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Chapter Text

6 May 1998

Hermione Granger was going to strangle Albus Dumbledore. Who needed the help of wands when the good old fashioned muggle way would bring so much satisfaction? If only to show the wizarding world that their views on the barbaric nature of muggles could be very accurate. It was just a shame that the man was already stone-cold dead.

She fiddled with the folded letter in her hand again. The broken wax seal more like a taunt reminding her of the amount of time she had wasted agonising over the contents. Hermione had found the letter the night before Bill and Fleur’s wedding. She was in the middle of planning a wedding and a horcrux hunt - yet this was the thing that gave her the most sleepless nights. The letter was tucked into the book Dumbledore bequeathed her, expertly charmed to look like just another page. At first she thought it was just that, but a blank page in the middle of the tale of the three brothers? It had Albus Fucking Dumbledore and his idiotic vagueness written all over it.

“’Mione?” Harry’s concerned voice called from the other side of the bedroom door, “Are you alright?”

She scrambled to tuck the letter back under her pillow and called back, “Yes. I’m fine Harry.”

“Are you decent? Err - what I mean is can I come in?”

Hermione snorted, she could just imagine Harry’s face flushing scarlet and his hand scratching at the nape of his neck.

She looked down and sighed. She was still in yesterday’s clothes. She probably still had dirt caking her hair and face. She was decent in the plainest definition of the word, but definitely not presentable for company. She could always lie, but didn’t have the energy, so she stood up and opened the door. With a grimace she took in a clean and definitely-not-in-yesterday’s-clothes Harry.

“What do you want, Harry?” She didn’t mean to sound annoyed. But it was hard these days to muster up any other emotion.

“I’m just checking on you. It’s almost noon and you haven’t even come down for breakfast.”

One other emotion, she corrected, guilt. So much guilt these past two days and now she was just causing herself more of it.

“It was just a long day, Harry.”

Long day didn’t begin describing the terrible, horrible 24 hours they had just spent trying to navigate and repair a war-torn Hogwarts. They barely made it to Grimmauld Place before collapsing.

“I understand ‘Mione, I just…forget it. It’s fine” He turned to leave but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine. Come in.”

They sat side by side on the end of the bed she hadn’t yet made, rumpled sheets from a night spent tossing and turning rather than actually sleeping. It didn’t make much difference, Grimmauld was still a mess. But they didn’t have anywhere else left to go.

The world as they came to know it ended two days ago, with the Battle done and no more running they were left floating aimlessly. Until Harry found her sitting in the great hall looking more lost than ever and suggested Grimmauld for the night.

They sat in silence until both started speaking at the same time,

“Harry-“

“’Mione-“

They just stared at each other waiting for the other to finish. The silence dragged on uncomfortably, until Harry cracked a smile that had them both huffing an awkward laugh. Hermione threw a small smile at him, trying to break the ice “You go first.”

He sighed, and the weight that the small joyful moment took off her shoulders settled firmly back in place, “I don’t know what to do now. I keep trying to imagine a tomorrow but I can’t even think of dinner.”

“Oh, Harry. It's not important to think about the future just yet, right now the only important thing is… is, well, right now.”

She drew an arm around him, and he rested his head on her shoulder letting out shaky breaths.  

Hermione couldn’t imagine how he was feeling. She was reeling after everything, and still not believing the fact that they were there – together- at Grimmauld place instead of in a tent in the woods somewhere, wondering where to run to tomorrow. To think that he - Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One – had just completed the very thing people told him he lived for. He was done with the purpose he was chosen for. What kind of emptiness does that leave in a person?

“Right now isn’t so bad, is it?” He asked after a moment.

No, no it wasn’t.

She sat there holding him until he regained his composure and sat back, a lazy smile on his face. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but it was more than she had seen from him in months.

“What’s got you cooped up in here all day?”

She stole a glance towards her pillow, and that heavy secret it was hiding underneath. She turned back to him and decided to risk it all.

“Harry, if you could go back…and change everything-?” He reached out and put a hand on her leg, smile gone and eyes suddenly very serious.

“Hermione, stop. The past isn’t going to change. Things happened the way they happened.”

She put her hand over his, “I know but if – if there was even a small chance, would you save them? Would you stop this whole thing and save your parents?”

His eyes were downcast for a long while and she held her breath for the answer. Eventually he looked up at her, eyes brimming with unspilled tears.

“No, no I wouldn’t”

Her eyes widened in shock, mouth open and ready to retaliate - to say what? She wasn't even sure, but surely if he only thought about it for a moment longer - he continued before she could figure out what to say,

“I mean, yes it was terrible, bloody hell it was the worst thing that could have happened. But if it wasn’t for my mum’s sacrifice, if nothing happened that night who’s to say Voldemort wouldn’t still be wreaking havoc? Yes, it was horrible, 'Mione, but if my life hadn't lead the way it did what’s to say things wouldn’t be worse? He could have continued making horcruxes and he could’ve been impossible to beat. Everything happened the way it should have. If I hadn’t grown up the way I did, who else would stop him? I don’t want anyone else to have to experience that.” 

“But what if no one else has to? What if this isn’t what it was supposed to be like?”

He smiled at her, in a way that showed that he wasn’t really considering this a serious conversation, but more a bunch of dreamworld what ifs.

“And if changing what happened changes all the good I had in my life? In spite of all the terrible and horrible. I have so many moments I can cherish. I wouldn’t trade the ones I have for anything. Merlin Hermione, what if I never met you, eh?” He bumped her shoulder with his with a laugh, “I wouldn’t have survived the most uneventful of Hogwarts’ years without my swot of a best friend to show me where the library was.”

She wanted to smile, but that damned pillow and that damned secret and that damned Dumbledore.

“And the rest? Everything- everyone else?”

He got lost in thought again, pushing his glasses up his nose in that familiar way that tugged on her heart strings.

“I think, well I hope it wouldn’t be bad to have Sirius back. If I could go back and stop him from leaving the house that night…well that would be nice. I never knew my parents, so I can’t imagine a life with them. But more time with Sirius? That would be something.”

He smiled sadly, and she knew he was reminiscing. Until a very loud growl from her stomach snapped them out of the reverie.

Harry laughed and grabbed her hand, pulling her downstairs to the kitchen. Hermione grumbled along but still smiled after finishing the takeout fish and chips he force fed her and didn’t stop until much later.

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Hermione looked up at Lupin cottage, fiddling with her long sleeves before finally mustering up the courage to walk up to the front door and knock.

A frazzled Nymphadora Tonks (well Lupin now, probably. She really should ask.) opened the door, pink hair standing in all directions and a babbling baby on her hip.

“Wotcher, 'Mione!”

“Is this a bad time?” Hermione called into the cottage as Tonks had already left her at the door to go back inside. The place was a mess, and it didn’t help when Tonks knocked into a coffee table in the cramped living room and a full mug tumbled onto the floor.

“Oh, bugger,” She sighed looking at the mess and turned her head towards the baby in her arm, “What are you going to do with a Mum like me, eh?”

“I can come back-" Hermione began, already turning to leave.

“Nonsense, come in ‘Mione! And if you wouldn’t mind –" Nymphadora said gesturing with her head to the mess of tea and papers on the floor, “- I don’t know where my bloody wand’s gone and hid.”

Hermione followed her into the house, waving her wand. With a quick Scourgify the tea spill disappeared.

“Some tea?” 

Hermione looked up and had to blink to remember the right way to act in the situation, “Oh ..no thanks. I’m just here to – well I was hoping to-” she swallowed, what could she say without sounding absolutely bonkers? She didn’t want to end up being sent off to St Mungo’s, then again at least she wouldn’t have to worry about Dumbledore’s letter and its implications if she was stuck for a while.

Tonks smiled softly at her, “Remus is in the study. I’ll be here cleaning with Teddy,” She said bouncing the giggling baby, “Shout if you need anything, love.”

Hermione sighed and nodded her thanks, no putting anything off just yet then.

She headed towards the door in the hallway that stood slightly ajar. She rapped her knuckles softly and smiled when the door opened with the movement revealing a very healthy-looking Remus hunched over a book at a tiny dilapidated desk, “Professor Lupin.”

Like wife like husband, he startled at her greeting and knocked over the tea near his hand, but unlike his wife he had a wand ready and slowed the momentum before anymore tea spillage could occur. Once the mug was safely rightened, he sat leaned back into his chair, lazily dragging a hand through hair speckled with grey. Hermione bit down a smile, it was good to see him at peace. The anxiety ravaged man begging to go with them on the run a long forgotten image. He smiled up at her and Hermione tried to remember a time when she would blush at his attention, schoolgirl crushes seemed so trivial to her now.

“Hermione, I’ve told you many times that you can call me Remus.”

She entered the study and stood awkwardly in front of the desk, not knowing what to do with her hands other than wring them around one another.

“Working on it, Pro-" He let out a laugh and she sook her head, “Let’s just skip the formalities, then. I need to ask you something…I don’t know how to put this and you might think I sound crazy. I promise I’m telling the truth, though. I just need too find out if you –“

“Hermione, slow down!” He stood up and moved around the desk, placing comforting hands on her shoulders, “If I might take a gander at what’s got you all worked up?”

She nodded meekly and dropped her gaze to the floor.

“This is about what Dumbledore is sending you to do?”

Her eyes widened with shock, and her gaze snapped back to his face. She nodded, not trusting her words at the relief that she didn’t have to do this completely blind and alone.

“Yes, I know, Hermione. I know what you have to do, or I know what you did. Dumbledore had to explain to me when I started teaching at Hogwarts. I had quite a few questions for the man, you see. But somehow it all made sense.”

“You remember me? From before I mean?” He nodded, and Hermione could swear there was sadness hidden behind the warm comforting gaze.

“Then that means-,” She continued, suddenly very deflated from her short-lived relief, “-I did it. I went back and I didn’t change anything?”

Remus smiled softly, “On the contrary, Hermione. You changed everything. You changed our lives – for the better I might add.”

“But Harry’s parents?”

Remus shook his head, “You’ll figure it out. Just go and do what you think is best.”

“Do you think this is it? The better future I was supposed to guarantee?”

She didn’t want to believe it. So many people dead. So many lives completely and irrevocably ruined. She looked up and Remus seemed to be contemplating something, until he removed his hands from her shoulders and gestured out the door.

“Let me show you something.” 

Hermione followed him to the kitchen, coming to a standstill before the window. Tonks and Teddy had clearly given up on ‘cleaning’, and Hermione stared at the pair in the garden with a smile. Tonks was lifting Teddy up in the air and then bringing him down for kisses. He was squealing in delight each time he reached the sky.

“Do you know why I’m here? Why that is able to happen right now?”

Hermione shook her head.

“On the day of the battle, I was getting ready to go and answer the call to Hogwarts. And even though Dora promised to stay behind I knew she would join once Teddy was safe with Andromeda. Then you showed up.”

She started to protest, She didn't. She was there in the rubble and the death and thank Merlin he wasn’t but that wasn't on her –

“Not you,” Remus continued before she could voice any of her depressing thoughts, “You from another time. You made me promise to lock Nymphadora inside, in a way I was sure she wouldn’t be able to get out. You threatened to stun me if I didn’t promise you that I would stay as well, but you also said you knew me too well. You knew I would feel obligated to go. That I didn’t know better thanks to my thick Gryffindor skull.” He chuckled while Hermione gaped, she wouldn’t really speak to him like that, would she?

“You said if I really couldn’t do what I was told to, to avoid engaging Antonin Dolohov at all costs. That if he looked my way, I would learn some Slytherin cowardice and turn tail and run the other way.”

Her mind was reeling, she couldn’t pick out her thoughts fast enough until, “Dolohov killed Professor Flitwick..and..and Fred.”

He frowned, “I know. I don’t know if that would have happened had I not done exactly what you said. I stayed home. It will haunt me ‘til the day I die, Hermione. That I wasn’t there for the end. It’s eating me up from the inside out. Then I look at that,” He gestured to Tonks now cradling and soothing a sleepy baby on her chest, “and I thank the heavens that you granted me even one more day like this.”

His voice was thick with emotion and Hermione had to swallow below her own lumped up throat before she could reply, “You think I did the bad part as well? That Dolohov had to take two other lives in exchange for the ones he couldn’t take?”

Remus shook his head, “There’s no way of ever truly knowing, Hermione. That’s one thing I had to learn to wrap my head around everything. Time is something we’ll never truly understand because not even you know the full extent of what you’re changing. You’re only going to do what you’ve already done, otherwise we wouldn’t be here. Somewhere there was a future where you lived through us going to the battle, because you knew to come warn me. And that version of you, the one that lived through that, decided to change something.”

“So I have to hope that version of me was right? That that version of me saw everything and decided this is the best future possible?”

Remus nodded, “But if there’s anything I do understand, it’s to never doubt the decisions of Hermione Granger. You are the brightest witch of your age, aren’t you?”

Hermione remembered the first time she believed those words, and here they were being said by the same person. Only instead of the shrieking shack and all it’s dark walls, it was being said in a loving home with so much laughter seeping in through the window.

“Hermione, I’ll keep the door open for you. No matter what.”

She looked up in confusion, but the twinkle in his eye and mischievous smile made her think it was something she shouldn’t understand just yet.

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8 May 1988

It took her two days, two days of pacing and packing and unpacking and finally packing again. Her beaded bag was ready for the world once more, and she hoped it would be for the last time.

She was finally ready to go. She snuck out of Grimmauld feeling like a naughty teenager, sparing a glance at Harry passed out on the couch.

“I’ll see you soon.” She whispered to his sleeping form, reaching over to move a stray curl from his forehead. She was out the door a second later, not trusting herself to go through with it if she lingered.

With a pop she stood on the familiar streets of Hogsmeade and made her way up to Hogwarts. Only, once joyous cobblestone pavements were reduced to rubble under her shoes now, and as she moved closer to the castle she had to close her eyes not to stare at the devastation.

Muscle memory took her to the large gargoyle statue guarding the headmaster’s office. Well, headmistress now, just as the thought struck her the familiar voice of Professor McGonagall lilted through the corridor.

“Miss Granger?”

“Headmistress.” She greeted politely, she had already practiced this conversation a million times.

“Is it time then?”  Well so much for that.

“Does everyone know?” She laughed humourlessly.

“Dumbledore had quite a lot of explaining to do to quite a few people, Miss Granger and I promise you it wasn’t information shared freely.”

Hermione hoped that he had squirmed under McGonagall's gaze as she was busy doing.

“Are you ready then, dear?” The gaze in question turned caring, with a hint of worry. 

“Do I have a choice?”

“Afraid not. I have no doubt in you, though.”

Hermione didn’t even feel the familiar warmth praise like that would bring her, and for a moment she was worried she might be broken. Even that feeling was fleeting.

She nodded her head in greeting and made her way up to the office, noticing with little interest that the gargoyle that once spread dangerous wings now sported two broken stumps. Just another casualty.

Upstairs was even more grim, the office once filled with glittering trinkets and souvenirs now stood disheveled, and bare. It had been ransacked.

The only unscathed thing in the office the portrait she was here for.

“Ah Miss Granger, you received my note then?”

Portrait-Dumbledore spoke with the same sing-song voice that haunted her dreams.

“Yes, and your multitude of instructions. Thank you for the warning, by the way, Professor.” Twelve year old Hermione would cringe at the mirth in her voice, eighteen year old Hermione was tired.

“My dear, all things revealed in their own time.”

“Is it here?”

Portrait-Dumbledore nodded and pointed to a notch in the frame surrounding him. She pulled out her wand and ran it over the underside of the portrait and for a moment considered setting fire to the damn thing. She reached the notch on the right corner and as soon as her wand made contact a drawer popped out next to it.

Hidden inside, neatly tucked into velvet lay her detriment. A time turner. The last existing time turner if the ministry was to be believed.

“You have your instructions then, Miss Granger. Good luck to you.”

Portrait-Dumbledore wisely left the frame.

She made quick work of putting the damned thing around her neck, and started rotating the rings as per the instructions. She had to get it over with or she’d start spiralling.

The familiar sensation of time warping around her started, only, it felt different this time, more powerful. The force knocked her back and she was flying through the air before landing with a thud on her arse after what felt like an uncomfortably long time.

She blinked rapidly trying to adjust to the sudden brightness of day. She had waited until nightfall before making the original trek out of the house, but chirping birds told her she ended up travelling to early morning. She rubbed her back and groaned at the pain.

Yes she was going to do it, she was actually going to murder –

“My, what a turn this morning has suddenly taken. Just when I was fearing the boredom.”

Hermione glanced up at the voice, and suddenly stared into the eyes of exactly the person she wanted to strangle.

“Professor Dumbledore.”

Chapter Text

16 August 1977, Tuesday

“This is quite the story Miss Granger.”

Hermione snorted, before remembering where she was. She sat in a decently comfortable armchair opposite Dumbledore’s desk. Arms crossed and leaning back, foot tapping impatiently on the lush, carpeted floor. It struck her how much she looked like a whining child. She stopped her tapping and instead focused on Dumbledore’s face with as much composure as she could muster.

“It’s not the one I would’ve chosen for myself, sir.”

He was reading over the letter, glasses perched low on his nose. That ever-present twinkle in his eyes not doing Hermione’s ire any favour. It didn’t matter that he looked ever so slightly younger, that his beard didn’t quite reach the length she last remembered. He was the same conniving man.

“I see.”

“No, I don’t think you do Professor. I have no idea where to even begin! That letter is all I have, and to be completely candid sir, it doesn’t say much at all.”

And there was Hermione’s biggest problem with this whole situation. Dumbledore had once again done just enough to push people around the chess board like pawns moving at his will, but kept the light off so that you never truly knew what was waiting for you on the next spot.

“Well Miss Granger, there is more to this letter than meets the eye. Let’s see here,” Hermione didn’t know whether to be shocked or angry when he waved his wand over the blank portion of parchment underneath his signature and where nothing but empty space had taunted her for months, more elegant script appeared, “Ah yes, I seem to have left myself a few instructions.”  Angry, definitely angry.

“You are to be enrolled as a seventh year student, granted refuge and asylum here at Hogwarts. You were already sorted as a Gryffindor, so there’s no need to subject you to the mortification of the sorting ceremony. How about we just tell anyone who asks you were privately sorted, that would solve a bit of strangeness, wouldn’t you say?”

He looked up expectantly. Oh, yes expecting a ‘thank you, Your Majesty’ you big lump of-

“Sir, I’m turning 19 in a few months. In my time anyways. I was planning on returning to Hogwarts to finish my education, there were… circumstances…that prevented me before, but it would have been with many others in the same situation. Here it would just look strange and out of place.”

“What’s a year between friends, Miss Granger? There have been many older students in these halls. You are aware that a student who performs unsatisfactory in their O.W.L.s need to repeat them?”

She wanted to bristle at the implication that she would be amongst those who failed, but didn’t even feel a hint at a once familiar emotion. So she ignored it.

“So I’ll be going to Hogwarts once again, and then? What exactly will I be doing? Professor Dumbledore you should know, everything in that letter is against the stories I’ve been told. It just doesn’t make sense. Why would I deliberately go meddling with time?”

“That is for you to find out, Miss Granger,” now she did lose her composure, dropping her forehead onto the desk in front of her with a thud and a groan, “Is this future you come from a better time?”

She barely lifted her head to look up at him, still hunched over but staring at him through a furrowed brow, “How would I even know, Professor? How do I know that it couldn’t be better and that victory despite everything terrible is the end goal?”

He looked at her with curiosity swimming behind his eyes, she could see he wanted to know about the victory. She was bracing for it, but he actually managed to surprise her and ignore that bomb she had dropped at his feet begging for a poke.

“I think you would know, Miss Granger. Time is a fickle thing. It is as many suspect fate working her best to set things in stone, so we shouldn’t meddle with her. It could cause ripples that we have no way of getting back under our control. But time is also funny, in a way that we do not know what has already been changed. For us it has just always been so. For everyone except you, Miss Granger.”

Her brain was hurting, she didn’t think that was possible.

“Somewhere out there was a Hermione Granger, the first one to travel, the one from a future that is all terrible with no victories. She started changing things to figure out the perfect recipe for a better future, and left clues,” He picked up the letter he had put down somewhere in the conversation, probably when her face was firmly planted on the cool mahogany, “And each subsequent travel tweaked and meddled until she was satisfied. This is where you come in, Miss Granger. This you, have there been any signs of things you changed? Any other clues?”

Somewhere there was a future where you lived through us going to the battle, because you knew to come warn me.

Didn’t she have a version of this exact conversation with Remus? Did future her change enough to show present her what to do? Or was he a warning - save a life by trading it with another. Sprightly Professor Flitwick fawning over her charm work. Fred laughing as she yelled after him in the halls.

Through the flashes of the past, she realised Dumbledore was still waiting for an answer, so she numbly nodded.

“Now, onto my final instruction to myself,” he huffed a laugh, “Isn’t that something? Following my own instructions.”

It’s not fun, is it?

“You’ve experimented with time travel before, Miss Granger?”

“Yes.”

He held out a hand, “May I see that Time-Turner?”

She reluctantly handed it over. He spent a few seconds flipping it over in his hands, making humming noises until a frown replaced the almost dreamy look.

“Tell me, dear, did the travel feel different this time?”

“Yes, sir. It wasn’t pleasant.” In all honesty it was the worst form of wizarding travel she had ever experienced, including a portkey and the Knight Bus.

“Like being physically ripped through time?”

“Exactly! I thought it was just the distance, I've never done more than a few hours. Isn’t that normal?”

“It seems along the way this time-turner was altered. In order to turn it into a device that could also take you back to your time it was made to jump between years at will, but at a cost.”

She could feel the blood draining from her face. The hair on her neck raised in that familiar bone chilling way.

“It must physically rip the person from their time, your time moves on without you. And that time is forever inaccessible.”

“Are you saying every minute..every second I spend here…goes on without me in the future?” Harry would be beside himself looking for her, Ron was waiting on a conversation that could take years to happen. She didn’t say goodbye.

Dumbledore nodded and had the gall to look solemn, “I’m afraid so.”

She stood up, suddenly irate, “That’s why you hid it from me until the last second! You knew I would never leave them knowingly. If I had the Time-Turner and figured it out.. ” she trailed off, staring wide eyed at the man in front of her.

“I think you were the one to inform me. Right at this very moment, actually.” Shit, oh shit. She had just royally fucked this up for her future – past? -self. “Clues everywhere, Miss Granger.”

She sat back down, bitterly defeated, and without hiding any of the mirth in her voice replied, “What’s a year between friends, Professor?”

26 August 1977, Friday

Two weeks. The instructions in the letter gave her two weeks before the start of term to get ready. That meant that as soon as Hermione had left Dumbledore’s office (read: stomped down the stairs like a child being sent to time out) she had to start preparing.

Renting a room above the Leaky Cauldron wasn’t pleasant, but it served as the perfect cover for listening to other people’s conversations without seeming out of place to the barkeep, a sweet older lady who went only by Pinky. In contrast to the name, Pinky was not very pink. She was a plump woman with greying red hair and never wore anything other than bright orange robes. She was as vibrant as she was exuberant. Pinky had taken one look at her the first day and declared that Hermione needed ‘a lot more meat on her bones’ and hadn’t stopped feeding her since.

It hadn’t done any good, she was still as bony and pointy in all the wrong places as before. Not for lack of Pinky’s trying, it wasn’t her fault Hermione could barely keep anything down long enough to make a difference.

The conversation in the pub served two purposes; it caught her up with all the latest news and gossip she was supposed to know if she wanted to pretend that she came from this era, and more importantly it kept her updated on the state of wizarding London that even the prophet wasn’t putting in print.

One conversation had started quite mundanely, “I cant believe they got married already! The Malfoy betrothal was only announced a couple of weeks ago!” but ended with a rather grim, “They attacked again. Right up the street from Mr DiSanto’s. He told me himself, yes he did. It was a muggleborn.” The last word was dropped to such a whisper that if it weren’t for one of the Weasley’s extendable ears stuffed up her robe sleeve and hidden behind her wild mane it would have gotten lost in the bustle of the Leaky.

It was a handy tool, if she could say so herself, all she had to do was position her arm in the direction of whatever conversation seemed to be the most helpful at the time, flex her fingers like she was stretching them after a long stint of writing, and the world was her radio.

But by midmorning the leaky had quieted down, and even her contraption wasn’t able to pick up the chatter outside. Oh well, she had some shopping to do anyways. She packed up the stack of books and parchment she had only laid out for posterity’s sake and headed to the bar.

“You mind keeping these for me back here, Pinky?”

The woman’s smile was as warm as it was crooked, “Of course sweetheart, some grub before you head out?” The grub in question was a pot of grey sludge she had been sweating over for most of the morning. Hermione’s stomach rolled.

“No thanks. I have to finish my shopping today.” She managed a tight lipped smile through the bile that was creeping up at the back of her throat. She didn’t dare breathe in through her nose.

“You and everyone else, missy. Quite a day for it too!” 

Hermione only shot her a questioning glance

“It’s the last weekday off before all you youngins are stuck in classes all day. Diagon is teeming with droolers and droopers”

Droolers and droopers, Hermione had come to learn referred to any child under the age of 12 and rowdy teenagers respectfully. She huffed a laugh and threw a wave over her shoulder as she braved the busy streets, pulling her simple black robe sleeves down against the slight August chill. What a day for it indeed.

A while later she stood in Flourish and Blotts, Hogwarts letter in hand and frowning. There wasn’t a book on the school list she hadn’t already read. More time to finish the job and get back home then. She could use all of her time focusing on her task and it would be over quicker. No time for academics and nonsense, then.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind she looked up in shock, where was the girl who couldn’t wait to learn everything Hogwarts had to offer, the girl who was so scared of failing a boggart used it against her? She looked up at the display window to gaze at her reflection and try and recognise the girl staring back at her. She was too pale, and her sunken cheeks did nothing for her general look.

She focused her eyes to look past the reflexion just in time to catch a glimpse of two boys walking towards the entrance of the bookstore. A shaggy head of black hair that fell past the shoulders of a familiar leather jacket next to a lanky boy with scars peeking out over the neckline of a worn knitted jumper.

She ran behind the closest bookshelf and tried to make herself look small. They were so young. It was intimidating. This whole time she had imagined coming face to face with them but somehow always as their older counterparts. Never as droopers.

She was spending too much time with Pinky.

“I’m telling you Moony, it was bloody wild. I’ve never seen Evans so fired up.”

“Not even-?”

“Im telling you, mate. Not even then. Poor Prongsie spent the whole of last week locked in his room. Mum threatened taking away his broom for the year to get him out and that almost didn’t work. I was scared Gryffindor was going to go another year losing to the Puffs.”

Mum? He couldn’t mean – no not Walburga stain-on-the-earth Black. Hermione recalled that Sirius had moved in with the Potters after fifth year and from then on they were his only family.

“What did he do, Pads?”

Hermione held her breath, they were right there on the other side of the shelf she was currently cowering behind. If she could lean a bit forward –

“He wont talk about it, but since he came home two days early leaving a screaming Evans at the gate I haven’t seen her owl at all. You don’t think -?"

A loud crash echoed as Hermione leaned right into a stack of books in front of her- because of course they were- and both boys rounded the corner with speed that gave her whiplash.

“Shit,” She made quick work of bending down and making quick work of looking like she had just stumbled into the pile and was frantically picking up the mess before the shopkeep could see.

“You all right there err-“ Remus started as both boys turned to pick up books as well, he turned upright with something in his hand, “-Hermione?”

Her Hogwarts letter. That’s what he was holding, in the mess it bad spilled onto the floor and she hadn’t noticed.

“Hermione Granger?” Sirius was now also upright, peaking at the letter over Remus’s arm.

“Have you decided on a name you can use?” Dumbledore had asked her. “Hermione Granger. It has to be Hermione Granger. They have—err—-there is a map. A map that will show my name and if I don’t go by my real name it would raise too many questions.”

“Hi, yes that’s me,” she dusted herself of and made to grab at her letter, but Remus was quick to pull it back out of her reach, she frowned, “and that’s mine.”

It fell on deaf ears.

“You go to Hogwarts?”

“You’re staying at the Leaky?”

Remus and Sirius asked in quick succession. Because the that’s what her letter said when it arrived promptly by owl- Hermione Granger, Room 4 on the second floor of the Leaky Cauldron.

“Yes and yes.”

“I’ve never seen you before?”

“Why?”

If they always spoke like this her head wouldn’t stay on straight from all the spinning.

“I’m new, none of your business and give that back” she finally grabbed on to the letter and took it back. Smoothing out the edges with a frown on her face. This was not in her carefully constructed plan.

“There's never been a new student at Hogwarts.” Sirius stated matter of factly, ending in an ‘oomph!’ as he received an elbow in the ribs curtesy of Remus.

“Special circumstances,” Hermione deadpanned with a raised eyebrow to the boys, at least Remus had the sense to look somewhat ashamed. Sirius, though, was still eyeing her suspiciously.

“I think-” Remus cleared his throat, “what my friend here is trying to say is he’s Sirius Black and I’m Remus Lupin and it’s nice to meet you.”

Sirius made no fake attempt at niceties, “Have you been sorted? You’re not going up there with the firsties are you?”

He eyed her black robes. Ah, there it is. Hermione stuffed the letter into her bag and tried to remove the robe as inconspicuously as possible, pretending she was dusting it off from the collide with the books. Underneath she wore a simple pale pink cardigan and jeans. Jeans she knew Sirius would recognise as muggle and let his guard down- or at least she hoped it would.

If that wasn't enough to prove to him she wasn’t a bigoted snake he had to worry about, she added, “Ive been sorted. Dumbledore dusted the hat off early specially for me when I enrolled. He wasn’t too keen on being woken up so I got into Gryffindor pretty quick”  

And just like that all the defenses dropped. Sirius burst out into a wide grin and threw an arm over her shoulder with so much force she almost ended up on the floor again. Only he was keeping her up and with a twist he was standing next to her looking down at her conspiratorially, “Well then, Granger! Let me be the first to welcome you to the best house in all of England!”

“Hogwarts is in Scotland, Pads”

Sirius continued completely ignoring his ashamed friend, “And let us be the first to help the new lady of the house. So, what can we do for you, milady?”

She scrambled for an excuse, “Im having a bit of trouble finding the uh-“ her eyes connected with a shelf over Remus’s shoulder, “the ancient runes textbook. Runic Translations of the New Age.”

Sirius let out a loud sigh, and the arm around her shoulders suddenly pushed her forward straight into Remus’s chest. She would have collided face first if he hadn’t reached out with both arms to catch her and gently helped her on stable footing once again.

“She's all yours, Moony” Sirius called out as he strolled away to another shelf, “I can only handle one brainy at a time.”

“Pads.” Hermione felt more than heard the exasperated grumble from the boy in front of her. She let go of his arms she had instinctively grabbed on to and put some distance between them.

“Is he always so...?” She didn’t even know how to finish the sentence

“Sirius?” Remus chuckled, “Definitely. Don’t worry though, you get used to it.”

She sincerely doubted she would ever get used to an aloof Sirius. All she could think about was the tatted up older version drinking firewhiskey all alone at the dinner table.

“You’re taking ancient runes as well?” She made an attempt to sound light despite the flashes of memory.

“Yes. You’ll love it, Professor Bagunda is the best. Now you also know at least one person in your class.” He smiled a genuine friendly smile and gestured with his head, “I think the textbooks are this way. Let’s get you sorted out then, milady.” he smirked and threw an arm and a leg out to bow slightly, showing her the way.

For the first time Hermione saw Remus as a true marauder, he wasn’t as bashful as Sirius but instead of seeing her weathered by age and sorrow Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, she saw a youthful man who didn’t have it in him to be serious all the time.

That night she lay in her room at The Leaky staring up at the ceiling, contemplating the entire encounter, and wondering what the hell she was supposed to do with two ancient runes textbooks.

Chapter Text

1 September 1977, Thursday

Hermione’s first day of seventh year started off exactly as every other day in 1977. A terrible night of barely any sleep, followed by wrestling her hair into a low bun, and a settling feeling of existential dread.

She used The Leaky’s floo for the trip to Kings Cross, unshrinking her trunk as she stepped out. The platform was relatively empty, only a few other early bird students getting ready to board. Most people waited until the last second, she hadn’t realised that before. That most normal people had friends and family who wanted to soak up every last second of time together.

Its not like they won't see each other over Christmas, she thought bitterly. If she was willing to look deeper into her sudden distaste for the practice of goodbyes, she would probably accept that it was because here there was no one lingering on the platform waving goodbye for her. She didn’t have the energy, and Pinky’s fussing that morning filled the little bit of the pit that she had managed to dig out.

The woman was incessant. Stuffing Hermione’s arms full of food and refusing to take full payment for her room. She had managed to sneak a few galleons behind the bar when Pinky was filling up various containers with anything edible. Hermione only felt a twinge of guilt that those containers ended up in the first waste bin on platform 9 and ¾.

It wouldn’t do her any good to have to throw up on the train.

Making her way onboard she chose a compartment at random, having all the choices available. She settled in the corner and not for the first time wondered what the hell she was getting herself into. If she didn’t figure it out by Christmas, she was marching straight to Dumbledore’s office and making it his problem.

She rested her head against the window, the familiar feeling of exhaustion wrapping around her like a blanket against the outside chill. She fell with it and was asleep before any of the bustling of the sappy late comers could start.

“That’s terrible, Marls! You should have at least owled him or something.”

An unfamiliar voice broke through her slumber. Hermione kept her eyes firmly shut, subtly moving her hand to feel the familiar shape of her wand. At the relieving feel of the wood against her palm she slowly began opening her eyes. The train was moving, and by the view outside it had been for quite some time already.

“What would be the point? We both knew it was never going to be serious. If I owled him I would seem awfully desperate.”  A second voice answered.

Hermione pleaded to Merlin that that was the extent of the occupants, if another voice joined she would pretend to be asleep until they arrived at Hogwarts. She was contemplating doing that anyway when the luxury was stolen from her

“Sleeping beauty awakes,” The second voice announced in a sing-song tone.

Oh, well. Hermione turned to face it. A blonde witch sat next to her on the bench, she was striking with high cheekbones and deep blue eyes. Across her sat a mousy haired witch, her rounded face gave her an air of kindness and warmth.

They were wearing Gryffindor robes. She cleared her throat, “Sorry? Was my sleep disturbing your conversation?”

Damn them. They didn’t even look abashed.

“Sorry, we were late to the platform. There wasn’t really any other space on the train.” The mousy girl said, with a sweet smile that broke through Hermione’s resolve of pretend annoyance.

“I haven’t seen you around. I’m not the best with people but I sure as hell ain’t bad enough that I wouldn’t recognise you at all.” There was no question and certainly none of her friend’s sweetness in the blonde’s statement.

“I’m new,” Hermione shrugged, “Hermione Granger, and you are?”

‘You’ve got dirt on your nose, you know that right.’ A conversation from her first time on the train flashed, and Hermione decided to tone back the snap in her voice.

“Marlene McKinnon.” The blonde, Marlene, replied

“Mary McDonald,” Mary stuck out a hand and Hermione shook it tentatively.

Bloody hell, Hermione didn’t recognise them at all. She should have paid better attention to the order photos from this time.

“You’re new but you’re already sorted?”  Marlene nodded to Hermione’s tie.

“Dumbledore thought it would be better to have the hat place me in a house before the start of term. It would look awkward if I was mixed in with first years.”

Mary nodded in understanding, “That's sad though, it's one of the best experiences of being a Hogwarts student!”

“Speak for yourself! I was mortified.” Marlene sat back on the bench, “Bloody hat went and almost stalled on me.”

“Yes, but the boat ride and the first view of the great hall.” Mary had a wistful look before snapping her attention back to Hermione, “Say, I’ve never even heard of a new student.”

“Special circumstances,” Hermione gave the same vague excuse she had offered Sirius.

“What year are you then?” Marlene didn’t have the same reaction as Sirius to her house allegiance though, and still regarded her with narrowed eyes.

“Seventh”

Mary clapped with excitement, “Oh, goody! You’ll be rooming with us then!”

“Just you?” Hermione asked incredulously.

“Unfortunately,” Marlene replied, “Lily has moved onto better places in life.”

At Hermione’s confused glance Mary took pity on Hermione and filled her in, “Lily Evans. The other Gryffindor girl in our year. You just missed her actually, she’s already in the prefect’s carriage. She’s Head Girl now, so she gets a dorm all to herself.”

This makes things slightly complicated. If she wasn’t sharing a dorm with Lily Evans, her plans needed some tweaking.

“Except, unlucky for her, she has to share with Potter.”

Now Hermione perked up. James Potter and Lily Evans were Head Boy and Girl. That could work, that could very well work perfectly for Hermione.

“If he had kept his shit together over summer it would be the ideal situation, but alas Potter was Potter” Hermione’s eyes widened at Mary swearing in her normal sweet voice, Mary probably took her shock for more confusion and prattled on, “Oh, Hermione! We have so much to fill you in on! Especially with those two”

The rest of the train ride consisted of Mary telling her every little piece of gossip. Six years worth of it, all the while Marlene looked bored out of her mind. Hermione spent the time making noises when appropriate and soaking up every word. She made a mental note of everything important enough to keep track of.  By the time the train came to a halt she had a comprehensive list

1. Lily Evans hated James Potter’s guts until the Snape incident.
2. Lily gave him a chance at the end of 6^th year and they had a ‘moment’.
3. Something happened over the summer and now they weren’t even looking at each other.
4. Nobody knows what happened.
5. If Hermione didn’t figure out what happened she wouldn’t make it home by Christmas.
6. Hermione was in such deep unending shit

Her sour mood took a turn to for the worse when she heard a voice call from outside the train, “Hey, Moony! Look - it’s your lady.”

She sighed and continued her way out the carriage, ignoring Marlene’s questioning brow. She reached Remus who had stopped and looked at her with a lopsided smile, “Hello, Hermione. I once again apologise for my bashful friend.”

“Not much you can do about that. Friends are so hard to train once they’ve reached a certain age.”

He choked on a laugh, thumping his chest with his one hand while gesturing with the other for her to lead the way. She through a head over her shoulder to see Sirius caught up with Marlene and Mary. He threw and arm around the former’s shoulder, “Summer treat you good, Marley?”

Marlene shrugged his arm off, “Better than you ever could, Black.”

The group walked together sharing stories from summer. Hermione in the front not bothering to listen this time, she crossed her arms over her chest bracing the chilly night, looking down when she came to a sudden halt. Instead of plain cobblestone a giant shadow flickered under her feet in the dim light. She looked up- they had reached the carriages. She ignored the painful bump of someone running into her shoulder.

“Oh bugger, sorry Hermione. Why’d you stop?” she ignored Mary’s question and moved to the magnificent creature tied to the front of the carriage. Reaching up a hand to stroke a midnight black wing, the animal’s hoof pawed gently at the ground.

Harry had failed to mention how breathtakingly beautiful they were.

“Oi Moony, I think your bird’s going a bit mental.” She heard Sirius mock whisper behind her.

“No she’s not...I think – I think she’s stroking a thestral.”

“A thestral? Now you’re just making words up, mate.”

She rested her forehead against the creature’s head, whispering softly, “Hello, old friend.” It let out a snort that sent warm air down her neck.

“You can see them?” an unfamiliar voice asked. She turned away from the creature to look at the person it belonged to.

“Sweet, sweet girl.” A dirty hand clawed at the floor in front of her in the shrieking shack. A beady eyed man pleaded up at her, rat faced and ragged.

Only the warm face of the boy in front of Hermione did not resemble that man at all. He had kind soft features and curious eyes. She reckoned he had joined the group while she was distracted.

She moved away and nodded. He held out a hand, “Peter Pettigrew. Nice to meet you.”

She stared at him for a moment. Trying to find the man that would become the betrayer. When she only found a shy smile, she reached out and shook his hand.

“Hermione Granger.”

“Oi! Can we get moving now, blokes? I’d like to get to the feast before all the treacle is finished.” Marlene’s impatient voice shouted from inside the carriage startling Hermione, and she looked to where the others were hanging around the carriage.  Giving her an awkward breath of space.

She moved inside and found a seat. It was a tight fit but she managed to carve out a corner next to Mary.

She avoided everyone’s stares, especially the extremely curious one Remus was shooting her, instead looking straight out the window as the familiar tug of the carriages took them up to the castle.

“Where’s Lily and James?” Mary asked.

“They’re bringing up the rear. Had to get the firsties to the boats first. Head Dork duties and all.” Sirius answered swatting away Peter’s leg so he could lean forward.

“Jealous, Black?” Marlene snarked from her corner.

“And why would I want those shackles? Running around the castle keeping people out of trouble when I want to be the one getting into trouble.”

“I think James will do a fantastic job as Head Boy,” Peter piped up, rubbing the spot on his leg that suffered Sirius’s attack.

“Mate, you think James does a fantastic job wiping his arse.”

