212Can't lie, this is shorter than all the other chapters, but I think it ties up nicely. I hope you enjoyed this story, and all my love to LadyKenz347 who it was originally written for. Sorry it ran so long, and sorry it finished two months after your birthday.
Thanks to mcal to editing and reassuring me!
Sunlight cut across the bed, and James dragged his blanket over his face, shielding his eyes from the sharp rays. Blindly, he reached across the bed for Hermione, seeking out the soft curves he'd run his hands over the night before as she cried out.
"Hermione?" He whispered, his voice muffled.
Her side of the bed was empty, and cold.
His brow furrowing, James shot out of bed. Her clothes were gone, no longer littered across the floor with his own. Her wand was missing from the nightstand, and there was a folded piece of parchment in its place.
Dread flooded him. Did she already regret the night before? Surely not, Hermione had wanted him just as badly as he'd wanted her, but it wouldn't be so surprising for her to overthink this. But they were meant to discuss their rapidly changing relationship in the morning—he'd said as much—and truly, he doubted Hermione had just taken off.
He snatched the parchment from the nightstand, unfolding it as his eyes widened.
No, she hadn't fled because she was nervous.
It was much worse than that.
Dressed in uniform, James stormed into the DMLE an hour later with a scowl fixed on his face. Harry and Ron both jumped to their feet, and their faces fell. "Do you know where she is?" James snarled, raising the note in his hand.
His son's face paled. "She's not with you?"
James' nostrils flared. "Does it fucking look like she's with me?"
Ron inserted himself between them. "She Floo called us two hours ago, and told us about the letter. She wanted the three of us to use Polyjuice in an effort to confuse Dolohov, and then take him in. We told her it was too dangerous to use her as bait again—"
James agreed.
"—and to go straight to you."
Dragging a hand down his face, James bit out, "Did you really think she would?"
"After your the change in your relationship," Harry managed awkwardly, "I figured she wouldn't keep anything from you." His son appeared to be wildly uncomfortable as he shifted from foot to foot.
"Right." James snorted. "You figured the most stubborn witch you've ever met would just not do whatever she thought was best. I'm sorry, have you actually met her?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Alright, then she's probably gone after her own stalker."
Ron silently fumed at his side. "We should have just gone with her." He hissed. "She's Merlin knows where right now. "Can I see the letter?'
James handed it over, his brow still furrowed. "Where's Sirius? He should—"
"You've got to be fucking shitting me." Ron growled, tearing his eyes away from the letter. "It's Dolohov."
"How do you—" James began as the room around them burst into activity. Parchment scattered everywhere as an alarm blared from the Head Auror's office.
"He cursed her in the Department of Mysteries our fifth year. There's a scar on her chest—cursed, purple, you've probably seen it, I imagine." Ron snarked. "Nevermind that. There's been recent sightings of him."
Robards stalked across the floor, his hands curled into firsts at his sides. "The wards have been triggered at Miss Granger's flat." He said flatly, exhaling harshly through his nose.
Sirius Black wasn't angry.
Alright, he was angry, and Hermione knew it as she looked him over.
He held up a hand, shaking his head as her lips parted. "Don't apologise. Save the groveling for after we get out of here without dying."
It was a sobering sentence. Hermione swallowed, fingers gripped tightly around her wand as she kept close to him. Their footsteps were near silent as they crept through her flat. "Still," she whispered. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this."
He shrugged, the muscles in his back contracting with the motion. "Nah," Sirius murmured, popping his knuckles. "Marlene says that's a bad habit."
"It is."
"Anyway, James would have done this too, you know. Probably wouldn't have even told me before he charged off to defend his witch's honour."
She stammered, bumping into his back as he came to a halt. "I'm not—"
His head whipped around, and Sirius arched an eyebrow. "Hermione, you showed up at the door of my flat in his shirt."
"So, that's true, but maybe I just lost my clothes." Hermione snorted.
"Oh, did you lose them in his bedroom?" He shot back.
It was mine, actually—
"Down!" Sirius hissed, fingers knotting in her jumper as he tugged her toward the wall hard. "You've got it ready?" He whispered.
Hermione handed the potion over, plucking a piece of her hair. "I still think—"
"I don't give a rat's arse what you think." He snarled, downing it in one go. His features quickly morphed—jarringly so—into an exact replica of her. "Stay here. He won't be expecting this. I'll disarm him."
A loud crash rattled her flat, and she gulped. "It would be better if we fought together."
