Chapter Text
The Marauder dorm was unusually quiet for a change, the tension hanging thick in the air as the group mulled over their plan for the Christmas full moon. Hermione and James had joined the Marauders after dinner, and now they were seated around the room—Sirius sprawled across his bed, Remus sitting cross-legged on the floor, and Hermione leaning against James, her legs tucked under her as they sat on what used to be his bed in the dorm. Peter had already gone home on the train with everyone else a few days prior.
“So, Shack or no Shack tomorrow?” James asked, breaking the silence. “We need to decide.”
Remus shifted uncomfortably. “I’m fine either way. You lot know the risks as well as I do.”
Hermione frowned. “I still think the Shack is the safest option. It’s contained, and it reduces the risk of... anything happening.”
“Anything happening, like Moony getting too wound up and injuring himself,” Sirius cut in, “because he’s stuck inside for two consecutive full moons?”
Hermione hesitated. “Well, I mean—”
“It’s a valid point,” Sirius said, sitting up and fixing her with a sharp look. “He gets restless in there. You’ve seen it.”
Hermione nodded reluctantly. “I know. That’s why... maybe you’re right. If we take him out, it might help him feel less trapped, which could reduce the risk of injury in one aspect, but raises it in other factors. You know it’s a lot more dangerous out there.”
“We’ve managed before,” Sirius said firmly. “Plenty of times.”
“Not every time was smooth sailing,” Hermione pointed out, her tone clipped. “And if anything happens, he might not be fit for Apparition the next day. Do you really want him stuck in the Hospital Wing for the entirety of Christmas?”
The room fell silent again, everyone avoiding Remus’s gaze as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Finally, Sirius made a face, his lips pressing into a thin line.
Hermione, ever observant, caught the shift in his expression immediately. She straightened, narrowing her eyes. “What?”
“What what?” Sirius asked, feigning ignorance.
“You made a face,” Hermione said sharply. “You’re hiding something. What happened during the last full moon?”
Sirius shrugged nonchalantly, but the others’ sudden discomfort confirmed Hermione’s suspicions. “Sirius,” Hermione pressed, her voice firmer now, “what happened?”
Sirius sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Fine, fine. We took him out, alright? So this wouldn’t be a second consecutive indoor full moon.”
Hermione’s jaw dropped. “You what? ”
“We took Moony out,” Sirius repeated, his tone defensive but unapologetic. “And guess what? He was fine. We didn’t need you or Prongs babysitting us. I kept him under control.”
“You promised to keep him in the Shack!” Hermione exclaimed, scandalised. “I wrote to you specifically about this, Sirius!”
Sirius scoffed. “And we did keep him in for the first portion of the night. But he was getting too wound up. It’s better for him to get some fresh air than to tear himself apart in frustration.”
“You took a risk!” Hermione retorted, standing up now, her eyes blazing.
“And it paid off,” Sirius said, meeting her glare head-on. “You’re acting like we went gallivanting into Hogsmeade or something. We didn’t. Wormtail scouted ahead, I stayed with Moony, and we kept to the forest. Nothing happened. We managed just fine.”
James, who had been silent for most of the argument, raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You really managed him on your own?”
Sirius nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Yeah. It’s easier, actually, when there aren’t so many distractions, like an overeager stag running into tree branches. No offense to you lot, but Moony focuses better with just one large Animagus around. Wormtail ran the logistics—managing the Willow and keeping an eye out.”
James winced at that jab but stayed silent, letting Hermione and Sirius hash it out.
Hermione opened her mouth to argue again but stopped, realising Sirius wasn’t entirely wrong. Her mind churned, replaying the logistics of what he’d said. Fewer distractions, fewer people, variables to manage. If Sirius had truly been focused entirely on Moony, it might have been safer than their usual full-moon outings with the whole group.
“Okay,” she said finally, her tone softer but still serious. “Maybe it worked last time. But what if something had gone wrong? You’d have no backup, Sirius. If Moony had turned on you, or run off, or if Wormtail couldn’t manage the knot in time—”
“But he didn’t,” Sirius said quickly, meeting her gaze. “I’m not saying it’s foolproof, but we know what we’re doing by now. And if Moony gets a chance to stretch out and run, he’ll be in much better shape the day after tomorrow. You don’t want him too weak to Apparate, right?”
