Hermione smiled as she sat on the cold, dewy grass. It was 9 o'clock - which meant that there wouldn't be too many people, she could read in peace. Not that she didn't like being with people, she loved her friends and family with all her heart.

She opened her book - Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde - and started from where she left off. Minutes passed until she was stirred from her book trance by something hitting her in the head.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, are you alright?" a boy - around her age, with sandy brown hair, two different coloured eyes, blue and brown  - asked, running over.

"Yes."

He didn't seem convinced.

"Or at least, I think so."

He stuck out his hand, "Remus Lupin."

She smiled, "Hermione Granger, it's a pleasure."

He grinned, "Sorry for the football, I was just watching Prongs and Padfoot play and it had a mind of it's own."

She laughed.

"Moony! Did you get it?" Another boy - this time with messy black hair, hazel eyes, tanned skin and glasses - cried, coming from the same direction Remus had.

"Moony?" She questioned.

"Sorry, Prongs. I, unlike you, actually care about who it hit."

'Prongs' turned to her, "Sorry, Love, ball went rogue."

She shook her head, "It's fine! Don't worry!"

He smirked, "You're terrible at lying, Love."

She frowned and passed him the ball, "I believe you came for this. And I'm not your Love."

He looked her up and down, "Not yet."

'Prongs' left, running back, screaming about some...some padded feet.

"I really am sorry."

She smiled at Remus, "You don't have to be, it wasn't your fault."

He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, "I still am though."

"Friends?"

"Definitely."

⭐⭐⭐

"Sometimes I swear you prefer Moony."

Hermione looked up from her book, glaring at her husband, "Why?"

He shrugs, "You two get along so well, I used to think you liked him, not me."

She sighed and shook her head, "Sorry, but no. Just no. I'm not a fan of incest and he's the closest thig I have to a brother."

He laughed, "Good, because I don't share."

She scoffed, "Like I was ever yours in the first place."

He smiled - not his usual lopsided grin or a smirk, an actual, caring smile - and pulls you close, "I knew you were mine when I first saw you."

She glared at him.

"Not in a 'I-Own-You' way, a 'I-Know-You'll-Be-My-significant-Other' way."

"That's different to me being 'yours'."

He nods, "How did we first meet again?"

She scoffs and smacks his chest.

"Ow!"

She smirked.

"You..."

"Are you really going to insult me? Me? Your wife and the woman carrying your child?"

"Of course not, Love."

She smiled and snuggled back into his arms, "Good."