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Hermione slowly sat up from her position on the couch. Every way she sat was uncomfortable. Whether at her desk at work (before she had gone on leave), or at their dinner table, Hermione simply ached. This, of course, was no surprise. Pregnancy was generally an uncomfortable, if not extremely rewarding experience.
“Hello, my love,” her husband called as he stepped through the floo in his red auror robes, “How was your day?”
“Boring, Harry. My assistant refuses to send me any paperwork while I’m on maternity leave.”
Harry snorted, “We pulled straws and I won. No work on maternity leave.”
Hermione grumbled and shifted her back again. Stupid uncomfortable couch. “And we’re out of green apples.”
Harry plopped down beside her and gave her a quick kiss, “I can go get more.”
“You just got home from work,” Hermione replied with a frown. Sure she wanted green apples but she could think of a few other things she wanted more.
“So? Anything for you,” he sang good-naturedly.
Hermione looked at him and realized the plot he was brewing. She gazed at him through slightly narrowed eyes, “You just don’t want to go to Luna’s party tonight.”
The guilty look on Harry’s face told Hermione that she was correct.
“We don’t have to go,” the bespeckled man said in a kind voice, “We can stay home. I don’t particularly enjoy Samhain celebrations, anyway.”
He wouldn’t, his wife thought. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, The Man Who Won, the love of her life disdained October 31st. It held terrible memories for him, and even for Hermione. But, it had given her her prized friendship with her husband, also. After all, eleven-year-old Harry Potter had rescued a friendless Hermione Granger in the lavatory on Halloween of 1991. Aside from his parent’s murders, Harry had been put in reckless danger on Halloween nearly every year of their schooling. It just wasn't a good day for him, or her for that matter.
“We won’t see our friends for a while,” Hermione pointed out, “The baby is due in two weeks and we’ll both be dying to leave the house when she finally arrives.”
Harry paused and then winced, and Hermione knew that Harry was thinking about how frazzled their other best friend had been when his son with Lavender had been born a year previously. Even Lavender, who never had a hair out of place seemed to be a constant mess of sweat and baby spit-up.
Finally, he sighed, “You’re right. As usual. Let’s get a move on then, or we’ll be late for the festivities.”
This of course, was entirely sarcastic, as they both knew that one could never be late for festivities with Luna. Her parties were infamous, and could end up far different than expected. The celebrations often got out of hand, with witches and wizards causing a drunken ruckus and making poor decisions influenced by Luna's signature Witch's Brew. They both knew the possibility of drunken decisions were particularly possible, as the last party the two had attended had ended with the conception of the newest member of the Potter family. Ron had made fun of Prim and Proper Hermione getting pregnant at the Ostara celebration.
As they stepped out of the floo, Hermione was greeted by the host herself, a one Miss Luna Lovegood and her ridiculous party decorations. Hermione didn’t even recognize all the creatures that Luna had cut out and decorated the room with. In fact, the only thing in the room she did recognize was a row of Jack-O-Lanterns. Instead of faces however, Luna had carved faeries. Typical.
They exchanged pleasantries and Hermione smiled even though her back was already beginning to ache, “I’ll let you two catch up,” and then she meandered purposefully towards the spread of Samhain themed sweets. She found that at nearly 38 weeks, all she thought about was food. And of course, the tiny human growing inside of her coincidentally often communicated a desire for green apples and carrots, which is how she ended up near the food.
Unfortunately, as often occurred at Luna’s parties, most of the food looked dubious at best, and with her child in her belly she decided not to risk it with some of the odder concoctions and settled for baby carrots and olives.
“Granger,” a voice spoke haughtily, and Hermione sighed.
“Malfoy,” she replied, “Nice to see you.”
“A lie,” he replied casually, “Nice to see you, too.”
“A lie,” Hermione deadpanned, “And it’s Potter now.”
“Whatever,” the Slytherin replied, “Have you seen my girlfriend?”
Hermione snorted into her marinated olives and pointed to where Harry was indulgently nodding to a wide-eyed Luna Lovegood.
“See you around, Granger,” Malfoy said over his shoulder as he took long steps away from her.
Hermione huffed in annoyance, “It’s Potter-” He was too far away to hear, or even care, and so she simply rolled her eyes and busied herself chatting with Neville and his wife Hannah, who was also expecting.
It had been nearly twenty minutes and Harry was still listening intently to Luna.
“Don’t know how he does it,” came a voice that Hermione recognized, “Can’t talk to her for more than a few minutes before I go round the twist.”
“Ron! I thought you were both staying home with the babies?”
The redhead smiled, “Dropped the little rodents off at Bill and Fleur’s.”
Hermione didn’t even try to correct him, but Lavender gave him a dirty look.
“You ought to save him,” Lavender said, “He should at least talk to his other friends before you two leave.”
By the time she retrieved her husband from catching up with Luna, Hermione’s feet were sore, and she was feeling overly warm. She realized she must have been sweating because Luna looked at her appraisingly.
“There’s a balcony off the ball room,” Luna said with a serious look, “It overlooks the lake. I think I saw a Gulping Plimpy there, once.”
