through thick, inky eyelashes and he reached for the many pins holding her hair in place, plucking them out and tossing them toward the bedside table. Her hair fell, riotous curls heavy at her back. He combed his fingers through it, cradling her head.

Hermione hitched a leg around his waist, hampered slightly by her dress. She slid a hand down his neck as she kissed him, her fingers unbuttoning the collar of his shirt. She could feel him swallow as her fingers moved to the next button in line. She broke from his lips to drag her mouth along the line of his jaw and scraped her teeth against the patch of skin just under his ear. Button by button of shirt opened until she reached his trousers, and then she was pulling the fabric up from under them. His hand slid along her leg and under her dress, flexing on the underside of her thigh. She kissed down his neck, nipping and sucking as she went.

James brought her to the edge of the bed and lowered her until she was perched on her knees. He reached for the hem of her dress and searched her eyes. Hermione raised her arms above her head and he took the cue to pull her dress up her body. His fingers trailed along her skin as her dress climbed higher and higher. When it passed her head, she ducked down and brought her arms through. He tossed the dress to the side and his gaze fell down, taking her in.

She was glad she wore her favorite bra with its scalloped lace edges. Though, she had a feeling if she were wearing a potato sack, he'd be staring at her the same. She reached behind herself to unclasp her bra and shrugged the straps from her shoulders. He reached out and caught them as they dangled delicately against her arms. He tucked the straps down, knuckles dragging down the lengths of her arms, and then swung her bra around one finger, grinning as he let it fly off to join her dress. She bit her lip as she smiled up at him, feeling warm and floaty and excited. She caught the ends of his shirt and tugged on them.

"Now you." She reached for the cufflinks on his right wrist while he undid the other with his teeth. That shouldn't have been nearly as attractive as it looked. And then his shirt was drifting to the floor and her fingers were working his trousers open, pushing them off his hips. He caught her neck in his hand and pulled her up as he bent low, kissing her and leaning her back against the bed. He left her mouth to press a kiss to her neck and the valley of her breasts and just above her navel, and then she could feel his hot breath through the thin fabric of her knickers. She buried her fingers in his hair, combing it back from his face. He rested his chin on her mound, kneeling at the edge of the bed, and stared up the length of her body.

His eyes were darker, cheeks flushed, and lips plump from kissing. His glasses were sliding down the length of his nose before he plucked them off and tossed them toward the bedside table haphazardly. And then he was dipping his chin down, nuzzling his nose against her through her knickers. With her legs spread to accommodate the width of his shoulders, there was little to hide. Though, at this point, he was seeing more of her than he ever had before. It was an intimacy she had only shared with a few people, and one she was eager to have with him.

He licked a strip up the center of her pussy, the weight and warmth of his tongue felt through the fabric. With an impressive bit of non-verbal, wandless magic, he vanished her knickers from her while his tongue was just reaching her clit. She might've praised him for how far he'd come since the (backfired) vanishing pants act back in sixth year, but with his tongue circling and flicking her clit, the only praise she could manage was his name in a husky whine. He cupped one hand under her arse, lifting her up to meet his mouth, while the other climbed her body, the tips of his fingers skimming across her skin from her navel to her breastbone.

Hermione chewed her bottom lip raw, rocking her hips against his mouth. She wanted more, faster, harder, but he seemed happy to take his time. He sucked on her, tongue circling and stroking, nose grazing her clit. His fingers trailed across her breast, teasing around her nipple.

"James, please."

He turned his head and pressed a sucking kiss against her inner thigh. "Please what? Use your words."

Hermione groaned. "I need more."

"Sounds greedy. After all, you pointed out how very patient I've been, waiting all this time. Patience is a virtue and all that." He licked a stripe up her thigh and scraped his teeth against her hip. "I could keep you just like this for a while. Pull you apart with my tongue and my fingers." He slid his hand out from under her arse and let his thumb circle her pussy. "Would you like that?"

She let out a strangled noise, her toes curling.

He sunk his thumb into her and pressed a soft kiss just above her clit. "You look so good like this. Better than anything my head could've cooked up. And I get to have you, taste you, fuck you, for as long as you'll let me… How long d'you reckon that'll be? Hmm?" He turned his hand, framing her pussy, his thumb still dipping in and out of her slowly. He dragged his tongue up the length of her slit. "How long did I say you'd have me?"

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed thickly. "Forever."

"That's right." He slid his thumb out and smiled at her unhappy whine, only to replace it with his much longer forefinger. Her back arched off the bed and she let out an impatient huff. "How's forever sound?"

