MEETING OF EQUAL HALVES: An Ease To Love

Disclaimer: Obviously I am not JK Rowling, and I merely play in her wonderful sandbox. Please do not sue me. I have nothing for you to take except some books, a very old ipod, and a broken, outdated laptop.

The title for this series of one-shots comes from a poem by the late Paul Monette. This chapter's title comes from a Peter Yarrow lyric.

The original idea for this particular chapter started as a running joke in correspondence with whistle the silver regarding her amazing Fleur/Hermione story "Witnessed here in Time and Blood" and there are fond nods to it within this series though the two are very separate. This is EWE but otherwise mostly canon-compliant.

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12 Grimmauld Place, London, 1 September 2020

Hermione rolled her eyes and shoved her mass of curly hair into a rough ponytail while looking up the stairs. "We're going to be late if you don't get down here right now!" She would turn forty-one in less than a month, and it seemed like her life still revolved around getting to Kings Cross on the first of September. Why couldn't her children have inherited her propensity for being on time and prepared?

Her spouse hurried into the entryway, green robes worn over muggle-style scrubs and large work bag in hand. "I have just had a call. Injuries on the dragon reserve. They need all hands. You'll have to bring the children to the station without me. I am sorry, ma cherie."

"It's so bad they want a midwife to help?" she asked rhetorically, with a slight tinge of annoyance. Her wife worked far too much sometimes.

"I am also a trauma healer! And have a Defense Mastery! Mais oui. It is bad." Fleur kissed her quickly, and shouted up the stairs, "I have to go, darlings! Work calls. Be good for your mother and write as soon as you can!" With a quiet pop, she disappeared from the hall.

Two tousled heads looked out of their rooms. "Maman!" the younger shouted, too late.

"Rosalind, Marion, come on now. If we'd been ready, perhaps your maman could have at least seen you off instead of shouting up the stairs like a hooligan. Finish packing. It'll take longer now that we won't have her with us to help." Hermione sighed as both children sadly returned to their mostly-filled school trunks, a tear tracking down Marion's cheek. It was her first year, her first time on the Express, and while she was used to Fleur's emergency calls disrupting family plans, they'd all hoped to avoid one for this morning.

From the floor above her children's rooms, a small procession of three trunks levitated down the stairs, her best friend behind them. "Coming through, loves, mind the trunks!" he said, smiling. A smile which faded when he saw the look of consternation on his sister's face. "What's going on? Did I hear Fleur a moment ago?" he asked.

"Yes, injuries on the reserve again. She can't really be the only healer who won't faint at the sight of a dragon. She's already left," Hermione grumbled.

He sighed, running a hand through dark hair starting to be touched with gray. "Damn. I'm sorry. Do the girls need help?"

"Of course. You know they both always wait to the last minute, on everything." As the trunks Harry was levitating settled by the door, the best friends climbed the stairs, separating, one to each room, to help Rosalind and Marion pack, as three children and Luna stampeded down to the kitchen.

Hermione stepped into her younger daughter's room, and was immediately dismayed by the piles of stuff everywhere. "Marion, I thought you had this all sorted yesterday!" she scolded, her temper starting to rise. "Come now, we have to get this done!" She looked at the girl's trunk, and saw it was already full. Of books. She shook her head. Her daughters had both picked up her rampant bibliophilia, but Marion needed clothes and supplies as well as books. She pulled out her wand, levitating all the books onto the bed. Textbooks and basic references went back into the trunk, along with a handful of what she knew were Marion's favorites as well as a couple she knew the girl was currently reading. Supplies, stacked neatly in the corner, went in next, and uniform pieces. Socks, undergarments, and casual clothes rounded out the contents of the trunk. Even then, it wouldn't close. She sighed, levitated everything out, and then enchanted the trunk much as she had for Rosalind before her second year. Immediately, there was three times the space. Not quite enough room to require a well-placed accio to find anything, but more than enough space for all her daughter's supplies, books, and clothes. With a final featherweight charm, she closed the lid and levitated the trunk to pile next to the Potter trunks. "There, all set. Have you already sent off Athena? Or is she still up in the owlry?"

"She left this morning, mum. I'm sure she'll beat me there," Marion answered, a slight hint of sadness in her tone.

