A Second Channe Through Time

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Page count: 15

Sirius' Apartment - Monday 25th January 1982

Hermione awoke when something soft smacked her square in the face.

Her eyes blinked open—only to be met with darkness. She reached up, grabbed the offending object, and lifted it from her face.

Draco's stuffed Hippogriff.

She snorted, shaking her head fondly, and carefully pushed herself upright. Harry and Draco were still asleep on either side of her, little chests rising and falling in the same steady rhythm. She gently tucked the blanket around them and slipped the Hippogriff back into Draco's arms before quietly summoning a book from her room and settling onto the sofa.

She flipped through several pages until she found the spell she needed—the charm for detecting remnants of the Imperius Curse. Eyes narrowing with focus, she read through the theory twice, committing the incantation and wand movement to memory. She had just begun reading the footnotes when footsteps approached.

Remus stepped into the room, hair tousled, shirt rumpled. Hermione snapped the book shut.

"Morning," he greeted, dropping onto the opposite end of the sofa.

"Morning. I'm going to shower and then make breakfast. Can you watch the boys for me?"

He nodded.

She had barely taken two steps toward the hallway when his voice carried after her, far too smug for this early in the morning:

"I hear you have boyfriends!"

Hermione leaned back into the room, scowled at him, stuck her tongue out, and marched off while his laughter echoed behind her.

~000~000~000~

After showering and dressing, she headed straight to the kitchen. Breakfast was nearly finished when Remus entered—with two half-awake, half-slumped toddlers draped over his arms.

"Good morning, Harry," Hermione smiled, taking him from Remus.

Harry stretched out his arms eagerly. "Mimi!" he chirped, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

"Well, thank you," she laughed, kissing his cheek in return. His giggle warmed the room.

Then she looked at Draco.

He stared at her with bleary grey eyes and the exact expression she remembered so well: I hate mornings and everything they stand for.

Draco Malfoy had never been a morning person.

"Good morning, Draco."

He hesitated... then shyly muttered, "Mi-mi... Mia."

He beamed when she nodded, clapping his tiny hands.

"Are you hungry?"

"Da-da," he whispered, face crumpling. "Dada..."

Tears welled instantly, then fell.

Hermione's heart twisted.

She set Harry in his chair and scooped Draco into her arms before the first wail could fully form. She paced gently, rocking him, humming low near his ear. His screams softened into sobs, then sniffles, before he burrowed into her shirt.

"I'm going to help your father," she whispered, smoothing his blonde curls. "I promise."

Once he settled, she took a seat.

"Let's try for some breakfast. Would you like a waffle?"

He tipped his head, eyes squinted.

"You poor little bugger," she murmured under her breath.