"Currently?" Her chest heaved as she drew in a shaky breath. "Frustrating."

He chuckled. "I don't know. The build up's half the fun." Before she could argue with him, he added a second finger, and wrapped his lips around her clit. This time, he wasn't going slow or teasing. Instead, he gave her what she wanted—faster, harder. She gripped his hand, nestled between her breasts, so hard that her nails bit tiny crescent moons into his skin. She felt impossibly warm; waves of heat flashing across her from head to toe. Her lungs burned each time she accidentally held her breath, so focused on the flick of his tongue and the rhythmic slide of his fingers. And then she was falling over the edge into a climax that had her arched off the bed, her thighs shaking and a hoarse, cracked cry leaving her throat. Boneless, she dropped; a lingering buzz left her feeling floaty and just plain good.

James climbed to his feet and picked her up, shifting her on the bed so her head was on the pillows. Tossing the rest of his clothes, he climbed up next to her and sprawled out, head propped on one hand, staring down at her with a very smug grin.

Hermione hummed. "You look very proud of yourself."

"I am. For good reason, I think."

She raised an eyebrow. "You were all right."

He snorted. "I was better than all right." He reached between her thighs and pressed the heel of his palm down against her clit. "Unless you'd like me to go again. I'd make it last much longer if you weren't so impatient."

Hermione let out a low groan and covered his hand against her. "I was not impatient. Your tongue was going to cramp if you kept up that pace."

His head fell back as he laughed and she watched his shoulders shake with it. "Do you want to test your theory or not? I'm happy to."

Hermione pressed her lips together to hide a smile. "Maybe later. I have other ideas."

"Oh? And what would those be?"

She pulled their joint hands up and folded them together, tugging on his hand and stretching her arm out to the side. "Come here."

"I'm about as close as I can get."

"I think you can get closer."

"Suppose I can only try." He shifted until he was hovering over her, his knees wedged beneath her thighs, her spread legs hitched over his hips. "How's that?"

She slid a hand between them, her knuckles dragging from his chest down to his cock. Her fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking slowly, thumb circling the tip. "I think you can do better. And I expect your very best."

James' jaw flexed before he ducked down to kiss her, his hand reaching down and wrapping around her own. Together, they guided the head of his cock inside her, and then her hand was hooked around his ribs. He pressed her clit between the knuckles of two fingers as he sunk into her. His tongue dragged across hers as her mouth fell apart on a hitched breath. Oh, he felt so good... She hugged an arm around him, fingertips digging into his shoulder, feeling his back flex as he rocked himself into her. He cradled her head, kissing her open mouth and her chin and dragging his teeth down her neck.

Hermione pulled her knees back and scraped her nails down his skin. His mouth found her breast, tongue swirling around her nipple, and his knuckles squeezed her clit. A wave of pleasure rippled through her and she knew, much more of that and she was going to be falling apart all over again. He slid his mouth over to the opposite breast and nuzzled his face against it. The faint stubble of his cheeks tickled her skin.

Gripping the hair at the nape of his neck, she said, "Can we roll over? I want to be on top."

James laughed lightly against her breast. "What happened to me showing you my best performance?"

"This is a group project," she panted. "Currently, scoring is leaned in your favor."

Shaking his head, he leaned back and, with some maneuvering, managed to get himself on his back with her seated on top of him, all without pulling out.

"Now you're just showing off," she muttered.

Sliding his hands from her knees to her hips, he shrugged. "I am attempting to sell you on a lifetime commitment here."

"I don't have any plans to trade you in." Hermione started circling her hips and lifting herself off him.

James hissed, his head digging into the pillow.

Leaning forward, she planted her hands on his chest and hooked her feet over his thighs. That felt better. She had some leverage and found it much easier to rock herself forward and back.

He looked good like this, laid out beneath her, staring up at her with raw, undisguised love and passion, adoration and desire. Lust was easy to come by and it served its purpose. Sex could be just as good, with or without an emotional attachment. But there was an intensity that came with sharing that part of herself with someone she knew loved her. Someone who knew her in ways nobody else did.

It was strange to look back on their history and not realize what had been brewing all along. She'd always known, objectively, that James was handsome. But she was always so quick to dismiss that as just an observation of fact. Here, with his skin flushed pink, dark hair spilling across his forehead, his teeth scraping across his bottom lip, his arms and stomach flexing, hazel eyes bouncing from her face to her chest to where he slid inside her, there was something more primal about it. She wanted to sink her teeth into him and never let go.