Remus, who had been quietly observing from the corner of the room, finally spoke up. “I hate to say it, but Sirius has a point,” he said, his voice calm but tired. “Being cooped up in the Shack leaves me stiff and more likely to pull something during the transformation. Running does help.”
Hermione glanced at him, her frown deepening. “Remus, I don’t want you getting hurt. We have to balance the risks here.”
“Which is exactly what we were doing,” Sirius said, leaning forward. “The forest was safe enough. I kept Moony moving, Peter handled the knot, and we stayed close to the Shack. Minimal risk, maximum benefit.”
James finally chimed in, his hazel eyes flicking between Hermione and Sirius. “Look, Pads, I trust you, but I’ll feel a lot better if both Hermione and I are there this time. Especially since Peter is not here. Moony’s transformations are harder during the winter. If something does go wrong, I’d rather be there to help.”
Sirius sighed but nodded. “Fair enough. I get it. But just so we’re clear, it’s not as reckless as Hermione thinks. And I’m not going to stop taking care of Moony if I think it’s what’s best for him.”
Hermione’s indignation softened into reluctant acceptance. “Alright,” she said, her voice quieter. “I trust you, Sirius. Just... next time, let me know what’s happening. We’re all in this together.”
Sirius grinned, the tension breaking slightly. “Deal, Kitten. But don’t get too used to me being responsible. I have a reputation to maintain.”
Remus snorted softly, shaking his head. “I’d say that ship sailed years ago.”
The room relaxed as the debate wound down, though Hermione still resolved to keep a close eye on Sirius during the full moon. It seemed that, despite her frustration, they were all learning how to balance risk with trust—and how far they were willing to go to keep their makeshift family safe.
The full moon rose high over the castle, its pale light spilling through the broken slats of the Shrieki
ng Shack as Hermione, James, and Sirius readied themselves. The air felt heavy, charged with the anticipation of what was to come. James gave Hermione a reassuring nudge before transforming into Prongs, his antlers gleaming in the moonlight. Hermione followed immediately, shrinking into her sleek white ermine form, her black-tipped tail flicking nervously. Padfoot was the last to transform, shaking out his fur with a soft huff as he moved closer to the door separating them from Moony.
The sounds of the transformation began in the next room—bones cracking, deep, guttural growls, and the scrape of claws against the floor. Even though they’d seen it countless times, it never got any easier. Padfoot let out a quiet, almost mournful whine, and Prongs shifted restlessly, pawing at the floor.
Finally, the door burst open, and Moony stepped through, his amber eyes glowing as he scanned the room. The werewolf’s body was taut with energy, his nostrils flaring as he took in the scents of the three Animagi before him. For a tense moment, he stood frozen, his posture alert, but then something shifted.
Moony’s ears perked up as his gaze landed on the stag and the ermine. He padded forward slowly, his massive form looming but not threatening. He stopped in front of Hermione first, lowering his head to sniff at her, and then gave her a gentle nudge with his nose. Her tiny form wobbled slightly before she darted forward, weaving around his legs in an almost playful motion.
Prongs stepped closer, lowering his antlers in a friendly gesture. Moony let out a low, rumbling huff—almost a sound of relief—and responded by snapping lightly at the stag’s antlers in mock play. Padfoot, not one to be left out, barked softly and bounded over, his tail wagging as he nudged Moony’s shoulder.
The werewolf didn’t pace restlessly or look toward the door as he sometimes did when the urge to roam took hold. Tonight, he seemed utterly content to stay within the Shack, surrounded by his pack. His movements were less erratic, more measured, as if their presence had calmed something restless inside him.
For the next hour, they played in a way that only their Animagi forms allowed. Padfoot rolled onto his back, batting playfully at Moony’s massive paws as the two wrestled with a kind of unspoken understanding, their movements careful but exuberant. Prongs stood watch, his imposing antlers gleaming in the moonlight, but he wasn’t idle—occasionally stepping in to nudge Moony gently when his play with Padfoot threatened to grow too boisterous. Meanwhile, the ermine darted nimbly around their legs, chirping softly and weaving in and out of the action with quick, playful dashes.