Hermione had long given up lecturing Luna on her belief in unproven magical creatures, particularly after Harry had explained to her that continuing to do so was in no way polite to their friend. Thus, she smiled, “It’s a bit cold though, isn’t it? I’d forgotten how cold Scotland is in October.”
“There are bluebell flames outside, Granger,” Malfoy said as he walked towards Luna.
“We don’t mistreat guests here,” Malfoy said firmly, face stony and serious.
“Draco, I was just telling Hermione about the Ley Lines under the lake!”
Hermione inwardly thought that Luna was in no way telling her about ley lines, but was genuinely interested when she heard Malfoy’s response.
“They run under the house and continue through the lake towards the sarsen stones,” Draco informed them uninterested, “They were here before the house was built.”
In near tandem they all turned and looked out the window towards the lake. The moon was full and set a glow across the water, trees looming with shadows in the waves. It reminded Hermione of another lake, a lake that held memories in the Forest of Dean.
“Daddy and I did a ritual there last year so we could tell mummy that I’m going to get married soon,” Luna said matter of factly which caused Draco to choke into his drink, “And we left some dirigible plums for her.”
“Luna-love, perhaps we might not discuss such private matters-”
“Ooh, pudding!”
Luna was away in an instant and with a sigh Draco Malfoy followed her.
Harry and Hermione were both still for a moment.
“Uh,” Harry begun.
“Did Malfoy just apologize for what Bellatrix did to me?” Hermione asked at the same time that Harry said, “Do witches often do nude rituals with their fathers?”
Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed, “This day could not get any weirder. I need a drink.”
At Harry’s sharp look Hermione gave him a dirty look, “Pumpkin juice, you oaf.”
“I’ll get the drinks. You take a seat outside,” Harry replied as Hermione walked towards the cool breeze.
As she leaned on the balcony Hermione considered how different her life was than she ever figured it would be. She never thought she would marry Harry. Of course, like any sane young girl she had fancied him for the first three years of Hogwarts. She’d given up (slightly) in fourth year and had tried to like Ron. That had gone quite poorly, and had completely ended when he had left her and Harry during the worst period of their lives.
But the worst period had given her the best period, too. They’d become closer without Ron. Nights when the warming charms failed, and the wind was so fierce that a fire couldn’t stay lit became more and more frequent and she and Harry had taken to sleeping together to keep warm. Things had progressed from there. Hugs became kisses and kisses became fervent embraces in the night. She wondered if the thought that the war would never end had spurred them on.
The idea of what could have been, what almost was made her stomach churn. The image of Harry in Hagrid’s arms had never left her, and though she had no desire to remember that particular torture, she accepted that it was the moment when she knew, without a doubt, that she would not live in a world without Harry Potter.
“Knut for your thoughts?” a voice asked.
“Only a knut?” Hermione joked back as she took the pumpkin juice from his hands.
Harry stood beside her, looking into the darkness of the lake where generations of Malfoys had lived, loved, and died.
“Does it make you sad?” Hermione asked suddenly. She didn’t need to elaborate. He knew.
“It used to,” Harry replied, “This day always does.”
“Hey,” Hermione said suddenly, standing up straight and pointed towards a warm glow in the distances, “Look – over there.”
Harry squinted, “What in the-”
“Are those the sarsen stones?”
Harry turned and looked Hermione in the eye. He knew that look. It was the look she got when she had made a decision and could not be convinced to change her mind, “Absolutely not.”
“Come on,” Hermione begged giving her best impression of youthful excitement, “I’ve never seen family stones. The Weasleys don’t have them and the Potter ones…”
“Are destroyed. You can say it,” Harry said gruffly, “It’s what happens when your whole family is murdered.” The anger and resentment over his childhood and the loss of his parents had never truly left him, and at this time of year, he tended to dwell on it more than usual.
Instantly, Hermione felt a pang of guilt and her excitement disappeared, “Oh, Harry. I didn’t mean-”
“I know,” he sighed, unhappy that he had snapped at his very pregnant wife, “I’m sorry. I just-”
“We are a family. Your family,” Hermione said, placing his palm on her belly. “We can make new traditions, and new memories.”
Harry cracked a small smile, “You always know what to say,” then he continued mischievously, “Is it because you’ve read the dictionary?”
“Oh, shut it. We’re going to see those stones,” Hermione said and marched towards the nearby stairs, whispering a lumos, “Who knows when I might get the chance to see them again!”
“We could come back during the day, Hermione.”
“No way!” Hermione called as she ambled around the lake, “We’re already here, and anyway the party sucks now that I can’t drink. Can’t even get pregnant this time to make it more interesting.”
“It doesn’t suck!” Harry said and then winced when Hermione looked at him in disbelief, “Okay, all the decorations were too much.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, “And the food.”
“Yes, that too,” he conceded.
Hermione put her hands at her hips, “And over at the drink table, there was blood pop juice.”
“Okay, fine,” Harry replied, throwing his hands in the air, “The party sucks. Happy?”
“Deliriously so,” Hermione said as they finally reached the sarsen stones.