Peter flushed and retracted into himself completely, Hermione found herself pitying the boy.

“It’s an admirable trait, wiping one’s arse that is. I’m sure you’ll learn how to do it one day,” She threw at Sirius without thinking. She should at least try to tone back her snark. It didn’t seem to matter though, as the comment had no effect on him. He just broke out in a broad grin and winked at her while the rest of the carriage descended into laughter.

They rode in relative silence the rest of the way, broken only by bickering every now and again between Sirius and Peter.  Upon coming to a stop Hermione was the first to jump out, eager for a reprieve and moved quickly away from the rest.

The entrance to the great hall rose up in front of her like a massive taunt. She admired the intact archways as the group moved inside and she forced her eyes to keep looking up. If she just kept looking up at the enchanted ceiling she wouldn’t see the floor. If she looked at the floating candles she wouldn’t see the tables, all lined up. She wouldn’t think about the rest of the hall and how it looked the last time she was in it.

Ignore the floor. Ignore the floor. The floor where Fred had been laid down on. The floor that was the only thing keeping mourning people tethered to this world while they cradled loved ones. The floor filled with rows and rows of-

“It’s astonishing, isn’t it?” Remus’s voice gracefully stopped her thoughts before they could run her into the ground.

She forced her eyes from the ceiling and looked down into his eyes and realised she would never have that look in hers again. The naïve look of wonder at what magic could still accomplish. She only nodded, grateful that tears seemed so far removed from the feeling of complete apathy she was experiencing.

“Come, our table is this way,” He said leading the way. She reluctantly followed, the Gryffindor table didn’t feel like hers anymore at all.

Strange faces lined the benches, many were looking at her with curiosity, but most were engaged in joyous conversations and laughter. She took a seat next to Marlene, who was in a whispered conversation with Mary. Peter and Sirius were seated across from Hermione and Remus took his place on her other side.  The trickling of students through the door slowed and the great hall suddenly became animated with loud conversation.

“Look who it is! The Head Pricks have deigned us with their glorious presence.” Sirius announced and Hermione’s head whipped towards the two oncoming figures.

She held her breath as she examined the two pieces of her best friend. At first glance, James could be mistaken for Harry. If one stared for more than a second though, the differences were stark. James was broader in the shoulders, taller too. His hair didn’t have as much unruliness to it, and his face was more angular with a strong brow peaking behind the thick rimmed glasses. The biggest difference though, was how he carried himself. There was so much confidence in his stride, confidence Harry had never fully achieved from the world constantly aiming to knock him down a peg.

Lily on the other hand, she could see Harry in every movement. Hermione avoided looking at her eyes just yet, but it didn't do anything to curb the resemblance, the way her whole body moved was so Harry. If she didn’t have long red hair that swished in its high ponytail, everything about the way she held herself would be similar.

No wonder Snape treated Harry so badly and spent every moment reminding Harry how much he was like his father, the truth was too hard to bear.

“Piss off, Pads.” James reached the table and threw a particularly vulgar gesture at Sirius.

Lily remained quiet, just pursed her lips in the first unlike Harry gesture of the night. Hermione saw Lily briefly glancing at her and then throw a questioning look to Mary and Marlene. The former doing a terrible job at hiding her face and mouthing ‘new’ at Lilly.

Marlene and Remus moved to make space for the two, and Hermione started, suddenly having to choose which group of people to move closer to. The choice was taken away when James and Lily positioned themselves on either side of her.

The only way Hermione could think to describe her new position in between the two, was like being plunged into an ice storm. They turned their bodies completely away from each other heads turned as if the other didn’t even exist. She caught Sirius’s mischievous look from across the table and shot pleading eyes at him.

He cleared his throat and gestured to her, “James, Lily-flower. This is Hermione, she’s new here and would love it if you guys didn’t kill each other over her head tonight. She’s only just seen Hogwarts, you know? It wouldn’t be fair if her experience was cut short”

That was NOT the message she was trying to send him.

Hermione threw up a sheepish wave.  James tipped a nonexistent hat in greeting with a grin. Lily was too busy glaring at Sirius to pay her any mind. When she finally turned to Hermione with a smile that pulled at her heartstrings, because it wasn’t possible that something could remind her of Harry more. Other than those eyes, Godrick it was like staring straight at her best friend.

“Nice to meet you, Hermione. Lily Evans,” she said in way of greeting, refusing to look past Hermione’s shoulder where she knew James sat.

Hermione was spared a necessary reply when Dumbledore tapped on a glass and silence fell.  He announced the start of the sorting ceremony and she kept her eyes trained on the table, trying not to pay attention. She didn’t want to hear any familiar name that could send her in a spiral of flashes. At least she wasn’t being made a spectacle by being up there with them.

When the last first year joined their table, Dumbledore stood up again

“A new school year, filled with so many new opportunities! This joyous occasion must be celebrated. Along with the changes it can bring. Please welcome Professor Henrik Mirfield, who has gladly agreed to fill the Defense Against the Dark Arts position this year.”

A smartly dressed man stood up at the applause that filled the hall. He had dark hooded eyes and no smile. Just a grim nod as he sat back down.

Sirius leaned in and whispered, “20 Galleons on falling from the moving stairs.”

Marlene rolled her eyes, “Please. Fifty on getting locked in a cupboard and forgotten about.”

Hermione snorted, remembering the Weasley twins and their betting rings before she covered it with a cough.

“30 on him making the entire year. He looks like an alright fella.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, Remus joined in on the betting?

“Although we cannot celebrate without some acknowledgment that not all changes are good,” Dumbledore continued, “Our world is changing and wizards and witches everywhere will be affected. Some already are. They will need refuge and safety.  As Hogwarts will always be a safe place for those who come asking, I urge you to be welcoming to any new faces.”

Bloody pompous prick.

So much for not being a spectacle. She could feel all the eyes on her, everyone was regarding her with more than general curiosity now. Especially the table under the green banister. She stared back, dead straight into those eyes.  Several cringed back at her cold indifference. Pity.  

She focused on her own table again and caught Sirius staring at her, she couldn’t make out the emotion. He looked away before she could decipher it.

“Let’s feast!”

With those two words the tables filled with food. She could hear first years gasping in wonder, and Dumbledore’s words were forgotten quickly by most of the students. Unlucky for her the same couldn’t be said for those around her.

“What was Professor Dumbledore talking about?” Lily whispered and everyone turned to Hermione for an answer.

She shrugged, “No idea. I’m here for the chicken.” She stabbed a piece with her fork, lifting it to her plate.

“Are you a muggleborn?”

Hermione stopped her cutting and faced Peter. Who looked the most shaken by the words Dumbledore left them with. She resisted grabbing her arm. He was there when she got it. He was there. He was there-

“Yes.”

Silence fell. She’d let them come to their own conclusions.  She looked down and resumed stabbing at the food on her plate. Conversation done.

Soon normalcy resumed, because of James and Lily’s refusal to acknowledge each other it basically severed Hermione from any conversation. Not being able to join left or right over the backs turned her way.  A part of her was glad and the other was mentally slapping herself in the forehead repeatedly. Complicated. This was going to be so fucking complicated.

She spent most of the meal pushing food around, not bothering to eat much. When the dessert was done Lily and James excused themselves to lead first years to the dorm. Mary grabbed Hermione’s hand and led her to the stairs, going on and on about everything about Hogwarts Hermione already knew. She didn’t feign being interested, but it didn’t deter Mary at all.

The chatter lasted until the dorm and Hermione had to interrupt her to be able to get ready for bed. When she exited the bathroom, Mary and Marlene were sat on a bed laughing.

“Come join us!” Mary said with a smile, patting the space beside her. Hermione didn’t even spare them a glance. She rummaged through her trunk and found Dumbledore’s letter hidden in a bundle of socks. She climbed into her bed drawing the curtains.

“A little mean that one, eh?” She heard Marlene say before casting a silencing charm around her and thumping her head on the pillow.

She dragged both hands over her face before bringing up the letter and reading it for the millionth time. Only now realising the full extent of her impossible task.

Miss Granger,

If you are reading this letter, it means I am no longer capable of having a conversation with you. Therefore, you must forgive me for having to ask a great deal of you in writing.

Long ago I was made aware that the fate of the wizarding world relied entirely on a very peculiar union. It is up to you, Miss Granger, to ensure a better future for us all. So, I ask of you to change our past. If you are indeed in a present that is better, a present that makes everything we have lost along the way worth it. You have to go back and do what you must to ensure it stays that way.

If you are not, and victory is not ours, it is up to your discretion to change what happened and try to get us there. Then this will be our last stand.

You will find what you need by seeking out my portrait. 20 turns of the hourglass and 8 and a half turns of the outermost ring will bring you to a day I was sitting in my office, facing the prospect of a very boring breakfast. This is where you need to go.

I leave you with the only thing I am at liberty to say - Lily and James Potter did not end up together naturally. Theirs was not a love story of fate, but one of quite a bit of meddling and pulling the right strings. You are the one that must go weave that story.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

She threw a pillow over her face and let out the frustrated scream she had been holding in all night.

Chapter Text

14 September 1977, Wednesday

Hermione spent the first two weeks of classes trying to find her footing. Unfortunately, she was still stumbling around on two left feet.

Students gave her a wide berth, and Hermione pretended it was only because of the permanent scowl on her face and not the rumours she had heard snippets of.

“I heard her name isn’t even Granger! Yeah, she had to change it so that her father wouldn’t find her because she’s actually half blood.”

“Well, I heard she had to hide out in the woods for years and now she’s crazy.”

That one had brought out a chuckle in her, she probably had gone crazy in the woods with Harry.

The only person to treat her with warmth was Remus. She sat next to him in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, and he was kind enough to share notes and ideas with her during class. Even walking with her to the next one chatting about the work. Sirius was still cracking jokes at her expense, although he seemed to do that with everyone so it was probably a good sign.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t made any progress with the two people she was supposed to get to the point of marriage. She had gotten off on the wrong foot with Lily, unbeknownst to her the seat next to Remus in Arithmancy unofficially belonged to the redhead. Now she sat in front of them, and Hermione got a very cold shoulder. Potions was worse. Severus Snape hadn’t partnered with Lily, and even though the two seemed indifferent to one another, Hermione noticed a slight pained expression on the girl’s face. And then Professor Slughorn had made the announcement that Lily would be partnered with Hermione. To have, in his words, one of his best students show the new girl the ropes. Hermione would have been grateful for the chance to actually talk with Lily, had she not run out of muggle topics very fast and had Lily not resented her by proxy.

James…well, James was James. Half the time he was running off aloof without a care cracking jokes with Sirius. The other half he was completely indifferent to Hermione. She had caught him a few times looking at Lily with sadness and then quickly looking away before anyone noticed. None of the exuberant displays of affection she was always told about, no over the top proposals or so much as an expletive to Lily.

She found she had no way of just talking to him. They had nothing in common. She couldn’t jump from nothing to “Say Potter, I think you should marry Evans.” She needed something. Anything, honestly.

The idea came to her at breakfast. She had walked down with Mary and Marlene, both had significantly warmed up to her after overcoming her first night of self-imposed isolation. They were complaining about the amount of homework assigned in charms and Hermione was only half paying attention when she overheard the conversation next to her.

“Moony, on a scale of 1 to a leprechaun finding a galleon in his sock, how excited are you for next week?” Sirius asked.  He promptly received a slap to the back of the head by James who was seated next to him, one leg on either side of the bench.

“Don’t be so fucking insensitive, Pads.”

Sirius was rubbing the back of his head, “You wanker. I just mean after a whole summer it will be fun to run around the grounds a bit.”

Hermione straightened up. She noticed the boys looking around to see if anyone was listening, so she pretended to be invested in making herself a cup of tea.

“Yeah, fun. For you, Pads. I barely remember anything.” Remus grumbled when he was sure no one was listening.

“I don’t think we should be wandering around, mates. What if we run into someone?” Peter asked

“Live a little, Petey! This year is our last chance. Besides, Prongsie and I can keep him in check. Can’t we, James?”

Sirius threw an arm around James and they started talking about quidditch. Hermione tuned back in to the conversation Mary and Marlene was having but her mind was racing.

She had an idea. A terrible idea, but after a year of breaking out dragons, breaking into the ministry and getting out of terrible situations Hermione was starting to consider herself an endless source of terrible ideas.

All she had to do now was plan and wait.

18 September 1977, Sunday

Hermione had a mundane weekend. She was glad to use the excuse of studying in the library to sit and perfect her plan. Every contingency and variable taken into account. It was late at night when she returned to her dorm and was surprised to find Lily sitting on her bed.

The red head jumped up when she entered, “Sorry! I just wanted to visit. It’s weird not sharing.”

Mary and Marlene were regarding her carefully. Waiting for the reaction. So they knew about the contentious relationship. Great.

“It’s alright. You can sit,” Hermione gestured, when Lily still looked unsure, she added, “It was your bed first.”

Lily sat down and threw her a sheepish smile. Hermione excused herself to the bathroom and washed up, when she came out the three girls were laughing. Hermione tensed.

“What’s so funny?”

The three looked at her still smiling, and Mary answered, “We were talking about the time James asked Lily out by charming a piece of paper to say ‘Lily Evans, will you go to Hogsmeade with me?’. Only he messed up the charm, and it ended up screaming swear words all morning until McGonagall set it on fire. She was not impressed”

Hermione’s eyes widened, “How in Merlin’s name did he manage that?”

Lily laughed, “I still suspect Sirius.”

Hermione’s shoulders relaxed. She assumed that they were laughing at her expense, but this was different than sharing with Lavender and Parvati. They were welcoming, even Lily moved up to make room for Hermione and she sat down.

“How much trouble did McGonagall bring down on him?”

The girls laughed again, clearly remembering the moment.

Marlene finally calmed down enough to answer, “He didn’t even get to go to Hogsmeade! She kept him busy the whole day writing ‘I will not embarrass my house. I will not bring shame on the name of Godric Gryffindor ever again.’  Over and over until it had ‘sunk in’”

“It didn’t stick, did it?” Mary stated and the room filled with laughter once more.

By the end of the night Hermione found herself enjoying their company.  She even managed to crack a small smile at some of Marlene’s wilder stories. It was small, but it was genuine. Somewhere along the way they had all moved to the floor, sat with their backs against two beds and legs crossed.

“So, Hermione. Have anyone special in your life?’ Mary asked

“Yeah, why did Sirius call you Remus’s girl?” Marlene added much less subtle than her friend. She paid the price when Mary chucked a pillow at her head.

“No that was just Sirius being…well himself, I guess? I met them in Diagon Alley before the start of term and Remus helped me shop.”

She threw a hesitant glance at Lilly, but she seemed completely unbothered.

“Anyone else, then?” Mary asked again.

Hermione sobered up. Red hair, the smell of mint toothpaste, a tall boy,  the chamber of secrets-

“There was someone before. Before I-” she stuttered, before she travelled through time and left him behind? , “Anyway. I don’t know, we weren’t anything. Just shared a few moments. It doesn’t matter now anyway.” She added bitterly

The atmosphere dampened, and Hermione shifted awkwardly. Lily grabbed her hand, “I’m so sorry, Hermione.”

Hermione looked at the other two, she could see the questions behind their eyes, but they were kind enough not to ask. She cleared her throat and removed her hand from Lily’s, “Why is it only us four in this year, I was expecting more students?”

Marlene looked down, “Dorcas didn’t come back. Her parents didn’t think it was safe anymore, and Alice got accepted into a rather prestigious ministry program. McGonagall was so proud she made an exception.”

“She got hitched! I can’t believe she’s a Longbottom now!”

Hermione’s breathing stopped.  She had met Alice Longbottom. A woman with empty eyes aimlessly roaming the St Mungo’s ward. A maniac laughing on the front page of the prophet.

Hermione was shaken out of the flash by Lily’s snort, “I can’t believe they got married so young.”

Mary reached over and hit Lily with a pillow, “Funny of you to say, Evans. Earlier this year you were set on marrying Potter right after graduation.”

Lily swatted Mary’s attacks away, “You and your bloody pillows!" She managed to grab ahold of the offending object and threw it far out of Mary's reach, "Anyway. Things change. That’s long gone now.”

Hermione raised a brow, “What happened?”

Marlene and Mary shared a glance and Lily shrugged, “I don’t care to talk about it.” She looked out the window for a brief moment and then swivelled back with a grin, “What I would rather talk about is Marlene getting caught snogging Sirius after curfew by Filch!”

Marlene gasped, “Lily you said you wouldn’t tell!”

Laughter took over the previous sour mood. After squeezing all the details out of Marlene, it was getting very late. Mary and Marlene decided to head to bed and Hermione and Lily were left hip by hip, legs spread out in front of them.

It was silent for a minute before, Hermione started, “Lily, I-”

She was interrupted by Lily looking straight at her and asking, “Why do you hate me?”

Hermione was taken aback and very confused, “Hate you?”

“You’re so distant with me. If I sit down, you get up to leave. You don’t look me in the eyes, like ever. Even in potions you only ask me questions about the brewing… so why do you hate me?”

Hermione looked into her eyes for the first time that night. The green almost cracked her right open.

“You remind me of someone. Someone I miss very very much.”

Lily’s eyes softened, “You can talk about it, you know. It might help.”

Hermione shook her head, she hadn’t realised her feelings manifested that viscerally. Every time Lily smiled, she wanted to use the time turner and go back to Harry immediately. Only, if she left now there would be no Harry to go back to.

“I’m sorry. I really am.”

Lily shook her head, “I thought I did something. So I gave you space, but you can stop with trying to make fake small talk in potions now, please,” Lily laughed, “I can’t talk about the radio or the telly anymore.”

Hermione snorted, “I’m also sorry about Remus…I didn’t know you used to sit together in class.”

“It’s all right. They’ve all been distant this year, anyway. I don’t think it would have been the same between us even without you sitting next to him. I knew it would be bad between me and Potter, I just didn’t expect to lose my other friends because of it.”

After Lilly had left for her dorm, Hermione laid in bed staring at the ceiling. She had finally made progress, glad to know Lilly didn’t hate her. She had only thought Hermione had hated her. Because that was so much better.

Still, progress was progress, only Hermione didn’t think she’d get any answers about James out of Lilly anytime soon. Hopefully after her plan came to fruition, she’d be able to take a crack at James himself.

She only hoped Remus would forgive her.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

27 September 1977, Tuesday

Incredibly stupid, she was incredibly stupid.

Hermione didn’t think anyone could come up with a worse idea, but she didn’t turn around and go back to the dorm.

It was very late, she had pretended to go to bed early and waited for the sounds of the two other girls to quiet down. When she heard soft snoring from the bed next to her she threw the covers off and jumped out. Clothed in a warm jumper and loose jeans. She carried her shoes and only put them on in the common room. Once she was sure she was in the clear she headed out the portrait, careful to not wake the Fat Lady.

It was only when she reached the castle entrance, she considered just how truly stupid her idea was. It was too late to turn back now.

Hermione waited, disillusioned against the wall. The chill of the night air bit through her jumper.  Still, she waited. Until she heard it.

A distinct howl and bark in the distance.

She looked to where the sounds came from, spotting movement in the trees.

“Please, Merlin let this be worth it. Morgana, Rowena and especially you Godric, let this please work. Even you bloody Salazar” She whispered, and begged to every magical deity she could think about while disillusioning herself and pushing off the wall.

She started walking towards the forest, still praying, with only the light of the full moon guiding her steps.

Chapter Text

27 September 1977, Tuesday

Hermione was running for her life. Something she never thought she’d have to do again. She was running for her life from a werewolf chasing her through the forbidden forest, again. She would have burst out laughing if she could, but she was too busy with the running portion of the recurring situation she found herself in.

Everything had happened rather quickly; a wave of her wand had a slight breeze blowing from behind her towards the forest and the howls turned to growling. Ten steps from the edge of a clearing she saw movement deeper inside the forest, and even though she was expecting it- sort of- she jumped at the massive creature hurtling her way on all fours. Crashing through trees and growling.  

She caught a glimpse of a enormous black dog chasing it and nipping at it’s heels as if to say, where are you going? Come back this way. The dog noticed her as soon as she noticed it, and the chasing turned frantic. The dog scrambled around the werewolf and tackled it off its direct route to her and let out three quick successive barks. Before jumping, jaws open in the direction of where the werewolf had been sent tumbling.

She took that as her cue to start running.

Now she was running past trees, dodging branches and swearing like a sailor. She didn’t dare look back. Loud hooves on forest floor joined the sound of her boots. She risked a glance to her side and with a relieved huff saw a massive stag running beside her. A squeaking rat perched on its head in between horns. More growling broke through the dense forest she had already cleared. Two quick barks, and more sounds of beasts colliding.

The castle came into view over the treetops and the stag took lead, throwing its head in clear instruction. So, Hermione followed, breaking out of the tree line acutely aware that only adrenaline kept her going at this point. The stag was heading to the entrance when another two barks sounded from the forest and it ground to a halt. Dirt and grass flying under hooves, Hermione almost collided with him.

The stag turned his head toward the barks, and Hermione’s eyes widened at the sight of dog and werewolf breaking out of the tree line, in front of them.

The rat squeaked. Hermione’s heart turned into lead, dropping straight into her stomach. The stag turned and started running in the other direction.

“Okay, this way then,” Hermione huffed and began running again.

She followed him and realised they were headed to a hidden entrance to the side of the castle guarded by a giant statue of a unicorn. Out of relief for reaching safety she almost hurtled straight inside before remembering the part she had to play. Clueless new student who didn’t spend years with a map showing her and her best friends exactly where all the ways of sneaking around the castle were. She braced with her hands on her knees, daring a glance at the stag, “What now? You got me this far.”

The stag huffed and lowered his head for the rat to jump off. And in a flash James Potter stood in front of her. Before she registered that her act had actually worked, he grabbed her arm with a huff.

“Come on!”

Hermione was harshly dragged underneath the statue. James pulled out his wand and the giant tail moved out of the way to reveal the small entrance hidden neatly behind it. James pushed her inside and turned around to the rat at his feet, “Go! Peter, go now! Give the all clear.”

The rat scurried away and James followed inside, to where Hermione was leaning against the wall trying to catch her breath. He whirled on her, “What were you thinking?!”

She blinked up at his furious face and fired up to his volume, “How was I supposed to know there would be a werewolf on the grounds?!”

He raked a hand through his hair, “It’s after curfew! What are you even doing outside of the castle?”

Their raised voices echoed in the desolate corridor.  

“None of your bloody business, Potter!”

He towered above her and it was intimidating when he seethed, “As Head Boy, it is my bloody business. I should give you detention.”

“Brilliant idea, why don’t we march to McGonagall right now and tell her exactly how you found me outside the castle in the middle of the bloody night. I’m sure she’d be so proud at one of her students being an unregistered Animagus.”

He let out a breath and sat down, back to the wall, head in both his hands, “Fucking hell.”

She joined him on the floor, not trusting her legs to keep her upright much longer.

“Who is it?”

He lifted his head and shot her a look, “So you can run inside and tell the entire school?”

She scowled, not liking the accusatory tone, “It’s Remus, isn’t it?”

“How’d you-?”

“Moony,” she deadpanned. Hoping to Godric he’d believe that and not question the fact that she somehow knew he was unregistered. Both conclusions were believable on their own, but she shouldn’t keep slipping up on things she wasn’t supposed to know.

He sighed, all wrath seeping from him. He looked up with pleading eyes, “Granger, please don’t say anything. This is entirely our fault, he shouldn’t even be outside. Please.”

She regarded his terrified face, “I won’t,” he sagged in relief, “but not for you.”

He looked up in confusion.

She continued, “Remus has been nothing but kind to me. Besides, it’s something he has no control over. It wouldn’t be fair to punish him for something, especially something as terrible as this.”

His eyes widened, “You’re surprisingly open minded.”

“I had a friend once, a good friend who happened to be a werewolf.”

He nodded and his shoulders shook, “Thank you,” she opened her mouth in protest, but he cut her off, “I know. I know it’s not for me. Still, thank you.”

A howl broke through the air and Hermione looked outside, “Shouldn’t we head inside?”

“This corridor leads straight to the library. Filch will catch us before we make it five steps. We’re stuck here ‘til dawn, at least.”

Another howl as Remus got closer. James stood up and grabbed Hermione’s arm with him. She hissed as she was yanked upwards, “Let go -”

“Shhh. He’ll come clawing at the entrance. Please just – just trust me, Granger. This is going to sound bonkers but rub yourself against me.”

She pushed against his arm holding her captive, “Excuse me?!”

“He’s getting closer. He knows my scent, we have to hide yours so he doesn’t follow it and Pads can get him back to the shack.”

She clenched her teeth as he released her arm and turned his back, pointing with a thumb down it. Her arms were glued tightly at her sides as she awkwardly rubbed her own up and down against his back. She tried not thinking about it and started asking questions, “The shack?”

“The Shrieking Shack. They built it for Remus to transform in, its entrance is guarded by the Whomping Willow. You know, the giant murderous tree?”

She turned to face his back, shutting her eyes as she had to rub more, “Shrieking Shack?”

James sighed, “The transformations aren’t pleasant. The name stuck in first year,” he turned to face her when she halted her movements, “All done?” Hermione weakly nodded. “Good.” He sat back down against the wall, gesturing for her to do the same next to him furthest from the entrance.

“So if he’s meant to be in there, why is he running around outside?”

James smiled, “It was always the plan. Once we found out, we couldn’t leave him alone now, could we?”

“But running around outside? What if another student stumbles in on your little game of Chase the Werewolf?”

He laughed, “We have a plan,” she raised an eyebrow, and he added,“It worked for you didn’t it?”

“Barely.”

“Sirius can keep him busy long enough for me to get whoever is stupid enough to be wandering the grounds at full moon to safety,” she shot him a look he returned right back at her, “Sirius barks signals so I know where to go. Peter runs back once the idiot is safe, and I stay behind in case Moony gets too close for comfort.”

“The idiot would appreciate not being called as such.”

Hermione’s breaths were steadying, but her heart was still racing. James didn’t seem affected by the run or adrenaline.

“Well, it’s either you’re an idiot or suicidal. Which is it, Granger?”

“Ask me again tomorrow, right now I’m just happy to be alive.”

He laughed, a loud barking laugh that reverberated off the walls. He threw his head back to rest against the wall.

“You surprise me, Hermione Granger.”

Hermione looked at him, at the round thick rimmed glasses and familiar hair that she wanted to reach out and stroke out of his face.

“You don’t even know me, James Potter.”

He frowned, “I guess I don’t”

Hermione leant back, eyes closed as the heat of the run wore off and tiredness settled in her bones. If she had the energy to think about it, she would celebrate the fact that her plan worked. She had gotten an in with James and could build on that. That wasn’t nothing, a shared secret would be something indeed. She was too drained, though, and the building could begin another day.

They sat in silence, and Hermione slowly drifted off. Exhaustion lulling her into a restless sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

28 September 1977, Wednesday

“Granger,” she woke up to a hand gently shaking her shoulder, “Granger, it’s dawn.”

Her eyes slowly opened trying to focus on the hazy figure, “Harry?”

Silence, and then, “It’s James.”

Hermione jerked awake, jumping from the touch on her shoulder. Her wand slipped into her hand from her sleeve and she held it to the face of the person the touch belonged to. Slowly the events of the previous night flooded back to her consciousness.

She took in the surroundings. Light flooding in made it easy to make out exactly how cramped the space was, she looked towards James who had his hands up and eyes trained on her wand, “Shit. Sorry.” She lowered it, stuffing it back in its place.

“Jumpy thing, aren’t you?”

She glared at him, and rubbed at her eyes trying to forcefully wake up.

“There’s a few hours until classes, you better get going if you want to sneak back up to the dorms. You might catch a little more shuteye, but you need a shower. Badly, I might add.” He was laughing at her now.

It was too early to deal with Potter sass. So, she grumbled a curse at him and got up, throwing a vulgar hand gesture over her shoulder as she walked away for good measure. His laughter followed her as she ascended the narrow passage. Once she was fully awake she'd cringe in mortification of her actions, however good it felt in the moment.

She didn’t get any more sleep. After washing the last mud from herself and sneaking past the still sleeping Marlene and Mary, she made her way straight to the hospital wing. Book bag slung over her shoulder and eyes still burning at the light.

The halls were thankfully empty, and the trip wasn’t in vain.

She approached the only occupied bed in the hospital wing and winced at the sight. Remus was lying down, just staring at the ceiling with his fingers interlaced over the sheets. His exposed arms were covered in fresh scratches, probably from the fight with Sirius. It was her fault. The white in his knuckles showed her exactly how he was feeling, how hard he was clenching his hands.

Hermione cleared her throat and he tried sitting up when he saw her, mouth opening to say something but the words died before they could come out and he looked defeated, eyes dropping down.

“Shhh, don’t get up.” She moved over to him and helped him lie down through his winces.

“Hermione, I-”

She interrupted him, “Whatever you’re about to say, save it.”

“Sirius already told me what happened. Listen, before you go to Dumbledore-”

“Didn’t I just tell you to save it?” He gaped at her wordlessly, “Listen here and listen well Remus Lupin. What happened wasn’t your fault, okay? So spare me any apologies.” She pulled out her wand and started tracing it over the scratches, they slowly retracted to faint red lines. He stared at the action in confusion.

“I could have killed you.”

She threw a tight-lipped smile at him, “I guess you have to try harder next time.”

He frowned, “This isn’t funny.”

She sighed, he looked so weak. No hint of the spry young man she had gotten used to seeing the last month.

“It isn’t. I’m sorry,” she said, ignoring his look of annoyance, “Yes, I know, call me a hypocrite all you want. I am still sorry. I shouldn’t have put you in that situation.”

Remus grabbed her hand, stopping her wand movements, before dropping it just as fast, “You had no way of knowing.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Wait, did you? Did Sirius tell you to take a stroll?” His eyes flashed in anger and she quickly replied, “No! No, he didn’t. I was just stupid, ask James,” she scoffed, “He’ll tell you exactly how much of an idiot I am.”

“He shouldn’t have said that.”

Hermione shook her head, “No, no. He was right. I needed the wakeup call”

It was the truth, she had realised with a cold shock of reality that morning, she had taken things too far. Even though everything had worked out, and her plan was still on track, she had taken a very unnecessary risk that could have cost Remus so much.  All in the name of getting closer to her goal of getting home, she had to take a step back and re-evaluate. She rummaged for the chocolate in her book bag and handed it to a perplexed Remus.

“If you’re feeling better, I’ll see you in ancient runes today. If not, I’ll give you the notes tonight.”

She turned to walk when he called from behind, “Wait! You would still sit next to me?”

Hermione looked over her shoulder with a sad smile, “I thought we were in the beginning stages of a nice friendship?”

He smiled and said, “I would like for that to still be the case.”

She walked out of the hospital wing a lot lighter.

The rest of the day was a chore to get through, she fell asleep in transfiguration and woke up to McGonagall standing over her.

“Miss Granger, I do apologise that my class has interrupted your little afternoon nap time.” The class broke out in sniggers at her expense

She could only mumble a soft, “Sorry, Professor.” but McGonagall had already moved on, continuing her lecture while shooting Hermione a glare.

A note flew onto her table when McGonagall’s back was turned, and Hermione subtly opened it under the table.  

Chew on this, it will keep you awake

Attached was a wrapper. She unraveled it to find what seemed like mundane chewing gum, Hermione turned her head in confusion and found Peter smiling at her with two thumbs up.

Oh what the hell. She popped it into her mouth, at first only an enjoyable mint flavour exploded in her mouth. Definitely stronger than muggle chewing gum, when suddenly the distinctive feeling of a pepper up potion racing through her system. She was instantly jolted awake, more energy than a simple cup of coffee would have brought. She looked back at Peter with wonder, and he threw her a wink.

When class ended she went over to his desk, “What in the world was that?”

He smiled packing away his things, “Pepper-me-up-gum. I discovered it during third year,” he looked over her shoulder and she followed his gaze to Sirius and James making a spectacle of seeing who could land their book bags perfectly on the other’s shoulders and having a rowdy laugh, “I’m not so good at the late nights.”

“You’ve just saved my life. A second time.” She added, the irony wasn’t lost on her.

“It’s the least I could do. For Remus.” She nodded as he slung his bag over his shoulder and joined the two loud clowns. He said something that Hermione couldn’t hear but had Sirius bursting out with laughter and slinging his arm over Peter’s shoulders. They walked out of the classroom like that.

“You should have died! Like we would have died for you.”  She couldn’t imagine that future.

“Miss Granger, if you’d stay behind.”

Hermione faced McGonagall with no less dread than she had faced a werewolf the previous night. She waited until the last stragglers went to lunch in the great hall and made her way to the desk McGonagall sat behind.

“You wanted to see me, Professor?”

The terrifying witch looked up at Hermione over the rim of her glasses.

“Miss Granger, you might be fooling everyone. Including yourself, but you cannot fool me.”

Hermione’s throat instantly dried up, but she managed to croak, “Professor?”

“I’ve seen you perform spells in class. You are way above your expected skill level, I have no doubt about that. However,” she held up a piece of parchment that Hermione realised with a start was the recent essay she had turned in, “you fail to apply yourself outside the classroom.”

Okay, maybe essay was overselling it. Truth be told she had hastily scribbled a few lines during breakfast.

“Miss Granger, I’ve seen the efficacy with which you conduct spell work. You master new spells in minutes but then spend the next hour staring out of the window.”

Hermione had no reply. She had never been scolded on her lacklustre schoolwork before, and at that moment didn’t really care.

“Dumbledore provided me with your school transcripts,” fake ones, forged to reflect the true history of her education, “Nine O’s and one E in your O.W.L.s. Dear girl, I know you didn’t receive those results with work like this.” She slapped the parchment down in front of Hermione.

Hermione stared at it, feeling more defeated than ever. When she looked up she wanted to reel back from the sudden warmth in the professor’s eyes, warmth and understanding. So much worse, this is worse. Bring back the scolding.  

“I expect great things from you, Miss Granger. I won’t presume to know what you’ve been through and how you ended up here, but don’t let your history erase your future. Now, you have until Friday to redo this and do try and eat something at lunch, full plates getting sent back to the kitchens are such a waste.”

Hermione’s voice was thick as she answered, “Yes, Professor.”

She grabbed the parchment and hurried out almost colliding with James in the corridor.

“What are you doing here?” She asked him as soon as she regained her footing.

“Waiting for you?” He asked, she raised a brow, and he relented, “Sirius and Pete are talking about things I’m not privy to anymore as Head Boy. I prefer not knowing to be honest. What did she want?” He asked nodding at the closed classroom door.

“Apparently I’m not applying myself enough.”

She handed him the parchment and he sucked in a breath through his teeth, “This is terrible, Granger. Truly.”

She snatched it away from him, “I am fully aware.”

“Let’s get you to lunch, a big cup of tea usually helps a Minnie-scold go down.”

They walked towards the great hall. Lunch was filled with more chatter than usual with her newfound connection to the boys. James wasted no time in informing everyone who would listen about Hermione’s ‘artful piece of resistance’ as he called her essay. She laughed along with Sirius’s big display of gratitude at her turning in worse homework than him and saving him from a ‘Minnie-scold’.

Marlene and Mary joined later from their Herbology class and immediately poured sympathy on Hermione. Giving her tips for what to do during the next one-on-one with the stern Professor.  Lily Evans was nowhere to be found, but Hermione did catch James looking at the doors expectantly.

After lunch she realised she had managed to eat a full slice of toast without choking on a single bite.

29 September 1977, Thursday

It was late at night, way too late at night for Hermione to be up in the Astronomy Tower. The stars were in full view and the only source of light the blue-bell flame she had casted, floating above her as she laid out on the floor finishing her transfiguration essay. Hermione was actually using her textbooks this time around.

For a long time, the only sound was the scribbling of her ink on the parchment, until a voice called from behind, “Didn’t I warn you about being out after curfew?”

Hermione looked behind her at James leaning casually leaning against the doorway, a grin plastered on his face.

She looked back at her work and casually replied, “I have learned to stay indoors, at least.”

“What are you doing here?”

Hermione scoffed, propping herself on both elbows to gesture at the parchment and textbooks scattered on the floor, “Applying myself. Obviously.”

James said nothing and strolled over to squat down next to her reading over her shoulder. She turned back to the parchment, scribbling for a few minutes until he declared proudly in his best impression of McGonagall, “That’s more like it, Miss Granger. Perfectly acceptable.”

She rolled her eyes, “What are you doing here, Potter?”

He shrugged, “Had a few Head Boy rounds to complete. Saw a light from the seventh-floor corridor.”

She said nothing, only dimmed the bluebell with a wave of her hand. His eyes widened at the display of non-verbal wandless magic, but he didn’t comment on it.

The silence dragged on as she wrote the last few lines of the essay. Somewhere along the way he had sat down next to her work, legs thrown over the railing and leaning back on his arms, just gazing at the stars.

She packed up her things and joined him. Now or never.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Be my guest.”

“What happened between you and Lily?”

James looked at her, and with sad eyes turned back towards the view.

“Ask me again tomorrow, Granger.”

“Your turn,” she said and he cast a confused glance at her, so she added, “A question for a question.”

“Which are you today?”

“Excuse me?”

“An idiot or suicidal - which is it today?”

Hermione looked down at the magnificent drop beyond the railings. Dumbledore’s body lying on the ground. Harry holding on to her as if she was the only thing keeping him upright.

She smiled at James, “Ask me again tomorrow, Potter.”

Chapter Text

7 October 1977, Friday

For a week straight Hermione kept running into James. Not during the school day, but after curfew in the castle. It wasn’t until the third time that she caught him hiding parchment as she turned a corner on the 6^th floor that she realised he was using the map. Each time they spoke of nothing important and ended with the same exchange.

“Ask me again tomorrow.”

She was getting exasperated with tomorrows.

The fourth time he brought her food, a small portion of grapes wrapped in a a piece of cheese cloth.

“What’s this for?”

“You didn’t eat anything at dinner.”

This was the fifth night in a row she was roaming the castle with no destination in mind, and the fifth night in a row James found her at the start of her little promenade.

“You were brilliant in Defense today.” James said as they walked together, pretending to do his rounds.

Professor Mirlfield turned out all right, not getting locked in a cupboard and forgotten about so soon. He was a competent teacher who had spent the first month on theory and demonstration and quickly moved on to practical spell work in their most recent class. Hermione was the only one to complete a non-verbal shielding charm in full force, she immediately felt eyes trained on her. She had looked over and found the Slytherins staring at her with calculating eyes.

One would think Dumbledore would stop putting the two most contentious houses in the most contentious class, but alas, here they were again.

“It’s not a big deal,” She shrugged and nibbled on the bread he had brought her this time.

“Not a big deal?! Bloody hell, Granger, the advantage you have in a fight! You could be silenced and still avoid some serious damage.”

He sounded so excited at the prospect of a fight. It was very disconcerting.

“So what? They can do that, too.”

Phantom pain flashed in her torso at the memory of Dolohov casting a silent spell that left her bedridden for weeks. Waking up in the hospital wing. Confused. Pain flaring at her ribs with every breath. Then more pain when finding out Sirius-

“Can I ask you something?”  James’s voice broke through the flash. She hadn’t noticed he’d gone deathly silent at her reply.

“Ask me again-“ She started with the well-rehearsed answer.

“No not that. Not tonight. What happened to you?”

She looked up at him in confusion, he had stopped walking and turned to fully face him.

“What do you mean?”

He rand a hand through his hair, “Come on, Granger. It’s clear as day you’ve been through the ringer. You show up here accompanied by a vague speech about people seeking safety at Hogwarts. No other explanation. You turn corners wand in hand – like you’re waiting for someone to jump out and attack you. You’re constantly looking over your shoulder”

She was suddenly acutely aware of the slender wood gripped tightly in her palm, still she said nothing.

“You look like shit,” now she bristled at his words, “I mean it. You don’t finish your food and apparently you never sleep. What happened to you?”

She stayed silent. Scabior grabbing her by the face. Being chased through the woods. Nagini snapping at her face. Harry dead in Hagrid’s arms.

“And then there’s that!” James exclaimed through her memories, “You just disappear, sometimes. Peter says you can see thestrals…you’ve seen someone die?”

Hermione nodded. James moved closer to her repeating himself, “What happened to you, Granger?”

She pulled back, and felt trapped by the wall at her back, “Back off, Potter. I’m not telling you.”

He moved even closer, “Why?”

She was now completely stuck and seethed through clenched teeth, “Because I said so. Now. Back. Off.”

James seemed to catch himself and moved away, giving her space to move off the wall.

“The world is about to get very dark very soon. For everyone. So trust me when I say – let me spare you the prequel, okay? Just enjoy the time you have now.”

He nodded but still said nothing, she could tell that there was more he wanted to know, “Why are you asking me this?”

He looked up with earnest eyes, “I just want to know if I should be scared.”

“Hogwarts is the safest place,” lie, lie, lie. Hogwarts was burning, it was crumbling-“You have nothing to be scared of here.”