For all their worry and debate, it became clear after a while that Moony wasn’t inclined to go out of the Shack at all this time. He barely glanced at the door, his focus entirely on his pack. It was as though the wolf had been waiting for this—for them.
In his wolfish way, Moony seemed to bask in their presence, his body language relaxed. He nudged Prongs’s flank with his nose and leaned into Padfoot’s playful paw swats, all the while keeping an eye on the tiny ermine that zipped around him.
It wasn’t just relief in the werewolf’s posture; it was happiness. As though a missing piece of his full moon ritual had finally returned. Hermione and James, it seemed, weren’t just part of the pack—they were integral to it. Their absence had been felt, and now that they were back, Moony seemed utterly content to stay inside, enjoying the reunion with quiet satisfaction.
For once, there was no frantic pacing or restless lunges toward the door. Moony didn’t seem to care about the forest beyond the Shack or the freedom it might offer. His pack was here, and that was all he needed. At least for this moon. They knew from experience that Moony got easily bored and restless, but there was more to him than just feral instincts.
As the first rays of dawn broke through the cracked windows of the Shrieking Shack, the room was quiet save for the soft breathing of the four figures lying on the battered floor. The transformations had finished, leaving behind the human forms of Remus, James, Hermione, and Sirius, all too exhausted to move at first. The remnants of the full moon’s energy lingered faintly, but the tension of the night had melted into a peaceful calm.
Hermione, wrapped in one of the blankets they kept stashed in the Shack, sat cross-legged beside Remus. He looked pale and worn, his body hunched with the usual post-transformation fatigue, but his expression was softer than usual, more at ease. James and Sirius were sprawled nearby, James leaning back against a wall, his messy hair sticking up at odd angles, while Sirius lay on the floor with an arm draped over his eyes.
Breaking the silence, Hermione spoke, her voice thoughtful but still hoarse from the chill of the night. “I don’t think Moony is as feral as everyone assumes. There’s... something there. Intelligence. Maybe not full control, but he’s not just a mindless creature.”
Remus looked at her, his brow furrowing slightly. “What makes you say that?”
Hermione pulled the blanket tighter around herself, choosing her words carefully. “The way he acted tonight, for one thing. He wasn’t restless or desperate to get out of the Shack. He recognised us— knew us and the fact that we hadn’t been here last—and he was happy that we returned. There was an awareness there, even if instincts were running the show.”
Remus's gaze sharpened slightly, despite the exhaustion evident in his posture. “Are you saying there’s continuity there? Like Moony has memories of and emotions attached to past events, and makes decisions in the present based on that?”
Hermione nodded, her expression thoughtful as she adjusted the blanket around her shoulders. “Exactly. Tonight wasn’t just about instincts. Moony wasn’t restless, he wasn’t trying to escape. He stayed with us, played with us. It felt like... like he missed us last month, and when we were here again, he recognised that absence and responded to it.”
Sirius let out a soft snort from the floor, his voice lazy but intrigued. “You’re saying Moony’s sentimental now? Likes us too much to go running off into the forest?”
Hermione shot him a look, but there was no real sharpness behind it. “I’m saying there’s more to him than what people assume. The werewolf isn’t mindless or purely driven by instinct. There’s a level of awareness—of connection—that people don’t give him credit for.”
James, who had been absently fiddling with a twig he’d found on the Shack’s floor, glanced up with a thoughtful expression. “That kind of makes sense, actually. Moony’s always been calmer with us than he was when Remus was alone before.”
“That’s true,” Remus admitted, his voice quiet. “The full moons used to feel like... chaos. Constant fighting—inside my head, against myself, against the wolf. But with you lot, it’s different. The wolf feels... settled, almost. Like there’s less of a battle going on.”
Hermione’s face lit up with a mix of curiosity and indignation. “Why isn’t there more research on this? If having a pack makes such a significant difference, why hasn’t anyone studied it?”
“Because the Ministry doesn’t care about making life easier for werewolves,” Remus said bitterly, leaning his head back against the wall. “They’d rather keep us marginalised than look for solutions. They are afraid of the existing packs as is, would be remiss to actually promote werewolves forming communities.”