"Good. Why don't you head down to the kitchen? I need to check on your sister and Uncle Harry." Hermione grabbed her younger daughter into a brief hug, and then shooed her out the door. Stepping next door, she found Rosalind's trunk packed, but her kneazle Stephen was refusing to go into her carrier. Stephen was, in fact, hissing at both Harry and Rosalind with her ruff wide and angry, her tail puffed up.

"Please, Stephen, it's just a few hours," Rose was pleading. Hermione shook her head. She didn't even know why her daughter had bothered to read The Well of Loneliness, let alone name her beloved kneazle after the main character. It was an utterly depressing book, and Hermione only had it due to a frenzy of research done when she was first coming to terms with being attracted to her wife.

"We'll be late if Stephen doesn't get going," Hermione said from the doorway, brandishing her wand and levitating the yowling animal right into the carrier. The angry calico hissed and spit angrily from within her confinement. "And I know she'll be cross with me for months, but luckily she'll be at Hogwarts for most of it." She turned to her daughter and her best friend, "Well, let's get going. Marion's ready, and Harry, yours are all set?" He nodded, grabbing Rosalind's trunk and moving downstairs with it. "Now, sweetheart, let's go. You've got a train to catch." She smiled, smoothing her daughter's curly blonde hair and settling an arm around her shoulders. With that, mother and daughter headed down the stairs.

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As they walked down to the kitchen, Hermione heard the floo activate, and then the excited tones of the assembled children as well as Teddy Lupin.

He turned to her as she walked into the room, "Sorry, auntie, lecture ran a bit long, I got here as soon as I could."

She smiled at her nephew. "Quite alright, Teddy, you're here now, and we'll need the help. Tante Fleur was called to work."

The young man frowned for a second, and his hair changed from bright blue to a more dull shade of aqua, before he smiled again, "Well, it's good that I was almost on time, then! And for Marion's first trip, too! Here, Kreacher packed some lunches, let's get them in your bags."

With Teddy's help to wrangle his younger cousins, lunches were soon packed into knapsacks along with robes and a book each. Leaving Teddy, along with Harry and Luna's eldest, Jane, who was a Prefect this year, to corral the others, left the adults free to drag the trunks through the floo after the children. Jane and Rosalind held onto their cat carriers, and Cedric's corn snake was instructed to wrap himself tightly around the boy's upper arm. Luckily the two owls had been sent ahead.

The floo point at Platform 9 and ¾ was bustling, but with long practice all arrived safely – Harry and Luna's three children: new Ravenclaw prefect Jane, along with second year Hufflepuff twins Cedric and John, plus their cousins, Hermione and Fleur's daughters - third year Ravenclaw Rosalind and first year Marion. Teddy and Luna pulled the children to the side while Hermione and Harry levitated all five trunks onto the train, settling them in the first empty compartment they found.

Stepping back onto the platform, the two went over to their assembled children. Luna was already speaking to them, "And remember to say hello to Hagrid and Neville, now. I'm sure they'd both appreciate seeing you outside of classes. Hagrid can always use help with the thestrals or hippogriffs. And Neville can often use a hand in the greenhouses." They exchanged a look, as much as they both loved Hagrid, thestrals and hippogriffs weren't really age appropriate for any of the children except perhaps Jane. Then again, with Luna as a mother or aunt, all of them had experience with unusual animals from a very young age.

Harry spoke as his wife started to fuss over the twins and Marion leaned against Hermione, "And I don't want to get another owl from Professor Sprout about your snake getting loose in the tunnels again," he said to Cedric. "Tell him to stay to your room if you're not with him. You're lucky Hufflepuffs aren't as likely to label a parseltongue a dark wizard anymore, but they can still be scared by a snake wandering around the common room. He could be hurt if he startles the wrong person."

Hermione slid an arm around each of her daughters, "Keep an eye on each other as always, please. And write. Two owls between all of you can carry quite a few letters." She glanced at the large clock overhead. "We put all your trunks into the third forward compartment on the right; it's getting late enough that you should probably climb aboard." She held her daughters close, a few tears slipping down her cheek. "Now be good, girls," she whispered into their hair, "and write tomorrow morning with your schedules and such. Your mère and I love you very much. If you need anything let us know."

She let them go after their mumbled goodbyes, and turned to her niece and nephews, fussing over the boys' untamable hair and Jane's new Prefect badge. "Be good, you lot, and Jane, I'm counting on you to keep them all in line, you understand? I know it's your OWL year but don't study too hard. I'm quite sure a well planned review will be more than enough. You know you can always owl your tante and I." She hugged them all, then shooed them onto the train as Harry and Luna finished their goodbyes with her children.