She had every intention of dragging it out for him just like he had for her. And for a little while, she did just that. She took it nice and slow, luxuriating in the way his hands rubbed and squeezed her thighs, fingertips digging into her skin whenever she clenched around his cock. She bent over him, pressing lingering kisses from his navel to his chin. She pulled his hands up and pinned them to the pillow on either side of his head, and kissed from one ear to the other, following the line of his jaw as she went. She kissed his dimples and his chin and the furrow of his brow, and the tip of his nose, and she hovered, just short of his lips as she held him right on the edge of climax, slowing her hips to a stop.

He loosened his hands from hers, buried one at the nape of her neck, and yanked her in for a kiss. His other hand folded around her arse and gripped it tightly. "I take back what I said. Let's do slow later. Right now, I want to fuck you so hard you can't feel your toes."

Hermione bit his lip. "Then fuck me."

She quickly found herself on her knees with him fucking into her from behind. And this, oh, this felt right in a whole other way. His hand slid up her back and held her neck, his other hand between her thighs, fingers circling her clit. And there was nothing slow about this; nothing gentle or soft. It was just his cock filling her over and over, his thighs slapping against hers, and her fingers white-knuckling the blanket as she took it. She shouted his name as she came; eyes squeezed shut and mouth ajar. She felt her entire body tense before it abruptly let go. He wasn't far behind her, gripping her hips tight as he ground against her. Absently, she appreciated the practicalities of month-long contraception potions.

He collapsed against her back, panting against her shoulder, before he turned them onto their sides. He slid out of her, her arse still cradled against his hips. Kissing her shoulder, he pulled her hair together, lifting it up and away. For a few minutes, they were just damp, overheated skin and heavy breathing. And then she turned herself over onto her back and reached a hand up, palm pressed to his cheek. "Outstanding, Mr. Potter."

He laughed, his nose brushing her temple. "Same to you, Miss Granger."

"Obviously," she said in her most haughty voice.

Kissing her cheek, he asked, "Shower?"

"Mm. In a minute. My knees are a bit wobbly."

It was a few minutes before she managed to get herself up and follow him to the washroom. By the time they returned to bed, scourgifying any mess from the blankets, it was well after midnight. She sprawled out, half on top of him, her head on his shoulder and her arm around his waist as she snuggled in to get some sleep.

James' fingers combed her hair back from her face as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Merry Christmas."

Kissing his chest, she hummed, "Merry Christmas."

…

25 December 1979

Dipsy clapped at them to wake them up. The sun coming in through the window suggested she might've left them for last.

"Up, up, presents and breakfast is waiting," Dipsy announced. "Everybody else already waiting. Master James and Miss Mione is taking the longest. Very rude."

James cracked an eye open and squinted at her. "Message received, Dipsy."

"Dipsy be back if you don't get up. Dipsy bring spatula and smack Master James."

"Only me, huh? I see who your favorite is."

Dipsy put her hands on her hips and raised her chin rather haughtily. "Miss Mione always listens to Dipsy. Miss Mione is smart."

He laughed. "Can't argue there."

Hermione raised her head, her hair likely a holy terror, and smiled sleepily. "We're up, Dipsy. We won't be long now. Thank you."

Dipsy nodded shortly before disappearing with a snap of her fingers.

Drawing a deep breath, James pulled the blanket up higher over them. "Five more minutes."

"Absolutely not. She just said I listen. I'm not about to disappoint her."

"See, that's how she gets you. It's a manipulation technique."

Hermione rolled her eyes and pinched his side. "Come on. Everybody's already waiting. And I spent a lot of time picking out presents. I'm most excited about your mum's. I really think she's going to love it."

"I'm pretty sure you already gave her the best Christmas gift she could ask for."

Hermione's nose wrinkled. "I hardly think shagging her son counts."

He snorted. "I meant dating me, but that fits too."

Flipping the blanket off herself, she sat up on the side of the bed. "Are we telling them then? Right away?"

"Did you want to wait a bit?"

"No." Hermione shrugged and made her way to the dresser. She usually slept inside the house these days, so some of the clothes in the clubhouse were outdated, but there was a pair of pajamas that would do the job. Getting dressed, she found her old robe and shrugged that on too. There was a chill in the air and, though she knew the fireplace would be going, layers felt appropriate. It suddenly felt very obvious that she and James had slept together, and she wasn't completely sure how their friends and family were going to react.