She walked away from him back towards the Gryffindor tower. Not willing to look back and face him again.

8  October 1977, Saturday

Hermione made her way downstairs to join Mary and Marlene for breakfast, she had promised to join them later using homework as an excuse. Truthfully, she wanted to make sure she missed James. Maybe she could catch Lily today. Potions had been going a lot better since their heart to heart, but Hermione was still nowhere near close enough to start pulling strings.

She made it to right outside the Great Hall when she was violently yanked into a broom cupboard. Her back was digging into a shelf due to the hand on her shoulder, and a wand was pressed into her face. On the other end was Sirius.

“I’m getting real tired of boys backing me into corners.”

He didn’t even blink, “Who are you?”

“Hermione Granger,” She answered calmly.

In all honesty she had been expecting this, she had noticed Sirius watching her all week when he thought no one was looking, and after yesterday’s Defense class he was the only Gryffindor with the same calculating look in his eyes as his green counterparts.

“Who sent you?”

“No one.”

Sirius laughed humourlessly, pressing his wand closer to her nose.

“I don’t believe you. It’s all too convenient. You show up out of the blue, and we’re supposed to believe you can just do all this amazing spell work your first month at Hogwarts? Even the full moon…why were you even out there?”

Hermione stared him down, ignoring the wand in her face. Someone was bound to catch on. It just wasn’t on her bingo card that it would be Sirius. She was too naïve, she’d forgotten just how much he’d seen of the terrible in this world.

“I was granted safety at Hogwarts. I seem to have not quite found it.”

“That’s a cauldron full of shit. Why were you out there?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you decided for a lovely midnight stroll?”

“I needed fresh air.”

He looked at her, clearly waiting for more.

“Nightmare.”

He snorted disbelievingly, “What could you have nightmares about so bad that it sends you into the forbidden forest on a full moon?”

There was only one way out of this, one way to get him to believe her and get that bloody wand out of her face. Hermione was already resenting herself for it. She pulled at her sleeve and heard him hold his breath, he was expecting a dark mark. What she shoved in his face was arguably worse.

“Happy now?”

Sirius went deathly pale, dropping his hand from her shoulder and lowering his wand. He reached out and touched her arm, she pulled back and refused to look at it. Or him. So she focused her eyes on the stack of buckets behind him.

“Who- who did this to you?”

Crazed black hair. Dark robes and a maniacal laugh ringing in her ears.

“No one of importance,” she lied, “are you satisfied with my answers now or are we continuing the interrogation?” Hermione spat out. She couldn’t be in the tiny space any longer, she was going to suffocate.

He nodded. Refusing to make eye contact.

“No one can know of this, Black,” she gestured to her arm, “No one. I don’t want my story out there in these halls. I came here to get away from it all, not be dragged into it again by suspicious dimwits.” She waited for the confirming nod before rushing out, out of the closet, out of the castle completely until she reached the black lake.

She collapsed at the water’s edge not seeing the ripples or feeling the pebbles underneath her knees.

“Hey, Granger! I’ve been looking for you.”

Hermione’s eyes snapped up at James and whatever he saw there had him taking a step back, “Tell your friend the next time he wants to accost me like some Death Eater scum, I’ll hex his balls off.”

James looked confused, glancing between her and the castle before nodding and silently retreating.

She looked out over the water and ignored the true reason she had just bitten Potter’s head off. The simple fact that what she had said to Sirius was truth. Hermione had run away. She had taken the opportunity and immediately ran from her war-torn time, leaving everyone behind to deal with it by themselves.

Late that night, Hermione once again found herself in the astronomy tower. Feet over the edge and arms crossed over the lower railing. She rested her cheek against the cool metal, gazing up at the stars.

“We really have to stop meeting like this.”

She didn’t even look behind her. Just waited until James joined her.

“I don’t want to talk, Potter.”

“I know, Marlene warned us to stay clear of you today.”

Poor Marlene was on the receiving end of a few half-arsed hexes when she had approached Hermione in the dorm and tried cracking a joke.

Hermione sighed, she’d have to apologise for that sometime. James reached over and handed her another cheese cloth. She took it, already knowing he was going to wait for her to start eating.

“Whatever Sirius said to you today-”

“Is not your problem,” She finished for him.

He scratched the back of his head, “Well, you sure seemed to have made it my problem.” Damn him, he didn’t even look hesitant to throw that one at her.

She asked, “Are you an idiot or suicidal?”

He laughed. Shaking his head, “Right now? Definitely an idiot.”

She was inclined to agree. If she wasn’t so exhausted she could’ve mustered up a hex. Except, he was also right.

“I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“Making it your problem.”

He smiled, grabbing a grape from her hand and popping it in his mouth, “It’s alright, Granger. We all have bad days.”

“What happened between you and Lily?”

He tutted, “Nah uh, you already asked your question for the night. Now how about you, ready to tell me whatever you told Sirius?”

“Ask me tomorrow, Potter.”

They sat there for hours, until Hermione’s blinking started slowing and James tugged on her hand to lead her to Gryffindor tower.

Chapter Text

20 October 1977, Thursday

Hermione knew the Marauders were planning something. She would catch Remus and Sirius whispering around corners and breaking apart as soon as she came into view. James would sit far away at the breakfast table, scribbling furiously.

It came to a head during Potions,  when even Lily (who was still doing her best to act as if James didn’t exist at all) took notice.

“What are they up to?”

Hermione looked to where Lily was pointing, all four marauders had abandoned their cauldrons and were hunched over a textbook. Hermione shrugged, “Not the foggiest.”

She idly stirred while Lily kept on watching them with narrowed eyes.

“You know,” Hermione started, “You can always ask him. I’m sure he’d tell you.”

She was doing her best to seem uninterested, paging through her potions textbook not really reading the instructions.

Lily snorted, “Not a chance in hell,” she turned back to the cauldrons, “Have you already added the armadillo bile?”

So much for that

In arithmancy Remus was abnormally quiet, it unnerved her to the point of poking him in the ribs with her elbow at one point.

He hissed and rubbed the spot, “What was that for?”

“What in Merlin’s name has gotten into you lot?” She whispered back at him

He gave her a mischievous grin and mimed zipping his lip shut. She heaved an exasperated sigh and sat back crossing her arms.

She finally made a bit of headway into the Mystery of the Marauder’s during transfiguration. Another note landed perfectly on her desk and she waited until McGonagall was deeply engaged in another student’s spell work before opening it up.

Head prefects’ dorms. Tomorrow. 21:00. Don’t be late.

She threw a questioning glance behind her at Peter, who was pretending to be staring at the wall in deep astonishment.

“Mr Pettigrew! Have you lost something in that wall?”

Hermione whipped her head around the same time as Peter, to see McGonagall glaring daggers at him. Credit to him, he didn’t even stutter his reply, “No, professor. Just admiring the shading. Wow.” He sighed turning back to the wall, “They really thought of everything when they built Hogwarts. Look at the colour of these bricks, isn't it mesmerising Professor?”

Hermione suppressed a snort, while James and Sirius weren’t even hiding their guffaws at the front of the class. McGonagall was quick to silence all three.

Dinner was a lot quieter than usual, as McGonagall had promised to only lift the spell after the meal. Hermione spent the time chatting with Marlene, Mary and Lily. Who all seemed to be revelling in the ordeal.

“I had to say no, of course. Can’t give in too easily, you know?”  Marlene finished her story and popped a piece of potato in her mouth.

“You can be so mean Marls!” Mary laughed.

“I don’t know, there are a few wizards who would disagree with that statement. Isn’t that right, Black?” Marlene turned to face Sirius, who only glared at her, “Oh, that’s right. I forgot.” Marlene had been doing that all night, and every single time it brought tears of laughter to the whole table. Even Hermione chuckled.

When McGonagall rose from the Professor’s table though, everyone sobered up and suddenly found their plates very interesting.

She cleared her throat behind the boys and they turned sheepish eyes up at her.

“Pettigrew, Potter, and Black. I trust you have learned how to keep quiet today?”

All three nodded eagerly.

“Very well then. Let this be your first and only warning of the year.”

She walked away, waving a wand casually over her shoulder. When she was out of earshot everyone burst out at the same time

“Oh thank Merlin’s saggy-” James started

“My tongues gone numb.” Peter slurred pulling at the body part

“My beautiful, beautiful voice!” Sirius exclaimed

“I’m so glad that’s over.” Remus sighed in relief

Lily suddenly stood up, “That’s my cue.” And walked away without greeting. The table fell into awkward silence, everyone sparing a glance at James. Until Mary piped up, “Wait, Remus, I thought she didn’t curse you?”

He shrugged, “I took a vow of silence in solidarity."

21 October 1977, Friday

Hermione stood in front of the Hogwarts crest marking the door to the head prefects’ dorms awkwardly checking her watch, 9:05. Technically she wasn’t late, she had just been standing outside the door for 5 minutes wondering if she should knock.

Her indecisiveness was cut short when the door flung open and a charged Sirius stood before her.

 “You’re late!” He said in lieu of a greeting and pulled her in, shutting the door behind her with a slam.

The dorm was spacious and Hermione felt herself getting jealous at never having the opportunity to live there. The circular room was magnificent. A collection of couches of different shapes and sizes domed around a giant hearth against the curved wall furthest from the door. Two short hallways connected at the midpoints on opposite sides, she assumed inside were the rooms and private bathrooms. She fawned at the idea. The rest of the walls were lined with tall bookshelves, desks built into them. Another large couch occupied the empty space in front of the door, a small coffee table in front of it now covered with parchment, all 4 marauders sat on the couch looking at them.

“Wow.” Hermione managed.

“Like my new place?” James grinned from the couch.

“If it wasn’t yours, it would be perfect.”

James only grinned wide at her response beckoning her over.

She stepped towards the table glancing at the scribbled mess on the parchment sprawled across the whole table. Before she could register the words on them she was being pulled down on the couch by Sirius. Hermione was getting really tired of the casual manhandling.

“If you wouldn’t mind sitting right here for us, Hermione dearest. All will be explained.”

She sat alone on the couch, watching the marauders huddle in front of her before turning. She snorted at their appearance, they had thrown their Gryffindor ties over their casual clothes, and dug up their pointy hats for the occasion.

Sirius started, dramatically adjusting his tie, “Hermione Granger. We have a proposition for you.”

“A marvellous opportunity,” James nodded

“A grand idea,” Peter said

“A favour to ask,” Remus added finally

Hermione blinked, looking between all four of them.

“We have in need of you, you see. Our Prongsie here,” Sirius continued, draping himself over James’ shoulder, “Dear fallen friend, he will be missed,” Sirius sobbed dramatically and the other two marauders removed their hats with bowed heads. It was so ridiculous Hermione covered had to cover her mouth, Sirius straightened up again and replaced his hat, “Prongsie here has been appointed Head-Prick by our beloved headmaster. In an attempt to damper his brilliance, no doubt!” Sirius pointed a finger in the sky

“A sham,” Peter whispered solemnly.

“As is such, he can no longer participate freely in our elaborate plans! We need you Hermione, desperately. As a stand in.”

“A proxy.” Peter supplied

“A fifth marauder!” James shouted triumphantly.

“A back up.” Remus shrugged.

They looked at her expectantly, and all she had to say was, “Did you fools really practice all of this?”

Sirius grabbed at his heart, “Blasphemy!”

Peter looked shocked, “Direct for the heart, madam!”

Remus nodded, “Several hours worth of it.”

Hermione looked at James, expecting another jump in from him, only he looked at her genuinely, “Please, Hermione. I’ve left them hanging and they need another person.”

She sighed, “What exactly will I be getting myself into? Wait wait- " she stopped them as they started celebrating “- I haven’t agreed just yet.”

Sirius sat down next to her, pointing at the table, “A magnificent prank.”

“No absolutely not,” She stood up to leave but James grabbed her hand.

“Please Hermione, I’ll have to stay with Lily the entire time otherwise she’ll immediately suspect me, and I can kiss my Head Boy badge goodbye.”

Hermione stopped in her tracks. He’d have to spend time with Lily? This could work. If she had to go through with this to solve her problems –

“Fine.” She crossed her arms and sat back down. “Explain it to me then.”

Sirius grinned, “We want to flood Hogwarts with the prefects’ bubble bath next Friday.”

Hermione spluttered, “A week? Why the urgency now, then?”

Remus sat on her other side and patted her head condescendingly, “Planning takes time and care, Hermione. These things don’t happen over night.”

She swatted away his hand, and as the marauders continued explaining their elaborate plan she kept her eye on the big prize at the end of the tunnel, getting home by Christmas.

22 October 1977, Saturday

Apparently planning a prank did take more time than Hermione thought as Saturday morning she found herself once again in the Head Prefects’ common room.

“No, if we start it there it will only reach the second floor before fizzing out.” Remus said.

Hermione looked at the plans and asked, “What about Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom?”

“Who’s?” all four boys echoed.

“Moaning – oh for Merlin’s sake – she’s a ghost that stays in a girl’s lavatory on the fifth floor. Do you have a map of the school?”

She watched their reactions carefully, saw the quick glances between them and the nod of confirmation from James.

“What we’re about to show you has to remain in this room.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but nodded anyway.

She watched James pull out the map she knew so well already, he turned away to mutter the incantation and folded it open on the table.

Her eyes widened in genuine amazement, she’d only seen the map weathered and aged. The map in front of her still had clean parchment and crisp lines. The detail was amazing, she was so focused on it that she almost missed the two names next to each in the library.

Lily Evans and Severus Snape. Hermione’s eyes shot up at James, who was frowning down to that exact spot. She looked down and said in the biggest tone of wonder she could muster, “This is amazing.”

Remus looked at it proudly, “Took us almost all of six years to do it. But every nook and cranny of this castle is accounted for.”

She pointed to the bathroom, “There, that one.”

All of them, except for James who’s eyes were still stuck on the library looked at where she was pointing.

“Bloody brilliant! Looks like all we needed was a girl on the team,” Sirius laughed and rubbed Hermione vigorously on the head.

Hermione was still looking at James, trying to decipher the look on his face.

28 October 1977, Friday

The morning of the ‘Big Bubble’ as they had been calling it Hermione’s nerves were in tatters. She could barely sit still in any of the classes, and Marlene and Mary were shooting her questioning looks all day. She didn’t care much for being caught, and with the company she was keeping it seemed inevitable.

More she was worried that she hadn’t made progress at all in her actual mission. That Snape and Lily together on the map meant she had already failed. The ‘Big Bubble’ had to be her redemption. A way to force James and Lily to interact again.

The plan was simple, James would catch Lily on her way back to the castle from Herbology. Keep her busy with talk of Head Boy duties, if Hermione’s luck was turning Lily would swoon over his new found maturity and distance from Marauder silliness. Peter had already snuck in and stole enough of the bubble bath to foam up an entire ocean. Sirius would cause a distraction in the great hall, and Hermione would start the flooding in the bathroom.

And Remus? Well, Hermione finally understood how he fit into the Marauders. For a long time, it had seemed impossible that he would condone such barbarism, let alone participate. Now Hermione knew, he was the bloody mastermind.

Everything from crafting and tweaking the intricacies of the spells down to the exact timing. It was all him, and he came alive with it. She had never seen anyone excel in anything as much as this, not even Harry’s uncanny ability to attract danger rivalled it.

He had picked the day after the full moon to cast suspicions off himself. She thought he was a bloody idiot for it and had spent the morning healing him in the hospital wing telling him exactly that.

Tapping her foot on the ground during ancient runes she couldn’t look away from him. He casually looked at his watch and brought a hand up to scratch his ear. That was her signal, even if the signal wasn’t supposed to end on a wince and a hand to his side. She shot a hand up.

“Professor, may I be excused?”

“Whatever for, Miss Granger?”

She stood up and made her way across the room to his desk. Pretending to stumble as she slipped a vial underneath an unsuspecting Hufflepuff’s desk.

She bent down to whisper softly, “I just need to use the lavatory, Professor. I’m having a bit of an emergency “

At the implication of ‘period talk’ the male professor’s eyes widened and he excused her with a hurried “Of course! Of course.”

She headed with a smile to the bathroom - did her part exactly as instructed and written out by Mastermind Remus, and waited for chaos to erupt.

It worked marvellously. In ten minutes, the entirety of Hogwarts was enveloped in foam and bubbles. Students scrambled and slipped and as they did so a gemini jinx created replacements for the bubbles they popped. As each classroom flooded, the potions they had carefully distributed with the help of Peter’s rat form exploded. And bubbles turned colourful. Pinks, purples and oranges burst from the vials coating the foam, and the entire classroom they were placed in. 

Remus, Peter and Hermione stood outside in awe. Watching the chaos unfold while professors tried their best to contain the spread. Bright colours were oozing down staircases and out the giant doors to the great hall. It was all going so perfectly well until-

“Oh no. Bloody hell.” Remus exclaimed next to her and pointed towards the bridge, Sirius was running. And if he was running on the bridge waving his arms like a lunatic –

“We’ve been caught.” Peter whispered in horror.

They scrammed. All in different directions. It didn’t matter though, soon they were corralled by professors and sat in front of  an empty desk in McGonagall’s office. Awaiting their verdict from the closed door of the classroom where most of the professors were involved in the discussion. Peter was chewing frantically at his nails and Remus sat back straight looking at the same spot on the wall. Hermione was hunched over, head collapsed in her hands. Only Sirius was looking relaxed. He swayed in the chair humming softly.

“My friends,” he started, “this is a perfect example of poor planning.”

“Shut up, Pads” Remus grumbled

Peter squeaked, “What happened? Everything went perfectly.”

Sirius cleared his throat awkwardly, “It’s a simple explanation really, you see what happened was- well actually no what came first-“

“Use your words.”

“I fucked up.”

Hermione’s head snapped up, “What?!”

Sirius rubbed the back of his neck, “I was so caught up in the moment! I had Filch and Flitwick hot on my tail and it just came out! I said ‘wait until you see what happens next!’. I timed it so perfectly because just then the first potion exploded! Oh you should have seen it, it was perfect. The look on their-” he cleared his throat trailing off at the unamused expressions that greeted him, “-and well they knew. They also knew I couldn’t have done it alone since I had been running from them for most of the time and, well, process of elimination…well you get the idea. They only nabbed Hermione because it started in a girls’ bathroom.” He threw an apologetic glance at her, poor planning indeed.

“Pads?” Remus said

“Moony?”

“Im going to kill you now.”

Peter jumped up in between his two friends and Hermione just sunk her head down again.

“There’s still hope. Our punishment will depend greatly on Filches’ mood. How did he look after chasing you, Padfoot?” Peter held out both arms in front of Remus, effectively blocking his view of Sirius while trying to mitigate the situation.

“Well- “

Hermione didn’t want to ask, she dreaded the answer, but she asked anyway “Sirius, what was your distraction?”

“I stole Mrs. Norris.”

“We’re so dead.”

McGonagall spent the better part of an hour dressing them down. Hermione felt naked by the end of it, and she hadn’t even been mentioned personally. Sirius got a lot of the spotlight, Remus and Peter each a few disappointment tirades. Hermione had yet to be mentioned though.

“Miss Granger,” too soon, “is this what you took from me telling you to apply yourself outside of class? Because then you and I had a serious miscommunication.”

Hermione looked down.

“Hogwarts has granted you sanctuary and safety which you have accepted Miss Granger, it would do you well not to forget that and respect her.”

She could feel eyes on her but continued looking down.

“A hundred house points will be taken for this disgraceful act. And you will stay here as long as it takes to clean up this mess. Detention for two weeks after that”

The mess wasn’t too bad, the gemini jinx wore off and all the bubbles popped. The colour explosions in the classrooms were more potent than expected though, and it would take some elaborate charm work -

“No magic.”

They groaned. Not too bad just became virtually impossible.

“Now, you will wait here while I fetch your new best friends, mop and bucket.” She stood up and swished out, the door closing with such force all four of them jumped. Hermione sagged forwards again.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked softly from beside her

Remus paused his glaring at Sirius to turn to Hermione, “Will you lose your sanctuary?”

Hermione scoffed leaning back, “No.”

Remus looked relieved at the denial, “What did McGonagall mean then?”

Hermione grumbled, “Nothing. A load of rubbish. I didn’t have a choice, and they’ll just have to live with the fact that they don’t either.”

They spent hours scrubbing, turning murky water bright with colour. They had barely made a dent in the first classroom when Remus collapsed against a wall. Hermione rushed over, digging into her beaded bag until she found what she was looking for, “Here, some pain relief.” She held it up to his mouth but he shook his head, “Remus, please.”

He relented at the worry in her voice and sighed as soon as he had emptied the vial.

She smiled at him, “Want me to tell you how much of an idiot you are for planning this today, again?”

He shook his head, “Please, spare me. I didn’t plan on us getting caught.”

She propped his head up with a pillow she summoned from the depths of the bag, “Well then, I’m afraid Sirius was right. This is the prime example of poor planning.”

He huffed a pained laugh, “Next time I’ll just plan a distraction that doesn’t break at the first opportune moment.”

Hermione instructed him to remain seated as she rejoined Peter and Sirius at the wall, the latter now looking guiltily at his friend. She splashed him with dirty water to get his attention, and just shook her head and mouthed ‘Leave it’. He nodded and turned his attention back to the purple wall.

After a few more hours of scrubbing without much progress, McGonagall checked on them with a disappointed tut. They were all exhausted, and not looking much better than Remus.  With a wave of her wand, the mess disappeared and they all sagged in relief. Sensing they were dismissed, for now, Sirius and Peter each threw an arm under Remus, supporting him out. Hermione made to leave but McGonagall threw out a arm, “Not so fast, Miss Granger. Dumbledore called for you.”

Perfect. She waved her hand at the three worried faces staring at her, shooing them away and moved toward the Headmaster’s office.

Mercifully it went by quick. After explaining that yes, this was still part of the plan. And yes, she was sure of what she was doing he finally let her go. It was early morning when she finally arrived in the common room to find James frantically pacing.

“What happened? Peter said you were called to Dumbledore’s office?”

“Its fine,” She was bone deep exhausted, “just more disappointment I caused today and will never hear the end of.” She fell back into a couch in front of him, “How did your end of the deal work out?”

Please please please let there be progress. Let the last few hours of scrubbing and grovelling at shoes be worth something.

“I went off script.”  Shit

“Why?”

“I had to know. I confronted her about Snape.” Double shit

“Does she...?”

“Know that I was a part of it? Pretty much. Suspected I was the decoy as soon as explosions started going off,” triple fucking shit, “but she has no way to prove it, so I’m safe. For now.”

Hermione threw her head back. Maybe she didn’t know what she was doing.

Chapter Text

12 November 1977, Saturday

“Come on, Hermione! Today marks your first day of freedom, you can’t spend it in bed.”

Hermione groaned into her pillow as Marlene tugged at her leg. Two weeks had not flown by, they had dragged on endlessly. This was the first day she didn’t have to report to McGonagall and clean under the witch’s strict supervision. She was planning on spending the day in bed, but her dorm mates had other ideas.

“We’ve barely seen you at all!” Mary exclaimed from the foot of her bed.

“Blame Sirius,” She grumbled

“Oh no, honey. This is all on you for getting involved with that idiot before his annual birthday detention.”

She groaned louder, hating the reminder. She found out a few days into sharing detention with the Marauders that Sirius made it a habit to spend every one of his Hogwarts birthdays in detention. Hermione had initially felt bad upon learning it was his birthday, she charmed a severed mop’s head to look like candles sticking up out of a bucket of murky floor water. Igniting them so he could blow them out when Peter filled her in on the fun little fact.

“That makes 7 in a row Sirius!”

“Seven what?” Hermione said, still laughing at her mop-cake invention

“Seven birthdays in a row spent in detention.”

The smile on her lips suffered a sudden death.

“Wait…you purposefully get detention for your birthday? You absolute arse, Sirius Black! You got us caught on purpose!”

The mop- cake quickly ended up on the birthday boy’s head, dirty water dripping down his shirt.

“It’s Quidditch try outs today! You have to come watch,” Mary pleaded their case once more

Hermione shook her head again and retracted deeper into her bed, “I hate Quidditch.”

“Yeah, but you don’t hate us, even if you pretend to,” Marlene laughed and finally managed to drag Hermione to the bathroom.

The quidditch stands were miserable and cold. Hermione knew she was scowling, she didn’t care.

“You’ll curse him right out of the sky if you keep on staring at him like that,” Remus smirked down at her.

“Good. Hope he breaks something.”

“Take this,” He handed her a thermos, and she skeptically took a sip. Sighing as the tea warmed her from inside. She shot him a smile of gratitude and he waved her off.

“You got dragged here as well?” she asked once the tea ebbed her irritation.

Remus shook his head, “Even though I don’t care to participate, I actually enjoy watching their silly little game.”

Hermione groaned, “Why couldn’t it be mini golf?”

The purebloods around her looked at her with confusion, she was about to answer when a voice cut in, “Muggle game with sticks and balls. It can get quite competitive. Worse than quidditch if you play with the right people”

Hermione whirled to where Lily was moving up the stands. She had only seen the girl in classes these last few weeks, and she had been too tired to even attempt prying more. She was surprised to see the redhead at the pitch – wondering if maybe without Hermione spending nights with James walking around the castle the two finally had a chance to talk.

Squeals of delight came out of Mary and Marlene at Lily’s arrival.  They weren’t the only ones happy to see her. Hermione looked to the pitch where James’s eyes lit up at her arrival.  Suddenly quidditch was worth watching, Christmas at the Burrow here I come.

At least it was worth watching until she had to duck to avoid a stray bludger aimed right for her head, hot tea ended up all over her jumper.

“Oh sorry, Hermione! Keep a better eye out, would you?” Sirius called from above.

She rose to her feet, wand in hand and descended on to the pitch in a whirlwind of rage, “That’s it! Now you’re getting it, Black!” Ignoring the chorus of shouts from the group on the stands suddenly all scrambling to stop her.

Saturday night found them all sprawled out in the Gryffindor common room. Sirius was still nursing a sore nose from a particularly nasty bat-bogey hex Hermione had managed to throw his way before Remus grabbed her around the arms and Peter hit her with a leg-locker jinx. She had to give it to them, they were efficient.

They were all snacking on treats the group had brought from the previous weekend’s Hogsmeade trip. The four stuck in detention unfortunately missed out on the outing, but their friends weren’t shy with sharing. Especially James, who still felt guilty about coming out of the ordeal unscathed.

“It was amazing, I have to thank you guys for getting me out of a particularly boring Muggle Studies class.” Marlene said, slamming a hand down on the deck of exploding cards she, Sirius and Peter were playing with.

They were laughing and sharing their perspectives on the ‘Big Bubble’.

“Where were you, Lils?” Mary asked narrowly avoiding an explosion.

Hermione sucked in a breath, the night had been going so well. James and Lily were acknowledging each other, even sitting next to one another on the big red sofa. Sure, there was an awkward amount of distance between them, even for friends, but it was a huge improvement.

She noticed Lily’s uncomfortable shimmy in her seat as her expression turned to one of annoyance, Hermione interrupted before things could turn more south, “Speaking of interrupting class, want to hear about the time two of my friends interrupted exams with an indoor firework show?”

The whole group suddenly shifted their attention on to her with curiosity, probably stemming from the fact that Hermione never shared any personal stories freely. 

So, she launched into the story of Fred and George sweeping through the great hall on brooms, a trail of explosions behind. Of course, changing the details and embellishing when necessary. When she was done Sirius turned to her with a hand over his heart in mock insult, “I’m hurt. What do you mean we’re not the first troublemakers you colluded with?”

Hermione scowled at him, “I have learned that four people are overrated, I’d much rather keep it at a trio.” Her words struck something in her, and for the first time in weeks she had a flash.

Golden Trio headlines in the Prophet. Ron’s laugh when playing exploding cards with Harry. Harry’s frustrated brow furrow when studying,

“Come on, Hermione. How long are you going to hold on to your grudge?” Peter asked from his star fish position on the floor.

“Ouch! My bloody nose!” Sirius’s pained wails rang through the room as he got a face full of explosion. Marlene doubled over laughing.

Hermione put on an airy voice with no contempt this time, “Oh would you look at that. My grudge seems to have disappeared.”

She joined in the laughter that followed, and it felt good. It was her first genuine laugh since- since everything, she couldn’t even remember. She caught James’s eye across from her, and he shot her a toothy grin.

“I think your friends were a bit insensitive, during exams?! It’s barbaric,” Lily piped up. Hermione looked at her and for the first time realised how similar they were. Only from the outside it was a sour sight. Had she really not been able to see the joy in so many things? How much had her time here changed her already?

“In their defense, we had a terrible teacher that needed to be taught a lesson.” She traced the faint outline on the back of her hand-  I must follow rules- glad that neither the scar nor the message had really stuck.

“Well, we better be heading out on night patrols,” James announced rising and holding a hand out to Lily to help her from her seat. To Hermione’s absolute delight she took it, even if she dropped it again immediately.

People shouted their greetings and Hermione looked on in excitement.

Sirius whistled, “Those two, eh, fire and ice I tell you.”

Marlene pouted from beside him, “I wonder how long it’s going to last this time.”

As everyone shouted out bets, Hermione watched the two pass through the portrait and ignored them, this time it’ll stick.

13 November 1977, Sunday

Hermione enjoyed her first solitary midnight stroll since being freed from McGonagall’s shackles. The familiar corridors did nothing to silence her racing mind. She couldn’t think of anything that would accelerate the snail pace at which Lily and James were reconnecting. She supposed it would be easier if she just knew what the bloody hell happened.

If she couldn’t figure that out fast, she would have no way to prevent it happening again. Hermione supposed she should just be glad the prank didn’t drive the wedge deeper.

“Granger, fancy seeing you here.”

She whipped her head around to face James, “What are you doing here?”

James smiled at her, “I’ve missed our walks.”

She frowned, “I mean, aren’t you supposed to be doing rounds with Lily?”

His smile dropped. Oh no, what in Merlin’s name happened now? He quickly regained his relaxed bravado, but the lazy smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“I told her I’d take the rest of them for tonight. Besides, she doesn’t want any of my food.” He held out a brown paper bag to her.

Hermione sighed but took it from him. She headed over to a bench against the wall and sat disgruntled. She opened the bag and looked up at him in confusion, “This isn’t food.”

She pulled out a sugar quill and held it between them. He shrugged and joined her on the bench, reaching in the bag and grabbing himself one, “You seemed to like them.”

It was true, sugar quills were her Achilles heel. She had almost caused a brawl between herself and Marlene trying to grab for the last one the previous day.

“Where’d you get more?”

He tapped her nose with the end of the sweet smiling mischievously, “I have my ways.”

Which in marauder code meant that he had gone through the secret passage to Honeyduke’s basement.

“James Potter, did you steal these?”

“I promise you there was fair compensation involved. Now just eat the damned thing.  I know you want to.” He ended on a laugh.

She decided not knowing was better and popped one in her mouth.  Like all the other nights they sat mostly in silence. After polishing off a third quill she broke it, “Things seem better between you and Lily?”

He nodded, “She doesn’t seem to currently hate my very existence. We’ll see how long it lasts.”

“What happened between you?”

“Ask me tomorrow, Granger.” Damn him.

He reached over to the bag and she slapped his hand away, “No. Mine.”

James was undeterred and went for it again, and she held it out of his reach as far as she could. His relentless attempts cost her though, and he had to grab her around the waist when she almost lost her balance and fell off the edge of the bench. He steadied her and they both burst out laughing. When he pulled back again, she sighed and handed him one reluctantly.

“Go ahead.”

He smiled in victory and grabbed it, “I still have my question for tonight.”

She hummed in confirmation.

“The story, about your friends and the fireworks-” she stiffened, “is it true? Or did you make it up to distract Lily?”

“It’s true.”

“So your friends..?”

She smiled at the memories that stirred, “The twins.”

He regarded her for a moment before saying, “Tell me about them.”

“They were…insufferable,” She laughed, “And brilliant. They took nothing seriously, except their pranks and products, of course.”

“Products?” He asked

“That was their brilliance. They invented so many intricate things that surpassed what we knew magic could do. If they applied even a quarter of their time on schoolwork, they would have surpassed us all... but instead a quarter of my time was spent running around trying to stop them from testing their inventions on younger students.”  She wiped at her eyes, she hadn’t even realised tears started falling. 

She just wanted to go back to those times. Bloody hell, she would even help them with their mischief.

“Where are they now?” James’s question was so soft she barely heard it, but it snapped her back to reality in an instant.

The tears dried up as quickly as they came, “Fred’s gone.” And it might be all my fault, “And I have no way of even knowing how George is doing.” Names didn’t matter, Fred wouldn’t matter for many years still, and James would never get to meet him.

James was deathly silent as he pulled an arm around her shoulder. She rested her head against him as she stared out and thought only of faces immortalised in last laughter, and of brothers cradling the dead.

16 November 1977, Wednesday

Defense Against the Dark Arts was the only class she shared with every single Gryffindor in her year. Big surprise. She was sitting with the Gryffindor girls to the side of the class while the remaining students took turns casting protego charms in the empty space in the middle of the room.

“No Marlene, it won’t work,” Lily said.

“What’s the harm in trying, though?”

“You could send us all to the hospital wing!”

The conversation had been going back and forth for the entirety of the class, with Hermione and Mary getting whiplash from looking between the two. Mercifully they were spared another rebuttal from Marlene when Professor Mirfield clapped his hands together and announced, “I am ever grateful for such delighted participation in our recent practical lessons – Mr Pettigrew if you could please not stab your wand in such a manner as I’m sure Mr. Black would appreciate it if he could keep both his eyes” He broke off and waited for Peter and Sirius to find their seats.

“Thank you. Now as I was saying – while I have immensely enjoyed your displays of spells it is time for us to return to the pages,” Groans filled the classroom, none louder than Sirius and Marlene’s, but Professor Mirfiled paid them no mind, “For the next month we will delve into the theories and principles of duelling. By the end of the month, right before you are set to go home for the holidays, there will be a duelling club.”

Excited chatters filled the classroom and he waited for it to calm down before continuing, “Attendance will be mandatory, as participation will form part of an assignment grade. You will be assessed on technique and efficacy. There will be no other time to put into practice what we will spend the month only talking about, so I suggest you do that on your own before the date arrives,” He looked pointedly at Peter who flushed with embarrassment, “Since we have a limited time after dinner to complete this assessment, I must split the two classes over two nights. This class will convene on the fifteenth of December. Please plan accordingly as the trains leave the following morning and I am not taking the blame for students not being packed and ready to go. Dismissed, do remember your textbooks for the next class.” He turned and headed up the stairs to his office, not sparing a glance at the flabbergasted students.

As everyone gathered their things Hermione couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that settled in her stomach. She was the only one it seemed as Sirius and James came bouncing over in excitement.

“Best assignment ever!” Sirius exclaimed

“One I’ll gladly study for,” James said with a grin.

Marlene nodded in agreement while Lily looked apprehensive, “I don’t know, it seems a bit dangerous.”

“Come on Lily-flower! It’s the perfect moment, a professor giving us permission to put some Slytherin pricks on their arses? Dreams do come true.” Sirius wiped a fake happy tear from his eye.

As the group kept talking Hermione zoned them out and glanced to the other side of the room. Mulciber was licking his lips in her direction, a look of pure cynical excitement on his face. Avery and Snape stood at his back, sizing up all the Gryffindors. Seriously, why in Merlin’s name were these houses still paired up like this?

Not for the first time, Hermione questioned Dumbledore’s sanity.

Chapter Text

26 November 1977, Saturday

“It’s going to be abysmal,” Hermione said around a mouthful of chocolate. She was lounging in the chair next to Remus’s hospital bed.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Remus replied.

He had his arm over his eyes blocking the light from the window. Hermione noticed with relief that the bare skin wasn’t covered in any new scars. She had spent the night in the astronomy tower, watching over the grounds as three large figures gallivanted through the forest. The view was much more enjoyable from a distance.

She licked her fingers before replying, “It’s not that…it’s just...when have you ever seen a Gryffindor stay levelheaded in confrontation with a Slytherin?”

“You’re oddly perceptive for someone who just started at Hogwarts this year.”

She stayed quiet, opening another chocolate frog and wrestling the jumping sweet to submission. Remus removed his arm from his face and glared over, “What’s the point in bringing me chocolates if you’re going to eat everything?’

She looked down at the pile of wrappers surrounding her and sheepishly threw a box at him, “Sorry. Stress eating.”

“If you think this is such a bad idea, why don’t you say something about it to the Professors? Instead of spending all your time helping us practice, thank you by the way, but why don’t you try and stop it?”

Hermione shook her head, she couldn’t do anything to stop it. The only thing she could do was ensure everybody important to the future she was trying so hard to ensure survived.

“Someone has to make sure Sirius spends at least a minute on defensive work.”  Sirius who had spent the whole week in the library researching hexes and curses that skirted the line of dark and illegal magic.

“Again. Thank you.”

She shrugged, she almost enjoyed the week of teaching the marauders. If she didn’t think too hard, she could almost ignore the flashes of her learning the exact moves she was teaching from Harry. She could pretend that the seventh floor corridor wall was just a wall.

Remus fidgeted with the box he had moved to his lap. Once he got a hold of the chocolate frog he fished for the card, “Oh look! I got Dumbledore.”

Hermione leaned forward, “Can I see that?”

Remus handed the card to her outstretched hand, and without even sparing it a glance she chucked it out of the window. Remus stared after it with a gaping mouth, Hermione only watched it fall and take the last memory of Dumbledore’s Army with it.

10 December 1977, Saturday

The last weekend before Christmas break was spent outside on the freezing grounds.

“Peter! Keep your wand up after casting. You’ll end up on your arse if you don’t”

Peter and Sirius were circling each other on a patch of grass next to the black lake and Hermione was pacing next to them dutifully watching. The closer the event loomed, the more her stomach turned. She was back to barely eating. She nodded to herself as Peter listened and caught a mild curse from Sirius on a shield in front of him.

She turned and caught James frowning over something where he sat on the ground, hunched over. Hermione rubbed her hands together for some heat and moved toward him. He was frowning at the map, Hermione stole a look and soon a matching frown appeared on her face.

“They’re practicing together,” James said solemnly without looking up at her.

“I see that.” Because she could see Lily and Snape’s names floating together in a corridor. Paced apart and moving left and right intermittently in the tell-tale movements of a duel.  

“What a muppet. Doesn’t she realise they could be paired against each other?! He’s going to know all her weaknesses and use it against her.”

Hermione bit her lip, “Maybe she’s doing the same with him?”

James scoffed, “No way, she’s blind when it comes to him.”

Hermione didn’t know what to do now, she had been so caught up in preparing everyone for this stupid duelling exercise she had lost sight of mission Lily and James. Lily was drifting further again, and James wasn’t doing anything to gain back her attention. She had just assumed things had rightened after the prank, but going home by Christmas had just blown up in her face. James folded the map and started pushing himself up.

“Maybe I should go there and check on her, just in case-” Atomic bomb incoming.

She pushed James back down with a strong hand to his shoulder, “That is a terrible idea.”

He tried fighting against her but she didn’t relent, “What’s the deal, Granger?’

“Are you an idiot or suicidal, Potter?” She asked him quietly. He stopped trying to get up and looked at her incredulously.

“All I’m saying is if you go storming in there like a Hippogriff on fire, Lily will immediately hex you and Snape will most likely try and kill you. So which is it, stupid or suicidal?”

He snapped his mouth shut, glaring at her with angry eyes. He didn’t try and get up, though, so Hermione released his shoulder.

“You don’t understand. You don’t even know what happened between them,” James bit out.

“Let me guess,” Hermione started and took a spot on the grass in front of him, “They were best friends until he called her a mudblood?”

James flinched at the casual way she used the word, “How-? I mean, did she tell you?”

Hermione shook her head, “People talk. Everyone except you, apparently, as I still don’t know what happened between you two.”

James ignored her unspoken question and asked softly, “How can she just forgive him?”

Hermione was spared from having to think of an answer by Sirius yelling, “Petey boy! You have to teach me this one! This is mad!”

She looked over her shoulder and was greeted by the sight of Sirius dangling upside down by an unseen force around his ankle. Her eyes widened and she rushed over. The sound of James’s laughter chorusing as she did her best to bring Sirius down safely.

16 December 1977, Friday

The seventh year Gryffindors were all in a state of panic. Marlene and Mary had turned the dormitory into a hazard zone with last minute packing after dinner. Hermione sat in the middle of her bed as far away from the chaos, but even there it encroached on her as clothes and parchment scattered the edges. Not a single thing on her bed was hers. Intermittently when Mary and Marlene weren’t fighting about the whereabouts of a hairbrush, she would quiz them on duelling.

“What’s the most effective counter curse you can use if someone casts stinging hex at you?”

Marlene didn’t look up from rummaging in her trunk, “Uh, I don’t – there you are you piece of – I don’t know.”