She stood between Harry and Teddy as the children waved from their compartment. Soon the crowd picked up, rushing to the train as the little group stepped back towards the wall. Various friends appeared with their families, nodding as they loaded children, cats, owls, and trunks onboard. A few stopped to chat briefly, but as the train whistle blew, they all concentrated on their own children. Hermione waved as it pulled out of the station, until she couldn't see her family anymore. Pulling a handkerchief from her pocket, she dabbed at her eyes before turning to her remaining nephew. "Now, I don't think you have a class this afternoon, correct?" Teddy nodded, "So why don't you join us for lunch? I think we were planning on taking a nice walk to that Indian place. I'm in the mood for curry." He smiled. Growing up in the Delacour-Granger-Lovegood-Potter household had given him a taste for a wide variety of foods compared to most British wizards.

"Of course, auntie. Anything for curry," Teddy grinned widely, letting his hair cycle between several bright colors before settling on his late mother's natural mousy brown. Though his normal build was reminiscent of Remus, his hair and features were much more like his mother's. Sometimes this would strike Hermione when she looked at him, and wish the pair could see their son now, grown and happy and attending university. "I just have rehearsal at seven, but I'm free until then."

"Which ensemble is it tonight? You haven't given me your new schedule for that yet," Hermione asked, linking her arm with her nephew's.

"Jazz. I'm swapping between clarinet and flute this term. The last flautist graduated and is now playing on a street corner somewhere, or something."

She laughed, following Harry and Luna into the muggle section of Kings Cross. "Well there certainly aren't enough good jazz flautists out there. Remember to write down all your recitals, and I'm sure Fleur will try to get the time off. You know how the hospital can be. She's too good for them not to call in during an emergency."

"Tante has made it to most of my recitals, you know that. I think the last one she missed was because of that escaped green that tried to burn down half the keeper's village."

Hermione frowned; she hadn't seen Fleur for days when that happened, the casualties had been so numerous. And she'd only seen her wife in passing when she'd stopped by the hospital. "Yes, I think that was it. I brewed seven cauldrons of burn-healing paste after I got her owl, and saw her for about ten minutes when I dropped them off. She didn't come home for a week. If she wasn't saving lives right now I'd pitch a fit since she missed seeing Marion off. Luckily we're all used to it."

"That's what comes with being married to one of the most talented Healers at St Winifrede's," he teased.

"True enough," she said proudly. "And the only one who won't run screaming from a dragon." Hermione smirked. To her, it was something to be a little smug about. Though she too had dealt with a dragon once, even ridden it, she had not confronted it face-on, and was immensely proud of her wife's courage. Even if it did mean that her spouse, who generally worked as a midwife, got called out as part of the trauma team dispatched to the dragon reserve with alarming regularity. Dragons weren't a class five dangerous creature for no reason.

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The meal passed quickly. Curry, biryani, aloo gobi, samosas, were all ordered, and the group chatted for hours with their chai and lassi in hand. Hermione ordered take-away for Fleur, and slid the carton into the icebox once she was home, a plastic cup of mango lassi next to it. She sighed. Usually when there was an emergency on the reserve, Fleur didn't get home until late at night. Her wife was a very thorough and careful healer, and preferred to stay with a patient until they fully stabilized or were at least under the watchful eye of one of her preferred on-duty nurses.

And they wouldn't hear about Marion's Sorting until the morning – Hogwarts was a bit over four hundred miles from London as the crow flies, and even if one of the children wrote right after dinner, accounting for Marion's owl being about twice as fast as a muggle owl could fly, they still wouldn't receive the letter until breakfast time. The children all had communication mirrors, but those were reserved for emergencies and pre-arranged times on the weekend. It was more contact than she'd had, going off as a muggleborn to Hogwarts, but it still wasn't enough. Her baby was at school. When Rosalind had entered Hogwarts, she had consoled herself that she at least had Marion still home. Now all the children were off to school, or university, gone except for Christmas, Easter, and summer.