"Trained Auror." Sirius pointed to himself. "Dangerous, and not to get in the way," He pointed to her. "Prongs will kill me, so let's keep that pretty head on your shoulders, alright?" He shoved her into the corridor closet.
Dread wallowed in her stomach as she reconsidered the choices that had led them to now.
Pressing herself tight against the wall, gripping her wand, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as curses rang out in the space just outside the room. They grew closer and closer.
Sirius' voice pierced the air, and a crash followed it. "Stupefy!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
She hadn't forgotten that voice, not even once. Hermione clamped a hand over her mouth, and peered through the slats in the wardrobe door. Just barely able to make out Sirius posed as her, she could see him duck as a streak of green light jettisoned over his head.
This had been a terrible idea.
It was so irresponsible.
Hermione fumbled through her pockets, fishing the stone that Ron had given her out. She stared at it for a split second too long, and was jarred back to reality by a pained groan just outside the door. Sirius' weight rocked against it, threatening to bring the entire thing down.
Dolohov's face was paler than she remembered, Hermione thought as she held her wand to the stone. More gaunt than it had been in the war, likely from living on the run.
Activating the wand was simple, but she wasn't sure how long it would take for Aurors to arrive. Ron had promised it would call every last one, and for once, she hoped her friend's exaggerations weren't just that.
"I'm going to rip you apart." Dolohov snarled.
Sirius cast a stunner at his chest, and he crumpled before him. "I'd like see you fucking try."
She jumped when a crack of Apparition flooded her flat, followed by so many others that she lost count.
Sirius shot a look at her through the door when Dolohov looked in each direction, and sent her a wink. He tackled the Death Eater, and Dolohov's wand shot across the floor, coming to a stop under James' boot.
With his jaw clenched so tightly, she could only imagine the pressure it put on his teeth, he reached down and grabbed Dolohov by the collar. "You," he seethed. James bound his hands while ignoring the strain of profanities that followed. "Azkaban is too good for you."
Even from where she was hidden, Hermione could make out his words.
James lifted his head, brushing his disheveled hair out of his face, and stared at Sirius, eyes narrowed. "You scared the absolute shite out of me." James took another step, towering above what he thought was her.
Oh, no.
Hermione cracked the door, sliding it open.
Ron noticed her first, and dragged his eyes across the room before ultimately bringing them back to her. "What?" he mouthed.
James kissed Sirius.
Rather passionately, might she add. His fingers sunk into messy curls, and he angled his body toward hers—his, she meant—and blocked anyone from watching them. She'd have thought it romantic, if it had actually been the right witch James was kissing.
Waving his hands around while trying to escape, even dropping his wand in the process after Dolohov is hauled in by another Auror, his disagreement was muffled. It wasn't as if you could miss it, though. Harry and Ron stared at her as they burst into obnoxious laughter.
Finally freeing himself, Sirius pried James off of him. "I'm not your witch, mate!" he yelled. "That's your witch!" Sirius pointed to Hermione. "But fuck me if you can't snog well."
James' face flushed red, and his blush climbed all the way to the top of his ears as she gave a small wave. "Are you serious?" She asked.
"No, I'm Sirius," he bit out. "I know we can't tell right now, but did you have to snog me so well?"
"Shut up, Padfoot."
"If another bloke ever snogs me, I'll probably be disappointed now, you prick!"
Still sniggering, Harry and Ron took Sirius to usher him out of the room. "We'll just leave you two alone." Harry said, dragging his godfather out the door. She could still hear another joke on the other side of the closed door, but she missed the punchline.
James dragged his fingers through his hair. "He's joking about the snogging."
Hermione smiled. "Oh, I don't know about that. You are a rather exceptional snogger."
The corner of his mouth twitched, but James didn't comment on that. "You scared me this morning."
"I know."
Closing the gap between them, his fingers skimmed her arm. "You could have come to me. I would have helped you. You must realise that."
Nodding, she raised her chin to look up at him. "I didn't want to stay behind, and you would have made me. Out of concern for my safety, I know. And I have to admit that I know what a horrible idea this was. It was irresponsible, and reckless. I could have caused Sirius to be hurt, or even worse—"
James kissed her much slower than he had Sirius. His hands settled on her waist, tugging her forward as his tongue slid along the seam of her lips. "You're right." He murmured.
"I'm so sorry, James."
"I know." Warmth seeped through her jumper as he rubbed slow circles over her back. "I promise I won't ever try to stop you from doing something again." He murmured, resting his chin on top of her head. "Just—if it's not too much to ask, please trust me if something like this ever happens again."