“Marlene! You have to know this.”

“I don’t understand, why can’t you just use protego?” Mary yelled from the bathroom.

“If you’re always on the defensive, you’ll never gain anything. A well-aimed cooling charm will bounce right back and hit the caster. Protego will only bounce it off in a random direction, if you’re good you can try and aim the curse back at them, but that takes years of practice to master.”

Marlene looked over at Hermione with a raised brow, “How come you can do that, then?”

“Years of practice,” She deadpanned.

Marlene shrugged and continued frantically packing. Hermione stood up from her bed, careful not to disturb the precarious piles on it. She made her way downstairs to the common room, widely unnoticed by Mary and Marlene who had entered yet another screaming match, this time about a cardigan.

Downstairs she found the boys lounged about, not looking as if they were headed into battle at all. She sighed, “Are you ready then?”

Remus smiled up at her from his seat on the couch, book perched in his lap, “We seem to pack more efficiently than you lot.”

A particular loud shout came down the stairs at Hermione’s back, and all three boys cringed in on themselves. Sirius whistled, “And quieter.”

A retaliating shout followed his words, and Peter hid behind a pillow, “What’s with all the violence? I thought girls’ dorms were filled with manicures and gossip.”

Hermione ignored him, “We don’t have long to get downstairs, is Head Boy meeting us there then?”

Sirius nodded, “Prongsie wanted to see if Lily would like some last minute tips from him. If you ask me she’s toast. Snivellus is probably telling every Slytherin exactly how to beat her right now.” They all seemed to agree with his words, and even Remus hummed in affirmation from behind his book.

“I’ll see you downstairs,” Hermione huffed and moved to the portrait.

The great hall was unrecognisable, one long platform replaced the four tables, and all benches were vanished or stowed away. The platform was centred in the room and even the lighting of the candles moved to illuminate it, casting the rest of the room in relative darkness. The spotlight highlighted a figure slouched over, elbows on the platform and head bent.

Hermione moved over tentatively to James, “All right there, Potter?” He jumped up at the sound of her voice, but relaxed at the sight of her.

“Last minute practice, Granger?” He asked, a flickering smile on his lips.

“I’m guessing Lily didn’t want your help?”

He dropped his head again, eyes fixated on the platform and said, “I don’t understand. I’m trying my best and she-” he broke off as the room started filling with voices. The loud shouts of Sirius echoed off the walls with excitement that ground against Hermione’s mind.

She ignored it and placed a comforting hand on James’s shoulder, “It’ll be okay. Everything will work out exactly the way it’s supposed to.” It has to.

She dropped her hand and moved to the group entering the hall. Drowning out the sound of excited chatter and focusing only on what was lying ahead. The doors slammed open, sending an instant wave of silence over the crowd of students.

Professor Mirfield strode in. He stepped up onto the platform with ease and clapped his hands for attention, throwing an observing eye over everyone, “Gather around, gather around. I am very pleased to see everyone in attendance, and I am sure you are eager for this evening’s festivities to commence,” Hermione cringed while a few whoops filled the room, “Yes, I know. Very exciting. However, duelling is not a fickle sport to be trifled with. That said, I hope you all managed to practice sufficiently.”

He floated up a parchment, “On here I have the pairs that will be facing off. We will go down the list.” He levitated the parchment for the class to peruse, there was pushing and shoving as everyone tried to spot their names and opponents. Some groaned, others gloated, and Hermione breathed a massive sigh of relief.

Professor Mirfield seemed to at least have some sense; no extremely contentious rivalries would face off. She had been dreading seeing James and Snape paired up, or even James and Lily. Marlene was paired with a girl from Slytherin. Hermione didn’t recognise her name so she wasn’t concerned with Marlene altering the timeline with murder tonight. Mercifully, Peter and Lily were paired. She spared a glance and saw Peter nodding silently to James, who looked pale with relief. Sirius was would have to face off against Rosier, and was grinning deviously at the chance to play with the Slytherin boy. Remus would face off against Mary, and the two smiled in challenge. Snape was paired with a girl from his own house, and Hermione thanked common sense and all her sisters that Professor Mirfield had the foresight to keep him as far away from a Gryffindor opponent as possible.

That left her and James, who were facing Mulciber and Avery respectively. She was so focused on the other pairings she had missed her own. She looked over to find cold calculating eyes staring directly at her. Mulciber bared his teeth in a hideous grin. Big lumpy brute. She stared unblinkingly back.

“Now for the rules, and please note your grade is entirely dependent on how closely you adhere to them,” Professor Mirfield threw a pointed look at Sirius, “Number one, respect. Before the duel commences you shall bow to your opponent, let this set the tone for the remainder of your duel. Number two, no physical contact allowed. You shall conduct yourselves with wands and magic only. Number three, spells are strictly those above board. If I here an utterance of dark or illegal spells tomorrow’s train ride will be your last.”

The last part lingered in the air, and Hermione wondered exactly how serious everyone was taking the threat.

“Lastly and most importantly, there are limits. If you have rendered your opponent defenceless and sufficiently subdued, you are done,” his gaze raked over every student, “Now, if we’re all in agreement, let the duelling commence.” The flames flickered higher at the announcement, and the stage was prepped.

Hermione stood to the side, observing everything from a distance and gnawing at her already mangled fingertips. When Snape stepped up, all she saw was a much older man facing Gilderoy Lockhart on a very similar stage. She crossed her arms around her when after a few rounds of exchanging curses, Snape had finished with the Slytherin girl unarmed and immobile. The twat was efficient, she’d give him that.

Mary and Remus stepped up next, the two smiled while bowing and what followed was a glorious exchange of skilful wand work. They parried off each other easily. Hermione smiled when Mary uttered a cooling charm that sent the stinging hex Remus had tried to land right back at him. He ended up on the floor but recovered quickly to throw a disarming charm from his lowered position. Mary had no time to react and Remus stood up proudly brandishing her wand. She sulked over plucking it from his hands to the chorus of marauder cheers.

Marlene was the first to break a rule, she had done a fine job of keeping the Slytherin girl at bay, until frustration broke through the steely reserve of her opponent. They had ended in a heap on the floor, scratching and pulling hair. Professor Mirfield was quick to separate the two, “10 points from each of your houses! Now, Miss McKinnon, since you have emerged with your opponents wand the duel will be awarded to you. You must hope, however, that your little display of magic before regressing to barbarism will be enough to make me forget about who threw the first punch.”

Sounds of disagreement sounded from the Slytherin’s but the professor silenced them with a hand, calling for Sirius and Rosier to step up to the stage.

It lasted a lot longer than it should have, Rosier landed a few hexes but Hermione knew Sirius did it on purpose. He landed more than his fair share back, smiling too wide for her comfort. It lasted until James piped up in a lazy drawl, “Pads, stop playing with your food, mate. It’s ungentlemanly.”

Sirius threw a smile back over his shoulder and with two quick successive spells Rosier was wandless and dangling from his ankle, Peter cheered from the sidelines.

He didn’t, however, revel in facing Lily. She saw him sending glances at James when he landed a very mild tripping jinx that had Lily stumbling. He focused on shielding the entire battle before inexplicably dropping it and allowing himself to be disarmed. Hermione would have missed the deliberate move, had she still been looking between James and Snape, and their matching expressions of worry.

As Peter descended the platform, James gave him a thankful clap on the back before taking his place across from Avery. It was a joke, Avery didn’t have a chance to retaliate before he was in a full body bind on the floor. James strutted over and plucked his wand from his hand, turning to Professor Mirfield for validation, “Effective Mr. Potter, brutal but effective. Mr. Avery, it would do you good to work on your shielding. Now, Miss Granger, if you would join your opponent.”

The room turned to look at her, and she realised with a start that she had been scheduled last for this exact reason. She would not give them the show they wanted. She stepped up to the platform, not moving her eyes from the sneering face at the opposite end. She bowed low, and felt the tell-tale heat of a stupify singeing her neck.

“Mr. Mulciber! Ten points, first rule. Now wait for your opponent to face you and begin.”

Hermione took her time rising, as soon as she was upright she sent a silent confundo at Mulciber and enjoyed the sight of him stumbling around. As soon as his wand hand dropped to his side she yelled, “Expelliarmus!”

His wand flew through the air and she watched it drop, looking back at him she felt the burn on her neck and couldn’t help it, “Stupify!” The venom in her voice amplified the spell and it worked better than she intended. He was blasted back, impact absorbed by an invisible wall around the platform that sparked to life. His limp form dropped to the floor and she kicked his wand towards him. She faced the class who had gone deathly silent. She gave them exactly what they wanted, and hated herself for it.

Hermione made to storm from the platform but was stopped by Professor Mirfield, “I had anticipated a bit more fight from Mr. Mulciber over there. Mr. Snape, if you could please revive your friend for us. He looks way too content sleeping, and I wouldn’t want him to miss this.”

Hermione looked at him with confusion, and he pointed to James, “Now Mr. Potter, seeing as your duel was also over before it began, I ask of you to indulge us with an encore,” he nodded his head to Hermione, “against Miss Granger, if you’re up for it.”

James stepped up, a bit hesitant, staring between Hermione and the unconscious Mulciber, before shaking his shoulders and giving her a cocky smile, “Only if she is up for going against me.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, cocky boys need to be taught a lesson, and motioned for him to take his place across from her.  Professor Mirfield nodded and stepped back in satisfaction.

Hermione and James bowed. As soon as they got upright James shot her with a leg lock jinx.

“Protego!” Her voice echoed off the halls, and the shield simmered as she manipulated the curse right back at him. He pivoted but it still hit his right leg, and it left him tugging on the foot that was now stuck to the floor. She shot a stinging hex at him, but he regained his balance by throwing his left foot out wide and caught it with a shield. Unlike her precise return, the curse only bounced off hitting the ceiling.

Rubble fell around them, Hermione wiped her eyes with her sleeve in time to catch a Impedimenta from James square in the chest. She could only watch in frustration as her body slowed down, and her wand hand moved infuriatingly slow in front of her. James used the time he bought himself to free his leg, and raised his wand to her, “Tittlando!”

Her shield was too slow and the hex fizzled around the edges, and where it hit her skin burned with the sensation of being tickled, seriously? James had made a grievous mistake in slowing her down, because her movements were paused but her mind was racing. It gave her so much time to think.

She smiled as she felt the Impedimenta fizzle out, starting at her fingertips. When she regained her full arm, she yelled, “Avis!” and genuinely smiled at the yellow canaries appearing from her wand tip and brought back an old favourite of hers as she pointed it to James, “Oppugno.”  The birds descended, and Hermione watched gleefully as his eyes widened and his wand raised to ward off the birds.

 Suddenly it wasn’t James in front of her dodging sharp beaks. A red head and a giggling girl retreating. Crying in the arms of Harry. The giggling girl dead on the steps of Hogwarts.

The distraction cost her, and as her eyes refocused she heard more than felt the curse from James, “Langlock!”

She clawed at her mouth, where her tongue was now stuck firmly to the roof. He had silenced her. Very well, she had one more trick up her sleeve.

Through dodging beaks and wings obscuring his view he thew everything at her, flashes bounced off her silent protego and rubble and dust flew. Hermione waited for an opening, and she found it when James had to crouch down to avoid a swooping bird. She fired a silent spell.

The quiet of the great hall was broken by a loud laugh from Sirius and stuttering from Peter, because in front of her James no longer stood swatting at birds. Instead, a large stag pawed at the middle of the platform.

Her glee was short-lived when the stag began charging. Still silenced, she retreated. Hermione jumped off the platform and headed for safety, somewhere, anywhere. It was no use; the stag charged until she was pinned with her back against a wall and wide antlers holding her in place.

Professor Mirfield appeared behind the stag, “Finite,” Hermione felt her tongue loosen and breathed a sigh of relief, “Well Miss Granger, transfiguration during a duel? Very innovative. Especially silenced. Next time, however, I would advise you to choose a form with less sharp accessories.” He said, nodding pointedly to the antlers trapping her.

“My apologies, Professor,” Hermione said back, “I guess I’m a little rusty.”

The man let out a small chuckle, “If you would please give us back two legged Mr. Potter.”

The stag moved back and Hermione pretended to wave her wand in a counter curse, giving James chance to transform back subtly. He stood in front of her, grinning madly.

“Mr. Potter, well done on silencing your opponent, I doubt you would’ve gotten far without it,” with that Professor Mirfield turned and walked to address and dismiss the rest of the students, all still gaping at the pair of them.

James watched as he walked away, and as soon as he was out of earshot he moved in closer to Hermione and whispered, “Naughty, Granger. Where’d you learn that little trick?”

Hermione smirked back up at him, “It’s good to know for keeping annoying animagi in line, especially when surrounded by them.”

He smiled at her, and his eyes were completely unreadable to her as he scanned her face. Footsteps approached and they jumped apart as raised voices neared.

“Prongsie, mate! She nearly wiped the floor with you!” Sirius called out, reaching to punch James in the arm.

Mary spoke up solemnly, “If I get an exceeds on this assignment, I’m blaming you two for showing off.”

James looked around over their shoulders and Peter shook his head, “She already left, mate.”

James looked deflated for a brief moment but quickly regained his composure, “What do you guys say to a few friendly rounds while the hall is still set up?”

Marlene scoffed, “No way. I’ve had enough for a lifetime. Besides, we have a train to catch in the morning.” She winced as Remus handed her a handkerchief to dab blood from her lip.

Remus turned to Hermione, “See? Everything worked out fine, I don’t know what you were so worried about.”

Just as Hermione was about to reply a voice called from outside the group, “Done having your arse wiped by a little girl, Potter?” Avery’s mocking tone cut through the group’s conversation.

Hermione closed her eyes. Remus just had to say something, didn’t he?

“You didn’t even last a minute, Avery. I hope you fare better in-”

Remus slapped his hand around Sirius’s mouth before he could finish that sentence. Avery was now joined by Rosier and Snape, and Hermione shied in behind James. She had done her best to avoid direct contact with Severus Snape until now, the less he saw of her the better.

Snape put a hand on Avery’s shoulder, “Leave them. If they squabble between one another, they’ll wipe themselves out before morning.” The cold drawl was so like the man’s she once knew. It made Hermione’s stomach turn in habit.

Avery laughed and turned to leave, taking Snape and Rosier with him. Hermione dropped her head in relief but immediately snapped up when James moved forward.

“Who put that stick up your arsehole, Snivellus?”

She tried grabbing him by the arm to stop him, but it was futile as the rest of the words were already falling out of his mouth, “Or are you still bitter about the fact that Lily spent the whole summer in my sheets instead of yours?” Fuck shit.

Hermione watched as Severus tensed up and spun around with anger in his eyes. More emotion than she’d ever seen in those black eyes. He had his wand raised, and she saw the word form on his lips before he said it.

Time slowed around her, and her eyes immediately locked onto the wand on the platform. Still there from when James dropped it after being transformed. He can’t cast a shield. She wasn’t in the right position, but she could- yes that could work.

Hermione used the leverage of her hand holding on to James and spun herself around to face him and push him back, placing herself firmly in between him and the curse. She shut her eyes tightly and took the full force of the vicious sectumsempra to her back.

Slowly opening her eyes and breathing against the pain of slashing skin on her back, she looked up into the now pale faced James and managed three words before collapsing forward, “Just an idiot.”

As the world darkened, she hoped someone would catch her before her face collided with cold floor.

Chapter Text

17 December 1977, Saturday

Hermione woke up to bright light streaming in from large windows. She blinked a few times to clear the sleep. She immediately wished she hadn’t as pain shot up and down her back. She was propped up on her side with pillows and every little movement sent pain flaring up again. Even the expansion of her ribcage when breathing, so she shut her eyes tightly and held her breath as long as she could.

“Hermione? Are you- are you awake?” A soft voice sounded from next to her.

She reluctantly opened her eyes slightly, and a vivid head of long red hair came into view. Not Ginny, Hermione thought and shut her eyes again, “Yes.” Her voice was hoarse and her throat burned.

“How are you feeling?” Lily asked softly

“Where am I?” She ignored the question, not trusting her mouth to keep back the slew of curse words that would describe exactly how she felt.

“You’re in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey just stepped out, but she said I can give you this when you wake up. If you want it”

Hermione opened her eyes again, nodding once at the sight of the bright red vial in Lily’s hands. Lily carefully tipped the potion to Hermione’s mouth, she sighed in respite as the pain relief spread along her back.

Lily sat back down fidgeting, and Hermione broke the silence, “Why are you here?”

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

Lily took a deep breath before asking, “Potter said Sev…that Snape attacked deliberately. Is it true?”

Hermione propped herself up on her elbow with a lot of effort, “He was aiming for James. He wanted to kill him. I got in the way.”

“Severus told me what James said. He came running straight to tell me exactly what Potter said, it was only after the fact that he mentioned there was an altercation and you got hurt.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it.” Hermione deadpanned, but no anger boiled up. She was numb again.

“Hermione I’m so sorry, I-”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, “don’t apologise for him. It’s degrading. He’s probably rejoicing in the fact that a mudblood got caught in the crossfire.”

Lily stammered, “He’s not like that.” She wasn’t looking at Hermione’s face anymore. Hermione followed her gaze and saw the sleeve of the thin night gown someone, probably Madam Pomfrey, had dressed her in. It had ridden up to her elbow and her arm was bare for Lily to see the horrid scar.

With effort she pushed her arm under the pillows, “They’re all the same.”

Let Lily believe her, if Lily believed her and thought twice about her friendship with the would-be Death Eater she could rekindle with James. Space from Snape could be exactly what she needed.

Lily stood up, “For what it’s worth Hermione, I’m sorry you got hurt,” She turned to the trunk at her side, “I’m late for the carriages. Merry Christmas.”

Hermione shut her eyes again as the girl left, so that’s where everyone is. They had all left for the train, and she was all alone in the castle. She dreaded the weeks to come.

Soft clicks of heels approached her bed, and the comforting voice of Madam Pomfrey rang out, “My dear girl, let’s get you more comfortable,” she felt the pillows being fluffed around her but didn’t make the effort to move, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to stay here a few days, maybe even spend Christmas with me. No matter, though, we’ll make the best of it.”

Hermione silently rejoiced the fact that she wouldn’t have to socialise, and the prospect of a quiet few days suddenly seemed less daunting than roaming the castle aimlessly. Her quiet didn’t last long.

“Please, Professor! If she’s awake you can ask her right now!” A voice that could only belong to James Potter echoed off the walls. It was accompanied by heavy footsteps that rushed closer.

“Mr. Potter! I implore you to keep your voice down.” Madam Pomfrey’s sharp reprimand cut through the air.

Hermione opened her eyes and came face to face with a very frazzled James. His hair was standing on end and his eyes rimmed with dark circles under the glasses, it looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“Granger, you’re awake.” He looked close to tears.

“Is that disappointment I hear, Potter?” Hermione managed, and he cracked a smile at her lame attempt.

“Shut up, you colossal idiot.”

“That’s the thanks I get for saving your life?”

James sobered up at that, and turned extremely serious, “He’s saying it was an accident. Avery and Rosier are backing him up. An accident during extra deulling practice. Please Hermione, you have to tell Dumbledore what happened.”

He said her name like a prayer. Hermione had to blink away from the intensity of his gaze and saw Dumbledore stride into the hospital wing. He looked at her questioningly, “Miss Granger, I’ve been hearing some very conflicting stories about how exactly you ended up here. Care to wager in?”

Hermione looked between James and Dumbledore, weighing her options, “Professor, can I speak with James alone for a moment?”

Dumbledore nodded and James shot her a questioning glance, but she shook her head. She waited until Dumbledore motioned for Pomfrey to follow him outside and spoke in a harsh whisper to James, “Does Snape know?”

James scoffed, “Know that he’s a prick about to be expelled?”

Hermione grabbed his hand, “No. Does he know about Remus?”

His mouth tightened and he nodded, “There was an…incident.”

“Then let Dumbledore believe it was an accident,” James started protesting but she didn’t let him, “If we get him expelled, he won’t go down without taking someone with him. I’m not willing to risk Remus in the fallout, are you?” She thought of an older Severus, willing to throw another Professor under the bus because he got bested. Hermione dropped his hand when she was sure the implication of her words stuck.

James dropped into the chair next to her, placing his forehead on the edge of her bed. She resisted the urge to run her fingers through the familiar head of hair. “This is all my fault,” he whispered.

“Then don’t make it worse now, go out there and tell Dumbledore whatever you have to.”

She waited until he rose and left her side, not taking her eyes off him as he joined the adults at the door and said something to Dumbledore. Whatever he decided on seemed to confuse the man, and he looked over at her. She only nodded, it was integral that Severus Snape finished his education at Hogwarts. He nodded back and turned to Madame Pomfrey.

The trio walked over to her, James trailing grumpily.

“Miss Granger, it saddens me to hear you will be spending your Christmas in here. We will have to add some festivities here.”

 “That won’t be necessary.” A regal female voice sounded from the door.

Hermione looked over to see an elderly woman in elegant robes strutting in. Her salt and pepper hair was pulled from her face in a twist at the nape of her neck, and her sharp features spoke of someone not to be trifled with.

“Mum? What are you doing here?” James asked.

Hermione gaped, staring at the woman with newfound eyes.

Euphemia Potter paid her son no mind as she walked past him to face Dumbledore, “I received a distressing letter from my son last night, it seems his antics has gotten another student injured?”

“Mum!” James cried out.

“I assure you, Mrs. Potter, James is not to blame,” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled

“And the student who is?” Euphemia’s eyebrow raised

“Will be dealt with,” Hermione’s eyes snapped to Dumbledore, who only gave her a slight nod, “A curse of this magnitude will need to be investigated, I have never seen anything like it.”

Euphemia nodded in apparent satisfaction and turned to Madam Pomfrey glancing at Hermione, “I request her care be moved to my home. I will take over treatment.”

Hermione did a double take, what?

Madam Pomfrey to her further shock nodded, “You are more than welcome to request, Euphemia. You have always been an exceptional healer. If Miss Granger agrees, then I have no objection.”

The two women looked over at her and Hermione shut her still gaping mouth. She looked over at James who just shrugged, so she nodded meekly. Euphemia’s gaze turned soft as she moved over to the bed.

“My poor girl, let’s see it then,” She stroked Hermione’s head before moving to the other side of the bed. Hermione stiffened at the gentle hands undoing the buttons on the back of her dress. She heard Euphemia suck in a breath, “What curse did you say this was, James?”

James had his gaze locked firmly on the floor, “I didn’t. I have no idea what it was, I’ve never heard that curse before and no books in the library mention it.”

Hermione looked at him, he had gone to the library for answers?

“You jumped in front of an unknown curse?”

Hermione looked over her shoulder at Euphemia, who had finished buttoning her back up, “James didn’t have his wand. It seemed wrong.”

Euphemia tutted and said nothing more to Hermione, she walked over to Madam Pomfrey, “Catch me up on her current treatment plan. This will heal finely, especially in a bigger bed and a comfortable room. No offence, Poppy.”

“None taken. Mr. Potter, if you’d please organise with your head of house to have some of Miss Granger’s things packed.”

“That’s not necessary!” Hermione interjected and everyone in the room turned to look at her.

“Miss Granger, I was under the impression you were to remain here for the break?” Dumbledore asked. Damn, she had forgotten he was there.

“My trunk is still- I mean, I never unpacked.” She ignored the questioning look on James’s face.

“Then we’ll have it brought down. Mr. Potter.” He nodded to James and led him out the wing.

Euphemia and Madam Pomfrey excused themselves to discuss her care and Hermione was left lying and staring at the flimsy curtain in front of her wondering what the hell had just happened.

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 Hermione was slowly getting dressed, she had insisted on doing it herself but deeply regretted that at the moment. The cardigan she had requested sat loose enough not to bother her back, but moving her arms to button it up proved more painful than anticipated.

As soon as she managed the last button she sagged in relief. She gathered her wand and beaded bag from the bedside table, hoping to Merlin no one had decided to sneak a peek during the night. The click of familiar footsteps approached and Hermione braced as she faced McGonagall.

“You do seem to keep yourself in troubling company, dear.”

“Force of habit, Professor.”

McGonagall didn’t react, “I know there is more to this story than I am getting from the headmaster. A curse’s magnitude is all dependent on the intent of the caster and you, my dear, suffered a very malicious blow.” She raised her brow at Hermione, who kept her mouth firmly shut.

“As your Head of House, I assure you that I have only your best interest at heart. If there is something you wish to talk about, my door is wide open.”

McGonagall turned and started walking out, “Your trunk is waiting for you in Dumbledore’s office. You can floo to Potter Manor from there,” she stopped walking and turned her head slightly. “Even under these circumstances, I am glad you have the chance to spend Christmas in a loving home.” And with all the unsaid implications of her last words, the Professor walked out and disappeared down the hall.

Hermione slowly made her way up to Dumbledore’s office, she was so pumped full of pain potions she floated up the steps. Her mind was racing along the little tether she held on to reality. How could she get out of this? Should she get out of this? And then there was the little problem that manifested in the form of Severus Snape.

If he was smart, and unfortunately she knew him to be, he had already stuffed the potions book filled with his spell inventions far away from suspicion. This was how it ended up in the storage room for Harry to find. She had just directly caused Draco Malfoy’s grievous injuries in sixth year. She snorted at the amount of shit she gave Harry for that, only for it to trace back to this.

She entered the office to find Euphemia enjoying a cup of tea with Dumbledore. James stood next to the fireplace with his hand on her trunk, and looked down at his feet immediately after seeing Hermione. As soon as she closed the door behind her, the older women faced her with a kind smile, “Ready to go, dear?”

Hermione shuffled awkwardly, “Please, Mrs. Potter, I don’t want to intrude-”

“Nonsense,” Euphemia set her cup down and stood up, flattening her robes with her hands, “from what I understand, I have you to thank for still having a breathing son. Let me open my home to you. If not for gratitude, then for my remedial capabilities.”

Hermione’s throat tightened, if she only knew the truth. The woman would probably curse her on the spot with the same hand she was promising healing with. She was here only to ensure her son died at the right time.

Euphemia took her silence and stricken look as hesitation, “You may leave as soon as you’ve regained your strength, if you wish to.”

Hermione nodded, not trusting her words. Euphemia took her arm and led her to the floo, “James, take her trunk through with you. Your father is waiting on the other side and I’m sure he’d like a few words,” She said with a pointed look that had James paling and scrambling to get through the fireplace, “Now my girl, I’ll go through and make sure the men are being civil. You just call out for Potter Manor whenever you’re ready.”

With that Hermione was left alone in the office, she didn’t spare Dumbledore a glance when he cleared his throat, “Miss Granger, I assume you will spend your time wisely?”

She glared into the flames, “I plan on it, Professor,” she suddenly remembered his earlier comment and faced him slowly, “What are you planning on doing with Snape?”

“What would you have me do?”

She thought about it for a moment before eventually settling on something vague enough to irk him completely, “Right now he is a confused boy, trying to find his place in the world. He’ll make himself useful one day. Too late, but useful nonetheless. Keep him close.”  She stepped through the flames, calling for Potter Manor and leaving Dumbledore to stew over her words.

The pull of the floo shot a pain up her back and she stumbled out, steadying herself on the first thing in her reach, which was an aged wooden rocking chair. She slowly surveyed the rest of the room. Hermione didn’t know what she was expecting from the manor, maybe the dark lifeless theme of Malfoy manor or the eerie and cluttered feel of Grimmauld place. The living room she stood in was neither, it was vibrant and warm and felt like home.

Wooden floors softened by a large textured rug. In the centre was a rich, wooden coffee table adorned with a vase holding white flowers. The sofa was plush and beige, and a plaid blanket draped over one arm rest. A large wooden bookshelf adorned the wall, filled with books and framed photo’s. She could see the contents moving around, one was just a blur of a boy on a broom. Soft natural light filled the room from a large window, framed by deep red curtains. The grounds stretched beyond it were breathtaking.

Various plants dotted the space, some small pots on the windowsill and larger pots with magnificent plants in corners. There was so much life.

“It is too your liking then?” A deep male voice broke through her reverie

She turned to face the voice and saw James - James if he was speckled with grey, had deep lines on his face, and wore thin glasses that had no frame.

“Your home is lovely, Mr. Potter.”

He smiled, walking over to her and sticking out a hand in greeting, “I’m Fleamont Potter, dear. It is nice to meet you,” She took his hand and he held hers gently, face turning soft, “My wife tells me I have a lot of gratitude to give to you.”

“Hermione Granger, sir. It really isn’t necessary, I only did what anyone else would have.”

He stared so deeply in her eyes Hermione had to force herself not to look away, “You really believe that, don’t you?”

Euphemia rushing to the door gave her a chance to remove her hand from Fleamont's and avoid the suddenly tense moment, “Now now, let’s get you to bed. The room is all set up and I have everything ready. First, rest.”

She was whisked away through corridors and stairwells, catching glimpses of more wooden furniture and red accents dotted throughout the house. The room she was led to mercifully lacked the Gryffindor charm. It was clean and white. The only colour adorning it was a vase of bright flowers on the bedside table. Her trunk was already waiting for her at the foot of the bed. Merlin, that bed. Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she had seen such a large and plush surface, never mind slept in one.

Euphemia helped her lay down underneath the baby soft duvet, and moved to draw the curtains shut, “Now, you need to sleep off those pain potions before we can start the healing. I assure you, with some care and dittany those wounds will be no bother.”

Hermione looked up at the woman, “You’re a healer?”

Euphemia hummed in affirmation, “I was a maternity healer for most of my adult life, then James came along and I stepped back to focus on my own baby,” She fussed with the covers and Hermione started asking another question but was interrupted, “No more talking, just rest. If you have need for anything, call for Pipsy. Sleep well, dear.”

She tucked Hermione in with such care it made her long for her own mother. She finished it off with a caress over Hermione’s hair and exited softly. Hermione’s eyes closed on their own accord, and she was whisked into a dreamless sleep.

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She woke up to soft knocking at the door, only it wasn’t Euphemia like she was expecting. Nor was it James, who she still hadn’t seen since arriving. Sirius leaned on the door frame, dressed down in jeans and a dark jumper.

“Couldn’t get enough of me, Granger? You had to follow me home”

Home. The word said so casually Hermione had to do a double take. She tried sitting up but the pain returned in full force, so she buried her head in the pillow and grumbled, “Piss off.”

She heard the sound of footsteps approaching and felt the bed dip with added weight next to her feet.

“That’s no way to talk to a host.”

She tried kicking at him but hissed at the consequences of the movement.

“Oi! Granger stop trying to tell me off. You’re just hurting yourself. I’ll leave now, I just came by to-” his voice cracked with emotion.

She turned her head enough to face him and saw for the first time in this life an overcome Sirius. Gone was any trace of the cocky boy.

“I just came by to thank you.”

She frowned, “I’m getting a lot of gratitude today.”

“Well, take it. If that curse hit James in the chest – Godric, Hermione. Your back, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Her frown deepened, “I haven’t seen it.”

He looked stricken, “That’s for the better. It’s not a pretty picture. How are you even alive?”

It was a rhetorical question, but she had an answer, “I cheated death once,” She thought of a silenced Dolohov in the Department of Mysteries, Nagini snapping inches from her throat, the chamber of secrets, “I think he wants a divorce, because since then he’s refused to take me back.”

Sirius huffed a laugh, “Well cheers to that. No worries though, Mum will make you all pretty again.”

He patted her leg and made to leave. She called out before he reached the door, “Sirius?”

He turned to face her, “Yeah?”

“Did anyone else see?” He looked confused so she added, “My scars.”

His eyebrows raised at the plural, but he didn’t ask, only shook his head, “I made sure you were decent at all times. Can’t have the lady of the house indisposed.” He added with a small smile.

“Thanks,” She whispered.

He turned to leave once more, stopping at the doorway and calling over his shoulder, “You might want to send off a few owls. Everyone is worried sick.”

He closed the door with a soft click, leaving her alone once more.

Chapter Text

18 December 1977, Sunday

Hermione woke up to two large eyes inches from her face. She screamed as she leapt back, hitting her head on the wooden headboard. While she was rubbing the sore spot and trying to make sense of her surroundings a small voice spoke up frantically, “Pipsy is sorry, Miss! Pipsy didn’t mean to scare the miss!”

Hermione blinked once, then twice. Potter Manor, she was in a room in Potter Manor. And there was a house elf at the side of her bed, a house elf who was frantically pulling down her ears to cover her face. Hermione reached forward to stop the little hands, “No! No, please stop that. I’m fine!”

The elf calmed down and rubbed her hands together instead. Hermione immediately noticed that the elf wasn’t dressed in a tea cozy or dirty shift, but rather a nice clean simple dress.

“Mistress sends Pipsy to asks what the young miss wants for breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” Hermione glanced outside, she had slept through the whole night.

“Yes, miss. Miss must eat now. Before Mistress Effie comes to help the miss.”

The casual way the elf mentioned Euphemia’s name set Hermione’s nerves at ease.

“It’s fine, Pipsy. I’ll go downstairs and fetch something myself.”

“No, Miss! Yous must stay in bed, Mistress insists.”

The elf put her hands on her hips, and Hermione would’ve laughed at the sight she not been slightly afraid of the stern expression on the little elf’s face.

“All right then, a slice of toast will be fine.”

The elf grabbed at her heart, “Yous missed lunch and dinner yesterday. I will bring Miss anything!”

Hemione’s stomach rumbled, and she relented, “All right then, whatever’s easiest. I’m not picky but-”

The elf disappeared with a pop and Hermione had a feeling she had made a massive mistake. She was proven right when the elf popped back in minutes later with a giant tray, loaded with enough eggs and toast and sausages to feed an entire quidditch team.

“Pipsy!”

“Is it not to the young misses liking?”  The elf put on a sheepish smile, and Hermione realized she had been played like a fiddle. 

“You – no, it’s fine. Thank you.”

The smile the elf threw her was unabashed, “Pipsy brings the misses tea!”

With two more pops Pipsy disappeared and reappeared with another tray, this one thankfully much smaller. She placed it on the bedside table carefully, and started arranging the one she had left on the bed, loading up a plate for Hermione.

Hermione reached over for the tea tentatively, not wanting to show her disappointment that only a cup and saucer adorned the tray. She wasn’t going to make a fuss about preparing her tea the way she wanted. Only when Hermione took a sip, the tea was perfect.

Pipsy probably noticed her confused frown, “Is something wrong with the misses tea? Pipsy told the young master that Miss should like to prepare her own! Yes, Pipsy did. He said he would do it, young master never listens.”

The elf trailed off grumbling to herself and went to take the tea from Hermione, who snatched it out of her reach, “No! It’s – wait. James made this?”

The elf nodded softly, and Hermione stared back at the cup, “Where is he?”

“The young master and the naughty boy took their brooms out. Pipsy warns them of the mud, but they don’t listen. Now, Miss must eat. Mistress Effie will come soon.”

Pipsy snapped and the plate she built floated softly into Hermione’s lap. She sighed and started digging through the mountain of food.

She had barely made a dent when Euphemia arrived, “Oh my, Pipsy sure likes to make a fuss.”

Hermione smiled guiltily down at the plate that still had half the food left, not to mention the remaining pile on the tray, “Sorry, Mrs. Potter. I don’t want to waste food but-”

Euphemia waved her off, “Don’t fret, dear. Pipsy just enjoys having someone to take care of. James decided a few years ago he was ‘too grown’ for her affection, and she’s been looking for a replacement since.”

“James being too grown? Is that even possible?”

Euphemia waved her wand and the plate and trays floated out of the door,  the now empty space was quickly filled with potion bottles and jars of ingredients of all sizes and shapes, “Boys don’t want to be doted on once they reach a certain age, but I still hear him sneaking down to the kitchen every now and then and ask Pippy for his old favourites.”

Hermione snorted, all boys it seemed, went through the same regression. No matter the year.

“Now. Let’s see what we’re working with today,” Euphemia motioned for Hermione to remove the cardigan she still hadn’t removed from the previous day.

She hesitated, before standing up and turning with her back towards the woman and started unbuttoning. The movements ached, but the pain was a dull throb rather than the stabbing sears she woke up with in the hospital wing.

“No need for embarrassment, I assure you I’ve seen it all.”

Hermione knew that Euphemia was only trying to reassure her, but it didn’t help the dread in her stomach. How would she explain the scars? She decided that a version of the truth would have to suffice, “It’s not that, Mrs. Potter. I have…experience with being on the other side of dark magic. Unfortunately, it always leaves a mark.”

After shrugging off the shoulders of the cardigan, Hermione turned slowly. She covered her bare bits with an arm, but knew it did no good to hide the dark purple blossoming from her ribcage. To Euphemia’s credit, the woman didn’t even blink. She only looked from the scar back to Hermione’s face and simply said, “Seems like you have quite the story, Hermione Granger.”

Hermione looked down, “Truthfully, half of it isn’t even mine to tell.”

It was the hard truth, much of her life had only revolved around Harry. Even the night she got the scar, and the weeks spent recovering after, was overshadowed by the death of Harry’s godfather. It was a terrible permanent reminder that she couldn’t be there in his final moments. Maybe she could’ve done something, maybe she could’ve prevented Sirius – Sirius, who was out there on the grounds somewhere. Flying without a care in the world.

“Well, I hope you tell someone. It is an awful burden to carry by oneself.”

“I’m fine.”

Euphemia didn’t react to her sharp tone, she only turned to mess with the pillows and sheets on the bed. Hermione stood there in nothing but the pair of comfortable joggers she had thrown on the previous day, still covering herself as much as she could, and feeling like a proper arsehole.

None of this was meant to happen. She wasn’t supposed to be there. She should have told Dumbledore to go to hell. Pick someone else. Only, she didn’t. She went through with it, said ‘ yes, sir’ ‘of course, sir’ like she always did. Like the perfect little golden girl everybody wanted her to be.  Now she was here, taking her frustrations out on the last person to deserve it. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks and she flushed with embarrassment.

Euphemia turned to her, and the understanding in her gaze had Hermione choking back a sob. She walked over to Hermione and soft hands wiped at the tears, “Come now, dear. Let’s get you settled.”

She guided Hermione to the bed and started working on her back. Neither of them said anything for the rest of the morning. Hermione closed her eyes and lost her thoughts to the relief spreading across her whole body. She pretended that it was due to the ministrations on her wounds. It was just the dittany, not the fact that she had finally let go some of her pent-up emotions. Hermione was fine. She was perfectly fine.

21 December 1977, Wednesday

Most of her days at Potter Manor went exactly the same. Hermione was woken up by Pipsy, given way too much food and tea made by James. Euphemia came to her room soon after breakfast. The woman was a master healer. Hermione hadn’t felt any pain since her first morning, and she was moving around as if nothing happened.

There was nothing to do for the exhaustion, though. It had settled so deep in her bones that no amount of sleep had her feeling rested. As soon as she was alone she fell right back asleep, and stayed that way for most of the day.

She ate dinner alone in her room, curtesy of Pipsy bringing more heaps of food. So far she had been visited by Sirius every night after sending full plates back with Pipsy. He brought letters and waited for her to craft replies while lounging on her bed and talking her ear off.

“You know, they’ve proven that silence is best for a healing environment.”

“That’s only because they haven’t heard my angelic voice, Granger.”

It was getting late, and she had expected the knock on the door, so she called out without looking away from the mirror she was braiding her hair in front of, “Leave it on the bedside table. Thank you, Pipsy.”

Only it wasn’t Pipsy at the door, “Mum has invited you to dinner with us. Downstairs, I mean.”

Hermione whirled around in the chair, “James-?”

He wasn’t looking at her. No, he was doing a fine job in staring exactly at the space right next to her, “She said you should be strong enough now to face the stairs. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”

Hermione made to get up but he was already turning away, “Potter, wait-”

It was no use, he was gone with a soft click of the bedroom door. Hermione gaped at it. Once she regained her composure, she quickly got dressed in a jumper that hadn’t been worn for three days and traded her joggers for jeans.

She fiddled with her sleeves on the way downstairs and traced her steps back through the house.  Voices and laughter rang through the hallway and she followed the sound, stopping tentatively at the entrance of the dining room. There was no absurdly long dining table suited for dinner parties, instead a simple elegant oak dining table graced the center of the room. Five table placements were set out, but even that seemed informal with woven placemats, mismatched glasses and simple knives and forks next to the plates.

The head of the table was occupied by Fleamont, he had a hand on his wife’s next to him. Sirius sat at his other side, he was in the middle of an animated story that had the two adults in laughter. The only person not smiling was James, he sat low in his seat next to Sirius. Head rested against the back of the chair, one arm hanging lazily off the side and the other reaching out to roll his wand back and forth on the table. He was the image of misery.

Hermione headed for the seat across from him.

“Hermione! Thank you for joining us, I was so glad to hear you’re feeling better,” Fleamont’s smile was warm and genuine, so she tried giving a decent one back. She probably only managed half.

“Thank you for the invite, Mr. Potter.”

