A Second Channe Through Time

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Page count: 12

Potter Manor – Wednesday 24th March 1982

The first week at Potter Manor passed in a blur—peaceful, bright, and more freeing than anything Hermione had experienced.

She adored it.

Truly adored it.

Potter Manor had working electricity. Actual electricity. Lightbulbs that flicked on with a switch. She'd nearly burst into relieved tears when she learned the old wards of the manor harmonised with the system rather than interfering. It felt like a luxury she hadn't realised she'd missed.

They all settled quickly into their new home. Hermione had spent the week exploring every inch of the manor and its sprawling grounds—sometimes on two legs, sometimes on four—and she loved every corner of it. For the first time in a long time, she didn't feel boxed in. No more hiding in an apartment. No more tiptoeing around tracking spells. Here, she could breathe. She could work. She could exist.

They'd already hosted the Malfoys and the Weasleys for dinner, the elves nearly vibrating with joy at being given something so grand to prepare. The formal dining room, untouched for years, had glowed with laughter and warmth. The Floo was untraceable under the Fidelius; everyone could visit without fear. Bill had loved the Quidditch pitch. Percy had all but glued himself to the library. The twins had stuck to her side, begging for fireworks.

Hermione had completed pages of new research, befriended the Potter elves (three of whom had nearly cried when she'd asked to cook with them), and set up her lab exactly how she liked it. The forest on the grounds had been warded for the full moon, giving Remus a safe place to roam. Even Sirius and James had reverted to their teenage idiocy, racing broomsticks, pranking each other, and exploring every hidden passage in the manor as if they were sixteen again.

Yes—Potter Manor was the best decision they'd made.

And tonight, the manor was alive with the muffled sounds of children. Hermione, Sirius, James, and Remus were watching Theo and Draco so Lucius and Narcissa could have a rare night alone—something Hermione insisted on the moment she realised they hadn't had one since Lucius' release.

The day had been perfect. Spring sun. A picnic on the grass beside the lake. Draco, Harry, and Theo had splashed in the shallows. Dinner was eaten in the relaxed sitting room on the third floor instead of the formal dining hall—Hermione perched cross-legged on the floor with Draco in her lap while James attempted to feed Harry peas and somehow managed to drop half of them down his own shirt.

Bath time had been chaotic but sweet. Harry and Draco fell asleep before their heads even hit Hermione's pillows. Theo... did not.

Three storybooks later, his eyes were still wide and watery.

"Alright, Teddy," Hermione murmured softly, shifting him on her lap and turning him to face her. "What's going on? Why are you still awake?"

His little mouth wobbled.

And then it came—quiet at first, then breaking.

"Mama..."

Hermione's heart cracked cleanly in two.

"Oh, sweetheart," she whispered, gathering him gently against her chest as he finally let the tears fall. She rose from the chair, rocking him slowly, her hand brushing soothing circles along his small back.

"One day," she murmured, voice low and warm, "you'll understand how much your mother loved you. How brave she was. How she took punishment meant for others so that you might live. She loved you so dearly, Theo. So fiercely. She died to protect you."