“But think about it!” Hermione insisted, her voice rising slightly with excitement. “If werewolves had Animagi friends who could stay with them during the full moon, or safe places like this to transform, the whole issue could be so much less severe. If it’s a matter of social structure—a pack dynamic—it’s not just about managing the transformations. It’s about changing how people view werewolves entirely.”
James let out a low whistle, tossing the twig aside. “That’s a hell of a thought, Hermione. Imagine—an official programme where people train to be Animagi to help werewolves during the full moon.”
Sirius grinned, lifting his arm off his face to look at her. “You’re dreaming big, Kitten. The Ministry’s terrified of Animagi as it is—they’d never approve something like that.”
“They wouldn’t now, ” Hermione countered, her eyes flashing with determination. “But if enough people understood—if we could prove it works—it could change everything. Werewolves wouldn’t have to be isolated or feared. They could have a support system.”
Remus chuckled softly, though there was a hint of sadness in his voice. “You make it sound so easy. But the stigma runs deep, Hermione. People don’t want to see us as anything other than monsters.”
“Then we change that,” she said firmly, her hands tightening on the blanket. “One person, one conversation at a time, if that’s what it takes. You’ve already shown us that werewolves aren’t what the Ministry makes them out to be. You’re proof that the wolf and the man aren’t so separate.”
Remus gave her a small, grateful smile, though he still looked unsure. “It’s a nice thought. But I don’t think the world’s ready for it.”
“Not yet,” Hermione said, her voice softer now, wondering how Belby is doing with the Wolfsbane with the hints she had given a year ago. “But someday.”
The room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of the conversation settling over them. Outside, the first light of dawn began to seep into the sky, a quiet promise of a new day. For now, that was enough.
The group emerged from the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow, the early morning sun casting long shadows across the frost-covered grounds of Hogwarts. Their breath formed clouds in the chill air as they trudged toward the gates, each of them looking slightly worse for wear after the long night. Remus moved slowly, his exhaustion evident, but Sirius stayed close to him, ready to offer support if needed.
They had packed ahead, their luggage neatly shrunk and tucked into their pockets. James adjusted his cloak, giving Hermione a teasing grin. “You sure we’re ready for this, oh Mistress of Apparition Warnings?”
Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled. “Don’t you think you should be asking Sirius that? He is the one who has to Side-Along Remus over two long jumps.”
Sirius gave them a lazy grin, stretching dramatically. “We’ve got it covered, Kitten. Let’s not keep Potter Manor waiting any longer.”
“I’m sure,” Hermione muttered under her breath, but she didn’t press further.
Their first jump took them to Newcastle Castle, the ancient fortress standing tall against the pale sky. Sirius Side-Alonged Remus with practiced ease, and they landed without incident. James and Hermione popped in a moment later, James giving Sirius a mock salute.
“Not bad, Pads. You didn’t even drop him,” James quipped.
“Funny,” Sirius drawled, but then turned to Remus with a more tender voice. “Come on, one more jump to Potter Manor, and then you can collapse into the nearest armchair.”
The group took a moment to reorient themselves, the icy air biting at their cheeks. Hermione glanced at Remus, her expression softening. “You alright for one more jump?”
Remus nodded. “I’ll manage. Let’s just get there.”
With that, they prepared for their final jump. Sirius once again took hold of Remus, and they disappeared with a faint crack, followed closely by James and Hermione.
The courtyard of Potter Manor appeared around them in a swirl of frost-dusted hedges and pristine snow. Hermione landed gracefully, her wand at the ready, while James stumbled slightly, shaking his head to clear the disorientation.
Then came Sirius and Remus. Sirius appeared looking pleased with himself—until James burst into laughter.
“What?” Sirius demanded, glancing between them. “What’s so funny?”
James pointed, doubled over. “Pads—you splinched your eyebrows off!”
“What?!” Sirius touched his forehead, his grin vanishing. Sure enough, his face was devoid of the dark eyebrows that usually framed his expression. “Oh, come on! This is what happens when I’m stuck doing all the heavy lifting.”
Hermione stifled a laugh, biting her lip. “I did warn James. But I guess I should’ve told Sirius as well.”
“Ya think?” Sirius grumbled, though his irritation was short-lived as he rubbed at the smooth skin where his eyebrows had been. “You’re the potions expert, Kitty cat. Fix me up?”