"You're overthinking." James slid off the bed and ran a hand through his hair. How he could look so good while tousled she had no idea. She had to spell her hair into a braid and even then, she was sure it would break itself free in an hour or so. Her hair defied nature at every turn. So did his, but he managed to make it look charming.

"Do you think they'll be happy for us?" She chewed her lip. "Or worried that it might not work? I swear, if Sirius makes some Yoko Ono joke—"

James wrapped his arms around her, noticeably naked against her many layers. "First of all, you're a part of the band, so that hardly fits. And second of all, they'll be happy for us. They love us. Some of them are probably expecting it."

Hermione nodded. "You're right."

"A Christmas miracle."

She swatted him. "Will you put clothes on? You're running out of time before Dipsy returns with her spatula."

"Mm, good point. If I'm getting spanked by anyone, I don't want it to be Dipsy."

Hermione smothered a laugh.

James gathered up his clothes from the night before because— "I'm not climbing that ladder naked and the clothes in the loft are probably too small."

They made their way back to the main house, thankfully avoiding a vengeful Dipsy.

"James? Hermione? We're in the den, Loves," Euphemia called. "Sirius is being quite impatient about opening presents."

James cast a glance at the stairs. He'd obviously hoped to take a minute to change into something more comfortable.

She nudged his hip. "Go on. I'll let them know."

He kissed the top of her head before hurrying up the stairs.

Hermione made her way down the hall and into the den. As expected, Dipsy had set out a veritable buffet. Sirius and Remus were sitting on a sofa, plowing through their stacked plates. A half-asleep Peter was sitting cross-legged in an armchair, scooping large bites of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

"Good morning," Hermione greeted. "Merry Christmas." She crossed the room to kiss Euphemia's cheek and hug Fleamont.

"Morning, Poppet." Fleamont grinned. "Best get some breakfast before the boys eat it all."

Hermione smiled. "Sorry I'm late." She made her way over to start filling a plate. "How was the rest of the party last night?"

"Good. We ran into a few friends. Poor Peter had to go home early, but Sirius and Remus seemed to have fun. If you call Sirius changing the champagne fountain to a chocolate fountain."

"Moony loved it," Sirius said cheerfully.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione said, "To be fair, that sounds quite tame for Sirius."

"He also convinced two witches to wrestle in the chocolate," Remus murmured.

"That's less tame," she mused, shaking her head.

"I only provided an opportunity," Sirius argued. "What a witch chooses to do is completely up to her. Bodily autonomy and all that. I respect women enough to support their decision to wrestle in whatever they like. Chocolate, custard, mud. I believe in equal opportunity wrestling."

Sighing, Hermione scooped some strawberries onto her plate. "I can't say I'm disappointed to have missed it."

"With any luck, it'll be a yearly event." Sirius winked at her. "Feel encouraged to join in, Kitten. But be forewarned, I don't play favorites. You'll have to win on your own merit."

"What a persuasive pitch, but I think I'll pass."

"Don't decide now, you've got a whole year to work on your wrestling skills."

"What're you on about?" James entered the room then, an eyebrow raised as he crossed to the buffet.

"Sirius hosted a wrestling competition in liquid chocolate, wants it to be an annual event," Hermione explained.

"Ah. Well, he's nothing if not creative." Standing at her back, he reached over her shoulder to heap a handful of sausages, three slices of melon, and a couple hard-boiled eggs onto her plate. When she frowned at him, he winked back and popped a large strawberry into his mouth.

Plate weighed down by far too much food, Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You're perfectly capable of making your own."

He grinned. "Where's the fun in that?"

Snorting, she made her way over to the remaining sofa and took a seat.

James flopped down next to her and hugged an arm around her waist, pulling her over until she was leaned against him. Legs tucked up on the seat next to her, Hermione balanced her plate between their laps and handed him a fork as she picked up a piece of melon. Biting it in half, Hermione asked, "Who won?"

Sirius blinked at her and then glanced at James. "Huh?"

"The wrestling competition. Who won?"

"Oh." Sirius shrugged. "No idea. Didn't recognize the witches."

Remus sighed. "Urcasia Parkinson."

"Right, her." Sirius waved a thumb at Remus and then squinted at Hermione and James. "What's this then? Did Jamesy finally declare his most ardent love for the swottiest Marauder?"

Hermione accepted the strawberry James passed her before saying to Sirius, "He did."