She lit the fire under the kettle. Right now what she needed was some tea. She had her own theories about which house her younger daughter would end up in, and no matter what, she would have friends. Their fairly small social circle had produced children that would be the pride of all the Founders. Unlike when she was a student, it wasn't be a death sentence for a publically Light-sided halfblood to be Slytherin, and in fact Dean and Tracey's son Julian was thriving as a Snake. Though if anything, her brash little girl would be a Gryffindor, or perhaps demand to be in Hufflepuff with her twin cousins – the three had long been inseparable. In fact, it was quite a crop of youngsters entering Hogwarts this fall. Neville and Padma's girls, Seamus and Daphne's younger son, Dennis and Rose's older boy.

The kettle whistled, and she poured boiling water into the teapot. The routine for making tea was comforting, alone in the kitchen except for Crookshanks sprawled on the table. Her part-kneazle was glad to have the house once again as his own kingdom, with Jane's kneazle Wenlock and Rosalind's Stephen gone to Hogwarts until Christmas. There was the household owl, Leopoldine, as well as Fleur's raven messenger bird, Clarisse, but they tended to stay up in the rooftop owlry, and Crookshanks had only every gotten along well with the late Hedwig as far as birds went. She let the tea steep, absently petting her cat.

This house had been her home since she was eighteen. Well, there was a bit of running around in a tent and saving the world for a while, and a slightly-delayed seventh year of Hogwarts, but she moved in at eighteen and never really thought to leave. She and Fleur talked about it, once, and decided that being with family was more important, simpler, happier. And she has been grateful for this large, sprawling, noisy house full of children and her brother and sister-in-law. And her wife. God. When she planned her life at fifteen, she mostly based it on keeping Harry alive until Voldemort was dead, and then perhaps a career at the Ministry, changing laws and making the magical world of Britain a more just and fair place. There hadn't been a single thought of the blond Triwizard champion she had barely met, had assumed the haughty French woman would go back to Beauxbatons and they'd never meet again. Hadn't had a single thought about a spouse or children really at all, never thinking she had a chance for that kind of happiness. She had her best friends, and that was enough for her, the lonely girl who only had her books before a troll in a bathroom.

Her quiet life was as a scholar, a mostly stay-at-home mum and occasional lecturer whose bookshelves were a mix of thick texts and medieval vellum scrolls and the latest adventures of Timmy the Hippogriff. That's not how she planned it, though the children were painstakingly planned, worked for, loved and cherished. The group of friends and families based around 12 Grimmauld Place were quietly running the revolution behind the scenes. Laws were changing, led by Susan Bones in the Wizengamot. Ideas were changing, spearheaded by the educational reforms McGonagall had begun to implement at Hogwarts and Luna's progressive take on the news in the Quibbler. She had never thought she'd be writing the books replacing A History of Magic in classes at her alma mater. Had never thought she'd see her children off on the Hogwarts Express – perhaps thought as a favorite aunt she might join Harry there to see her niece and nephews off, but never as a parent herself. Who would want her? Who would love her enough to have children with her? Even at the time she hadn't thought her ill-advised attempt at a relationship with Ron Weasley would go anywhere.

She sighed again, pouring and fixing her tea, curling her hands around the warm mug. Both her daughters had inherited her curly, untamable hair, though the color was closer to Fleur's. Rosalind had her dark brown eyes, and Marion the endless blue that she lost her heart to at nineteen when Fleur cornered her in the library and kissed her. Both had Fleur's effortless grace and her rampant bibliophilia, and their intelligence could be attributed to a combination of their very smart mothers. She looked at her children with wonder every day. And now they were both off to Hogwarts, where she had almost died every year she attended, except the last, after the war.

Hermione heard the Floo activate, and the subtle noise of someone arriving. She didn't rise or worry, Grimmauld Place was far too well-warded for anyone not on their limited access list to make it into the house without permission. Instead, she summoned a second mug, preparing Fleur's tea just as she liked it. Her wife lumbered into the kitchen, visibly exhausted, her robes filthy and in disarray, wearing a different set of scrubs compared to what she'd had on as she left that morning. Without a word, she fell into the seat next to Hermione, fingers automatically curling around the steaming mug sitting in front of her.

"Did the girls get on the train in time?" Fleur murmured. She knew how much their daughters' tendency towards running late bothered her wife. She'd successfully curbed the habit in herself, mostly, over the years, but their children hadn't.

"Yes. Harry helped, but I still had to levitate Stephen into her carrier," Hermione replied. She patted Fleur on a slightly scorched shoulder, and crossed over to the icebox. Pulling out the food she'd brought home, she drew her wand and muttered a quick heating charm over the opened container. "Here, we went out for Indian afterwards. Oh, and Teddy is going to send over his recital schedule later this week, once it's finalized. He's playing the flute more in his jazz ensemble this semester." After she'd handed the takeout container and a fork to her wife, she turned back to fetch the lassi.