“Sit, dear,” Euphemia pulled out the chair for her, “What kind of hosts would we be if you ate alone every day?”

She took her place and looked across the table, James was now upright but still not smiling. He was staring intently down at his plate.

“Pipsy, we’re ready for you,” Fleamont called, clapping his hands together.

Pipsy appeared instantly, and food followed. Filling up the table and room with wonderful aromas.

“Ah! It looks divine. Thank you,” Euphemia smiled down at the elf, who positively beamed at the praise before disappearing with another pop.

“Pipsy made all this?” Hermione gaped at the table

“We can’t complain about stained clothes when her true talents shine in the kitchen,” Sirius laughed, reaching for the potatoes.

Hermione started loading her own plate, thankful for the reprieve in oversized portions.

Soon chatter resumed, and Hermione got lost in her thoughts. James was pushing food around his plate, hunched over and not participating in any conversation. Her mind was racing, she kept trying to catch his attention to no avail. Why wasn’t he looking at her?

Hermione dug into her food, stabbing at it furiously wondering what the hell she was supposed to do now. She became acutely aware that the table had fell into silence, and slowly looked up to find everyone staring at her, “Sorry, what?”

“I was just asking about how you’re feeling today, Hermione?” Euphemia said patiently.

“Oh, great actually. Thank you.”

“Effie says you are healing ahead of schedule, and you’ll be able to go home for Christmas day. Is there anyone you’d like us to owl for arrangements?” Fleamont asked.

Home. The word hit her like a ton of bricks. She fixed her eyes back on her plate, “Oh, no that’s not necessary. I’ll owl Professor McGonagall.”

“You’re just going back to Hogwarts?” Sirius blurted.

Hermione looked up to see Euphemia shooting him a pointed look before she turned to Hermione, “What about your parents, dear? I’m sure they’d love to see you.”

Her parents. Merlin, she had barely thought of them the last couple of months, the last year really. Where were the two people who raised and fed and loved her? In this time they were a young couple, trying to set up a dental practice. Only just moved in to the house she grew up in. In her time…she didn’t know where they were. Somewhere in Australia oblivious to the fact that they had a daughter.

She did that, she made them forget, she- “No. They’re-” busy? strangers? “- gone.”

Suddenly home felt even further removed than before. For the first time she was glad to be so far removed. Hermione didn’t have to think about the Grangers. She didn’t have to face what she had done, just yet. The room filled with a thick silence at her confession, she didn't dare look up at the faces. Scared of finding pity there, pity she certainly did not deserve.

“Is there someone else? Anyone you’d want to spend Christmas with?”

Hermione shook her head, and without really meaning for it to happen the cold reality spilled out of her, “I have no one.” For the first time since starting Hogwarts at age 11, she was all alone.

She said it so softly she barely heard it herself. By the reactions around the table, only Sirius seemed to have picked it up, and he’d gone uncharacteristically quiet.

 Mr. Potter clapped his hands together, “Well, then it’s settled. You’ll spend Christmas with us.”

Hermione’s head whipped up, “What?”

Euphemia placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder, “He’s right. No one should spend Christmas alone. You’ll stay with us the rest of the holidays, won’t you?”

The invitation was sweet and open, but had a hint of try and say no, I dare you. Hermione risked a glance at James, who was staring at his parents with a shocked expression that matched her own. She numbly nodded.

Everyone resumed eating, except James. Who abruptly stood up and excused himself. Hermione watched him leave, thinking about her last words to Dumbledore. Wasn’t she supposed to be using this time wisely? Instead, she had somehow driven a wedge in-between herself and James.

Hermione waited patiently behind her bedroom door, listening for footsteps. Dinner had wrapped up an hour ago, and she was tired from the socialisation. Fleamont had spent the better half of the evening grilling her about how she was finding Hogwarts, and she had spent the time falsifying first impressions and feigning surprise at anecdotes he shared about the castle she was already aware of.  Her bed was calling for her, but she needed answers first.

As soon as she could hear footfall in the hallway she ripped open her door and grabbed the unsuspecting victim inside, shutting it behind them. Sirius stumbled in with an ‘oomph’ and grabbed a hold of her to steady himself.

He promptly let go, “Listen, Granger, you’re sweet and all-”

“Shut up.”

“I just don’t think Mum would agree that you’re quite ready for-”

“Sirius-”

“I know I’m irresistible but-”

“Sweet ever-loving Merlin. Sirius Orion Black, shut the hell up!”

That got his mouth to clamp shut, but for good measure she threw her palm over it, “What is going on with James?”

He furrowed his brows and she removed her hand, “What do you mean?”

“He won’t look at me or talk to me or anything. Does he – does he want me to leave?” She ignored the twinge in her heart at the possibility.

 “No, Hermione. That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

Sirius sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, “Things were a bit…rough after everything went down.”

She joined him on the bed, “What happened?”

He hesitated, so she shot pleading eyes at him. It worked, “At first, we didn’t know what happened. None of us even saw you jumping in front of him – until you fell. We didn’t even know what the curse was, by the time James got you safely on the ground and his hands were covered in blood…Snape was already gone. They scattered as soon as the curse hit.” He paused.

“So?”

“Patience, woman! I’m getting there. James was paralyzed, he just kept staring at his hands. Remus stopped me from running after Snivellus to shake him out of it. We got you to Madam Pomfrey and when she saw your back – Merlin Hermione, she started healing the wounds, but they just kept opening up,” Hermione nodded, she had assumed that was why the healing was taking longer, Snape hadn’t provided the counter-curse this time, “She kept asking us what curse it was. We couldn’t tell her anything. Mary and Marlene rushed off to get McGonagall, or Mirfield or anyone who could help. We had to-”

He broke off on a shuddering breath and Hermione reached over to place her hand on his arm, he only stared down at it, “Moony and I, we had to hold you down. You were moving around too much and James…he just stood there. Watching. Eventually you settled and the wounds opened up slower and slower. So Pomfrey kicked us out. We made it back to the head dorms, where Lily was waiting.” Hermione sat up straight and pulled her hand back.

“She tore into James for what he said – and he just took it. He didn’t care. He waited for her to stop and then asked her to please go to and find out what curse Severus used, that if you died, he would kill him for it. That’s about the time Lily noticed all the blood.”

Hermione’s eyes widened at the information, “He couldn’t have really meant that, he just said that-”

“You didn’t see him, Granger. He took his cloak and left. I only saw him again after getting off the train.”

Hermione knew he had spent the whole night in the library, trying to find the curse in any of the books. She tried showing only confusion at the mention of the cloak, glad to know it was at Hogwarts, and filed the information away for later.

“That still doesn’t explain why he’s avoiding me. Is he mad at me for taking the curse?”

Sirius shook his head, “Gods, no. He’s angry at himself. He blames himself for you getting caught in the crossfire, and the only thing that would make him feel marginally better was punishing the person responsible.”

“Snape would’ve gone straight to the rest of the school and exposed Remus. His life would be over.”

Sirius looked her in the eyes, and all she saw was remorse and guilt, “I know. That’s on me.”

“The incident?”

Sirius nodded, and Hermione didn’t pry further. She knew the whole story, so she didn’t need to ask. Him telling her this little was enough.

“So what now? Do I go tell him I don’t blame him?”

“No!” Sirius shot up holding his arms in front of her like she was going to rush over and confront James right then and there, “No, just give him some space, all right? He’s working through it.”

We’ll see about that.

22 December 1977, Thursday

Hermione made her way downstairs first thing in the morning. She found the kitchen, and exactly who she was looking for. James stood at the counter, stirring a cup of tea. He was dressed down in red plaid pajama bottoms slung low on his hips, and an old faded Quidditch jersey.

When he reached for something on a high shelf, she saw a sliver of tanned skin and promptly fixed her eyes to the back of his head.

“Young Miss! Pipsy is bringing your food up now.”

Hermione and James startled at the same time, she had been so focused on him she had missed the elf bustling about, “Uh – thanks, Pipsy. But I’ll take breakfast here if that’s all right?”

“In the kitchen! No no, Pipsy will go set the tray up in the living room.” She moved in a flurry of trays and plates, heading out the kitchen and muttering all the way.

James had fully turned his back to her.

“Potter-”

“This is yours,” He interrupted her and held out the cup, without looking at her.

“Thank you.” She went over to take it from him. As soon as the cup left his hand he turned to leave.

Hermione quickly moved to set it down on the table, and grabbed his arm, “James, wait.”

For a moment he stared down at where her hand was gripping on to him, and he slowly lifted his gaze but still didn’t quite meet her eyes, “Granger, please.”

It was a whispered plea, and she almost let him go to ease the desperation in his voice.

She opened her mouth to reply when Pipsy’s voice broke through the quiet, “Miss! Breakfast is ready!”

James pulled away and walked briskly to the hallway and stairs beyond.

She made her way to the living room and ate in silence and admired the space again, how much it felt like home. Sometime since she first arrived a massive Christmas tree had been set up in the corner. It was magnificent, gold ribbon danced along the branches and the baubles sparkled in and out with magical flame.  Once she had gotten in as much egg and sausage she could stomach she walked over to it. Reaching to stroke along the branches, remembering the trees at Hogwarts. Hagrid dragging in the biggest tee she’d ever seen. The tiny pine tree in the crowded Burrow, overflowing with love.

“It’s quite a monstrosity, isn’t it?”

Hermione retracted her hand at the sound of Euphemia’s voice. The woman carried a small breakfast tray with only two potions, “Pipsy told me I could find you here.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Potter. I meant to return-”

“Nonsense, girl! You are free to roam. Besides, it’s only potions for today. I’m afraid my wand work has reached the limits of what it can do for you. There will be scars I’m afraid.”

Hermione smiled sadly and reached over for the potions, “Nothing I haven’t handled before.” She threw back both in quick succession, not willing for the taste to linger.

Euphemia tutted and set the tray with the now empty bottles down, “Still, I am sorry.”

Bustling sounded in the hallway and Sirius and James burst in, dressed in heavy quidditch gear. They stopped at the sight of the two women.

“Nah uh, not on my watch. It’s been piling snow all night! There will be no flying today.”

“But Mum-” Sirius started pleading.

“I said no. Besides, Hermione is fit to move around some more today. I’d like for you to give her a proper tour of the manor.”

James shot pleading eyes at Sirius, who was looking between his friend and Hermione skeptically. Fortunately for her, he conceded under her pointed gaze instead.

“Actually, I have some last-minute Christmas shopping to do. All yours, Prongs.”

He rushed out of the room before anyone, especially James, had the time to object. James, who now turned around looking like he would much rather turn into a stag and destroy the living room than follow his mother’s instructions.

Euphemia seemed oblivious to the power struggle that just went down, “Get changed, James. Grab a second coat for Hermione, while you’re at it. The grounds are truly beautiful after the first snow fall.” She grabbed the tray and headed out.

Hermione and James were left alone in the room, but before she could say anything James turned away and headed out the door.  She let out a frustrated huff and stormed back to collapse on the couch. She rubbed her hands down her face.

That’s how James found her a few minutes later. She didn’t bother getting up, expecting a lame excuse or more of his running-out-of-the-room shenanigans. He surprised her by throwing a coat at her. She noticed that the quidditch kit was gone as well, replaced by warmer trousers and a light suede coat.  

She grabbed the coat and glared up at him, “Talking to me now?”

Evidently the answer was no, as he gestured for her to walk out the living room door with an outstretched arm and eyes fixed solely on the window.  She shrugged on the coat and stomped past him.

They walked in silence. The grounds were as beautiful as Euphemia made them out to be. Wounding pathways that led through patches of forests of majestic trees and open meadows, all blanketed by powder fresh snow. It was truly a winter wonderland out of fairytale books. If only Hermione could admire any of it, instead she was intently staring at the James. Hoping to force him to look at her.

“Are you going to say-”

“No.”

She huffed, “Well, at least look at-”

“No.”

Silence stretched again. Until she sped up pace to stop in front of him, he kept walking around her. So she tried keeping up with his steps, in the end having to turn her whole body around to face him, walking backwards to stop his manoeuvring around her. He tried to zig zag past her, keeping his gaze firmly locked over her shoulder.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake!” She threw her arms up in defeat. Her arms wobbled as she lost her footing, and she tried swinging them around to regain her balance. It was no use, she was heading straight for a harsh landing on her arse.

“Granger!” James grabbed for her, his momentum throwing them both off the pathway and onto the snow-covered grass.

She landed right on top of him with a groan on impact, “Ouch.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders, lifting her in order to inspect her up and down with frantic eyes, “Shit, are you okay? Should I call Mum? Are you hurt?”

She grabbed at his arms, “Potter!” He was still scanning frantically, “James! Stop it. I’m all right.”

He finally looked her in the eye, and all she could see behind the glasses was worry and…and fear. She softened her grip and her tone, “I’m all right, James. It was just a fall.”

“Yeah, but your wounds-”

“Are fine.” She held his gaze until he nodded.

She looked down, he was still fiercely gripping on to her shoulders. It kept her pinned on top of where he laid flat on the ground.  She tried shrugging out of his hands and on to her feet, but he didn’t budge, “James, please. I’m fine. You can let go now.”

He slowly loosened his grip, so she shimmied off next to him to put some space in between them. He sat up and brought his legs closer, resting his arms and his head on them.

She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You have to talk to me.”

James turned to face her, resting his cheek on his arm, “You could have died.”

Her grip tightened, “But I didn’t.”

“You almost did and- and it would’ve been all my fault.” He turned his head again but she moved the hand from his shoulder to his face to stop him. Resting her palm on his cheek. Hermione sat cross legged, facing him so he had to look at her. She was so scared he would stop, just so glad to be looking into that deep brown again.

“I don’t blame you for what happened”

He scanned her face, “You really don’t?”

“I jumped in front of you. That was my decision, so don’t you dare take that away from me.”

“I riled him up. I knew he would react and I did it anyway.”

She brushed her thumb over his cheek with a soft smile, and when she was sure he wouldn’t look away again she retracted her hand into her lap, “I know. I knew exactly how he would react too, that’s why I did what I did.”

His brows furrowed in devastation, “But why?”

Hermione had asked herself that same question over the last few days, and truthfully she didn’t know. The easy answer in her head was that James dying would mess up the timeline, that without James there would be no Harry. But Hermione also knew that wasn’t what she was thinking about when it happened.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Hermione didn’t give him a chance to reply or herself to look deeper into those words. She stood up, brushing off the snow and holding out her hand to help him up. He took it and pushed off the ground.

Only, he didn’t drop her hand once they were both upright and back on the cobblestone, “I’m really glad you’re all right.”

She smiled up at him, “Me too.”

He pulled her into a bone crushing hug and against her better judgement she threw her arms around his waist and buried her head in his chest. Breathing in the comforting pine smell. She pulled away just as fast though, and gave her best attempt at a cocky smirk up at him, “So, we’re good?”

He nodded, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Then let’s get the hell inside. My toes are going to fall off.”

James laughed, holding out his arm for her to take. She hesitated before looping hers through, and he led her back up to the house.

Chapter Text

23 December 1977, Friday

Hermione had a new found appreciation for the cordial relationship she and James had developed. Now that he was talking to her again, her time at Potter manor was much more enjoyable. They had finished her tour of the manor being much better company to one another. Until they got back to the living room, and Hermione got stuck on that damned tree again.

“What’s up Granger, have a hatred for Christmas trees or something?”

“Just remembering.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“My…friend’s mom. She used to knit jumpers every Christmas. Ugly stupid jumpers. I got one every Christmas with a large H on the front. I’ve just realised there won’t be one waiting for me under the tree.”

 She spent the rest of the day playing whatever game Sirius dug up from the Potters’ endless stash. After Sirius admitted defeat in yet another game Hermione comfortably bested him in, he announced his departure and left Hermione and James alone in the living room. They had pushed the board games aside and just talked, more than they ever had before.

Hermione learned that James always wanted to be a seeker, but he was a pudgy kid and never got the courage to try and go for the position, even after dropping the baby weight. Imagining him as a short and plump 9 year old, running through the halls of the manor brought a genuine smile to her face. She also learned that he hated being in the de facto position as leader of the marauders.

That one shocked her immensely, he seemed so fit for it. He hated it immensely, but filled the role without ever complaining.

“But why? I mean, they all look up to you.”

“That’s exactly why I hate it. James Potter, the self-assured bighead.  If I make a mistake, it’s always a big deal. So, I end up second guessing everything, I can never just…be.”

They had talked into the early hours of the morning, and Hermione was paying dearly for that.

“Did someone skip her beauty sleep? You naughty naughty, Granger.”

“Shut up,” Hermione grumbled at Sirius. He was lying spread out on the largest couch in the living room. She shoved at his feet to make space for herself and plopped down. Dropping her head back and shutting her eyes tightly at the bright light of the morning.

“We really have to work on those manners.”

She could just hear the grin in his voice so she lunged out with a leg. Trying to catch any part of him accessible to her. When she made contact and was awarded with a glorious grunt, it brought a smirk of satisfaction to her face.

“Vicious woman.”

“You have a talent of bringing that out in girls, Pads.”

Hermione forced her eyes open at the new voice. James strode into the room, dressed in the same coat as the previous day and a dark set of trousers. He had thrown on a red beanie, and his curls poked out from underneath.

“More like a curse,” Sirius mumbled, rubbing at his shin.

“Come on,” James said, throwing her a coat. She caught it and marvelled, how had she not noticed before how elaborate it was? Probably because the first time this particular coat had been thrown at her, she was more focused on the person doing the throwing than the actual garment.

It was a light tan sheepskin coat, luxuriously soft to the touch. The inside was lined with a thick layer of wool, and large silver ornamental buttons adorned the front. She was happy to notice it didn’t suffer any damage from her spill.

Still, despite it’s beauty, she frowned down at it, “Where are we going?”

“I think it’s time Sirius and I show you our little project.”

----------------------

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

Their little project had turned out to be a monstrosity on wheels. Hermione stood arms crossed in the shed they had led her to at the back of the house.

“Does your mum know about this?”

“Know? She helped me bring it home from the shop,” Sirius announced proudly.

Hermione winced, because in front of her stood what she had known as Sirius’s deathtrap on wheels. The motorcycle was still as shiny and intimidating as ever.

“We want to make her fly,” James said, sliding a hand over the handlebars.

Hermione choked on her reply, “Why?”

“Why not?”

She could think of a million reasons why not, “So what do you want from me?”

“Well, we’re sort of stuck on a tiny problem,” Sirius answered.

“What tiny problem?” She asked slowly, and from their sheepish smiles she knew she had made a mistake.

Sirius eventually said, “The flying problem.”

Hermione looked at the bike in apprehension. It went against every single one of her instincts, but all she could think about was how Hagrid had flown Harry to safety from Privet drive. That this damn motorcycle got Harry away from the Death Eaters.  So, she uncrossed her arms.

“All right then, let’s see what you’ve done so far.”

She ignored the high five James and Sirius gave each other behind her back.

25 December 1977, Sunday

Christmas day at Potter’s manor was surprisingly peaceful, in spite of the fact that Sirius was trying his hardest to make it the noisiest day ever.

“For the love of- PADS! Shut the hell up!” James’s pleas went unheard

“GOD REST YE MERRY HIPPOGRIFF’S-”

“That’s it,” James announced before lunging at Sirius.

The two ended up in a brawl on the living room floor. Hermione smiled from her spot on the couch, where she was currently enjoying a warm mulled wine, curtesy of Mrs. Potter.

“You must excuse the barbarism. I tried raising my boys better but alas. When they’re away for so much of the year, there’s only so much a mother could do.”

Hermione’s heart warmed at her words, “No one else is coming today?”

That was what was so surprising to Hermione, they had a small but elaborate dinner whipped up by Pipsy. Then the family had moved to the living room where everyone sat around exchanging gifts. There was no pureblood stiffness. No formal dinner, or tons of guests showing up. Just…family.

“No, not this year. We usually extend an invitation to some friends but this year – well, we didn’t want to mix business and family.”

So, the order is already up and running.

Hermione took a gamble, “Phoenix feathers don’t make for party decorations.”

Euphemia stopped in the middle of bringing her glass up to her lips and regarded Hermione closely, “No my dear, they don’t.”

Hermione was about to pry for more information when James, done rolling around on the floor with Sirius, stood in front of her looking sheepish with his hands behind his back.

“Done playing fetch?” Hermione asked with a coy smile.

“Yeah, actually-” he held out a small badly wrapped package, “-this is for you.”

Hermione placed her glass down to take it, frowning, “I didn’t get you anything.”

“You and those manners, Granger,” Sirius called from the floor, she shot him a glare and he grinned widely back.

“That’s not why someone gives gifts,” James shrugged

“Still,” She started, unwrapping the present, once she got to the inside she looked up at him in confusion, “These are-?”

“Honeyduke’s. Yeah, I got them on the last Hogsmeade trip. I was going to owl them but – but this is better.”

“James!” Euphemia's disapproving tone broke through Hermione’s awe, “You got the girl sweets for Christmas? Now I know I taught you better than that.”

“Trust me, Mum. These aren’t just any sweets.”

Hermione smiled as she pulled out a sugar quill and immediately popped it in her mouth. For the rest of the night she held the bag close, but not even James went for one. Still, she never loosened her grip.

Hermione woke up with a sore neck and a backache. Somewhere the mulled wine had worked its way to her head, and she had fallen asleep watching a game of wizarding chess between James and his father. Evidently, she hadn’t fallen asleep in the most comfortable position slumped over the armrest, paper bag still clutched to her chest. She rubbed at her eyes, noticing a silhouette against the window.

 “What time is it?” She grumbled, her voice thick with sleep. She wiped the drool from her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt.

James turned to face her, “Late. I told Mum I would wake you up and get you into a real bed, but you just looked too peaceful.”

She rubbed at her neck, “Peaceful and comfy are clearly not the same thing.”

James didn’t respond, and when she looked up she saw him staring intensely out the window. His hands gripped tightly on the windowsill. She stood up, and ignored the way her knees popped. The closer she got the more she could make out of him, the dim firelight illuminated the tension in his shoulders. She rested her arms on the window next to him, interlacing her fingers in the cool air outside and trying to find what he was looking at. Nothing in the still night drew her attention.

“What are we looking at?”

“Clear night tonight,” He said matter-of-factly, so she looked up and saw that there were indeed no clouds in the sky. Nothing to obscure the bright full moon illuminating the grounds.

“Oh no. On Christmas?”

James nodded, and whispered, “His dad locks him up.”

Hermione whipped her head towards him, “What?”

His chin dropped to his chest, “It’s why we run around. Even though it’s dangerous, not to mention extremely stupid. He won’t admit it, but we all know it’s better for him. When the wolf runs around it doesn’t hurt him that badly. When it’s in a tiny basement, shackled to the wall, though.”

At his words Hermione brought a hand up to her mouth. She couldn’t get the image out of her head. The young spritely Remus, so full of life and laughter. Chained up like a rabid animal.

James noticed her expression and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Hey, don’t worry. We’ll make it up to him next month.”

She dropped her hand from her mouth, letting it fall useless to her side, “I just wish – I just wish I could help him, somehow.”

She had tried brewing wolfsbane for him, but something kept going wrong with the last step. And there was no one in this time she could ask for help, it would be another few years before it was invented.

“You could always become an animagus.”

She smiled thoughtfully, returning to her perch on the window, “I’ve thought about it.”

“Really?”

She nodded, “It would’ve been an incredibly useful skill to have. I just never had the time.”

James smirked at her, “Too busy getting in trouble?”

She huffed sarcastically, “More like too busy trying to stay out of trouble, but with a friend like H-” she broke off, suddenly feeling inexplicably guilty.

The guilt confused her, wasn’t she here for him? To ensure his very existence?

If James took note of her sudden switch in demeanour he didn’t comment, or pry further, “What about now? I could help, if you want.”

She shook her head, “I don’t think now would be a good idea. It would be way too tempting to just shift and run away. Live my life out in the woods somewhere and just never look back.”

James was quiet, too quiet for her liking so she turned to face him. He was staring straight at her, and she couldn’t decipher the look on his face. It was gone before she could process it and replaced with a toothy smile, “Well, you unfortunately have to stay human in order to use your gift.”

“I’m pretty sure any animal can eat sugar quills if they try hard enough.”

He laughed, pulling away from the window and gesturing for her to follow him, “Not that gift.” He led her to the tree, where another badly wrapped package lay hidden underneath the lowest branches.

“Another one? James, I can’t-”

“Just open it, idiot.”

She knelt down on her knees next to the tree, reaching for the present. It was definitely larger than a packet of sugar quills. She carefully undid the ribbon, and when she tore away the paper to reveal what’s inside she looked up in shock at James.

“Is this-?”

“Pipsy helped- a lot. I haven’t knitted since Mum forced me to when I was ten. Do you not like it?”

She held up the jumper, in Gryffindor red with a large yellow H on the front. It was obscene and bright, and brought tears to her eyes.  She didn’t trust her words, so she jumped up and tackled James into a hug. He stumbled slightly under her sudden attack, but grabbed on, laughing and swinging her around.

She wore that obscene jumper the rest of the night, and didn’t take it off for her morning walk around the grounds. Only throwing James’s jacket over it.

Chapter Text

29 December 1977,  Thursday

Hermione woke up in a cold sweat. She jerked up, trying to calm her rapid breathing. Her stomach lurched and she barely made it out into the hallway and into the bathroom before retching into the toilet. She cursed herself for eating so much at dinner.

She rested her forehead against the cool porcelain, ignoring the potential grossness and smell of sick. Her heart was still beating out of her chest.

She should have seen this coming, but she allowed herself to fall into a false sense of security. Hermione hadn’t had a nightmare since coming to Potter Manor. So she got comfortable, started eating more at dinner, sleeping earlier, everything she had taken for granted before.

Now, with the last of the soothing potions out of her system and her body apparently all caught up on a year’s worth of comfortable sleeping, she was right back at square one.

She heard the sound of a door opening, and not for the first time wished for a private bathroom. Weren’t manors supposed to be all en-suites and luxury?

“Granger?”

At the sound of her name she had another flash of nightmare.

“What do they call you, dear?” Scabior hissed, his dirty fingers gripping her face hard. The look in his eyes so dark, pure savage.

Her stomach rolled with fear and she once again gripped the seat in front of her, heaving until there was nothing left.

“Shit! Are you all right?”

She heard James rushing over to her, and felt hands holding back her hair from her face.

Bellatrix grabbing her by the hair, throwing her to the ground. Her head hitting the marbled floor and stars exploding behind her eyes.

She yanked away from the hands. Scrambling on the floor until she had solid wall behind her back and pointing her wand up.

James stood wide eyed, staring down at her with helpless hands raised in front of him, “Hermione, it’s just me. It’s James.”

Just James. It was just James. She was in Potter Manor. She got out.

Hermione lowered her wand and let out a shuddering breath. Dropping her head back on the cold wall.

“Sorry.” Her voice was raspy, burnt from the bile still stuck in her throat.

James slowly lowered his hands, “Are you okay? What happened?”

 “Nightmare.”

James didn’t say anything, just ripped of a piece of toilet paper and handed it to her. She took it, wiping furiously at her mouth, wishing the taste would go away. James took a seat opposite her on the floor, back supported by the large bathtub.

“Thanks and sorry again.”

“Want to talk about it?” He asked.

Hermione shook her head. No, she wanted to forget.

“Does this happen often? I mean, is it always this bad? I wondered why you are always roaming the castle at night but-”

“Stop.”

James’s mouth clamped shut at her harsh command. Silence fell, and he fiddled with his hands, not looking at her. She must’ve looked terrible. Hermione could still feel beads of sweat on her brow. He on the other hand - she had to look away as she suddenly noticed he was shirtless. Wearing only a pair of long fleece flannel pants. Didn’t he know it was winter, for Merlin’s sake.

When the silence became uncomfortable she spoke up, “Yes,” he looked at her, waiting for her to continue, “I walk around as long as possible, if I’m tired enough I can actually catch some sleep.”

“Why haven’t you said anything?”

“It’s not a pretty picture,” Hermione grimaced down at her night shirt, now stained with drool.

“Come on. I’ve got a shirt you can borrow for the night.”

James pushed himself off the floor, holding out a hand to her. She wiped her own, before taking his. Ignoring the fact that she had extra shirts in her own room and followed him to his. She was shocked to notice his was the door directly across the hall from her, meaning that the days he spent avoiding her, he really had to sneak around.

She was expecting a room filled with posters and quidditch memorabilia, instead a very muted and simple room opened up in front of her. Pops of colour from the furniture and bedding (a predictable Gryffindor red) but the walls were left mostly unadorned, except for a wall with a large corkboard. Pinned were a variety of moving photos, pieces of parchment scribbled with notes, random lists and tickets to a quidditch game. It was so…James.

The rest of the room, although clean and simple, still had boyish charm. Books were piled on the small oak desk in the corner, clearly not touched since break started. Some clothes were thrown over the back of a wingback chair by the window and his broom and quidditch shoes laid out by the door.

He was rummaging through a large closet, so she stepped closer to the cork board, crossing her arms in front of it. The pieces of parchment were all in various stages of chaos, some curled at the edges and others had coffee stains on it. The writing was near ineligible, but she could make out one word over and over. Lily. They were love notes, or at least attempts at love notes.

“Here, this will work,” Her eyes broke from the notes to James’s outstretched hand holding out a faded quidditch jersey. With relief she noticed he had also donned a shirt, even though it was tight around the shoulders, long grey sleeves clearly too short for him, not doing much to hide what was underneath.

She took it from him, “Thanks.”

James turned his back and closed the bedroom door, keeping his body facing away in a clear message that she should change there. He called over his shoulder, “Just throw yours in the hamper. It’s by the chair.”

She turned her back to him for extra measure and quickly changed, throwing her shirt in the hamper she found underneath another pile of clothes. Hermione savoured the smell of pine as she pulled the jersey over her head.

“All done?” He asked, still firmly facing away from her.

“Yeah. You’re safe”

What followed was an uncomfortable silence, both of them fidgeting, not having thought this far. She broke it eventually, “What? No posters of girls in bikinis?”

James cracked a smile, “No, Sirius has enough for the both of us. Mum nearly had a heart attack when he stuck one on the ceiling above his bed.”

Hermione shuddered at the image, “Can’t teach an old dog new tricks, can you?”

He laughed, moving over to the bed. He sat down with his back to the headboard, motioning for her to sit next to him. She hesitated, before making her way over. They sat shoulder to shoulder. James surprised her by throwing an arm around her shoulder, and pulling her in tightly, “I hate this. I hate not knowing what to do to make things better.”

She wanted to pull away, but she was still raw from the nightmare, and the comforting feel of his chest rising and falling was exactly what she needed, “I’m fine.”

“You’re lying. You are definitely not fine. If you could just tell me what happened-”

Hermione interrupted him, “There is something you can do.”

“What?”

“You could finally tell me what happened between you and Lily.”

He stiffened slightly, the hand that was lightly stroking her arm coming to a halt, “Ask me-”

“No. Not that, not tonight. You owe me, Potter.” She turned her face up at him, and he stared back in confusion.

“You really want to trade in your life debt for a story?” She nodded, so he sighed, “Fine. I made a fool of myself. Like I always do, except this time it was in front of her family.”

He paused to take in a deep breath before continuing, “After Snape called her a mud-” he broke off, “-that word, she came to me to apologise. She said she could finally see why we hated him so much. Truth be told I think she was just lonely, and needed company to replace what she had lost. It didn’t matter though, it was my chance with Lilly. So we started dating. It was slow, even after all the years, but it was nice. We spent the whole summer together here, and it was perfect. The plan was to go to her parent’s house for the last bit of holiday - only I screwed up. The day I finally got my first kiss she invited me over for dinner with that awful sister of hers.”

Hermione grimaced at the mention of Petunia.

“Petunia’s boyfriend was there, and he was so insufferable. He kept talking about muggle things I didn’t understand, he called me stupid for it. So I started playing with him, little digs here and there until it brought out a full melt down. We got kicked out of dinner. Lily was livid, she told me I would never change, and she was stupid for thinking I could be mature. I apparated us to Potter manor, so we could talk and I could apologise, but she wouldn’t hear it. She told me it was over, and that I should never talk to her again.”

“What did you say to him that could have been that bad?”

James shook his head, “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that it was enough for Lilly to decide that as much as she fit in here, in my world, I would never fit into hers.”

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to think of ways to fix this. James interrupted her thought process, “Why do you want to know this badly?’

“Because,” she sat up, reluctantly pulling away from him and gestured to the notes, “it was clearly something extraordinary. I’ve heard all the stories, all the grand gestures, and I just wondered what could stop something like that. You clearly still care for her, otherwise you wouldn’t have enticed Snape the way you did. And maybe – just maybe I could help.”

James frowned at her, “How could you help?”

Hermione smiled, gesturing at herself, “Hello. Muggleborn. I know a little something about integrating the magical and muggle world. I could help you fit into her world.”

“But why?”

Hermione hesitated, hoping to Merlin she said the right thing, “You’ve loved her for so long, I don’t think that’s something you should just give up on.”

James sighed, placing his hands behind his back, “Well, good luck with that. I don’t think she’s too keen on any of James Potter being in her world right now. Not after what I said.”

“Yeah, the sheets comment was probably not the smartest move,” Hermione grimaced at the memory.

“I don’t even know why I said it, it’s not even true.”

“Well, don’t worry about it now. We’ll figure something out when school starts,” Hermione stifled a yawn, “I should get back to bed.”

She made to stand up but James grabbed her arm and pulled her down, “Stay.”

She raised her eyebrow at him, “Potter, what-?”

The flickering light of the lamp on the bedside table illuminated one side of his face, “You can stay here, I’ll take the chair. Or the floor.”

“Why?”

“In case you get another nightmare – I don’t want you to be alone.”

Hermione stared at his face for a moment. She would regret it in the morning, definitely cringe at it some other time, but she settled back into his side and ignored her conscience screaming at her, “Okay.”

She slept more soundly than ever before and attributed it to the emotional exhaustion from the nightmare, not the fact that even though he said he would, James never took the chair or floor.

30 December 1977, Friday

James woke up with a mouthful of hair. The morning confusion ebbed away and the events of the previous night flooded back. He stared down at Hermione, sleeping soundly curled around a pillow in his bed. Shit, his mum was going to kill him.

Light was streaming in through the cracked curtains, and he knew Pipsy would come to check on her any moment. He shot up and went for the door. Opening it as silently as he could and peering into the hallway. When the coast was clear he crossed it and just as silently opening the door to her room.

He made his way back to his bed and hesitated. She looked so peaceful, no sign of that haunted far-off look in her eyes. He didn’t have time to let it linger though, so he gently scooped his arms underneath her and carried her to her bed. Gods, she weighed almost nothing.

He made sure she was tucked into her bed before heading out and closing the door, wincing at the soft click.

“My, my, what do we have here?”

James jumped. Swinging around to face the voice, “Merlin, Pads. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“You’re going to give Mum a heart attack when she catches you sneaking out of Granger’s room. Come on, Prongs, have I taught you nothing about subtlety?”

Sirius leaned against the wall, arms crossed and playfull smirk on his face. If it weren’t so early in the morning, James might have considered punching it.

“It’s not like that.”

“Sure,” Sirius drew out the word.

“Stop it. It’s not. She had a nightmare.”

Sirius’s face sobered up, “Really? She talk to you about it?”

James shook his head, regarding Sirius closely. He was aware that Sirius knew a bit about Hermione’s past, but whatever it was he refused to share. After the day he confronted Hermione, against James’s commands, his entire attitude about her changed. He would step in as soon as anyone started speculating about Hermione, telling them it was none of their business. He would even snap at Peter. James had only ever seen him react that way when his family, his old family, came up in conversation.

It made James curious, and extremely frustrated that he was still out of the loop.

“Get your jacket, we’re taking baby out for a spin,”

Sirius perked up at James’s words, “Granger got her flying?”

James nodded, “Oh yeah. She figured it out in a few minutes yesterday. Time to take her out on a real ride.

-

“What are we doing her, Prongs?”

They stood next to the bike. In Little Whinging, staring at the quaint house in front of them.

“I just wanted to see.”

“Mate, I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I’m not going to go and knock on the door, Pads. I just – I don’t know. I want to see if this is something I still want. “

Sirius leaned back on the bike, crossing his arms and keeping his eyes on the front door, “Something you want? Are you finally considering moving on?”

James leaned back next to him, “I don’t think that’s possible, Pads. I mean, it’s Lily,” he scratched at the back of his head, “I wanted to see if this is the world I want.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow at him, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette, “You’re scaring me, mate.”

James didn’t respond. He stared at the house in front of him, the picket fence and little garden. And the whole street that looked exactly the same. It was so…muggle. His mind was racing about something else though, “You know what scares me?”

“What?” Sirius replied, taking a drag of the now lit cigarette, he held it out to James but he shook his head.

“Granger. When she took that curse for me – she barely flinched. She was in so much pain in the hospital wing, but no screams. Not even a whimper.”

“Pain tolerance? I don’t know, mate.”

James dragged a hand through his hair, waving away the smoke from his face, “And yet, I found her puking her guts out because of a nightmare. She was scared, too. Completely out of her mind,” he remembered her face as she pulled away from him, the terror in her eyes, eyes that didn’t recognise him at all, “She doesn’t mind stepping in front of an unknown curse, doesn’t scream when her back is literally being torn to shreds, but there’s something out there that scares her to the point of complete terror.” What had she been through? He needed to know more than ever.

Sirius took another drag before replying, “James, why are we talking about Hermione outside of Lily’s house?”

James opened his mouth to respond, to say what he didn’t exactly know, but the sound of voices and a door opening drew his attention. The front door was swinging open, “Oh fuck. Cloak. Cloak now.”

They scrambled to get underneath the invisibility cloak James pulled from the side car, just in time as Lily stepped out, shouting something back into the house. They had to basically stand on top of each other, so James was forced to take in a nose full of cigarette smoke.

“Ugh, Pads. You need to quit.”

“Why? I’ve barely started.”

“It stinks.”

“It’s muggle.”

James stopped trying to argue, instead focusing his attention back on Lily, who was now at the end of the driveway. His heart stuttered, she was absolutely beautiful. That was always the truth, her fair skin, long red hair, now halfway hidden underneath a beanie and those eyes. Merlin, he wanted to stare at them all day.

He held his breath when her eyes suddenly snapped to the motorcycle, she looked at it for a few seconds before moving on. As she walked further away and down the block, he waited for it, the urge to jump out from underneath the cloak and run to her, but it never came. He had the easiest time watching her walk away.

Once she turned the corner, James threw off the cloak coughing, “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“I’m driving this time!”

They made it all the way out of Surrey when it happened. James felt the heat of the curse slide past his neck, right below the helmet he promised his mother he would wear. First he was confused, and reached his hand up to touch the spot but when he pulled back, and saw bright red blood coating his finger tip his head snapped up. In sync with Sirius who was the first to say something, “Shit is that-?”

“Fuck. We need to get in the air.”

Behind them, too close for comfort, were two figures on brooms. Billowing black robes and masks covering their faces. Sirius’s head snapped back to the road in front of them, swerving to miss the sign he was heading towards in his moment of distraction, “We can’t! We’re surrounded by muggles.”

“So are they! Now fucking fly!”

Sirius didn’t need to be told twice. As he fiddled with the controls that got them sailing smoothly through the air, thank the gods for Hermione, James fished for his wand.

Another curse flew at them, the red streak flying underneath the bike. James threw up a protego, just in time to catch a third spell. Sirius was furiously cursing. He manoeuvred them through tight turns and twists, putting distance between them and their attackers. Their real estate was running out, buildings in the distance were becoming sparser and gave way to rolling hills. Open field, open targets.

“Sirius! Stop, turn back.”

“Are you crazy?!”

“Trust me,” James pleaded.

Sirius shook his head but did what he was told to do. James waited anxiously, knowing that the Death Eaters would come in view once more.

“What now?” Sirius shouted over the wind blaring past.

“Hard left!”

Sirius obeyed, almost crashing into treetops. As soon as James saw what he was looking for he shouted, “Bring her down! Right by that house. They won’t see us.”

He hopped out of the side car as soon as the wheels touched the ground, helping Sirius to push the bike as flush against the wall as possible. He had found a perfect small gap in between some houses for them to slip into unnoticed. He concealed the bike with a charm and grabbed the invisibility cloak, chucking it over him and Sirius.

“Mate, we’re dead. We’re so bloody dead,” Sirius lamented.

“Shut up.”

James watched and waited. Holding his breath, too scared the sound of even the air leaving his lungs would give away their location. He waited for what felt like an eternity, until two brooms zipped past, and waited again until they disappeared from view. Sirius moved forward, but James grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him back in. Just in time, as the brooms doubled back. Clearly searching.

They hovered in the air for a bit, close enough to make James’s hair stand up. After a few moments they flew off in different directions, shooting to the sky and out of view.