Hermione sighed, pulling out her wand. “Fine. I’ll brew a hair growth salve for you—but stop calling me that.”
Later that afternoon, Sirius sat in the kitchen of Potter Manor, looking entirely too smug as Hermione smeared a thick, mint-green salve onto his brow line. He leaned forward, grinning up at her. “You know, this feels rather nice. You missed a spot, though—don’t hold back.”
“You are holding still, right?” Hermione muttered, her tone deliberately flat as she smeared the salve with a heavier hand, covering an area far larger than necessary. “Don’t want uneven growth.”
Sirius waggled his non-existent eyebrows—or tried to—and said, “You’re quite the artiste. Who knew I’d be getting such top-tier pampering?”
Hermione rolled her eyes but finished the application, stepping back to admire her work. “There. Done. Now stop whinging.”
Sirius winked at her. “Thanks, love. Don’t think I’ll ever forget this tender care.”
The rest of the evening was far calmer, spent in the warmth of the Potter household. Effie and Monty had been waiting for them with open arms, a late Christmas celebration prepared with thoughtful care. The dining table was laden with food, and the fire in the hearth crackled softly as they exchanged stories and laughter.
Effie, noticing the weariness lingering in Remus’s posture, placed a gentle hand on his arm. “I hope your night at the castle wasn’t too rough, dear.”
Remus gave her a tired but sincere smile. “It was manageable. Thank you.”
Monty chuckled, pouring another round of Butterbeer for the table. “It’s no small thing, staying back to look after a friend. Takes loyalty, that.”
James shifted slightly in his chair, sharing a subtle glance with Sirius and Hermione. “Yeah, well,” he said, his tone casual but sincere, “we’d do the same for any of us.”
Effie beamed, her eyes shining with pride. “It’s good to know you lot look after each other. That’s rare these days.”
Hermione ducked her head slightly, feeling a small pang of guilt. While the Potters were aware of Remus’s condition, they didn’t know the full truth—that their “dedication” included being Animagi and running with him during the full moon.
Sirius, ever the charmer, raised his glass with a grin. “To friends who stick together—through thick, thin, and missing eyebrows.”
The room erupted into laughter, even Remus letting out a quiet chuckle. For a moment, everything felt light and easy, the weight of the war and the secrets they carried pushed to the background.
It wasn’t a traditional Christmas celebration, but it was theirs, and that made it perfect.
As night fell and the late festivities had died down, James and Hermione stood at the top of the grand staircase, their luggage already stowed away by Tilly, but neither making a move toward their respective bedrooms.
Hermione fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, glancing sideways at James. “So…” she began, her voice low, “are we supposed to—?”
“Yeah,” James interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s your call. Separate rooms or—”
“Or?” Hermione arched a brow, though her cheeks were pink.
James shrugged, his grin soft but teasing. “Or, we just do what we’ve been doing. You know... sharing.”
Hermione let out a quiet laugh, more nervous than amused. “You realise Tilly might barge in at any moment and give us an earful about ‘propriety.’ She’s been relentless all summer whenever you so much as put your hand on my hips.”
James’s grin widened, and he leaned slightly closer. “She’s not wrong to be suspicious. You are scandalous company, after all.”
Hermione shot him a playful glare but stepped back as a soft cough interrupted them. They turned to see Effie standing a few steps down the hall, her sharp eyes twinkling with mirth.
“You two are as subtle as a Bludger,” Effie said, her tone conspiratorial as she folded her arms. “Tilly would’ve marched up here already if I hadn’t had a word with her.”
James blinked, surprised. “Mum?”
Effie smiled knowingly. “You’re engaged, James. It’s hardly the scandal of the century if you want to stay together in one room. Especially with Hogwarts’ ridiculous Head Student arrangements. Tilly’s been told to ease up.”
Hermione’s eyes widened. “Oh—uh, that’s very kind of you, Mrs Potter.”
“Effie,” she corrected with a warm smile for what felt like a hundredth time. Whenever Hermione had been away for a while she always slipped back into a more formal tone. “And it’s nothing. I trust you two know where to draw the line.”
James grinned, wrapping an arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “See, love? Told you Mum’s the best.”