“It’s a bit dark,” Harry said, putting more power into his lumos spell. It wasn’t making much of a difference to the wide dark expanse, and so he cancelled the spell.
Expecto Patronum! And then Prongs was jumping from his wand and before he could even stop him, he was leaping straight into the sarsen stones. A bright light shone, near blinding them both before the light was replaced by a warm glow and two figures were left behind.
Hermione Granger was a rational woman. She was a woman of science. She had accepted magic as real when Professor McGonagall had made her living room table dance. She had accepted that magic had rules, that there were absolutes in every corner of the universe.
Therefore, she was not going to accept that her long dead mother and father-in-law were standing in front of her.
“Mum? Dad?” her husband whispered. His face was ashen, and Hermione grabbed his hand tightly.
“I thought you threw away the resurrection stone?” Hermione whispered in shock.
“I did-”
“Harry,” said the woman who stood in front of her. She looked younger than them, and that hurt Hermione’s heart.
“They don’t teach about Samhain anymore do they?” the older version of Harry asked, “Not surprised. Although there’s a few sex rituals you ought to-”
“James!”
“Alright, I’m sorry.” Then he winked.
“How are you here?” Hermione demanded, “Samhain doesn’t create solid humans. And the resurrection stone…” Hermione paused.
Lily smiled, “You truly are the brightest witch of your age, Hermione. Sirius and Remus have told us much about you.”
“It has to do with the stone?” Harry asked.
“You’re a Peverell, Harry. The Hallows were meant to find their way back to our family one day. It’s in our blood.”
“You’re the Master of Death, Harry,” Hermione replied slowly, “And it’s Samhain…”
“It wouldn’t have normally happened,” Lily smiled, “But there are ley lines here, and with an influx of pure magic…”
“The patronus,” Harry realized with wide eyes.
“The patronus,” James confirmed with a gleeful grin.
Hermione staggered slightly and sat down on one of the sarsen stone behind her, with both her back and her bottom instantly screaming in protest.
“We came to see you, to love you,” Lily moved forward and hesitantly pulled Harry into her arms.
He was still for a moment and then wrapped his arms around her begun to cry, “Mum?”
“You’ve been so very brave, my love. And you’ve grown into such a wonderful young man.”
“Breaking quidditch records,” James chimed in as he put his arms around both of them, “That’s my boy.”
Lily spun to give her husband an annoyed look, “Oh, James, really!”
Hermione was confused by Harry’s laugh until she realized that she and Lily had spoken at the same time.
Harry helped her up and she moved forward to hug Lily hesitantly. “I can’t believe I’m meeting you,” Hermione whispered, “Even before I knew Harry, you were the one I idolized. You were muggleborn, like me, and the smartest witch of your generation.”
Lily gave a small smile as she looked Hermione over, “People have told me that we’re quite similar.”
“Boys do marry their mothers,” James said with an easy smile.
“People?” Hermione questioned, and then she swallowed, “Is… Is he there?”
Lily’s face softened as tears welled in Hermione’s eyes before she replied, “You took care of my son on this plane, Hermione. And I have taken care of yours in ours.”
At this Harry gripped Hermione’s hand tightly as she cried, “Is he happy? Does- does he know that we love him?”
“He’s too small to speak or really understand words,” James says, “But he feels loved. We love him just as we loved Harry. Just as we now love you, Hermione.”
Harry pulled Hermione in for a tight hug and mouthed thank youto his parents.
The war had taken so much from everyone, and that included their unborn son. They’d only known about him for a month, and Hermione had only just begun to feel him move inside of her when Bellatrix had crucio’d her to a painful miscarriage on the floor or Malfoy Manor. She’d been inconsolable, and neither of them had ever truly accepted what they had lost, even when they had created a tiny grave to honor their little boy on the cliffs behind Shell Cottage.
“I lost a little girl,” Lily finally said in a thick voice, “When Voldemort came, I was pregnant. We were going to name her Rose.”
Just as Harry had taken Hermione’s hand, James consoled his wife.
Hermione felt her heart break even more for Harry. There’d been no mention of a sister, of a daughter for the Potter family. Now there was one more life to mourn on October 31steach year.
“There were good things,” James said finally breaking the morbid stiffness in the air, “Like when you rode your toy broom for the first time. How you used to chase Crookshanks around-”
“Crookshanks?” Hermione demanded in disbelief, “My Crookshanks?”
“Of course!” Lily said, “You were meant to have him, just as you were meant to be with my son. Magic works in mysterious ways, Hermione, and not always in the way we expect.”
Hermione chewed her lip, thinking of the revelation before Harry interjected.
“I want to know,” Harry stated in a determined voice, thinking about all the stories he could tell his children, about all the memories he would finally have, “I want to know the good. Please.”
James and Lily exchanged silent looks, and both turned to the moon. Lily finally replied, “We’ve a few hours yet, until the veil strengthens.”
“Let me tell you about the time I tricked Lily into giving pickle juice masquerading as orange juice to Sirius…”
Two days later, Lily Rose Potter was born, and from beyond the veil, Lily smiled.