James ripped of the cloak, and grabbed at the bike handles, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

His heart was still beating wildly when the manor came in view. When they landed the bike, sending mud flying James was the first to rip his helmet off and rushed to the house. He made it halfway to the front door when he spotted her.

Hermione was sitting on the steps, a steaming cup clutched in between hands covered in thick gloves. She was wearing his coat. His heart didn’t stop, even beating as fast as it was, it actually sped up. She looked up at him, her eyes still haunted and empty staring out at the world as they usually did, but a small relieved smile was playing at her lips. There it was. That feeling of wanting to run straight to someone.

James didn’t think about it, didn’t want to think about the implication of the feeling. He made it five steps in front of her when her smile dropped. She shot up to her feet, cup discarded on the floor and grabbed at his neck.

“What-?”

He pulled away, covering his wound with a hand, “Nothing. It’s fine.”

He could still salvage this, that was until Sirius bounded up behind him, “Fucking hell. Next time you have us escape from Death Eaters, you might want to clue the driver in on your plans.”

“Death Eaters?”

He saw the moment it happened, the moment Hermione shifted. Her wand was out, and her eyes were scanning the skies and treelines. He tried stepping in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders, “Hey, hey. We lost them. They’re long gone.”

She shrugged out of his touch, “Are there wards around the manor?”

“Yes, of course, but Granger-” It was no use. She was already a few steps away. Muttering and waving her wand. He could feel the ground beneath him tremor with magic, it was terrifying. The sizzle of magic in the air that followed her around everywhere, he had never felt anything like it.

James whirled on Sirius, “Well done.”

Sirius threw up his hands, “Whoa! What’d I do?”

James shook his head, “Never mind. What are we gonna do now?”

“Besides celebrate the fact that we’re alive?”

“Pads, half of Surrey could have seen us flying on the bike.”

Sirius let out a low whistle, “We have to tell Mum and Dad.”

James nodded, eyes turning back to Hermione. She was walking over to them, her hair still standing on end from the magic, and her eyes – those eyes were hard and dead set.

“What happened?”

Sirius inched away, but James stepped closer trying to calm the impending storm, “They came out of nowhere, flying in on the attack. We hid and they eventually flew off.”

She nodded, still scanning the skies, “Where were you?”

Now James also moved back, he really didn’t want to tell her. The longer he stayed silent the harder she stared at him. She eventually gave up on getting an answer, “Fine. Just tell me, any muggles?”

He nodded and looked down to the ground, “Probably loads.”

“You have to go tell your parents. They’ll take you to the Ministry, it’s better to go to them, explain what happened first. Before they call you in to expel you and take your wands.”

Sirius moved in closer, “They can do that? But we were only defending!”

Hermione’s eyes glazed over for a moment, and James wanted to reach over and ask her where exactly her mind was running to. He didn’t, he let her come back by herself.

“Let them see your memories, if that’s what it takes. Now go, you don’t have much time.”

Sirius headed up the stairs and into the front door without looking back, and James felt guilty for putting him in this position. If he lost Hogwarts… James didn’t want to think about what it would mean for Sirius. James turned to follow, but stopped when a small gloved hand rested on his arm.

Hermione was looking up at him, “I’m really glad you’re all right.”

“Me too.”

She shot him a smile, that brilliant smile that lit up her entire face. The one he wanted nothing more than to keep on her face forever, but saw so little of. As soon as her hand dropped, he made his way to the front door. Not risking a glance back, afraid of doing something reckless. After all, he still had Lily to think of.

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It was late. Very late. Hermione had been pacing her room for most of the night. Pipsy had brought her dinner to her room, announcing that the Potters won’t be home in time to join her.

Her fingernails were raw, and she was scared that the carpet was going to start forming a rut underneath her. She almost missed the soft knock on her door, but she rushed to rip it open and resisted the urge to fall into the person on the other side’s arms.

James leaned against the wall, clearly exhausted. His glasses were resting low on his nose, and his clothes were dishevelled. She moved from the doorway to let him enter, and he dragged his feet over to her bed. Collapsing face down on it.

She wrung her hands at the edge, “Are you-?”

“Not expelled. The muggles were taken care of within the first hour we were there, but then they grilled us for hours.”

She sighed in relief, dropping down next to him on the bed, “So no repercussions?”

He shook his head into the duvet and grumbled, “Baby’s grounded. We’re not allowed to fly her anymore.”

Hermione knew that wasn’t going to stick, she reached out to pat him on the shoulder, he turned his face to look at her, “They wanted to know who it was.”

“Do you know?”

James shook his head, “No idea. I mean there’s only one person who could’ve seen us there, so I have a pretty good idea. But we didn’t see faces, only those ghastly masks.”

A shiver ran up her spine, but she ignored it, “Where was that exactly?”

He looked away again, “Surrey.”

Hermione pulled back her hand from his shoulder, “You didn’t.”

“I didn’t talk to her or anything, I just wanted to see.”

“See what?”

“Doesn’t matter,” James muttered. Hermione could tell there was more he wasn’t saying, but she didn’t push.

“So you think it was Snape?”

He nodded, “It had to be. His house is right there.”

“You don’t need me to tell you how incredibly stupid that was, do you?”

James sighed, rolling onto his back and resting his hands on his abdomen, “No, thank you. I got an earful from Mum.”

“As you should.”

He chuckled and started sitting up, “You should get some sleep.”

She reached out a hand to grab his, not thinking clearly, “Wait.”

His eyes moved from their hands to her face, “Yes?”

Hermione took a deep breath, trying to ignore her mind screaming at her, “Stay.”

He didn’t even hesitate, “Okay.”

Chapter Text

3 January 1978, Tuesday

Hermione barely made it onto the train before being tackled into a bone crushing hug.

“Marlene!”

 “I’m sorry!” The blonde pulled back and Hermione was stunned to notice her wiping tears away, “Sorry. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry but my damned period started today and now everything’s got me all puffy eyed and blubbering.” She pulled Hermione in for another tight hug, “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

Mary stepped up next, enveloping Hermione into a much softer and shorter hug, “You gave us a fright.”

Mary released her to throw an arm around a sniffling Marlene to guide her into a carriage. Hermione followed behind, dragging her trunk she had to force James to let her carry. Since her nightmare things have been…different between them. Apart from the fact that she had yet to sleep alone for a night since.

“Hermione!” Remus jumped up from his seat and scooped her up in a hug that had her feet dangling in the air.

“Moony! Mate, careful please. She’s not a bloody ragdoll.” There it was.

Remus set her down gently and she eyed James, who stood breathing quite rapidly at the carriage door. Scanning her up and down. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him and turned back to face Remus with a smile, “It’s good to see you.”

Remus was still carefully looking between her and James, “I’ll say. You’re looking…healthy.”

“That’s all thanks to Pipsy. Poor elf tried fattening Granger like a chicken heading for the butchering block,” Sirius strode in, plopping on to the bench next to Marlene.

Hermione swatted at him half-heartedly. It was the truth, she had barely recognised herself in the mirror that morning. A couple of weeks of keeping her food down and catching up on sleep had given her a new life. Sure, she wasn’t back to her old self but her cheeks weren’t sunk in anymore and the dark circles under her eyes were almost invisible.

She settled on the bench next to Remus, and James followed on her other side. She ignored the arm he threw over the seat behind her and tried inching forward to not touch it.

“Where’s Peter?” She asked, peering outside to try and catch a glimpse of the fourth marauder.

“Petey is always the last to board. Mummy has to give him five kisses on each cheek,” Sirius mocked kissing the air dramatically in demonstration.

The sound of a throat clearing from the doorway drew Hermione's attention away, and her eyes widened at the figure in the doorway.

“Hi,” Lily said, followed by an awkward wave.

Hermione felt James remove his arm from behind her and sit up straight.

“You joining us, Lils?” Mary asked softly.

“If there’s space?”

Mary and Marlene immediately moved over. Lily pointedly ignored the existing small space next to James, and sat down next to Mary. The carriage was suddenly enveloped into an awkward silence.

Lily wrung her hands together, glancing around at everyone and James was pointedly staring out the window. Remus and Sirius were exchanging glances, talking in a silent language Hermione would never be able to crack.

The tension in the air thankfully snapped when the train started moving and an out-of-breath Peter burst through the doorway, “I made it!” He glanced around the carriage, a pout forming on his face, “Am I sitting on the floor then?”

The group fell into easy conversation for the rest of the trip, Peter did end up sitting on the floor but paid it no mind. Especially when he made himself a faux pillow out of his bundled-up jacket. Hermione was mostly silent, listening idly to the voices around her. Lily only talked to Marlene and Mary, and Hermione bit down on her lip when she mentioned Ministry officials making rounds in her neighborhood.

“They didn’t tell you what it was about?”

“They refused to talk to me! They only said that everything had been handled, and I should report to them if I see anything strange in the area.”

James and Sirius were too busy bickering about something to notice their little adventure making the rounds. She elbowed James to get his attention, “Have you told anyone what happened?” She subtly nodded her head in Lily’s direction.

He shook his head, “Dad said I should keep it on the low. We were lucky and shouldn’t push that luck any further.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. She only hoped he would keep that bit of wisdom in mind for the rest of the year.

“Anything from the trolley, dears?” A sweet voice called from the doorway, everyone called out orders and dug through pockets for galleons. Even though Hermione’s stomach was still overfilled with Pipsy’s send off breakfast, she eyed the cauldron cakes with longing. She hadn’t had one in a very long time.

Just as she made up her mind to get one and tried standing up to head towards the trolley, James placed a hand on her shoulder, keeping her down gently, “I’ll get it.”

She bristled. When he returned with two cauldron cakes (how he knew that’s what she wanted, she didn’t know or care) she glared daggers at him.

He shrugged, “You could’ve tripped over Peter’s legs.”

He threw a kick out to the legs in question, and Peter subtly moved them out of the way. She grabbed one of the cakes and ate in silence. Getting out at Hogwarts felt different than the start of term, she fell into easy conversation on the walk up to the castle. She even endured the giggling from Marlene and Mary as they spoke about a muggle boy Marlene had met over the holiday.

The whole time she was acutely aware of a shadow hovering over her shoulder, James was never more than a step behind. He held out his hand when they reached the steps up to the great hall. When she made to refuse, he didn’t give her a choice and grabbed her hand to help her up the steps.

She dropped his hand when they reached the top and almost sighed in relief when he had to leave to a prefect’s meeting.

“I won’t be gone long. If anything happens, Peter will come find me and I’ll be right there.”

Peter’s eyes widened at his name being mentioned, he looked up at James and nodded fervently at the look he received. 

“What? Why-?” She barely started before James interrupted

“I’ll be back before dinner.” He rushed away, throwing one last worried glance to her and a pointed look to Peter.

Hermione looked at Peter questioningly. He just threw a passionate salute at her and took up the position James had left vacant. Hermione threw her head up at the ceiling, confused and exasperated. She wasn’t the only one with questions, as soon as they reached the Gryffindor common room Marlene and Mary pulled her up the stairs in a hurry.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on with you and Potter?” Marlene asked as soon as she shut the door behind them.

“Me and-? Nothing!” Hermione protested immediately.

Mary bit her lip, “He’s hovering like a mother hen.”

Hermione fell back onto the familiar four-poster and groaned, “I don’t know what’s gotten into his thick skull now, it only started a few days ago.”

“Did something happen between you two?” Hermione could hear the hesitance in Marlene’s voice.

“No!” if you didn’t count sharing a bed as something.

Mary walked over to sit on the bed next to her and lightly caress her head, “We’re not judging you, Hermione.”

“I am,” Marlene’s dry reply cut into Mary’s comforting.

Hermione threw her hands over her face, “I promise you. Nothing happened. He had a mini-freakout about me getting hurt because of him and I think he’s just scared of it happening again.”

“Getting hurt? Hermione, you almost got killed,” Marlene said

Mary was still stroking her hair and said in a much softer tone, “Do you want to talk about it? Your letters didn’t say much.”

Marlene scoffed, “Oh, yeah. ‘Alive. At Potter’s manor. His mother is healing me.’  Would it have killed you to use and adjective?”

Hermione smiled dropping her hands, “Sirius was reading over my shoulder. I didn’t want to break his mind with too many words.”

Marlene joined the duo on the bed, leaning over Hermione’s legs, “You’re alright then?”

She nodded and Mary leaned in to place her head on top of Hermione’s, “We were really scared.”

“I’m fine. I promise.”

“If you say so,” Mary whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Hermione was completely taken aback by it, she hadn’t realised that they would be worried or scared for her. She cleared her throat, “I do. Now, we have some time before dinner, and I want to unpack before class starts tomorrow.”

Marlene sat up, “You’re actually unpacking this time?”

Hermione stood up from the bed and made her way over to her trunk, looking back at the girls on her bed staring at her with wide eyes. She looked down again, “Yeah, I guess I realised I’m actually staying here for good.”

She told herself she had to, she had to see this through until the end, for Harry. Then why was she feeling so guilty about it?

After her once empty wardrobe was now filled with neat piles of clothes, she reached for the last item. James’s coat laid out on her bed where she tossed it after getting busy, she reached for a coat hanger. As she placed it neatly in her closet she startled at Marlene’s voice behind her. She hadn’t noticed the girl stepping away from her own wardrobe.

“You promise nothing happened between you and James?”

Hermione frowned, “I promise.”

“It’s just…the coat.”

“What about it?”

Marlene looked past Hermione to where it now hung in her closet, “It’s his.”

Hermione raised her eybrow, “So? His mother told him to give it to me, he probably just grabbed one lying around.”

Marlene shook her head, “Not that one.”

“What about it?” Hermione’s stomach turned, “Did he give this one to Lily or something?” Please let it not be that.

“That’s the thing, he wouldn’t even give Lily that one. Ever. Didn’t you notice she was staring on the train?” 

Hermione shook her head. Gods, that was even worse, “I was just borrowing it. I’ll give it back tomorrow.”

Marlene nodded in satisfaction and moved back to her trunk. Hermione stared at the coat in confusion, she shook her head and ignored the feeling in her stomach at the news. She also ignored the fact that she did not return it the next day, or the next.

5 January 1978, Thursday

Hermione spent the first days of classes painfully aware of a marauder presence around her at all times. Remus walking with her to the next class after their shared periods was not out of the ordinary, however him carrying her bookbag and walking one step behind her was new. She would stop multiple times and turn to look back at him with a raised eyebrow, he just kept up with her, chatting nonchalantly.

No matter what time she left the dorms, there would always be a marauder waiting downstairs. Sirius seemed to be the one common room duty the most. He was always lounging on a chair directly in front of the staircase leading up to her dorm. As soon as she reached the common room, he would jump up with a “Where we headed, cupcake?” and follow her in the same fashion.

She felt like she was going crazy, even with the map at their disposal it shouldn’t have been that easy to always keep track of her movements. That was until she stretched her back in the middle of the library, doing homework with Marlene and Mary, and spotted the scurrying of a rat under the shelves that it clicked. Peter the informant. She almost scoffed at the role he was playing.

“That’s it!” She stood up, slamming her book shut violently and causing everyone in the vicinity to jump.

Mary and Marlene looked up at Hermione with confusion. She paid them no mind and made quick work of packing up her things. She stormed off to a secluded shelf and waited. When small movement underneath finally sounded she bent down and in a harsh whisper said, “Tell James to meet me in the astronomy tower. Now.”

When no movement followed she continued, “Peter, I know you’re there.”

She saw a small snout sticking out and resisted the urge to step on it, it would do no good directing her anger at the wrong person. She jerked her head towards the door and waited for the rat to scurry away. Hermione headed back to the table to grab her bag, “I’ll see you in the dorm. Don’t wait up.”

“Everything all right?” Mary asked hesitantly.

Hermione only nodded and stormed off, ready to confront James. James who had used his friends to act like personal guards but had also conveniently stayed completely out of her way. For the most part. She moved through the hallways and up staircases with swift determination. It was earlier than her usual midnight strolls, so she bumped into a few students on the way. Many who saw her face decided it was better to leave a wide space open. She reached a finally empty corridor and slowed her pace.

A familiar drawling voice sounded from the corner in front of her, Hermione ducked into an alcove and hid in the shadows behind a statue. A second voice joined, a low murmur she didn’t recognise and too close for comfort.

“So that’s it?”

Severus responded in a harsh tone, “What do you mean that’s it? The ministry is tracing my wand and will do so for the remainder of the year. I can’t do anything.”

“Sev, you could’ve been expelled.” The second voice replied.

Hermione peaked around the statue, casting a silent muffliato to mask her movements. She saw the two figures approaching. Severus was the picture of misery, as always, but Hermione still couldn’t make out the boy next to him.

“Still. He won’t be pleased.”

Hermione’s breath hitched. She had allowed Voldemort to take a backseat in her mind, and she would have loved for him to stay there. Except now he was being forced out right in front of her. First death eaters in Little Whinging and now a conversation she was stuck listening to.

The other boy didn’t say anything, and Hermione hoped for a brief moment the conversation was over and she could go back to pretending that Lord Voldemort was as dead in this timeline as her own, until Snape spoke up again, “We have to find out something about Granger, anything that could be useful.”

“It will be hard with my brother and his band of tossers hanging around her all the time.”

That’s when she saw it, even in the dim light it was stark, the grey eyes and familiar head of jet-black hair. She ducked back behind the statue, her heart a lot heavier. Regulus Black - that was who was walking down the corridor with Snape. R.A.B. himself. Someone she was trying her best to never ever come in contact with. Her plan of completely staying off the radar of any noteworthy Slytherins already exploded in her face with one swift sectumsempra from the older boy. But Regulus? She thought she could at least avoid that.

“I’ll figure out a way. Might have to bring the brutes in, though,” Snape’s voice was laced with content. A low whistle followed his statement, and Hermione jolted at the familiarity. If she didn’t know better, she would expect to see Sirius on the other end of it.

“Avery and Mulciber can’t tell there wands from their arses. What’s so special about this girl, anyway?”

“You weren’t there. Her magic, it feels different. It doesn’t make sense, she shows up here out of the blue, no Hogwarts training and yet she is able to surpass all of us with her magic? Something is up.”

If Hermione had an ounce of self preservation left, she would have been sweating. This however, caused only annoyance. If she had to focus on death eater conspiracies that could blow her cover, her main objective could take longer to achieve. The voices receded down the hallway, and Hermione made a beeline for the staircase. Putting as much distance between herself and them as possible.

She reached the astronomy tower and to her surprise James was already there, pacing back and forth with his head down and a hand on his chin. As soon as she stepped through the doorway he stopped his pacing, instead he came almost running up to her.

“What happened? Are you okay? I came as fast as I could.”

James grabbed onto her arms, eyes frantically scanning her up and down. She pulled away, and put some space in between them by heading to the railing, “I’m fine.”

“Was it Snape? Did he say something or-?”

She spun around to face him again, nearly colliding with his chest by how close he was to her, “James! Stop it. I’m fine.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, she leant with her back on the railing crossing her arms as she stared up at him.

“Why did you send Peter, then?”

“Why is he following me like a lost puppy?” She shot right back.

James clamped his mouth shut, annoyance replacing the confusion. She waited in the tense silence, but when he made no move to explain she continued, “Call off your guard dogs.”

“No.”

“Potter, I swear-”

“I said no.”

Hermione scowled, “Why?”

He didn’t reply. She turned her head to look down at the grass, so far below. She set her bag down on the ground next to her. Without thinking she lowered her arms to the railing and hoisted herself up. First sitting on it and then using the banister to pull herself upright and get her feet underneath her.

James startled, “What are you doing?”

She ignored him, giving herself a little push and balancing her feet to walk forward on the thin wood of the railing.

“Granger, get down.”

James was closer now hands held up in an attempt to reach her. His eyes shot to the ground beyond her, but he didn’t come close to touching her. She walked slow steps forward, balancing her arms out wide, “Or what?”

His voice turned pleading, “Hermione, please get down.”

She stopped walking, a cold breeze working it’s way from the open view under her jumper, “I’m not fragile, you know? I can take care of myself just fine.”

“Point proven. Get down. Now.”

Hermione started walking again, keeping her movements slow and deliberate. It was freeing, even with the sudden drop to her side it felt secure. She was finally doing something crazy again, and the rush of adrenaline felt like home.

“Fine! I’ll tell Peter to stop following you.”

“And Sirius?”

James sighed, “I won’t ask him to wait for you anymore.”

She turned her head slightly to face him and raised her eyebrow so he relented, “I’ll talk to Remus too.”

“And what about you?”

“Me?! What have I been doing?” He kept in line with her, arms still outstretched and eyes darting between her and the ground.

She crossed her arms without thinking, but the movement cost her. Her legs wobbled. James was there in an instant, both arms grabbing her around the waist and hoisting her up to set her down on the solid floor. As soon as her feet touched the ground she felt the deep breath of relief he let out. He didn’t let go, and with both arms still firmly clung around her waist he lowered his head onto hers, “Merlin. What were you thinking?”

She took in the scent of pine and the strong arms around her waist, and didn’t make an effort to move just yet, “Maybe I was thinking that I’d like to do something for myself. I can’t load my own plates anymore. Or carry my own book bag or anything. You don’t even let me take the stairs by myself. " She paused, drawing back from him to look at his face, "I’m not an invalid.”

“I never said you were.”

She pushed away from him, “Then why can’t I even make my own tea?”

He had an indecipherable look on his face, Hermione swore she saw hurt in there, “You don’t like the tea?”

She frowned, “That’s what you’re taking from this conversation?”

He dragged a hand through his hair and went to sit down with his back against the railing. She tentatively joined him.

“I just-” a ragged breath followed, with him dropping his head onto his knees, “I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know. Trust me, I know that. Still, I can’t sit back and do nothing.”

She placed a comforting hand on his, and waited for him to look up at her, “You can.”

He looked at her with such intensity she pulled back her hand in shock, “How?”

She turned her head to stare out in front of her, “I’m not made of porcelain, James. I won’t break if I miss a step on the stairs.”

“Snape can retaliate at any moment, him or his cronies. I have to stop them.”

She sighed, “He’s on thin ice. He won’t risk doing anything now with so many people keeping eyes on him,” she hoped, “The hovering needs to stop.”

He gave a dry chuckle, “No promises.”

She rolled her eyes and bumped into his shoulder with hers, “What’s gotten in to you? A few days ago you were fine with Sirius pelting me with snowballs and now I can’t even get a hug from Remus?”

He shook his head, not meeting her eyes, “How are you sleeping? Any nightmares?”

Ah, there it was. The catalyst to James’s attitude change towards her.

“It’s fine.”

He took her hand in both his and idly started playing with her fingers, “You know, you can always try sneaking down to the Head Dorms if you ever need to.”

She looked down at her hand in his, “And how would that look to Lily?”

He stopped his fiddling, “If you won’t come to me then go up to the boys’ dorms. There's an empty bed you can take.”

Hermione went to protest but he interrupted her, “Sirius used to get them all the time. I think Moony especially is well versed in dealing with it.”

 Hermione only nodded. She wouldn’t do that, though. Burdening other people? It was bad enough that James was as involved as he is.

“You really don’t like my tea?” James asked.

Hermione laughed, “The tea is fine. The hovering is not.”

He turned his body to face her, suddenly grasping her hand tightly, “Hermione. You have to promise me, if you ever need-”

“I know,” She interrupted, clasping his hand right back, “I promise I’ll come right to you. No more messaging rats needed.”

James laughed, dropping her hand and drawing his arm around her, “But he’s so convenient.”

Hermione leant back into him, head resting on his chest and listening to the soft beating. The following morning there was no guard to escort her to breakfast, there was however still a perfect cup of tea waiting for her at the table.

Chapter Text

8 January 1978, Sunday

Hermione’s weekend flew by with little fanfare. Apart form the fact that she had to look over her shoulder more often. Ever since her overheard conversation between Snape and Regulus, her senses had increased tenfold.

Even walking to the main hall for a quick breakfast was a chore, she turned every corner expecting an ambush waiting. Not to mention the terrible night’s sleep she had endured. Sleep was overselling it. After a particularly terrible nightmare she had made it all the way to the door, hand on the handle and everything, before realising what she was doing. Hermione had stopped in her tracks, and swiftly moved back to the bed. Her bed. She couldn’t do it, she couldn’t go to the bed or person she wanted to.

She told herself it was a momentary lapse in judgement. So were the two other times she got up and almost made it to the door again. Hermione wasn’t even going to think about the time she made it all the way to the bottom of the stairs. That was just…that.

She sat down and started assembling a plate. Wiping the last sleep from her eyes as she reached for a pitcher of pumpkin juice. A throat cleared in front of her and she looked up to find four Marauders staring at her, wide eyed. She sighed, of course they were awake. It was futile to hope that Mary and Marlene still snoring soundly meant the whole school was doing the same.

“Uh…are you okay?” Remus asked with a smidge of hesitancy.

Sirius jumped in with his usual subtlety, “You really have to stop skipping those beauty sleeps, Granger. You look dreadful.”

The knife she threw just missed his head.

“No offence, Hermione, but what happened to your hair?” Peter asked around a mouthful of toast. He reached out to grab at a strand.

James thankfully stopped him, grabbing his arm just in time, “Mate, seriously? You think that’s a good idea?” When he had successfully stopped Peter from also suffering a utensil attack, he turned back to Hermione with a sheepish shrug, “I have to agree though, I’ve never seen your hair down before…it’s-”

Hermione turned back to her plate, wishing the interaction over, “Save it. I know it’s terrible. I didn’t have the energy to do something today.”

Euphemia had done her best over the summer, dutifully combing it out each day but it didn’t help. Somewhere on the run with Harry and going days without a proper shower, not to mention the grime and dust from the final battle, her hair had become irreparably matted. Her curls were ruined. What had once been a bit of untamed frizz was now an unrecognisable mess, loops at the roots gave way to random straight ends that stuck out in every direction.

“Have you tried Sleekeazy’s?” Remus offered.

She nodded, not mentioning the fact that Euphemia had wasted an entire bottle of the stuff on her and it was futile, “It’s too far gone.”

“You can always just cut it off. Woah! Woah!” Sirius held his hands up when Hermione reached for a fork, “I’m being serious. I don’t mean all of it. Just the dead bits, revive your curl pattern and all that.”

Hermione’s mouth gaped open, she didn’t know what caused her more surprise. The fact that Sirius was using the words curl pattern or that the other marauders were nodding along in agreement.

Remus offered a shrug at her astonishment, “We know things.”

Hermione forced her mouth to close, “I guess I can try it.”

James jumped up clapping his hands, "Exciting! I have exactly what we need.”

Hermione didn’t want to know what he meant, she turned to her plate and settled on ignoring him. Hoping the conversation had reached an end. She missed James walking around the table and the knowing smirk from Sirius. She was still in the middle of buttering a scone when she felt hands settle on her shoulders.

“Come, let’s go,” James said from behind her, startling her into dropping her new knife.

She turned her head to face him, confused and honestly a little scared.

Peter pouted, “What about-?”

“Go on without me, I’ll catch you later.”

Hermione was lifted up out of her seat, all protests falling on deaf ears. James ushered her through the quiet hallways, the only sound their footsteps and early morning birds.

“Where are we going?” She asked, fearing the answer already.

He smiled at her, grabbing her hand to pull her after him, “Just trust me.”

She scoffed, “Trust you? Last time I trusted you, I ended up scrubbing floors for weeks.”

James grinned, “Oh, but think of the stories you’ll be able to tell, Granger.” He let out a laugh at her apprehensive face, “I promise you this time there will be no McGonagall waiting with a mop and bucket in hand.”

Hermione reluctantly followed, her steps faltered when he led her straight to the Head Prefects’ dorms. She expected to be sat down on the couch in the common area, de ja vu hitting like a stern ‘I told you so’. Instead, he nudged her to the door leading straight to his bedroom.  And what a magnificent bedroom it was.

No fourposter or cramped fireplace. Just one queen-sized bed with a dark wooden headboard lining the wall. Next to the bed sat a polished nightstand that held a lamp and a few half burnt candles. James had kept his space at Hogwarts in much less order than the one at home. A massive closet stood slightly ajar, clothes tumbling out keeping it from fully closing. Draped on the stylish armchair was the familiar silver cloak that had helped her multiple times in her life, Hermione forced her eyes to glance over it and not show any recognition. The bed wasn’t made, and the checkered blanket thrown over the foot of it was tugged messily to one side, exposing a hint of a t-shirt and worn jeans. As if they were hastily picked up from the floor.

“Sorry, I don’t usually expect company in here,” James said in a sheepish voice.

“Even with a bed like that?” The words tumbled out of her before she had a chance to think about their implication. Her face grew hot, but luckily James hadn’t heard her or decided to spare them both the mortification of replying.

She followed him into the bathroom, no door separated it from the room. Just a simple rounded archway. The large clawfoot bathtub inside was enough to make her green with envy. She leant down beside it to stroke the rim, “Oh my god. I could drown happy in this tub.”

James bent down to the bathroom cupboard under the sink and started rummaging through it, “You’re welcome to use it anytime, I mostly use the shower so you won’t be in the way.” As if realising the insinuation behind his offer he awkwardly cleared his throat an stuck his head further into the cupboard.

Hermione returned the favour of not replying. She risked a glance at the shower, a simple frosted glass cubicle. She could imagine the faint outline that would be visible if someone were to be inside. What the f – she quickly shook her head, wiping the thought away.

“Ah, here we go,” James rightened, holding a thin magazine in his hands. He set it down on the counter and transfigured a simple stool, gesturing for Hermione to take a seat.

She moved over to it and startled at the view in the mirror. Her hair truly was a mane of wildness sticking out around her face.

“You know what,” James said, and reached over to swing Hermione’s legs around, “Face me instead.”

She regained her balance, sitting up straight to face him, “Why?”

He tutted, and started paging through the magazine, “Because I can’t trust you not to interfere with the process.”

Curiosity got the better of her and she craned her neck down to read the cover, “James?”

“Mmmh?”

“This is a cosmetic charms magazine.” In bright bold letters were the words Remedies For Witches!, and floating around were all sorts of promises of beautifying spells and charms to make lipstick stay on all night.

He stopped flipping pages to raise an eyebrow at her, “Your point?”

She raised her hands in surrender, “Nothing.”

He resumed browsing, stopping at a page and flipping it around for her to read, “This one.”

She grabbed a hold of it and read out loud, “No scissors needed. Perfect cut every time.”

Hermione eyed the moving picture on the top of the page skeptically. A woman smiled while a wand waved in front of her and her long hair suddenly vanished into a sleek bob. The women pouted and blew a kiss to the unseen camera. She looked back up to James, who was now smiling at her expectantly, “If this makes me bald, I swear-”

James cut her off, “Don’t worry! If it goes tits up we can just regrow it again,” he frowned back down to the page, “I think.”

Hermione shut her eyes tightly, “Just do it.”

She ignored the sounds of James hyping himself up, and focused on her breathing when she heard the muttered charm. Her scalp tingled slightly, and she heard the unmistakable sound of scissors cutting through hair.

“I thought the charm said no scissors?” Her voice squeaked, and she forced her eyes to stay closed.

“It’s not me! They just materialised as soon as I was done with the charm. I swear the article did not mention this fun little fact.” She heard pages being flipped again and his muttered swears. It did not inspire confidence.

“You mean to tell me there’s a pair of magical sentient shears floating around my head?” She jerked, wanting nothing more than to run out of the bathroom. Another snip sounded dangerously close to her ear, and her arms were pinned down to her sides. Two strong hands kept her in place.

“Hold still!” Suspicious silence followed James’s terse command and after heaving a relieved sigh he let go of her arms, “Okay. You’re safe. They’re gone.”

Hermione slowly opened her eyes, she kept them trained firmly on the ground and gasped at the sight of long, very long strands of hair on the floor. “I’m going to kill you, James Potter.”

She made to turn around and face the damage in the mirror, but was stopped by James turning her face back to him, “Wait! We’re not done.”

She glared at him and his mischievous smile that didn’t falter at her threat. He reached for something behind her, effectively pinning her in, “You’ll need this.”

She rolled her eyes at the potion bottle in his hand, “Wasn’t the charm supposed to fix everything?”

James scoffed, dumping a bunch of the potion’s contents into his hand, “One can never have enough Sleakeazy. You should see me without it.”

Hermione didn’t need to, she knew exactly what it would look like. She repressed the memories of a similar head of unruly hair, untamed and wild with locks barely covering a prominent scar.

Instead, she focused on staring over James’s shoulder at a unremarkable spot on the wall as he ran his hands through her hair. It didn't help though, a shiver sneaked its way up her spine at the sensation. She risked a glance at his face, his brows were furrowed and he was biting his lip in concentration. She darted her eyes quickly back to the spot on the wall.

James stepped back, “There.”

He stood in front of her, hands clasped under his chin like a painter looking at his latest masterpiece. She tentatively turned around to face the mirror.

Hermione’s eyes widened in shock. Gone was the long hair tangled with memories, soft waves cascaded barely grazing her collarbones. She gave her head a gentle shake and watched the strands effortlessly move around and fall back into place. Not only did her hair look a million times healthier, it changed so much about her appearance. Her face had life again.

She forced her eyes up to look at James, standing over her shoulder in the reflection. He had an unreadable expression on his face. The smile that had formed on her face died suddenly, “What? You don’t like it?”

It shouldn’t have mattered what he thought. She liked it…so why did it matter what he thought?

He shook his head, “No! That’s not it. You’re...I mean it’s beautiful.”

She looked at herself again, and let a genuine smile overtake.

9 January 1978, Monday

“Merlin, Hermione! I can’t get enough of it,” Lily was gushing over Hermione’s new hair and reaching out to run her fingers through it for the thousandth time.

Hermione laughed, shooing away Lily’s hand with her own, “Stop it! Marlene’s going to hex you if you mess it up.”

Marlene had spent at least ten minutes placing and replacing pins in Hermione’s hair that morning. Claiming that she wasn’t going to let Hermione debut her new hair around school without it looking fabulous. Hermione never knew placing two pins just to keep it out of her face, and keep it from potentially singeing off in a potion, could be so intricate. Marlene called it an art form, and Hermione wisely kept her mouth shut and let the witch work her magic.

“One more, please,” Lily begged as she ran her fingers through for the last time, “It’s so…smooth.”

She sat back on her stool, placing her elbows on their shared potion’s table and her chin in her hands. Lily pouted up to Hermione who rolled her eyes, “It’s just a haircut!”

Lily sighed, “It’s more than that. You look fabulous.”

Professor Slughorn’s voice cut through their conversation, “Gather around! I’ve got a special surprise here.”

Hermione and Lily exchanged glances, but the red head only threw up her shoulders in a shrug. They moved around their table, heading to the large cauldron in front of the professor. Once she saw the contents though, Hermione took several steps back and tried her hardest to hold her breath.

The spiral smoke floating up and the distinctive sheen, that can only be – “Amortentia, Professor?” Lily’s question finished her thoughts out loud.

“Brilliant, Miss Evans! Ten points to Gryffindor. Now can anyone tell me why this potion is considered to be extremely dangerous?”

Hermione tuned out the answers, eyes laser focused on the tendrils rising from the cauldron. She felt the bump of someone brushing against her shoulder and looked over to see Lily staring at her with a concerned look, “You all right?”

Hermione barely managed a nod. Scared that any movement would cause the smell to reach her.

“What do you smell?” Lily whispered, “Is it that boy you talked about? The one from before?”

Hermione shook her head, almost running back to their table once Slughorn instructed. She didn’t want to think about it, about potentially smelling crisp new parchment, and freshly cut grass and-

A lopsided smile, ginger hair and freckled hands holding hers- Professor Slughorn thankfully ripped her out of her thoughts, “You’ll all be brewing a simple love potion today, much more subtle than Amortentia and much less potent. Off you go, there’s not a lot of time left in class today so you better hurry.”

As students around her rushed about, Hermione tried forcing her mind to the present. She turned back to Lily, “He really thinks having a bunch of teenagers brewing a love potion is a good idea?” It sounded weak even to Hermione's ears, but Lily didn't seem to notice

Lily only snorted in agreement, “It all makes sense now.”

Hermione looked at her in confusion, “What does?”

“Well, last year Valentine’s Day got a bit bazaar. I’m guessing the seventh years nicked some of the brew and sold it.”

Hermione scoffed “Better stock up on some bezoars then.”

Lily hummed in agreement and idly stirred her brew, “You know, I thought Potter slipped me a potion that day.” Hermione stilled, glancing over at the marauders. James and Sirius were in the middle of a heated discussion, heads bent down and whispering silently. She turned back to Lily, “How so?”

Lily didn’t look up from her potion, “I was expecting the usual fanfare and ridiculously extravagant propositions from him. I stormed down ready to stop it before it happened…but there was nothing. He wasn’t even at the breakfast table.”

She took out the ladle and placed it next to her cauldron, the contents now turning a light pink shade, before continuing, “I waited all day. I thought he was planning an ambush, to be honest. Still, nothing. I realised that I actually missed it. I wanted him to do something stupid or crazy, him not trying for my attention at all felt…empty. And then…” she drifted off staring off into empty space before her.

Hermione nudged her, “He did something stupid and crazy?”

Lily’s eyes snapped back to Hermione, still dreamy and misty, “No, actually. I found a note in my book bag, a simple note scribbled on a spare piece of parchment. It was…sweet. It made me think I had been too harsh on him.”

Hermione sucked in a breath, her head was turning with a thousand ideas already. This was her first breakthrough with Lily, and if she used it right –

“Anyway, the rest is history,” Lily finished, moving back to the table and bottling a bit of her potion to take to Slughorn for approval.

Hermione deflated a little, watching the retreating witch. She felt eyes on her and looked over to catch James staring straight at her. Did he hear the conversation?  No, he was too far. Maybe Sirius or Remus with their unnaturally good hearing did and said something to him, but they were struggling with their own cauldrons. She shrugged her shoulders in question, but he quickly looked away.  

The rest of the class passed with no more mention of love potions or James from Lily. Hermione was one of the last to leave, having started on her potion much later. She hoisted her bag strap over her shoulder and headed for the door, when an overwhelming scent of pine hit her. She swung around, ready to curse at James for hovering once more, but there was only empty space behind her. Her eyes connected with the swirling smoke of the large cauldron, and she rushed out of the class without looking back.

That night she waited in a quiet hallway, pacing around while her mind worked overtime. She startled when she almost bumped into a figure. Hermione hadn’t even noticed him arriving, James stayed uncharacteristically silent and staring at the floor intently.

“There you are!” She exclaimed, and started walking in their usual direction, “I’ve been waiting for an hour. I think I know how you can get Lily back.”

She stopped walking when she noticed she was alone, she turned back to find him standing in the same spot, “What-?”

He interrupted, “What did Lily mean when she said the boy from before?”

Hermione tilted her head in confusion, “Did you hear me? I said, I know how you can get Lily back.”

James took a step closer to her, “Sirius heard her asking you about him. What did she mean?”

Her heart stopped beating, “What are you talking about?”

James closed the distance between them, and she could finally make out the ragged breaths, “Is there someone – do you love him?”

Hermione’s defences shot up, “I’m not talking about this. I’m talking about you and-”

“Well I don’t care! I’m talking about this.” His voice rose slightly, “What did you smell?”

“Nothing. I didn’t smell anything,” She lied.

She had been telling herself the same thing the entire day, that it was a fluke. She didn’t smell anything, old or new, in the Amortentia.

“Who was he?” James asked,

Hermione took a step back, “No one. A friend.”

James followed her step, “Do you still love him?”

She hesitated, she hadn’t wanted to think about it. About another life, another time, where Ron Weasley existed and she had to figure out what that meant, “I- I don’t know.”

“What happened?”

White hot anger exploded out of her, enough that a burst of magic blasted into the hallway. Kicking up dust in large clouds, James covered his eyes with an arm. And all that anger, and untouched memories spilled out of her, “He left! He left when we – when I needed him the most.”

She thought about how broken and defeated she felt after Ron had stormed off. Leaving her and Harry to fend for themselves. How he had probably cozied up in Bill and Fleur’s cottage while she and Harry were fighting off Nagini and running for their lives.

“And when he finally decided to come back so many things happened. I fell straight back into him, it just felt normal. Like it should happen,” She calmed down slightly, and the dust settled, “I will always love him for the friend he is, for the things we went through together. But a part of me is scared that I will always resent him for leaving. And the other part of me is scared of what that says about me.”

Tears fell, and she covered her face with her hands letting the sobs rack through her body. Gentle hands moved hers and she was enveloped in a tight hug. Against her better judgement she fell into the arms.

“It’s all right. I’ve got you.”

She let the tears fall, and with it the life and love that should have been.

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry,” James broke the long silence that had settled over them. Sometime after their shouting, rain had started falling. The patter of raindrops broke through the quiet night.

The sat with their backs against the wall. Hermione’s eyes were still stinging from crying, but she felt lighter, “It’s fine.”