Effie rolled her eyes fondly. “I just don’t want to wake up to Tilly berating you both like school children. Even if you still technically are schoolchildren. Now, go on. Your father’s already asleep, and I’d prefer not to hear him ranting about ‘young love’ when he finds out you were standing here dithering for half the night.”
Hermione flushed but smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Effie.”
“Don’t make me regret it,” Effie teased, giving them a pointed look before retreating down the hall.
James turned to Hermione, his grin now practically splitting his face. “Well, that settles it.”
Hermione let out a laugh, shaking her head. “You really are incorrigible.”
“And you love me for it,” he quipped, pulling her gently toward his room.
As they disappeared inside James’s bedroom, the warmth of Effie’s understanding words lingered, making the manor feel just a bit more like home for Hermione as well.
The next morning, Sirius sauntered into the dining room looking far less composed. His eyebrows had grown back—spectacularly so. The dark, bushy arches took over most of his forehead, leaving him looking somewhere between a caricature and a misplaced werewolf.
“Blimey,” James said, nearly spitting out his tea. “Sirius, you look like someone pasted a pair of hedges on your face!”
Remus, still pale and tired from the full moon, let out a wheezing laugh, his shoulders shaking as he tried to catch his breath. “Merlin’s beard—Pads, what happened ?”
Sirius slumped into a chair, glaring half-heartedly at Hermione. “Apparently, I didn’t just sign up for a salve. I signed up to have her hair transplanted onto my face.”
Hermione smirked, looking entirely unrepentant. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before demanding so much attention.”
“You’ve outdone yourself,” Sirius grumbled, though he couldn’t stop a small grin from breaking through. “I’ve never felt more dashing.”
The laughter around the table reached an uncontrollable peak when Hermione, her patience thoroughly tested by Sirius’s relentless teasing about her “artistry,” whipped out her wand and hit him with a Bat-Bogey Hex. Sirius let out a startled yelp as winged bogeys erupted from his face, flapping furiously around his head. He swatted at them in vain, staggering back from the table.
Remus, despite his lingering fatigue, laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. James, doubled over with his face buried in his hands, was practically gasping for breath. Even Effie and Monty exchanged amused glances, though Effie couldn’t quite hide her fond exasperation.
“Well,” Sirius declared dramatically, waving his hands in an effort to disperse the hex, “if nothing else, I’m keeping breakfast entertaining.”
“That’s one way to put it,” James wheezed, still laughing.
Hermione, her expression caught between amusement and exasperation, finally relented. “Alright, alright. Hold still, Black. I’ll fix it.”
After lifting the hex, she wasn’t quite done with him. Armed with a pair of tweezers and a determined glint in her eye, she set to work trimming and plucking his newly regrown—and wildly overgrown—eyebrows back to a normal shape. Sirius immediately began complaining.
“This is barbaric,” he groaned, flinching every time the tweezers got near his face. “Witches actually do this voluntarily? Regularly?”
“Yes, Sirius,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes as she yanked another stray hair. “And we do it without all this added drama.”
“You’re all mad,” Sirius muttered, though he didn’t stop her from finishing the job.
By the time Hermione was satisfied, Sirius’s eyebrows were back to their usual shape, and he was inspecting himself in a mirror, muttering about how he didn’t sign up for a makeover. “You’re welcome,” Hermione said dryly, stowing the tweezers. “Now off you go. Lily’s waiting.”
Sirius’s grin returned, this time with a mischievous edge. “Ah, yes. Time to be the charming ‘date’ for dear Petunia and her whale of a husband. Don’t wait up!”
Hermione watched him stride out the door with his usual swagger, her stomach twisting with trepidation. The idea of Sirius at dinner with Petunia and Vernon felt like a recipe for disaster, but she kept her worries to herself. Lily had agreed to it, and Sirius—well, Sirius was Sirius. If anyone could turn a tense dinner into something halfway bearable, it might be him.
Turning back to James, who had finally stopped laughing, she sighed. “We should probably get ready too. The Weasleys are expecting us for dinner.”
James nodded, running a hand through his messy hair. “Do you think Molly’s made enough food to feed a small army again?”
Hermione smiled, though her mind lingered on Sirius and the potential chaos he was about to unleash in Cokeworth. “Let’s just hope our dinner goes smoother than Lily’s.”