"He's happier when he's playing the flute. Thank you," Fleur said, digging into her meal. Between bites and proper chewing, she said, "One of the new keepers was incredibly stupid. He went too close to a nesting mother, and was burnt inside the enclosure. The dragon was so enraged no one could really get close enough to levitate him out, and they were worried the levitation might cause more damage, especially as the nest is in a hollow. Not everyone is strong enough to do it over the distance required." She snorted, both herself, her wife, Harry, Luna, and at least a couple of their other friends could have performed the levitation, but they were the exceptions – wizards and witches who were naturally strong magically, and had also worked hard to develop the magical "muscle" to do such a thing. "I ended up on a borrowed Nimbus levitating him out of there before I could even begin to treat him. I swear! Ever since Hagrid retired from teaching, the quality of Care students out of Hogwarts has been abysmal!" She shook her head, plowing back into her meal. "I had to regrow about half his skin, and there's still that risk of infection with magically produced skin grafts. Remind me to talk to Padma about it. She has to put more focus on her salve to avoid infection in grafts. It doesn't seem like a large problem, normally, but when I get a case like this, it truly does become a key to proper treatment."

"You should have been in Hagrid's classes the first few years he was teaching. And I chatted with Padma at the station. She's hitting a wall with her stem cell potion and might want the distraction so she doesn't go mad trying too hard," Hermione replied, leaning her head gently against Fleur's shoulder. "I can owl her tomorrow if you like."

"She'll try to rope you into helping, you know," Fleur said, smiling.

"Oh, I know. You'd think she has enough help already between Neville and Hannah."

"But you're the only one who has the muggle background and the free time to help. They like it when you're there to translate the medical journals."

Hermione grinned, "I know. She only took the basic science classes in uni. I keep offering to put in a good word at Oxford so they can audit some more advanced ones, but no one has the time. Instead, they have me, who hasn't taken a relevant course in years, and it never was a major interest. I don't see how I'm the best source."

"My genius," Fleur murmured, beaming and stealing a kiss after taking a long sip of lassi.

"Mmmm… you taste like mangoes," her wife sighed as they separated. She slid an arm around Fleur's waist, noting the tattered condition of the robe and scrubs. "How close did you get while doing that levitation, anyway? And what happened to your scrubs that you needed a new set?"

Fleur frowned, "The burns were bad enough, but he also got a claw for his idiocy. He bled all over my scrubs. And yes, the dragon did scorch me a little. I was on an older Nimbus, and the response wasn't what I'm used to."

"You need to start keeping your broom with your kit," Hermione groaned. "You use one often enough!" Almost thirty years since she had first sat on a broom, and she still hated flying.

Fleur shook her head, "No, I need to get one of the shrinkable models so it's easier to strap on my bag. I'll have Harry look into it for me. Shrinking charms don't always react well to standard models."

"He just got a new racing prototype to try last week; if he puts out the word he wants a shrinkable broom you know they'll design one for him."

Fleur giggled tiredly, "What's the fun of having a brother in law with that kind of pull if I don't abuse it once in awhile? Besides, it'll sell, just not in the demographics they expect."

Hermione sighed, "I know." She ran a gentle hand through Fleur's hair, "Why don't we go upstairs and get you cleaned up? I'll draw you a bath."

The blonde moaned and nodded. "A bath sounds heavenly, mon amour." She moved slowly to her feet, accepting the supportive arm Hermione offered. "I am too young to feel this tired."

"You outflew a dragon today. Harry did that at fourteen, didn't have to spend the rest of the day healing a wounded man, and he still slept for sixteen hours afterwards," Hermione pointed out. "Besides, you were up late last night," she added, a slight smirk on her face.

Fleur grinned widely. "Yes, that's true. So it is your fault that I'm this exhausted."

"I can't say that I'm sorry for that."

"I know," Fleur leant down to kiss the woman she'd been in love with for twenty-one years. "Nor am I."

Together they climbed the stairs to their bedroom, arms around one other.

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A/N: Yes, I know that corn snakes are native to the US. But a couple of British beginner snake pages recommended them as a good starter snake. So I will have to assume they're fairly available as a pet in the UK.