“I don’t know what came over me-”

“I said it’s fine,” Hermione interrupted him, but there was no malice in her voice, “I promise. Now, what I actually wanted to talk about.”

James sighed, “Really, now?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Yes. Really. Come on,” She said, bumping his shoulder when he let out another sigh, “It’ll make me feel better.”

James looked at her and the piss poor attempt at puppy eyes she was throwing at him, until he relented, “Fine. What’s this grand plan you have for me and Lily?”

“Oh. So, you did hear me?” He only smirked at her playfully so she took that as a sign to continue, “She said something to me today, and it got me thinking, if you take some space now – and I mean real space. No overprotective Potter antics or acting all weird when she comes into the room,” She gave him a pointed look which he feigned ignorance about, “And then you slowly start writing her notes and hiding them for her to find-”

“Notes? Like love notes?” James asked, voice laced with confusion.

“Yes, love notes. Don't pretend to be daft. She mentioned that the one you wrote last year made her realise she loved you.” Okay maybe Lily didn’t use that exact phrase, but Hermione knew the subtext was there.

“The one I -? Wait, when was this?”

Hermione frowned, “Valentine’s Day? You wrote her a note and hid it in her book bag…” She trailed off when no recognition followed.

James shook his head, “I was stuck in the dorms all day. Pads got slipped a love potion, and we had to keep him from jumping out the window. I didn’t write that note.”

Panic seeped into his voice and Hermione ignored her racing mind to grab his hand, “It doesn’t matter. What matters is she thinks you did. And that’s how you’ll get her back.”

James was silent for a while and then he shook his head again, “This feels wrong.”

“I really think this will work, though.”

He turned his body to face her, his expression suddenly tense, "Hermione, about earlier-"

She cut him off, voice growing louder to compete with the intensifying rain, "I said it's fine."

He reached out. his hand brushing her cheek gently, thumb sweeping across the tear streaks, "I didn't mean to push. It's just...when Sirius told me what he overheard, I needed to know."

Her voice trembled as she looked up at him, "Why?"

He hesitated, his gaze flickering over her face, as though unsure where to focus. Finally, his eyes locked on her lips, "I-"

A sharp crack of thunder broke the moment, followed by a flash of lightning that lit up the sky. Hermione jumped, instinctively raising her hands to shield her face. James let out a soft laugh, and she peeked through her fingers, relieved to see that his intense stare had faded. Hermione thanked the weather gods silently.

Another crack of thunder rattled the air, and she quickly stood, brushing the dust off her robes. "Come on," she said firmly, "We should head back. We've got class in the morning."

James hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else, before he pushed himself off the floor, “All right. We’ll talk about your plans another day.”

She blinked in surprise, “Does that mean you’ll actually go through with it?”

He shrugged, “You said it would work, right? Then let’s do it.”

She nodded and started walking, mind already shifting gears. She put the moment that had just passed in the back of her mind, neatly filed away with all the other things she refused to think about. Right now she had a job to do, and she could do it even with the twinge in her chest at his words. She had to.

 10 January 1978, Tuesday

“Miss Granger, how thoughtful of you to finally join us.” McGonagall peered down her nose at the girl scurrying into the classroom with her head bent down.

Hermione mumbled an apology, but by the look on the Professor’s face she knew that it wouldn’t be the end of it. She had done her best to come just a few minutes late to every class that day, and be the first to leave. She even bribed Mary with the promise of doing her charms assignment to bring her food from the hall so she wouldn’t have to go there and see him. Or any of them, really. If she had to interact with Sirius or Remus, all she would imagine was their older counterparts disappointed and shaking their heads at her.

McGonagall finished with her lesson, demonstrating a spell Hermione should have been paying attention to. She really wished she had been paying attention as the woman immediately started walking right up to her table.

Hermione blinked up at her, “I apologise for my tardiness, Professor.”

McGonagall’s lips pursed, “See to it that it doesn’t become a habit, Miss Granger.” Hermione slumped her shoulders but straightened at the next words, “Professor Mirfield has kindly praised me for my excellent tutelage, imagine my surprise when he explained who has been polishing their transfiguration skills. Non-verbal spells, Miss Granger? Seems like you’ve been holding out on me once more.”

Hermione’s blood ran cold, if McGonagall knew what spell she really used she gave no hint away, “Professor, I-”

“If you’re so proficient in wand work and spells, my dear. Why on earth do you have a free period instead of filling it up with charms?”

Her throat closed, and she forced her eyes to stay connected to McGonagall, “I’ve done the coursework.”

McGonagall blinked at her cold indifferent tone. Even Peter sucked in a breath, audible to the whole class. She didn’t break the stare off she was having, somewhere in the back of her mind 11 year old Hermione was screaming. This Hermione didn’t want to talk about her decisions or her feelings, and would rather snark her way out of those conversations.

“Miss Granger, I assure you that Professor Flitwick is more than capable of adjusting his classwork if-”

A mixture of screams and laughter sounded from the front of the class, and McGonagall whirled to the source. Students were scrambling from seats and to get on top of their desks. A half mouse, half cat disfigured creature was running around snapping its jaws wildly.  Clearly a botched transfiguration attempt of a pincushion, as the jaws snapped open to reveal the slender needles sticking out sharp points up. Hermione followed the trail of dropped needles to James’s desk, at the same time McGonagall also found the source.

“Mr. Potter! Get that thing under control, now!”  Her shrill voice rang through the classroom, but James didn’t look at her. He was solely focused on Hermione. She instantly understood the question in his eyes and nodded her thanks to him. Using the chaos as a diversion she snuck out of the classroom.

She made it out into a quiet hallway, before reaching for a wall. Anything to ground herself. Of course she knew Professor Flitwick would be able to adjust his classwork. Of course she knew he was the most joyful Professor employed at Hogwarts, praising every student’s accomplishment, no matter how small. The man took pride in his pupils. Of course, she also knew him to be stone cold dead. And she was going to do it.

She was going to keep Remus from the final battle, and Death was going to replace the life she stole from him for another. She already had, which meant in this fucked up time travel bullshit that she was going to do it.

She spun around with her wand raised as soon as footsteps approached, slow and menacing.

“Look Avery, a mudblood.”  Mulciber spat at the ground in front of her, Hermione lazily fixed him with a dead eyed stare.

“All alone too. Let’s see if they really squeal like pigs.” Avery raised his wand.

Both their wands were on the ground before Avery even had the chance to think of a spell. She eyed the clattering wood and fired a quick binding spell. Tendrils of red rose up from the ground and fixed around their legs, dragging both Slytherin’s to their knees. The rope like tendrils didn't stop until they snaked around their arms and dangerously encased their throats.

She walked right up to Mulciber’s strained face, “That worked out well for you.”

He bared his teeth at her and threw out a vile curse word she wasn’t even sure she had ever heard out loud before. Avery was struggling against the binds, trying to free his hands.

She took a step back, “How did you find me?”

Both remained quiet, so she waved a wand and the binds tightened, “Come on boys, I know you didn’t just stumble into this corridor.”

Avery broke first, straining against the magical ropes, “Snape! It was Snape.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows, when silence followed she raised her wand again, Mulciber spoke up before she could do anything, “He told us to wait here, said you’d be all alone. S’posed to wait for him after.”

“What does he want?” Hermione seethed, why couldn’t everyone just leave her alone?

Why couldn’t she just do what she was supposed to and be left alone to deal with it. She was doing her best not to attract attention, and one stupid night had cost her all anonymity. Now McGonagall was on her case, Severus Snape had some vendetta, and James….anger overflowed. This time when it exploded out of her it didn’t just kick up some dust. The ground beneath her shook and the two Slytherins flew back on impact, their binds vanishing. The burst knocked them out cold. She stared at their unconscious figures, chest heaving with exertion.

“Hermione?”

She shut her eyes at the voice, shit. Opening them and slowly faced Remus, who was glancing between her and the two limp bodies behind. His face tightened, “Let’s go for a walk.”

Hermione let Remus lead her to the edge of the Black Lake. She crossed her arms against the shivers of cold, and stared out over the murky waters. He hadn’t said a word on the way, and kept that silence as he dug through stones on the ground, picking up a few.

She finally turned to face him, her voice barely above a murmur,“You’re going to tell him, aren’t you?”

Remus gave her a knowing look, and turned to face the water. He tossed a smooth stone, and she watched it skip a few times before sinking down.

Her eyes lingered on the ripples before she sighed, “Please…let me.”

He threw another stone that danced on the water, “If you don’t, I’ll have to.”

“Why?” She pressed

He turned to her, “Same reason he had us on protection duty for days.”

Hermione bristled, “I can take care of myself.”

Remus had the nerve to chuckle, “That much is clear. Still, he feels responsible now. James has a habit of collecting those of us who need someone looking out for them.”

She kicked at a small stone near her feet, sending it scuttling to the water, “Does he have to be so annoying about it?”

He laughed quietly, “Unfortunately, it comes with the territory. Now, care to talk about what’s bothering you?”

Hermione looked up at the great castle. For a brief moment, instead of the low hanging clouds surrounding the turrets, she saw smoke and fire billowing out. She blinked, shaking the image away, “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

Apart from the still unclear role she played in getting James and Lily together, she was…lost. Floating through Hogwarts like one of the ghosts. And as for James and Lily, she was about 75% sure her plan would work. She had secretly slipped a whole role of parchment into James’s bag, outlining every step of her master plan. Now all she had to do was wait, and it was unbearable.

Remus handed her a stone, “Go on. Chuck it, then.”

Hermione turned the smooth stone over in her hands, running her fingers over the cool surface. She threw an arm out, and watched as it skipped a pathetic two times before sinking straight down.

He handed her another, “You want to know how I see it?”

She nodded, trying another throw. This one made it further.

“None of us are really doing anything here. But that’s the point, isn’t it?" Remus continued, gazing at the water as he spoke in that familiar thoughtful way, "No matter what’s going on out there, Hogwarts was never the serious bit. All the worrying about N.E.W.T.s, and Quidditch and house rivalries, well that’s all irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. So just try and enjoy it while you’re here? All of it.”

He had no idea how close those words struck her, she played it off with a snort, “When did you become so philosophical?”

Remus cheered as his stone flew further than any of the previous, and turned to Hermione with eyes filled with laughter, “Sirius has been forcing me to read him Oscar Wilde.”

Hermione laughed, “I see. So now your life is imitating art, is it?”

His eyebrows raised in surprise, “Exactly.”

She sobered up and turned back to face the water crossing her arms again, “I can’t help but feel like I am bollocking everything up.”

“It’s not your job to fix the world, Hermione.” If only he knew. “But you’re going to have to do something about that attitude if you want McGonagall to ease up.”

She nodded, her schoolwork was a start she could work on. Snotty know-it-all Hermione was hiding somewhere, she just had to find her again.

Remus cleared his throat, “If you ever feel like you’re going to explode again, I’ll keep a door open for you.”

Hermione smiled, “Someone said that to me once before.”

“Did they make good on their word?”

Hermione didn’t answer him, we’ll see.

12 January 1978, Thursday

“This is absolutely terrible!” Hermione whisper yelled.

James was across from her, sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table in the pitch-black Gryffindor common room. A few candles around them the only source of light, casting flickering shadows. James had predictably blown a gasket at the news of the ambush. She had talked him down from sicking guards on her again by promising not to be caught alone anywhere, but that also meant their midnight strolls were on a pause.

He dragged a hand through his hair and whispered back, “Hey! I’m trying my best.”

Hermione waved the page she was reading in the air, exasperation clear “Fiery mane of crimson tide? Are you describing her hair or her monthlies?”

James flushed, “I’m just lacking inspiration.”

She set the sorry attempt at a letter down and buried her face into her hands with a sigh, “Well you better get some soon.”

James grumbled out something under his breath and she spread her fingers to peak at him. He was scribbling again, his tongue sticking out through parted lips in concentration. He shook his head in frustration and set the piece of parchment aside.

Hermione dropped her hands and reached over for it. James tried to snatch it away but she already had it in her grasp.

“Not that one!” He panicked

She lifted it to her face, “Why?”

He moved around the table, and she scrambled up the sofa, out of his reach.

“Give it back,” he whispered, voice low but laced with amusement.

She smirked, teasing, “More terrible soliloquies?”

He lunged, quick and quiet. She reacted immediately, twisting away and stretching her arm behind her head, narrowly avoiding his grasp. His hand grazed her wrist, and she pulled back.

“Come on,” he muttered.

“It can’t be that bad,” she laughed under her breath.

“It really is.”

He shifted, bracing a hand on the back of the sofa, effectively pinning her in. She turned her face away, but that brought them even closer. Her nose almost brushed his jaw. He stopped moving, his breath hot against her cheek. His eyes flickered down briefly, before snapping back up.

If either of them moved – “James?’

He pulled back quickly, standing back up. He rubbed a hand over his face, almost as if shaking something off. Hermione sat up tentatively.

He sighed, “Sorry, I-” he broke off.

She frowned, “What - ?”

He paced around the coffee table, hands shoving into his pockets, “I don’t know!”

She curled her legs under her, “Keep your voice down.”

He looked at her, and she reeled back, “I’m sorry I- I don’t know what I’m doing.” He was stammering, “I- I mean. Fuck. You’re helping me get Lily back and here I am-”  He let out a shuddering breath.

“What are you talking about?”

He rambled on, “Lily who I’ve loved for years. You show up and suddenly- I mean you’re basically a stranger. Nobody, really.”

Something cracked in her chest, he wasn’t making sense at all. She ignored the dull ache and stood up, “It’s fine, Potter.”

His eyes snapped up, as if suddenly remembering she was still there, “Hermione, I-”

She ignored him, “Leave it.” Something other than hurt floated to the surface, and she let the red burn through her. She threw the forgotten piece of parchment on the table, “Goodnight.”

Hermione stormed off to the stairs, not daring to look back and see if he tried following.

Chapter Text

13 January 1978, Friday

James POV

“Prongs, mate. Not to be rude, but what are we doing in the library. It’s Friday night for Merlin’s sake,” Sirius whispered to him.

James shushed him, not breaking eye contact with the table across the room. He had spent the day going over the events from the previous night in his head. What he did, what he should have done, and especially what he wished he had done.

Remus cleared his throat, and James looked over at him. He didn’t even look up from the book he was sat back reading. If Madam Pince came around the corner, she would definitely hit the roof over the werewolf’s feet propped up on the table.

“I’m not complaining.”

Sirius scoffed, “Then at least make yourself useful and read out loud, Moony.”

“We’re in the library, Pads. That’s not how it works. Get your own book.”

Sirius yawned, stretching out his arms, “Can’t be bothered. Besides, you do it so much better.”

James shook his head, he gave up trying to understand the dynamic between two of his best friends a long time ago. He was just glad it somehow worked.

“Prongs, I don’t mean to pry. But what are we doing here?”

James finally broke eye contact with the table, and gave Remus a guilty glance, “I fucked up. Badly.”

Remus gave him a knowing look. Sirius rapped his knuckles on the table, “Ah, so you’re the reason for the cloud of doom and gloom hovering over Granger. I’ll have you know, witch nearly hexed my balls off when I asked her how she was doing.”

James kept his mouth shut. Remus removed his feet from the table to lean into Sirius, “No Pads, that was all you. You asked her if she had a good night or was it plagued by wet dreams like yours.”

Sirius pushed Remus away, “Same thing.”

James glared at Sirius, who quickly found the table in front of him very interesting. A flash of light from the nearby bookshelves drew his attention, and he straightened when Peter came running up to their table, clearly out of brath

Peter clutched the edge of the table for support, gasping between words, “They’re- coming.” 

James sprang to his feet, “Who?”

Peter slapped his chest, “Avery and Mulciber. I came as fast as I could.”

James' eyes quickly shot back up to the table he had been intentely watching all night. Hermione sat with Marlene, Mary and Lily, hunched over textbooks and scrolls of parchment. Hermione looked to be in the middle of a whispered explanation. He surveyed the rest of the secluded study area in the library and spotted the two brutes. They were already halfway across the room.

Without a second though, he started toward them at a fat pace, as much as he could mange without breaking into a full sprint. He didn't glance back to see if Sirius or Remus followed, his eyes were locked in on Hermione. She had her back turned to them - she wouldn't see them in time. They were going to get the jump on her-  

He should have known better.

They didn’t make it within 5 steps of her before she whipped around and had them at wand point. Cold and dangerous fury shown in her eyes. 

They stopped in their tracks. James didn’t, but he was too late to hear the exchange. Whatever she seethed at them had them turning tail. James reached them just in time, and as Avery managed to nearly miss bumping into him he sneered down. He relished in the height advantage, his voice dripped in mock politeness “Can I help you fellas?”

Avery glanced back at the table moving away from James, but Mulciber stepped up to whisper menacingly, “You should keep your mudblood on a leash, Potter. She’s crazy.”

In a single fluid motion, James grabbed Mulciber by the collar, yanking him off the ground with a forceful jerk. His other hand shot forward, pressing his wand sharply into the brute's face as he hissed, “What the fuck did you just call her?”

“James!”

He didn’t break eye contact with the trembling boy in his grip as chaos ensued around him. His pulse pounded in his ears, almost drowning out the shouts of surprise around him

“Potter! Are you out of your mind? Put him down!” A command like that from Lily would’ve made him think twice, usually, but not today. And not for this.

A slender hand rested gently on his arm, and he followed the touch up meet Hermione's gaze. Her face was passive, but her eyes. Her eyes were on fire.

“Put him down.”

He shook his head, and glared at Mulciber, “He-”

Hermione cut him off, her voice was low and steady gripping him to reality, “I know. Put him down. It’s not worth it, Head Boy.”

The warning tone was enough for him to snap back, it hit like a cold splash of water that yanked him out of the trance. He looked around and saw the room had fallen into a tense silence, all eyes were on them. Slowly, he lowered his wand, but didn’t release his grip, “Fifty house points. For despicable language. I’ll be sure to inform your Head of House about this grievous misconduct.”

Finally, he released Mulciber’s collar, and the boy was wise enough to immediately start retreating, taking Avery with him. James watched their backs sourly, before turning back to Hermione, “Why’d you make me do that?”

She glared at him, “Don’t be stupid, Potter.”

Potter, would it kill her to call him James again? He hated the way she said his name now. So cold and distant.

“He called you a-”

Her eyes burned brighter, “I heard what he said. I’ve heard it a hundred times, it doesn’t matter.” She took a deep breath, and muttered, “There are worse things to be called.”

He could feel his anger rising to the surface, “Worse things? What could possibly be worse than that?!”

Her face crumbled slightly, just enough for him to catch the hurt hiding beneath, “A nobody.”

James reached for her, “Hermione, I-” didn’t mean it like that.

But she was already pulling away and stepping swiftly between bookshelves and weaving through students. He turned to find Sirius and Remus, both still had their wands in hand ready for a fight, but their eyes were wide with shock Lily stepped up to him, “Potter, what were you thinking?”

He briefly glanced at her, before giving all his attention to Hermione’s retreating figure, “Not now, Lily.”

He ran after Hermione without a second thought

Hermione POV

Hermione barely made it past the first bookshelf before being pulled back. She glared at the assailant, and intensified her stare when she noticed who was holding her hostage, “Let. Go.”

James didn’t respond. He only started dragging her in a different direction. She struggled against his grip around her arm, but it was firm enough to keep her tethered. She immediately recognised where he was leading her.

“No way. Let me go. Now, Potter.” 

At the sound of his name, his eyes snapped toward her face, but he still didn’t let go. Or say something. Just kept on marching forward until they reached the hidden entrance of the tunnel. The very tunnel she had spent a night hiding with him.

James looked around and once he determined the coast was clear, gestured for her to enter. She crossed her arms in defiance. They stood in silence, locked in a fierce standoff, before he finally moved. His hand shifted from her arm to her back, and he gave her an effective nudge that had her stumbling into the dark corridor.

As soon as she regained her footing, she turned on her heel and stormed toward the exit. Let him chase her around the grounds if he wanted. When she was in reaching distance of the statue, and could feel the cold night air seeping in from the outside, a strong arm blocked her path and another slammed into the wall behind her back. She was caged.

Hermione glared at James, who was breathing heavily as if he had sprinted to catch up with her, “Have you gone mad? What is your problem?”

He didn’t move, just glared right back at her, “My problem? You’re the one who’s been snapping at everybody today.”

Hermione didn’t shrink back. How she had gotten herself in the same exact spot months apart, she had no idea. At least this time there was no werewolf hunting her down outside while James shouted at her. Thinking back, that was the preferable situation between the two, she had no clue on how to handle this one.

“Listen,” James continued, voice quieter now, “I’m really sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Her words betrayed her, “Then how exactly did you mean it?”

James didn’t have an answer apparently. She stared him down, not allowing for an inch of the hurt to take hold, “I get it," she said, voice cold, "Don’t you worry. You don’t know me at all. And why would you want to, right?”

She gave a humourless dry laugh, “So I guess I am a stranger and a nobody.” It was better this way, this was how it was always supposed to be. Then why didn’t that stupid ache in her chest go away.

James dropped his head, in the small space between them his forehead almost brushed her nose, “That’s not true.”

Hermione pressed her back into the wall, but nothing gave her more space, “You said it yourself.”

“I didn’t-” James broke off, stumbling over his words, “I didn’t say that. I didn’t mean that. I know you, Hermione. I might not know everything about you, but you’re no stranger.”

“Just a nobody, then?” The words were bitter now. She gave in to the anger that clouded the ache, it was easier to deal with, “Well, this nobody saved your bloody life. I am done, completely and entirely done with being nothing more than an anecdote.”

Hermione had no idea where that came from. She never had a problem with being in the background, getting the dirty work done without so much as a thanks from anyone. It was always enough that Harry was safe. It was enough that everything worked out at the end. So why did it matter with James?

His mouth parted, as if to say something. Whatever it was died in his throat. Instead he removed a hand from the wall, reaching over to brush a stray curl from her face. She flinched back, “What are-?”

Her words trailed off as his hand rested on her cheek, tilting her face toward him. Hermione gaped at him questioningly. His face gave nothing away, his brows were slightly furrowed and his eyes stared blankly at his hand on her cheek, until he shook his head slightly and fixed her with an intense stare.

She didn’t even have a chance to react, to ask him what thought he just wiped away. She barely had time to process the look in his eyes, because he closed the gap between them and in an instant his lips were on her.

The kiss was tentative, a question. Her body went rigid. Her mind screamed at her to push him away, stop this madness. But she didn't. Her hands rested on his shoulders, caught in between doing what she was supposed to, what her mind was telling her to do, or pulling him closer.

And then, she stopped thinking all together. Suddenly it wasn’t James in front of her. She wasn’t Hermione Granger, sent back to ensure the future of the entire wizarding world. They were just a boy and a girl. Standing in a corridor no one knew of and no one would find them. Fuck it. She pulled him in.

The kiss turned deeper, and dangerous. Her head was floating and she wrapped her arms around his neck to keep steady. His hands moved to her waist, and she felt cold stone pressing into her back. It felt like hours before they finally broke apart. James pulled back, breathing heavily and rested his forehead on hers.

“You were never a nobody," He whispered, his voice raw.

Hermione blinked up at him, still feeling weightless. James didn’t say anything else, he just stepped back and with one last look turned to leave the corridor.

She stayed, bracing her hands against the wall as all cognisance returned to her in one violent wave. That was James, she was Hermione Granger and that was something that definitely should not have happened. But bloody hell, he was a great snog.

Well, fucking shit.

14 January 1978, Saturday

“Hermione! What is going on? You’ve been jumpy all morning,” Marlene shouted from across the dorm as Hermione dropped yet another book after Mary’s owl landed on the windowsill with a thud.

“It’s nothing,” Hermione mumbled, bending down to pick up the fallen item.

Mary sidled up to her and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders, “Is this about Avery and Mulciber?” ah yes, a perfectly reasonable explanation for her demeanour.

She gave a noncommittal hum and Marlene jumped off her bed to walk over, “Oh come on, Hermione! You can’t let those two pricks get to you.”

Mary elbowed Marlene, “They did threaten Hermione last night.”

The blonde only scoffed, “Oh sure, ‘better watch your back, Granger’, I’m shaking.” Marlene rolled her eyes and moved to fiddle with Hermione’s hair, “Can we talk about Potter’s reaction, though? Merlin, he just appeared out of nowhere. I thought Mulciber was going to soil himself.”

Hermione planted her eyes firmly on the ground, “What an idiot. He could’ve gotten in serious trouble.”

Mary shrugged, “Golden boy? No way, Dumbledore would’ve probably given him keys to the bloody castle if Mulciber ended up in hospital.”

Hermione stiffened at the moniker, “Golden boy?”

Marlene tugged on an uncooperative strand and Hermione tried shoving her off, to no avail, “You haven’t noticed? James has never been in trouble, not serious trouble anyway. Dumbledore’s always treated him differently.”

Just like Harry. Hermione’s mind started running faster than she could keep up. Why would Dumbledore have any reason to treat James like that?

“Hermione?” Mary asked, she was looking at Hermione’s face in concern, “You all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Hermione shook her head. Not trusting her words. Her eyes flicked toward her beaded bag, where deep inside was the box that held the time turner. The altered time turner she got from Dumbledore. Son of a – that’s why he wasn’t interested in asking her questions about the future…he already knew.

The world fell from underneath her feet. She grabbed a hold of her bedpost to stay upright, Mary had her other arm in an instant, “Woah, let’s go get some food in you.”

She nodded weakly and let herself be led downstairs. All conversation around her drowned out by the ringing in her ears. She numbly sat down and ignored the food in front of her and concerned voices of the people who were doomed, their fates sealed long ago.

Hermione looked up to the Professors’ table and found Dumbledore in the midst of holding court with Mirfield and McGonagall. He sensed her stare, turning to face her. In those twinkling blue she saw it, that cold calculating assurance. She wouldn’t let him see the shock on her face. Dumbledore raised the teacup in his hand in a mock salute, a gentle smile on his face, and she knew. He figured it out. And yet, no worries showed on his face.

Because there was nothing she could do. No way out. No way to stop the ball that was already rolling. Hermione grabbed a cup in front of her and saluted right back. Someone was going to pay.

Chapter Text

15  January 1978, Monday

Hermione’s knuckles rapped softly on the closed door, and winced at how loud it sounded in the quiet hallway.

“Come in,” a voice called from the other side.

She took a deep breath in and slowly swung the door open. For the first time since arriving in the past she marvelled at the space. Then again, it was a lot easier taking in McGonagall’s office when she was willingly entering, and not locked inside awaiting a stern conversation.

“Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall called, a hint of surprise in her voice, “What brings you here?”

She looked around the room once more. It was exactly how she remembered it, save for a few pieces of memorabilia missing. Towering bookshelves held countless leather bound books, ones she had fawned over for years and wished nothing more than to spend a summer reading them. Hermione had even planned on stowing away in the castle at the end of fourth year to do exactly that, but given how the year ended...

A throat clearing snapped her out of her thoughts and she turned back to the professor, now sitting with an elegant raised eyebrow in a silent inquiry.

 “Sorry for the unplanned intrusion, Professor.” She said softly suddenly feeling like she should expect that stern talking to anyways.

McGonagall didn’t say anything, only gestured for Hermione to take a seat across from her.  She fiddled in her seat while McGonagall shuffled around parchment rolls on her desk. She held back a cringe as one was placed in front of her - she recognised her own handwriting immediately.

“Professor, I-” her words died as the roll unfurled with a wave of McGonagall’s wand.

On top of her chicken scratch scribbles, a gleaming ‘O’ adorned the top of the parchment. Her mouth fell open.

“I could find no fault with the contents, Miss Granger," McGonagall’s voice was even, but there was a small edge of fondness in her words. "However, there’s much to be said for the neatness of your work."

Hermione would’ve flushed in embarrassment had she not felt the slightest flutter in her stomach at the praise, “I’ll try and work on it.”

McGonagall pursed her lips, in either a resigned satisfaction or indignation, “As gratifying it is to see you’re improvement in the coursework, Miss Granger, I suspect that is not the conversation you are here to have. Someday, perhaps.”

Hermione swore she could see a hint of amusement in the professor’s eyes, “I have been having some trouble, Professor. I-” She expertly feigned embarrassment, twisting her fingers nervously gaze stubbornly lowered, “I’ve been having some issues with…control.”

McGonagall’s voice was a patient stab, driving home some guilt in Hermione’s chest, “In what way, Miss Granger?”

“I seem to lose control of my magic.”

Professor McGonagall hummed in understanding, “Uncontrolled magical outbursts are not uncommon in young witches and wizards, though they tend to be more frequent in those who have not yet mastered their temperaments. Tell me, when does this loss of control typically occur?”

She didn’t have to fake the embarrassment this time, heat rising in her cheeks, “When I get... angry.”

“I see.”

Hermione doubted that very much. Any amount of ire had her new short hair standing on end with cracklings of static. Not to mention almost levelling the hallway she ran into after her little showoff with Dumbledore. However, she firmly believed she had it under control. Gaining advice or understanding from her once admired professor was low on her list of priorities. Very low.

“Indeed, Professor,” Hermione cleared her throat. “I have searched everywhere in the library for books on how to deal with this problem, none have proven useful.”

And indeed, she had done exactly that. Even though the library remained untouched during the ‘Big Bubble’ at Hermione’s insistence as a homage to her old self, Madam Pince had followed her around every bookshelf and corner she had made herself look busy in. Then she sat back and waited, and when she was certain her actions had been reported to McGonagall, she pounced.

“The library does house several volumes on the subject, but they are precarious in nature. The books themselves react to the state of the reader, as if the writings on accidental magic are prone to it themselves,” McGonagall pursed her lips. “They are therefore kept in the restricted section.”

Hermione perked up. “However,” McGonagall continued, and Hermione immediately deflated, “Your recent extracurricular activities make me hesitant to grant you unrestricted access.”

“Professor, I-” Hermione began, but McGonagall raised a hand, silencing her.

“A concession then,” tight lips and a distrustful eyebrow faced her now, “Next time you have one of these bursts, try and contain it and find me. We will assess the situation, and then I’ll decide what the best course of action is.”

Shit. Hermione stood meekly, not needing the dismissal in McGonagall’s voice spelled out for her. She reached for the doorhandle when the professor’s voice suddenly called out again.

“And Miss Granger, I’m moving Pettigrew’s desk next to yours in my class, do try and keep his monstrous attempts at transfiguration under control.” Hermione’s shoulders tensed, “Maybe that will bring some of that anger out.”

She didn’t let the door hit her on the way out.

*

Hermione almost made it past the portrait of Edgar Strougler when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind and lifted her clean off the ground. She reacted, swinging her legs to kick her attacker, heels aiming for shins and gut. A familiar but winded “Oomf!” made her freeze mid swing, though her assailant made no move to release her.

“Hello to you too, Hermione.” Despite the breathlessness, James still managed to sound infuriatingly chipper.

Still dangling in in the air she tried clawing at his forearms, “Let go.”

Instead, James spun her around in his arms so they were face-to-face, “So you’ve got better leverage to kick me? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

She clenched her jaw, “Put me down, before you regret it.”

With her hand free she slipped her wand down her sleeve and subtly pressed it into his chest. Just enough to make him aware of the presence.

His grin didn’t falter, “Kitty’s got claws today. Well, no time for dramatics. Come on.”

He set her down without ceremony and immediately seized her hand, tugging her forward so that she had no choice but to follow. She collided with his back when he stopped in front of the portrait.

“What- ?”

“Ed! My good man, mind opening for me and my bird?”

Hermione’s eyes widened, “Your what?”

The stoic man in the frame didn’t even glass up from the brass contraption he was polishing, “Young sir, you know the rules. Password?”

James scratched the back of his head, “Hell, what was this one again? Uh, sneakiness?”

The man in the portrait scoffed, and the portrait remained firmly shut. Hermione still stunned by the bird comment, said almost absentmindedly, “Surreptitiousness.”

Edgar looked up from his polishing with a surprised smile, “Why yes, that’s it.”

The portrait swung open. James didn’t waste time pulling them through the opening and let it swing shut behind them. Lanterns sputtered to life along the walls, casting long, flickering shadows.

James frowned down at her, hand still firmly clinging to hers, “How’d you-?”

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

His confusion melted into a boyish smile, “Isn’t it obvious?”

Hermione yanked her hand free, shoulder hitting the wall of yet another enclosed space she was unwillingly sharing with James Potter, “No.”

“Well, we’ve got a theme to follow,” he said, resting one forearm against the wall beside her head with a theatrical grin. “Secret passageways. We’ve set a precedent now.”

She ducked underneath his arm, “Absolutely not.”

He was laughing as he expertly moved to encase her again, “Come on, Granger. If we pace ourselves, we can hit them all before exams.”

Hermione gaped, “You have a checklist now?”

He smirked, “Absolutely.”

And then it happened.  He leaned down, hand coming up to cup Hermione’s cheek and turn her chin up. Hermione’s lips parted of their own accord. He was inches away when she suddenly regained her senses and she shoved at his chest, “Wait!”

Like a slap of cold water he stepped back, smile dropping completely, “Are you…are you still upset with me?”

She exhaled softly and let herself sink back against the wall, arms crossed lightly over her chest, “That’s not-”

“I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean-”

“James-”

“Alright, alright,” he barrelled on, hands lifting in surrender, then running through his hair with frustration. “Maybe it wasn’t my best move to kiss you and then vanish like a bloody coward, but—”

“Potter! Will you stop for one second and listen?” she snapped, stepping forward. She grabbed his shoulders with both hands and gave him a quick, grounding shake. His eyes locked on hers, bright and impossibly hopeful. And then, inevitably, they flicked down to her mouth.

“This,” she released his shoulders, gesturing wildly between them. “Can’t happen.”

James frowned, “Why?”

“Because it can’t.”

A crooked unsure smile graced his lips, “That’s not really a reason.”

She planted her hands firmly on his chest again – not gently this time – and held him at arm’s length, “It just can’t. It was nice and all-”

He leaned into the pressure of her hands, wiggling his eyebrows “Nice? Do go on.”

Her words faltered, “I’m serious-”

James laughed, “Nah, he’s a worse kisser. I would’ve known.”

Hermione was momentarily stunned into silence. She ran a hand down her face, “Stop trying to distract me.”

He shrugged, taking a small step back.  “Alright then. Explain.”

Something inside her began to burn, and she let it, “I can’t.”

“Try,” he was patient, understanding. It infuriated her even more.

“I really, really can’t. Just trust me when I say it’s better this way.”

James tilted his head, “If you think I can’t handle-”

She stopped him, reaching forward to brush a stray curl from his forehead, “That’s the problem,” she murmured. “You can handle it, you shouldn’t have to.”

She dropped her hand when static fizzled under her fingertips, dancing along her skin like an electric warning. He looked confused. Hurt. She moved to the portrait exit before she could do something stupid and reckless. She didn’t dare look back as she said, “Besides, you still have a letter to go write.”

The corridor was still empty, and she let it engulf her. Every step echoed with memories and she held onto them tightly. Walking past benches and ghosts of the past, of laughter and purpose. When Hogwarts was home, when it wasn’t the stage she was forced to play a part on.

She walked faster. Letting it rise. The frustration. The helplessness. The fury at the web of secrets she couldn’t untangle. At James, for making things so fucking complicated. By the time she reached the familiar oak door, her magic was crackling beneath her skin like a storm barely contained. She spared one last thought for her own part in the mess she had just created and pushed forward.

The door slammed open with a burst of displaced air.

“Miss Granger—!” McGonagall rose from her desk, startled, robes rustling.

Hermione met her eyes. The eyes of a woman she had once worshipped. Trusted. The one person left she still wanted to believe in. And the person she was now forced to manipulate, and lie to. Brilliantly, deliberately. She let herself explode.

Wind tore through the space like a summoned tempest. Books flung themselves off the shelves. Papers burst from drawers in swirling, frantic spirals. Dust lifted into eddies that obscured the floor. The walls trembled faintly beneath the magical surge. Hermione dropped to her knees in the center of the chaos, chest heaving as she poured every repressed emotion—every ounce of grief and rage and fear—into the air.

McGonagall’s voice was sharp, incantation quick and clean.

A ring of blue light burst from her wand, encasing the storm. It spun tighter, enclosing Hermione in a shimmering sphere that buffered the worst of the damage. Then, slowly, it dissipated—particles falling like ash.

Hermione knelt in the centre of the room, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

Footsteps approached, then a hand that was light and steady lifted her chin.

“My dear,” McGonagall said softly, not unkind in the slightest, “if you keep this up, it will consume you.”

Hermione didn’t answer.

McGonagall slipped a folded piece of parchment into her hand. Hermione stared at it for a moment, then rose shakily to her feet.

Full, unrestricted access to the Restricted Section.

Her fingers curled around it with no triumph at all. Only exhaustion.

At least one bloody thing had gone right today.

***

17  January 1978, Wednesday

Hermione ran through the trees, stumbling over branches and leaves. Her feet pounded the earth as pain shot up through her shins and thighs. She didn’t look back.

They were right behind her, she could hear their triumphant whoops and cracks of apparating looming closer. Hermione felt for her wand and cursed when the familiar wood was nowhere to be found.

She turned her head just for a second, just to assess the danger and formulate a new escape plan. The trees blurred together, she swore she saw faces peeking through. Hermione whipped her head back, but it was too late.

Her knee slammed into the forest floor and she scraped her palms on the unforgiving surface trying to catch herself. Something warm and wet underneath her fingertips. She brought her hands up, slowly. They shook as she took in the bright red covering her palms.

She tried to find her footing, scrambling back. But she was coated in it. That’s when she saw them – bodies. Littering the forest. She gagged as she recognized the upturned faces. Long red hair frame Ginny’s face, Ron’s eyes were still open, wide and unlinking. Neville. Luna. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.  They weren’t supposed to be here.

Movement caught her eye. Slumped against a tree sat Remus. Young Remus.  He was doubled over on himself, one hand pressed against his stomach where three large gashes opened his abdomen. Blood spilled over his forearm.  His other arm gripped something tightly, cradled against his chest.

Her voice cracked, “How-?”

He looked up, eyes haunted, “You were supposed to save us.”

Remus broke eye contact with her to look down, and Hermione saw what he was holding onto tightly, not what. Who. Remus was holding onto Sirius. Of what was left of him.

She tried moving, but she was stuck in place. A scream clawed itself up her throat –

Hermione jerked upright, gasping for breath. She ripped open the curtain of her four-poster and stumbled to the window. She shoved it open and stuck her head through, gulping in the crisp cold air.

That was a new one.

She should have expected it. A downside of avoiding James was skipping out on her nightly walks, for fear of being pulled into another secret passageway. But that left her restless, the unspent energy transferred into her dreams.

When her heart stopped hammering, she eased the window shut and glanced at the other beds. Marlene and Mary slept on, undisturbed. Quietly, she slipped out.

Her footsteps echoed down the stairs, until she stood aimless in the common room. She knew it was silly, that it was just a dream. But she still had to check. She knew it was just a dream. Of course she did. But her feet were already moving. Up the boys’ staircase, all the way to the far left door.

She let it swing open, careful not to wake up the occupants. A single lamp still burned faintly, casting the room into a warm amber lowlight. It was cleaner than she expected. A few pieces of Quidditch gear on the floor. Book bags tossed carelessly at the base of the beds. The desks were mostly clear, except one buried under parchment and dog-eared books—Remus’s, obviously.

“Hermione?” A gruff voice broke her study of the surroundings, she looked over to see Remus rubbing his eyes, propped up against his headboards, “Are you okay?”

Her legs nearly gave out with the urge to run to him. To check for wounds that weren’t there. Instead, she walked over calmly, stopping abruptly when she noticed he wasn’t alone. Sirius was draped across the bed, feet hanging off the edge, arm thrown lazily around Remus and head nestled into is lap.

Remus gave small shrug, “He fell asleep. Didn’t want to wake him.”

Hermione stared until she saw movement, a small chest rise from Sirius had her holding back a choke in relief. Lifting her hand to her chest.

“Are you okay?” Remus asked again, voice low, and she forced her eyes back to his.

She swallowed, “I-” she had to shake her head to clear her thoughts. “Yeah. Sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

Hermione was already backing away, heading toward the door. She didn’t count on Remus being awake.

“Wait,” Remus called softly. She stopped.

He carefully shifted Sirius off his lap, guiding the sleeping boy flat on the mattress. Sirius mumbled something, but showed no other signs of waking. Remus slipped off the bed with quiet efficiency, padding towards her barefoot. His steps muffled against the rug.

“Come on,” he said and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, tilting his head toward the window. She followed him numbly, leaning into his soft touch to remind herself he was fine. Everyone was still fine. Nothing bad had happened, yet.

Remus leaned against the windowsill, the chill was sharp against her skin as she crossed her arms against the night air. She leaned across from him. He didn’t say anything, just reached into the pocket of his pyjama trousers and produced a small tin.

“Oh no, you too?” she asked dryly

He chuckled, “Don’t hold it against me.”