James chuckled, pulling her close for a quick kiss before they started preparing to leave. “I’d say the odds are in our favour. After all, Molly’s roast can fix almost anything.”
Despite the impending dinners—one likely to be chaotic and the other warm and comforting—they couldn’t shake the feeling that neither would be boring.
As Hermione and James stepped into the Burrow after arriving by Apparition, emboldened by their earlier successes, the familiar warmth of the Weasley home washed over them. The scents of roast chicken, fresh bread, and molasses biscuits hung in the air, mingling with the cheerful noise of Bill and Charlie playing in the other room.
Molly Weasley bustled out from the kitchen, her cheeks flushed and her apron slightly askew. She pulled Hermione into a tight hug, her usual enthusiasm on full display. “Welcome back, dear! And James, lovely to see you again. Come in, both of you, before you catch a chill.”
“Thank you, Molly,” James said, shaking the snow off his cloak. “Smells incredible in here.”
As Hermione stepped out of her own coat, her eyes flickered to Molly’s midsection. The bump was unmistakable now, even beneath Molly’s loose robes. Hermione stopped short, blinking in surprise as memories of their summer joking with James came rushing back. Well it was right on track, so her presence hadn’t messed this up either.
“Molly…” Hermione began cautiously, glancing sideways at James, who had clearly noticed it too. “Is there something you’d like to tell us?”
Molly froze for a moment, then sighed with a soft smile. “Well, so much for saving it for dessert,” she said, resting a hand on her growing belly. “Arthur and I are expecting twins. They’re due in May, but—well, with twins, you never know.”
James let out a quiet chuckle, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement. “May, huh? That means you two would’ve found out in... what, September?”
Arthur, who had just entered the room, nodded. “That’s right. We decided to wait to share the news. Didn’t feel like something we wanted to put in a letter.”
Hermione managed a warm smile, though her heart gave a small pang at the thought of what was to come. “That’s wonderful news.”
“Thanks, dear,” Molly said, beaming. “We’re thrilled, of course, though I’ll admit it’s been a bit overwhelming already. They’re quite the active pair, they’re already giving me trouble. I can’t imagine what they’ll be like when they’re actually born.”
“I can imagine,” Hermione said, her mind flashing to Fred and George’s antics in the future.
“Trouble?” James said, nudging Hermione. “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Like all great twins are meant to be.”
Fabian and Gideon chose that moment to appear, their red hair as vibrant as their matching grins. “Trouble is what we do best,” Fabian said, clapping Arthur on the back. “It’s in the blood.”
“Another set of twins,” Gideon added with mock solemnity. “We’re setting records here.”
“You must be Hermione,” Fabian said, offering her a handshake. “Finally, we meet the mysterious cousin Molly’s always talking about.”
Hermione took his hand, a little nervous but smiling nonetheless. “That’s me.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on you,” Gideon said with a wink. “For now.”
“Thanks, I think,” Hermione replied, a little flustered but feeling oddly at ease with their banter. Funny how she was now meeting her supposed uncles for the first time in over three years.
As everyone gathered around the table for dinner, the lively conversation never ceased. The boys peppered Hermione and James with questions about school, while Fabian and Gideon teased Arthur about how he’d handle two more children in the house.
“Another set of twins in the family,” Gideon repeated, raising his glass with a playful grin. “Merlin help us all. That’ll be quite something. Can’t wait to meet the little tykes.”
“April Fool’s Day babies, maybe?” James suggested, his grin mischievous as he leaned slightly closer to Hermione. “Imagine the chaos.”
Hermione groaned, elbowing him harder this time. “James, stop it.”
“What?” James replied innocently, though his grin only widened. “I’m just saying, the timing could be perfect .”
Hermione rolled her eyes, already imagining the sheer effort it would take to explain away his eerily accurate prediction when it came true. “If that happens, you’ll never let anyone hear the end of it.”
Molly sighed, but the corners of her mouth twitched with laughter. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised. They’ve been causing enough chaos in here already. I can’t imagine what they’ll get up to once they’re born.”
“Chaos is in the blood,” Fabian quipped, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “If they’re anything like us, Arthur, you’ll have your work cut out for you.”