Euphemia perked up in her seat, her eyes wide and hopeful. "Are you two an item then? See, Fleamont, I told you they'd figure it out."

Fleamont chuckled. "I didn't say they wouldn't, dear, only that they were taking so long we might not be around to see it."

"Oi, none of that on Christmas." Sirius frowned. "You're both healthy as a horse. You've got at least another century in you."

"Another?" Euphemia scoffed. "Just how old you think I am?"

"I plead the fifth." Sirius nudged Remus. "Change the subject before I get hexed."

Remus sat forward on the couch. "Congratulations," he said to James and Hermione. "Think I might have to agree with Fleamont though; you dragged your feet long enough."

Hermione scrunched her nose. "Just how long have you lot been aware there were feelings?"

"First year," Euphemia said, just as Sirius and Remus said, "Third year."

"First?" James' brows hiked. "That early?"

Euphemia grinned. "Oh, you should've heard how excited you were when you talked about her. 'Hermione's so brilliant' and 'Hermione could take on a troll all by herself, I bet' and 'Hermione's favorite book is Hogwarts: A History.' It was darling."

A noticeable pink flush suffused James' face.

"And then she came to visit for the summer after second year. That was when Walburga still wouldn't let Sirius visit and Remus' dad was worried about people finding out about his affliction. So, it was just you two, and you spent weeks trying to get her up on your broom. Oh, you were convinced that as soon as she got up there, she'd realize how wonderful it was. You promised to fly her to the moon if she'd just give it a chance."

"Huh. I didn't even notice anything different until fifth year."

Sirius snorted. "Are you kidding? In third year, when she was using that time turner she wasn't allowed to tell us about, you nearly had a conniption. You were so worried about how stressed she was, you put her on bed rest."

"Total overreaction," Hermione muttered. "I had it perfectly under control."

James squinted at her, unconvinced. "We're not having that debate again. If I remember correctly, I won."

"You made a compelling argument at the time."

Remus snorted. "He threatened to find a way to ward you from entering the library."

Hermione frowned. "Which was very compelling."

Shaking his head, James rubbed her arm. "Well, at least they're all on board with it."

"Absolutely," Euphemia said, nodding. "I've had the color scheme for the wedding planned for years. We'll have it here, of course. The field would be lovely, lit up with floating lanterns. Late spring or early summer would be best, weather wise." She turned to Fleamont. "We should go through the family jewelry, dust off some of the older pieces. And James will need to go through the rings. There are so many to pick from."

"Best to visit Gringotts next weekend, when the holiday rush has passed a little," Fleamont told her, patting her hand.

Hermione turned wide eyes on James. "Wedding?"

Not the least bit surprised, or worried, he shrugged. "She did say she saw something there since first year. It's been a long time coming for her." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the apple of her cheek and then her neck, just below her ear. "And I did promise forever."

Hermione's heart squeezed and her face softened. "What happened to all that patience?"

"Used it all up, I'm afraid."

"We haven't even had a real first date."

"Tomorrow. I'll take you anywhere you like." He stared at her searchingly, an earnest certainty clear in his eyes. "Doesn't have to be this coming spring. We can take another year, get settled, if you need to be sure. But I think we both know where it's headed."

She did, of course. She'd known James since she was eleven years old. There wasn't a man alive she didn't know better. And even though they were just beginning, she was quite certain of where it would lead. That didn't mean she wouldn't like to explore this new stage of their relationship a little more until they vowed a lifetime together. They would take their time, as much or as little as they wanted.

"Tomorrow," she said, staring up at him.

James kissed her temple and her cheek and nuzzled against her shoulder.

Hermione's eyes fell to half-mast as she leaned into him.

Sirius suddenly clapped his hands. "All right, enough of the mushy stuff. Bring on the presents!"

Rolling her eyes affectionately, Hermione shook her head. "It's your turn to hand them out."

"Is not," he complained. "I distinctly remember doing it last year."

"No, last year was Remus' turn but he was taking too long, so you gathered up your own and hoarded them in the corner."

"I can't be held accountable for Remus' lack of initiative."

"No, but you also can't take responsibility for what he did." She pointed at the tree. "Go on. Hand everyone's out."

Sighing, loud and grumpy, Sirius dragged himself from the couch and made his way to the tree, where he petulantly threw Peter and Remus' gifts in their direction. He was much gentler with Euphemia and Fleamont's, but he also definitely threw one at James that he was hoping would hit him in the head, only to have him duck at the last minute.

All in all, Hermione couldn't ask for a better Christmas.