"If anything happens like this again—"
He kissed her again, walking her backward until her spine met the wall, and words became meaningless.
James and Sirius—once he was back to being himself and not a polyjuiced version of her—booked Antonin Dolohov at the DMLE. She watched them lead him in magical shackles down to the cells that would only be temporary.
"They're not going to keep him here long." Harry voice, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "They won't want to risk him escaping inside the Ministry with all the damage he'd do."
If he did, which was a large if considering James Potter's wand was still drawn, the man would come straight for her office. So would James, and Sirius. And Ron. And Harry. She wasn't worried.
"Are you angry with me?" she asked quietly, turning to look at him. Luckily Ron had already left them since he was already late to meet Susan. "If you are, I can understand why. I'm so sorry, I—"
He laughed, and guided her to the bench against the wall. Taking the seat beside her, Harry grabbed her hand. "I'm not mad at you."
Her eyes widened. "You're not? Really?"
"Of course not. You're my best friend. There's nothing that could come between us," he said. "I mean, shagging my dad is a little weird, but I figure if he makes you happy then that's what matters the most."
"Oh, Harry." Hermione's eyes watered. "I don't want it to be uncomfortable for you. If it is, you don't have to—"
He cut her off again. "Really, Hermione, it's alright. It'll probably take some getting used to, but like I said, best mates."
Bumping her shoulder against his, Hermione leaned her head on him. "Did you already know?"
"That you've fancied him since we were teenagers, or that you still did?"
She growled, "Potter."
Harry's hands shot up in defence. "You were never obvious if that's what you really want to ask. He was though."
"I didn't notice."
"Yeah," Harry drawled. "I don't really know how that happened either." A scroll zipped through the air in front of them. "That day when I popped in uninvited, what was going on? Or do I want to know?"
"He was going to kiss me. I told him this was my favorite season and I couldn't enjoy it, so he brought winter to me in the ballroom."
Harry stared at her. "He what?"
She shrugged. "You could learn a thing or two from your father."
He spluttered. "You little—"
Hermione stacked the parchment, careful to make sure all sides were even, or they would fly everywhere the next time she accidentally nudged it. Her boss had already gone home for the day, leaving a memo for her detailing their schedule for tomorrow. It was meeting after meeting, but unlike a few months ago, Hermione would be able to take an active role in the meeting.
No longer was she pushed to merely take notes. Now she got to lead the quarterly review, and if it went well, well, it would certainly mean good things for her future. Completely due to James stepping in when she'd lost her cool, she didn't suffer the discrimination she once had. Still, there was a lot to do, and making sure everyone—and every creature—had the same privileges as her was at the top of the list.
But first, she had a date.
And she was extremely late.
Pulling the pin she'd fashioned as an accessory that morning while trying to crawl out of bed—trying being the word since someone decided they needed a shag; not that she could complain—out of her hair, Hermione combed her fingers through it the best she could. It didn't work very well, but she made do, and smoothed her hair down.
There was a knock at the door.
"I'm sorry," Hermione began without looking up, shrugging her coat on. "My office hours are over. If you need anything—" Her words died on her tongue as she looked up.
James leaned against the door frame, no longer in uniform but in a pair of jeans that she liked perhaps too much. "I'm too late? I really need to make an appointment with Hermione Granger. Think you could fit me in?"
They'd talked about this, about her having him over her desk, but she'd never meant they would truly do it.
"I'm not sure." Hermione's voice cracked. "I'm an incredibly busy woman."
A smirk crossed his face as he stepped forward, and kicked the door shut behind him. She knew he'd already cast a locking charm. "Oh, I know, but I think you're just the woman to help me."
Playing along, Hermione ran her index finger along the calendar that was spread across her desk. She stiffened as he rounded her desk, and his chest pressed against her back. His hands settled on her hips. "I have an opening," she breathed.
"Now?" His breath fanned across her ear, and down her neck. James turned her, depositing her onto her desk while standing between her parted thighs.
It was still hardly believable they had ended up here.
Hermione lifted her head, fisting her hands in his shirt and hauling him closer. She wrapped her legs around his waist. "Not fake?" she whispered, lips curving into a smile at their inside joke.
He inched her blouse up and grinned wildly. "Definitely not fake."
Woop, that's a wrap. I'd love to read what you thought. See you on my next jamione sometime next year. (or for my next update if you read my other stuff.)