Arthur chuckled, adjusting Percy in his lap. “If they’re anything like you two, Molly and I might need reinforcements.”
“We were delightful children,” Gideon interjected with mock offence. “Don’t let Molly tell you otherwise.”
“Delightful?” Molly snorted, arching an eyebrow at her brothers. “That’s one word for it.”
“They’ll be brilliant,” Charlie declared, his stuffed dragon clutched tightly to his chest. His freckled face lit up with pride. “Just like me and Bill.”
Bill nodded sagely, though the mischievous twinkle in his eyes betrayed him. “And maybe they’ll help us keep Percy in line.”
Arthur laughed softly, bouncing Percy slightly as the toddler babbled nonsensically. “Something tells me that’s going to be a lifelong mission, Bill.”
Hermione watched the exchange with a smile, her chest tight with an odd mix of emotions.
“If anything, Percy will probably spend most of his time trying to keep the twins in line,” Hermione murmured, half to herself, but James caught it and snorted.
“That tracks,” he whispered, leaning closer to her. “But admit it, they’ll be brilliant troublemakers. Just look at the family.”
Hermione shook her head fondly but didn’t argue. The warmth of family filled the room, laughter bouncing off the walls, and for a moment, she allowed herself to simply exist in the joy of the present.
When James and Hermione stepped through the grand doors of Potter Manor, the warm glow of the hearth greeted them, but it was Sirius’s voice that filled the space, carrying on in a dramatic tone from the sitting room.
“And then,” Sirius was saying, sprawled across the chaise lounge with a glass of Butterbeer in hand, “I leaned over the table, gave Vernon my most dazzling smile, and asked if he’d ever considered a wardrobe upgrade. Leather suits him, don’t you think?”
Effie, seated with a mix of amusement and mild disbelief, chuckled softly. “I’m not sure he appreciated that, Sirius.”
“Appreciated?” Sirius said with mock outrage, sitting up straight. “Effie, he looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. Petunia nearly choked on her wine.”
“You didn’t,” Hermione said, stepping into the room, her eyes wide with a mix of horror and laughter. “Please tell me you didn’t.”
“Oh, I did,” Sirius replied, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “I even offered to take him shopping. Said I knew the perfect shop in Soho.”
James dropped his and Hermione’s winter cloaks on the hanger, already laughing as he joined them. “Merlin, Pads. What did Lily say to that?”
“Oh, Lilyflower,” Sirius said, his grin widening. “She was the picture of restraint. Held it together the entire evening—at least until we left. Then she burst into hysterics outside the house. Said she wished she’d brought a camera to capture Vernon’s face.”
Hermione collapsed into an armchair, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”
Sirius shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “What can I say? I’m a gift to social occasions.”
James snorted, flopping onto the couch beside Hermione. “You’re something, alright. What did Vernon actually do?”
“Oh, he tried to bluster his way through it,” Sirius said, waving a hand. “‘I don’t need fashion advice from the likes of you,’” he mimicked in a pompous tone, puffing out his chest. “But the poor man was sweating buckets. Couldn’t meet my eye for the rest of the night.”
“And Petunia?” Hermione asked, unable to suppress her curiosity.
“She didn’t say much,” Sirius admitted, smirking. “Just glared daggers at me the whole time. I think she was trying to figure out how Lily found me, let alone why she brought me along.”
Effie laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re lucky Lily still speaks to you after stunts like this.”
“She loves me,” Sirius said confidently, taking another sip of Butterbeer. “And besides, she said herself it was the most fun she’s had at one of their dinners in years. I’ve done her a favour, really.”
Hermione glanced at James, her expression torn between exasperation and amusement. “Do you think they’ll ever invite him back?”
“Not a chance,” James said, grinning. “But you have to admit, it’s worth it for the story.”
“It really is,” Sirius said, reclining with a satisfied sigh. “And, for the record, I was on my absolute best behaviour. Didn’t even mention the dead flowers I brought as a gift.”
“Dead flowers?” Hermione asked, incredulous.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Sirius said with a wink. “They matched Vernon’s personality perfectly.”
James laughed so hard he nearly fell off the couch, while Hermione buried her face in her hands, muttering, “This is why we can’t take you anywhere.”