She rolled her eyes, “Sirius used my room to hide his smoking from Mrs. Potter. I couldn’t get the smell out of my jumper for days.” She resisted the urge to glance back to the bed, to check if Sirius was still breathing. Still alive.

“I would lie and say he was the bad influence,” Remus said, pulling out a slender roll and lighting it with a soft flick of his wand. “But truth be told, I got us both into this ugly habit.”

He dragged slowly and blew the smoke in soft clouds out the window. After a beat, he offered it to her. She hesitated, then took it. Bringing it to her lips and inhaling lightly.

It scratched her throat, burning her lungs more than she expected. Her cough didn’t let out the soft smoke of Remus’s exhale but at least she wasn’t spluttering.

They stood in silence, shoulder to shoulder, staring into the darkness. The second time he passed it to her it still burned, but this time she didn’t cough.

Finally, he spoke, “Nightmare?”

She nodded. He didn’t ask her what the dream had been about. She was grateful for that.

He just went on normally, “So I couldn’t help but notice you avoided James today.”

It wasn’t a question, but she knew he wanted an answer. She just levelled him with a stare.

He held up his hands, lit cigarette expertly balanced in his fingers, “I’m not complaining about finally having a study partner in the library. Just saying, I have a feeling you only went there knowing he wasn’t going to.”

She dropped her hands onto the windowsill, staring at the grounds below, “Oh gods, Remus. I think I fucked up.” Understatement of the century.

He rested a palm next to hers, “Don’t we all, sometimes?”

She stayed silent for a moment, before a soft admission slipped out, “This one was different.”

And somehow, he knew they weren’t just talking about her strange habits today. He leaned back, taking another long drag waiting for her to continue or to decide where this conversation was going.

She sighed, “Usually, they’re memories. Bad ones. But not this one, it was…it was the future.” The truth and a lie.

“How bad could it be?”

This time she did look back at Sirius, “You don’t know the half of it.  Everything that was wrong, everything bad that happened. It was all my fault.”

He put out the cigarette into an ashtray she hadn’t noticed, “I highly doubt that.”

She shrugged, “Does it matter if it’s what I believe?”

He was silent for a moment, “That’s worse. You know, I’ve spent half my life waiting for everything around me to fall apart. Believing that I’d ruin everything just by existing. You know what I’ve learned?”

She couldn’t help it, “That you were a fool?”

He flicked her shoulder, “No.”  A smile ghosted on his lips, “I learned that it doesn’t matter. Even if you don’t do anything wrong, if you try and disappear into the background. You have no control over how the story goes. Things will still happen the way they’re meant to.”

She snorted, but fell into his world of make-believe, “Let’s say that’s true. What do I do?”

“Tomorrow is tomorrow’s problem. Today, well today is for mistakes and learning and living. Just have fun. It won’t mean the end of the world.”

“I know,” she lied.

A loud snort cut through the stillness. They both turned to see Peter in his bed, limbs askew and mouth wide open. He let out a second sound, much more dramatic and rolled over, almost right off the bed.

Hermione blinked, and for the first time in a while, she smiled, “Right nightmare fuel, that one.”

Remus chuckled, “That’ll haunt you more than anything in your dreams.”

She turned towards him, crashing in for a hug that she desperately needed.

He held on tightly, “You can stay.” He looked back towards the beds, and the empty one by the window, “That one has your name on it for tonight.”

She untangled herself from him, and quietly whispered, “Thank you.”

Remus walked with her, when she settled into the undisturbed blankets he moved back toward his own bed. But before he climbed in he glanced at her, “I’ll always keep a door open for you, Hermione.”

She looked up, remembering his promise from the Black Lake. Quietly glad that it held true.

“Even if you don’t knock,” he added with a faint smile before manoeuvring the sleeping boy in his bed and settling in next to him effortlessly.

She laid back, staring up at the ceiling, and let her eyes close without resistance.

Chapter Text

18  January 1978, Thursday

The door creaked softly as Hermione tried to slip back into the girls’ dormitory unnoticed, to her dismay laughter and raised voices were already echoing inside. She pushed the door open with quiet resignation, bracing herself.

Marlene and Mary were mid chaos, scrambling to get ready for a day of classes. Marlene stood in front of the mirror in deep concentration as she wrestled with her hair. A tap was running in the bathroom and Hermione faintly hoped she could slip by unnoticed. Then -“Where have you been?”

Hermione jumped. Lily was perched on Marlene’s bed, hair already perfectly tied back and a book closed on her lap.

 Shit. What was she doing here?

“Early morning stroll,” she said, too quickly.

Marlene looked over in surprise, “Oh hey. Wondered where you disappeared to.”

Hermione shrugged, “Woke up super early. Couldn’t go back to sleep.”

Lily was still eyeing her sceptically, “So you wandered the halls in flannel and house slippers?”

Hermione tried not to stumble, “I – it was just to clear my head.”

“And you cleared it with a cigarette?” Mary appeared from the bathroom, towel in her hands, she paused mid step to lean in and take a closer sniff.

Hermione winced. Right- she had impulsively joined Sirius and Remus for their morning cigarette. Stood at the window laughing at two owls colliding mid-air and placing bets on which ones would drop their obscenely large packages. 

“Really?!” Marlene was suddenly beside her, wide eyed. Hermione tried keeping her away but it was no use, the taller girl leaned in to catch a large sniff herself, “Hermione you minx. You do smell like smoke, and…boy.”

Hermione groaned and shoved past them pushed past to her wardrobe, “Come off it.”

“Were you with James?” Lily asked.

The room went still, gone was the playful morning energy.  

Hermione froze, “What- no.”

Mary frowned at Lily, “Why would she-?”

Lily shrugged, flipping over the book again, “He wasn’t in the Head dorms this morning. Didn’t see him last night either.”

A penny could have dropped and it would have sounded like a gong in Hermione’s head, “Where was he?”

Lily didn’t look up, “I’m asking you.” 

There was no jealousy in her tone, but something sharper. Uncertainty. Or possessiveness laced with confusion.

Hermione slowly answered, “Well, I promise you, I haven’t the faintest idea.”

Lily nodded absentmindedly, seemingly satisfied with the conversation ending, Hermione sighed in relief at the end of the inquisition.

“Prat was probably sniffing his own arse somewhere,” Marlene said lightly, walking over to nudge Hermione toward the bathroom. “Get on with it, or we’ll miss breakfast.”

The door slammed shut behind her and Hermione was left to her own thoughts in the bright light of the bathroom. She stared at her reflection for a long moment. Stuck between being glad that Lily had shown some interest in James and worried that the red head was starting to suspect her of the one thing Hermione had spent the week avoiding.

*

The great hall was humming with morning chatter. Hermione effortlessly slid into the conversation, tension from earlier seemingly forgotten. She buttered a piece of toast while Marlene continued her animated story involving Peeves and a poor firstie.

She reached for an empty cup when someone slid onto the bench beside her and beat her to it. It was replaced by a freshly steaming one.

“Morning, Granger,” James said lightly.

She picked up the tea and sipped blissfully, “Now I remember what you’re good for.”

He laughed, before slowly leaning in, dropping his voice to just above a whisper, “You okay?”

She glanced over his shoulder to where Sirius pretended not to eavesdrop and wondered if it was the map or the mutt that ratted her out, “Yeah, all good.”

James didn’t buy it. She gave him a tight lipped smile and he raised a brow, “Nightmare?”

She shrugged, “Remus was awake.” She said carefully, checking to make sure the girls weren’t listening. Mary and Lily were laughing over a letter from home, so she went on, “And he didn’t ask too many questions.”

James smirked faintly. “That’s Moony for you. Quietly brilliant and inconveniently perceptive.”

She focused on her plate, choosing to ignore the fact that he’d somehow snuck an extra helping of eggs on there, “Too bad all that brilliance is lost on you lot.”

James assembled his own plate now, “You know, you could always come to me next time.”

She ignored that too, “Lily was asking about you this morning.”

That made him blink, “She was?”

“Where were you?” Hermione levelled him with a look, “She said you weren’t in the dorms last night.”

He leaned in dramatically, stage-whispering, “I was running under the stars. Antlers out. Wind in my fur.”

“You’re an idiot.”

He grinned like one, “It’s been said.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Seriously, were you in the Forest? I thought we’ve established the grounds are off limits after dark.”

“I was clearing my head.”

Hermione let it drop, recognising the dodge. She glanced back toward Lily, and urged James to show some interest. Instead, the only thing she managed was to become hyper aware of the way his leg brushed hers under the table.

***

19  January 1978, Friday

The Gryffindor common room was alive with the energy of an unusually bland Friday night. No Hogsmeade or quidditch to anticipate, just students complaining about workloads or deliberately ignoring them. Rustling parchment and the occasional pop of an exploding snap card game were the only immediate sounds around Hermione.

She sat cross legged in the corner armchair, a glamoured book propped on her knee. Her wand hand hovered near the spine, idly brushing the cover to keep it reading Advanced Arithmancy. The restricted book hummed in her lap, teasing her with the truth.

She glanced up. Across from her James was hunched over a half-folded piece of parchment, a scribbled diagram on it that might have once been a quidditch pitch, but was now a bunch of loops and arrows that had her head spinning. She was still staring at it, wondering if a different angle might make it easier to decipher, when his voice cut through the air.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

She didn’t look up, “No. Just busy.”

“Be still my bleeding heart. Too busy for me?”

She gave him a flat look over the top of the book, “You’ve been spending too much time with Sirius.”

He sighed dramatically, proving her point, “Only because you refused to.”

She turned back to her book. It was a losing battle as he moved over, standing in front of her and blocking her light source. She slammed the book shut, labeling it a lost cause for now, “What?”

“You do know we’re going to have to talk about it eventually.”

Her fingers tensed slightly, “About what?”

He smiled knowingly, and the firelight reflected in his glasses softened his edges, “The thing that happened right before I lost all higher brain function and ran off like a bloody coward.”

Her eyes darted quickly to where Mary and Marlene were nestled together near the fire place, fawning over something in a magazine. Peter was bent over his Potions essay at a nearby table, ink-stained cheek and frowning. No one was paying them any attention. Most importantly, no Lilly.

She looked back at James, “That could be a number of things, you’ll to have to be more specific.”

James rolled his eyes, undeterred and plopped onto the armrest beside her, “Don’t play coy. Exactly a week ago almost to the minute, you and I snuck off-”

“You yanked me off.”

“-into a secluded passageway-”

“You accosted me.”

“After saving you from two brutes, I might add. And then-”

“I was handling it perfectly well-”

“- we kissed.”

Hermione hissed softly. Looking around again just to make sure, before lowering her voice, “You kissed me.”

James smirked, “You kissed me back.”

She dropped her head into her hands. Merlin, yes she had. And she’d spent every day since avoiding the memory of it- the way it felt, the way her heart had lept. The lingering feel of him pressing her to the wall. She squared her shoulders, time to fix this.

“Okay. You want to talk about it? Let’s talk.” Curse him and his hopeful eyes.

 “James, I meant it the other day it – it can’t happen again.”

He straightened up, arms crossing in front of his chest, “You still haven’t told me why.”

She resisted the urge to pull at her hair, “It just can’t, okay?”

“That’s not really a reason.”

Static stirred under her skin, words rose to her throat tangled in guilt and anger not directed at him, “I-”

She was saved by the thunder of footsteps crashing down the boys’ stairs.

Sirius burst into the room, his hair was wild, shirt half buttoned and his expression a mixture of rage and grief.

“Pads-” Remus called after him, appearing seconds later at the top of the stairs, his chest was heaving, “Sirius, come on – just stop.”

Everyone turned. Sirius didn’t.  James jumped to his feet. He strode through the common room and yanked the portrait door open with such force it slammed against stone. The Fat Lady shrieked, tumbling from her frame with a scandalised cry as Sirius strode by. It snapped shut just as quickly.

James stood halfway between Hermione’s chair and the exit, as if unsure whether to follow or stay planted. Remus was still at the top of the stairs, hands white knuckled on the banister. His mouth opened, but no words came.

Hermione stuffed the book into her beaded bag while everyone stood around dumbfounded. The seventh years had all crowded around James, looking at him for an answer. Save for Remus, who still stood helpless at the top of the stairs.  She pushed past them, only to be stopped.

“Hermione – don’t. It’s not a good idea.”

She looked at the hand on her arm, and into James’s eyes. She shrugged him off, “Don’t wait up.” She kept moving to the portrait.

Marlene cast her a warning glance, and Mary protested. Peter muttered something about not wanting to get in the line of fire but James followed, cutting her off again.

“Hermione, please. It’s best if you let him cool off. There’s nothing you can do now.”

She resented those words, “Okay.”

When he relaxed, she pushed past him again. The portrait closed behind her with a soft thud. The Fat Lady was gone from her frame, now appearing in another down the corridor, wailing to a bored-looking knight about the “horrid, foul-mouthed boy.”

Hermione approached. “Which way did he go?”

The Fat Lady pointed wordlessly, and promptly continued her wailing.

She ran. Hermione could hear his footsteps, long and angry.

“Sirius!” She called, but he made no move to stop. “Black. Wait.”

He didn’t. She caught up to him just before he took another set of stairs, “What the hell was that?” she managed. Breathless.

Sirius didn’t stop walking, his jaw clenched, “Not tonight, Granger.”

“You don’t get to drag everyone else into the mess you’re avoiding.” It burned coming out of her mouth.

He stopped short. She almost ran into his back.

Slowly, he turned to her. The sneer on his face almost sent her stumbling back, “That’s rich. Coming from you.”

She didn’t feel the sting, “You’re angry?” Hermione waited for him to nod, could see the regret starting to set in as well. “Well, me too. Let’s go.”

He frowned, “Where?”

She smiled, letting the static burn brighter, “We’re going to go destroy the hell out of somewhere.”

*

Hermione led him up the flight of stairs, then down the hallway that curved east. When she reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, she instructed Sirius to stay put and started pacing.

She thought of exactly what she needed from the room, crafting the place in her head while she explained the room to Sirius to curb the questions she knew was coming, “You can’t tell anyone about this room, I mean it. This is between you and me.”

He remained quiet, taking in every word. Probably already planning on adding it to the Marauder’s Map, but she knew once he went inside to what she was crafting he wouldn’t dare.

When the door melted into existence, she didn’t look at Sirius as she reached for the handle. He followed.

Sirius froze in the doorway, “Granger, what the-?”

The room had transformed into a perfect replica of the drawing room at Grimmauld Place. The heavy velvet curtains. The dusty chandelier. Down to the family tapestry on the wall with every terrible face on it.

She cleared her throat, “Well, this is macabre.”

Sirius whirled on her, wand raised, “How did you-?”

She stepped deeper into the room, willing her own memories away, “I didn’t. I asked the room for the place that hurt you the most.”

She lied through her teeth. She had asked the room for exactly what she wanted. She just hoped she was right, but looking at his grave face as he stared at a spot in front of the fireplace, she didn’t have to worry.

His voice was rough, “Why?”

“Because it hurts,” she said. “So let it.”

Sirius looked around, jaw tightening, “You’re sick, Granger.”

“Probably,” She smiled, watching him in defiance. “Go on then. Wreck it.”

Sirius blinked. He remained perfectly still. She strolled over to the mantel, picking up a photo frame. Without looking at the contents she hurled it against the wall. It shattered with a satisfying crunch. Sirius watched on.

“Come on,” she lowered her voice. “Don’t waste it. Be angry.”

Something snapped. A snarl of emotion uncoiled in his chest, and the next second he was flinging a chair across the room. It crashed into a cabinet, splintering wood on impact. A vase followed. Then he was slashing curtains with his wand.

Hermione joined – toppling shelves and blasting apart furniture with well-aimed bombardas. She went to that god-awful tapestry and set the family crest to flame. She sought out a face, and when she found the laughing crazed haired women – she seared her off the wall.

They didn’t speak. The room groaned underneath their anger. Dust billowed up in clouds, smoke curled from ruined portraits. Until there was nothing left to break.

They collapsed next to each other, backs against the wall and breathing ragged. Hermione curled her knees to her chest, folding over her hands that were scraped and smudged with ash. For a long moment, they just sat in the wreckage.

Then Sirius spoke.

“My brother,” he said, so soft she barely caught it. “Regulus, I think – I think he took the Mark.”

It was the first time Sirius had mentioned him at all. Hermione had assumed he cut all ties and emotions.

She placed a hand over his, “It’s not your fault.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “You’re a strange one, Granger.”

She gave a tight smile. Silence settled between them again. Then she said it.

“I kissed James.”

His head snapped toward her. Sirius blinked, then slowly, he smirked, “Well, shit.”

She groaned, hiding her face in her hands, “I know.”

He nudged her with his shoulder, “So, what you going to do about it?”

She dropped her head back onto the wall, “I have no fucking clue.”

Another beat of silence passed, finally Sirius asked, “You want my advice?”

She raised a brow, “Are you really in a position to be giving it?”

“Absolutely not,” he said with a grin. “But I’m gonna do it anyway- if you’re avoiding it. Trying to forget it happened, it won’t work. Not with prongs. He won’t let it go.”

She groaned, this she knew to be true. Now if she could only get him that invested in someone else. That was tomorrow’s problem.

“You’ll have to talk about it. A proper sit down at least. And even then, he might still not drop it.” Sirius stared at her intently, “What are you so afraid of anyway? This might be a good thing.”

Hermione stared at the ruined tapestry. A single ember still glowed.

“Thanks, Black.”

“Anytime, Granger.”

*

The common room had considerably thinned out by the time they returned, limping slightly and resting on each other for support. Hermione had to plead their case to the Fat Lady, and by the time the portrait swung open, they were still breathless from laughter. It died quickly on their lips the moment they stepped inside.

James was waiting.

He was still waiting. He sat on the arm of the couch closest to the fire, still in his day clothes, foot bouncing in irritation. His head snapped up the second they entered. He leveled her with a stare that could freeze the black lake over.

 Hermione dusted off her clothes as much as she could and threw a sidelong glance at Sirius. He was already moving towards James. Sirius clasped a hand on James’s shoulder and bent to murmur something in his ear. James flinched, pulled back—then, after a beat, softened. He pulled Sirius in briefly, patting him once on the back.

Sirius turned to Hermione and offered a half grin, “Well. I’m off -  got a Moony to make up to.”

With that he bounded up the stairs. Hermione turned back to James and was once again faced with his steel stare.

She blinked, “I told you not to wait up”

He walked over slowly, assessing her up and down eyes resting on the ash and debris still clinging to her clothes, “You said okay.”

She raised a brow, “What?”

He continued, “Why’d you have to run off like that?”

“He was hurting.”

James raised his voice, “He could have hurt you!”

She kept her voice level, “I could handle it.”

James raked a hand through his hair, “Where even-” he broke off, tugging at her sleeve, “Merlin, Hermione, look at you. Where did you guys go anyway? You weren’t even on the bloody map.”

She pulled back her arm, “What’s the real problem here, James?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then, “He -He’s my best friend.”

Hermione frowned, “So?”

“So, my best friend comes storming out, violently slams doors open and the only person who can usually calm him down is standing – completely useless. I just-”

“And now you’re mad at me?”

James groaned. “Merlin, no!”

She waited for him to explain.

“He’s my best friend,” he said again, running both hands through his hair now, sending it in every direction. It was so Harry she had to look away.

“I know him better than anyone. I trust him with my life. But I saw him tonight and-”

He broke off, then stepped forward and threw his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.. She startled, pine invading her nostrils

“I didn’t know what he was going to do,” He murmured, low and rough. “I didn’t know if he’d listen to anyone, if he’s lash out. And then you just ran after him. No hesitation – just gone.”

His voice cracked, “You weren’t on the map. I couldn’t see you. I didn’t know what was happening and I thought the worst.”

Hermione opened her mouth, but he cut her off, softer now, “And that terrified me. I didn’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

He pulled back, and she saw the genuine fear in his eyes. “So yeah. I’m mad. But not at you. I’m just… I didn’t know how to not be scared.”

She pulled him in tighter. “I’m not going to apologise for caring,” she said. “But I am sorry for scaring you.”

He huffed a laugh, resting his chin lightly on her head, “You’re making it a habit.”

She cracked a smile, “Well, we’re all about setting precedents now, aren’t we?”

She regretted saying it immediately. Could see the spark in his eyes as he pulled back, and fixed her with a questioning glance. She stepped back entirely, putting as much distance between them as she could force herself to. He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off.

“No. We’ll talk. Just… not now,” she jerked her head towards the boys’ dorms. “Your best friend needs you.”

James sighed, glancing up the stairs, “Is he okay?”

Hermione moved around him, forcing herself up her own stairs, “Just go.”

Because she couldn’t bring herself to say yes. Sirius would be okay, for now. But one day he was going to be trapped in that drawing room, with no way left to destroy it. 

Chapter Text

22  January 1978, Sunday

Hermione was once again being dragged into something she would probably end up regretting.

Sirius corralled her from behind, shooing her through the hallways like she was a stubborn mule, “It’ll be fun.”

She tried planting her feet firm, “I highly doubt that.”

She had severely underestimated how much effect their Room of Requirement escapade would have on their bond, or rather how little space Sirius would give her afterwards.  On the one hand, it was perfect for delaying her talk with James, on the other it was an annoying wrench in her other plans.

He linked arms with her, propelling her forward again, “I solemnly swear that you will not face any consequences…hopefully.”

She scoffed, “As if. I am not scrubbing floors with you again.” She tried pulling free, “So I am decisively out.”

Sirius snorted, tightening his grip like a vice, “You say that now, but wait 'till you hear the plan. It involves enchanted mistletoe, a mild explosion, and Peter’s lovable terrified expression.”

“Are any of those supposed to get me excited?” she muttered but let him pull her along anyway.

They rounded the final corridor, and Sirius was already grinning, “James will be ecstatic. We never had a chance to use the mistletoe-” He broke off and gave Hermione a guilty look, “Sorry, Kitten, I don’t mean to make light of how December ended for you. But it did put our plans on hold a little.”

She rolled her eyes but said nothing.

Sirius pushed open the door to the Heads’ dorms, “Prongsie, boy! You’ll never guess what Granger wants to do-”

She went to protest, but it died on her lips as the air around them froze.

Lily’s voice sliced through the room like a blade, “Why are you always like this?”

James stood near the fireplace, flushed and irate, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Remus and Peter were sunk into the couch like they were trying to disappear into it, wide-eyed and stiff. Both of them looked up as the door swung open, and their eyes immediately darted in between the arriving party and the unhappy couple.

Hermione froze in the doorway. Sirius halted behind her mid-step, practically bumping into her. Her eyes flicked to Remus and Peter, silently asking what the hell.

Peter shook his head. Remus gave a small, helpless shrug.

James and Lily kept staring at each other. Neither had noticed their entrance yet. Sirius leaned toward Hermione and whispered, “Still think scrubbing floors was worse than this?”

She didn’t answer, her stomach had dropped down to her feet. This was not good.

Lily fired up again, “It’s one bloody day, Potter! Can’t you give up one precious day to do your job.”

James threw up his hands, “Lily, I told you – I can’t that night!”

Lily crossed her arms, “You can’t or you won’t? Because it’s getting hard to tell the difference.”

“For Merlin’s sake, it’s one night. Can you stop riding me about it?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” She snapped, voice rising even higher, “I thought being Head Boy meant something to you. I thought you were serious about responsibility for once, but clearly, it’s still just a badge you like flashing around when it’s convenient.”

James let out an exasperated breath, “It’s the full moon, Lily.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, and she dared a glance at Remus. He was trying to become one with the couch with a faint flush rising to his cheeks.

“The full…seriously? He can’t go without you for one full moon?”

Hermione felt instinct kick in, she stepped forward immediately as if to shield Remus from the onslaught, “That’s uncalled for.”

Lily turned to her so fast she nearly flinched, before swinging back on James, “She knows?” Lily turned to Remus and her expression slightly softened, anger dissipating, and repeated softly, “She knows?”

Hermione sucked in a breath. Shit.

James stepped forward, clearly still angry, “So what, Lily? What does it matter? At least she seems to care about it.” No, no, no. Decisively not what she was going for.

Lily took a step back, like the air had been knocked from her lungs. “It took you years to finally confide in me.”

“No one told me,” Hermione said quickly trying to diffuse the bomb she had just blown up. Mild explosion avoided, big one set off instead.

“Lily, wait,” James started, stepping toward her.

But she was already backing away. “Don’t. Just—don’t. I need air.”

And with that, she spun on her heel and disappeared, barreling through Hermione and Sirius to get to the door.

Sirius let out a low whistle, “Well. That went well. Shall we all just pretend she stormed out because of my overwhelming charm?”

*

They sat in silence around the dying fire, no one had said a word since Lily stormed off.

Hermione sat tense next to James, who was leaning on his thighs and tapping his foot anxiously. She sidled up to him, “I’m sorry for getting involved.”

He broke his dead eyed stare to give her a small smile, “Not your fault.”

Across from them, Remus stared blankly into the hearth, his cheeks still tinged with humiliation, while Peter looked between them all as if waiting for permission to breathe.

And then, blessedly, Sirius cleared his throat.

“Well,” he said, slapping his hands against his knees and rising to his feet. “That was horrifying.”

No one responded. Sirius sighed.

“Right. This won’t do.” He crossed to the far side of the common room and dropped to his knees behind an old, crooked armchair. With dramatic flair, he reached under it and pulled out a dusty bottle with a faded label. He held it up like a trophy.

“Gentlemen. Lady. I propose we let firewhiskey do what emotional maturity has clearly failed at tonight.”

Remus raised an eyebrow without turning his head. “When did you stash that?”

“I’ve had this little baby here since start of the term,” Sirius said, already unscrewing the cap, “Sorry, Prongs. I don’t mean to redecorate your living quarters, but the house elves got into my last two.”

Peter gave a weak laugh. James finally looked up. Hermione shook her head but didn’t object when Sirius handed her a chipped mug and poured a splash of amber liquid into it.

“Cheers,” Sirius muttered, lifting his own drink toward the fire. “To secrets, scars, and spectacular disasters.”

“To honesty,” Remus added dryly, lifting his cup with a hint of irony.

“To Lily not hexing my bollocks off tomorrow,” James muttered into his drink.

Hermione clinked her cup softly against James’s. “To tomorrow,” she said quietly. Tomorrow. She'd fix this - somehow - tomorrow. 

The firewhiskey did its job.

The tension softened, and by the time the bottle had made two full rounds, Remus was no longer staring into the void, Peter was hiccupping with quiet fits of giggles, and James had relaxed enough to kick his feet up onto the table, finally leaning back into the cushions.

Somewhere along the way they had picked up on a game.

“Never have I ever been caught snogging by a Professor.”

Hermione’s eyes widened when Remus tilted back his glass, but narrowed immediately when Sirius didn’t.

Sirius raised his hand solemnly, “Scout’s honour.”

Peter hiccupped again, “You were never a scout.”

“Semantics,” Sirius grinned. He raised his glass. “Never have I ever snogged someone on a broom.”

Hermione blinked. “That’s oddly specific.”

James took a sip, smirking. “What can I say, flying’s romantic.”

“Oh my God,” Hermione groaned.

Peter followed with a small sip, blushing furiously, “It was an accident.”

“How do you accidentally—” Remus started, then shook his head. “Nope. Never mind. Don’t want to know.”

On it went. Remus revealed he had once stolen a professor’s socks on a dare (McGonagall’s). Sirius proudly admitted to sneaking into Filch’s office to set off a dung bomb. James got tipsier with each round, Hermione’s eyes narrowing every time he drank and she didn’t.

“Alright,” she said eventually, pointing a finger at Sirius. “Never have I ever got my friends into detention on purpose.”

Sirius lifted his glass proudly. “Twice last month alone. Sorry Pete.” He added with a smile at Peter, who shrugged slightly. “Never have I ever set fire to a Professor.”

Hermione drained her own glass. They all turned to stare.

“What?” she said. “It was for a good reason, at the time.” She said the last bit under her breath, trying not to think about the fact that she was a hair’s breadth away from unknowingly getting her future Professor back for almost killing her.

“I’m oddly proud,” James said with a crooked grin.

Eventually, the bottle was mostly dry, their cheeks were flushed. Sirius pulled out another – this one hidden in James’s sock drawer to a chorus of “How did I not notice that?” and groans from the rest.

Hermione glanced at the clock on the mantle and groaned. “We are so going to regret this tomorrow.”

“We have Defense first thing,” Peter groaned. “I’m gonna die.”

Remus rubbed his face. “Try having a hangover and a full moon in the same week.”

James leaned sideways into Hermione, just enough for his shoulder to press against hers. “Worth it though, yeah?”

She gave a crooked smile, head buzzing and inhibitions nowhere to be found. “Yeah,” she said. “Stupid. But worth it.”

Sirius was already lying across the rug, mumbling something about “bloody red head tempers” while Peter tried to coax him up with half a biscuit.

Hermione joined him on the floor, fighting off the tiredness that had settled in her bones. She was leaning against James’s legs, her own stretched out in front of her. Her head was spinning as she looked down to the last sip of amber liquid in her cup.

Peter started inexplicably doing an impression of Slughorn – a spot on one, at that – when the door opened. Lily stepped into the common room, eyes red rimmed and hair disheveled.

The laughter died quickly. Hermione hoped the floor would suck her up.

James sprang to his feet, almost knocking her completely over. She caught herself but sent a splash of firewhiskey onto the very expensive looking carpet.

Lily scoffed, “And here I was, coming to apologise.”

James started, “Lily-”

She cut him off, “I was out of line. I realise that. But then I walk in here-” Hermione’s eyes followed to where she was gesturing. Empty glasses scattered across the table, Remus rubbing his temples, Peter hiccupping into a cushion. She winced. “-and this is what I find.”

James made a move to go to her, but stumbled over Hermione’s legs and nearly colliding with the coffee table. Hermione buried her face in her hands.

Lily’s face fell, “I’ll see you in the morning.”  She cast one last unreadable look to Hermione, then she left again, closing the door much softer this time.

Sirius cleared his throat, “Even I can’t save this one, lads.”

Hermione conceded that fact. Still perched on the floor, she watched the world crumble around her.

Remus stood up, “Well. I’ve suddenly remembered I need to be literally anywhere else.”

Peter scrambled after him, “Yup. Me too.”

Sirius got dragged out, unceremoniously and unconventionally. Remus under one arm and Peter tugging at the other. He managed one last meaningful look over his shoulder at Hermione and James, waggling his eyebrows before his head lolled dramatically to the side as he was yanked through the door. Hermione suppressed an untimely giggle, biting down on her lip.

James sank on to the floor slowly, so close to Hermione that all she had to do was straighten her legs again and her foot would be rubbing against his shin. Inhibitions still missing, that’s exactly what she did.

“Well, shit.” James said, staring back into the fire’s dying embers.

Hermione hummed, “Double shit.”

James turned to her, reaching over to pluck the cup from her hand and knocked back the last drops, “Can’t hurt now.”

She watched his throat as he swallowed. The slope of his neck. The strong lines of his jaw. She shook her head, but all that did was made the room spin.

She tried getting up but fell back down again. James laughed. Steadying her with a hand. Her eyes darted between his hand on her shoulder, and his face. Hermione was suddenly acutely aware of the heat radiating off him, the closeness of him. She didn’t think. Or maybe she did. Whichever one it was, she leaned in.

Their lips met softly, unlike the first time. This was soft. Quiet.  James leaned into it like he’d been waiting for it, one hand rising to cup the side of her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. She let her fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt.

He lifted her, pulling her legs to either side of his and the kiss turned deeper. Hands locked her thighs in, just enough pressure to make her aware. Heat rushed to her head, and down to just behind her ribs. But then a thought formed, like a dousing of cold water. Inhibitions found.

She pulled back, “Wait. No.” James immediately stopped, hands loosening without letting go.

She cleared her throat, but didn’t trust her legs enough to get up yet. “I should..I should go.”

Even as she said it, she dropped her forehead to his shoulder.

His hand came up to rub comforting circles over her back, “Stay.”

A long pause. “Okay.”

***

23  January 1978, Monday

The first thing Hermione noticed when she woke up was that her head was killing her. The second thing she noticed was warmth – too much of it.

The soft light of morning filtered through windows. Her head throbbed like a hippogriff got stuck behind her eyes, and was now trying to kick its way out. Her mouth was dry, and tasted like regret and sand.

Then she registered the weight across her waist. A warm arm. Her eyes snapped open. She was in bed – his bed. She bolted upright, sending a jolt of pain through her skull. James’s arm fell softly to the bed. She flung off the sheets, letting out a relieved sigh when she was thankfully still fully dressed. Gods, imagine – nope. She was not going there.  

He'd carried her here. Yes, it was slowly coming back. Merlin.

She stared at his sleeping face, regret pooling in her stomach. Without his glasses – his face was softer. His lashes were longer than she realised. Her hand moved on its own accord – brushing a thumb gently across his cheekbone. And then the door creaked.

She flinched back like she’d been caught red-handed. 

“Bloody-” she started, but stopped as Remus stepped inside.

He blinked once at the sight but didn’t comment. Only held out a bundle of neatly folded clothes – her uniform.

“Morning,” he said dryly. “Thought you might need this.”

Hermione gaped, “H- How?”

Remus shrugged, “Peter. Snuck in and out before anyone woke up. Class begins in thirty minutes.”

Hermione dropped her face into her hands with a groan.

Remus smirked, setting the clothes gently on the bed, “Headache?” she barely managed a nod. He wordlessly tossed her a vial, the liquid inside the tell-tale green of a hangover potion.

Hermione uncorked it as fast as it landed in her lap “You’re a saint.”

She sighed as the headache faded to a dull throb, “I think I died somewhere between ‘never have I ever kissed a teacher’ and Sirius trying to convince the armchair to dance with him.”

“That tracks,” He started backing toward the door. “You better get dressed here, and wake up Sleeping Beauty there." He tossed a look at James, "If you’re feeling generous.”

Then, as there was no privacy to speak of in the open plan connected bathroom, he left her to her own devices.

She wasted no time getting up and running for the sink for a splash of water against her face. She stared at herself in the mirror, and winced. Her hair was a birds’ nest again, and her eyes were slightly bloodshot from lack of sleep. She made quick work of getting dressed, pausing every time James rustled the sheets or made a noise.

Hermione faced the sink again, and started rummaging for his Sleakeazy’s. Behind her, the bed creaked.

She turned just in time to see James stretch, long limbs reaching toward the headboard, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. He groaned as he rolled onto his side and blinked blearily up at her.

“Merlin’s balls,” he croaked, squinting against the light. “Did we get trampled by a herd of rampaging centaurs last night?”

Hermione crossed her arms, suddenly very uncertain of every movement, “Close. Just firewhiskey and bad decisions.”

Even in his dishevelled state, he managed a sly smirk, “Not all were bad decisions.”

She was about to retort – what, she didn’t know. That it couldn’t happen again? Been there, said that, failed spectacularly - but the sharp click of the outer door swinging open cut her off.

Hermione’s eyes widened, “Is that-?”

“Lily,” James said, instantly alert.

Hermione scrambled to grab her shoes, “This looks bad. Really bad.”

James was already rolling off the bed, moving with surprising speed for someone still half-asleep and hungover. “No, no, no, we are not doing this today.”

He dove for his trunk, yanked it open and started rifling through it, “Here.” He shoved a bundle of glittering fabric towards her.

She recognised it immediately but feigned ignorance, “What-?”

James interrupted, throwing it over her, “Just-” he broke off as the footsteps outside got closer. “Hide,”  he whispered.

A knock. James gave Hermione’s invisible spot one last frazzled glance before walking to the door.

Lily stood awkwardly in the doorway, fist still raised. Hermione watched as she took in the room – the bed. Clearly searching for something. Hermione cast a careful glance to where she stashed her clothes, luckily still hidden.

James flopped dramatically back into bed, tugging the blanket back up to his chin just as Lily finally stepped through.

“You look like hell.”

James folded his arms over his eyes, “Good morning to you too.”

Hermione winced at the animosity. She pressed her back against the wall, willing herself smaller.

“Whatever,” Lily scoffed, already turning away. “Try to act like a functioning Head Boy, would you?”

Then she was gone again, the door swinging shut behind her.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief and pulled the cloak off. James sat up slowly, looking at her with a crooked grin.

She looked back down at the cloak, “Pretty handy thing to have.”

“That old thing? Just a party trick,” He made to grab it from her, but she yanked it out of his reach.

 “Hey!” He protested.

Her turn to grin, “I think I’ll hold on to it for now.” She swept it over herself again as James laughed, swiping at the air like he might catch her by luck

“You better get dressed,” her voice teased from nowhere. “You’re definitely late for class.”

He chased after her voice into the common room, and she heard him shouting her name in amusement as she slipped out of the door into the busy hallway unseen.

Chapter Text

24  January 1978, Tuesday

“But how did you make it to class yesterday?”

Hermione sighed, turning back to her food, “I don’t know what to tell you, Marlene. You guys were still dead to the world when I left the dorm.”

Mary slid onto the bench beside her, “You weren’t there when we finally went to bed and weren’t there when we woke up. Sorry for being a bit sceptical, did you even sleep?”

Marlene snorted and said past a mouth full of shepherd’s pie, “Sure didn’t look like it. Death warmed over, I tell you.”

Mary huffed, “Still got every question Mirfield threw at us right.”

“Reflex,” Hermione said simply, shovelling another bite off her plate to keep from having to say more.

Marlene opened her mouth to press further, as she had done since Hermione had shown up in Defense the previous day with no solid explanation on how or why she had skipped breakfast and made it to class on time. But she stopped short as Lily pushed away from the far side of the table and sent a jug tumbling over.

Lily passed by them, giving the group a tight lipped smile. Mary gave a small awkward wave.

Marlene’s smirk vanished. “She stayed with us Sunday night,” she murmured. “Came in around midnight. Wouldn’t stop crying.”

Mary frowned, following Lily with her gaze. “Wouldn’t say what happened, either. Just kept muttering about James being impossible.”

Hermione’s grip on her fork tightened slightly.

Marlene quipped, “I never know what’s going on with those two.”

Hermione’s throat went dry. Guilt flared sharp in her chest. She gave a small nod of agreement, but kept her gaze fixed on her plate.

Mary put a hand on her arm, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Hermione replied. “Just… a lot on my mind.”

The conversation drifted to other things, but when Mary excused herself to go work on a Herbology essay, Marlene turned back with a sharper look. Hermione gave her an uneasy smile but Marlene’s face didn’t soften.

“You see, Lily stayed with us. In your bed.” Hermione stilled.

 Marlene continued, “So I know for a fact you didn’t sneak in and out.”

Hermione started, “Marlene-”

Marlene held up a hand, “I don’t want to hear it. Just – be careful.” Then she stood and walked out of the Great Hall without another word.

Hermione nodded. A stone lodged where her stomach used to be.

*

Hermione stood at her usual spot by the Astronomy Tower railing. She smiled when she saw the stag breaking free from the tree line.

She whirled, wand up, when a scuffling of shoes on stone sounded behind her.

“Woah,” Lily said, hands up. “I come in peace.”

Hermione lowered her wand. Lily stepped up beside her, leaning her arms on the railing. Hermione watched her silently.

Lily looked out at the forest with a whimsical smile, “Sometimes it still blows my mind what magic is capable of.”

Hermione hummed in quiet agreement but said nothing.

After a moment, Lily glanced over. “I was wrong. So wrong. I know that. I- I honestly don’t know what got into me.”

Hermione gave a small knowing smile, “It’s hard sometimes, to see past the moment.” She nodded to the forest, where a howl and a bark echoed on the grounds, “But there’s always a bigger picture.”

Lily smiled sadly, “Still. I wasn’t wrong about everything. James is still immature, not to mention the allergy to responsibility he seems afflicted with.”

Hermione bit her lip, weighing her options, then – “I don’t know. You know how much discipline it takes to become and animagus?”

Lily’s brow furrowed as she nodded.

“Well. He did that. All because he found out his friend was suffering.”

Lily turned to Hermione, “How did you find out?”

“My first full moon here at Hogwarts – I found myself wandering the grounds.” The truth and a lie, “James got me to safety.”

Lily’s eyes suddenly widened, dawning on some understanding, “That’s why you two got so close so fast.”

Hermione frowned, “What?”

Lily gave a small, wistful smile, “He’s always looking for someone to save.”

Hermione had nothing to say to that. They stood there in silence, shoulders almost touching, watching four wild boys run free in the dark.

***

25  January 1978, Wednesday

The hospital wing was still and quiet, except for the low, rhythmic complaining of Remus Lupin.

Hermione tutted as she lifted his arm, “What’s the story this time? Wrestled a Hungarian horntail?”

“I have flashes of fighting a crazed black dog. Unfair, though,” Remus said, wincing as she applied a cooling charm. “Barely a scratch on Padfoot.”  

 “That’s because Padfoot doesn’t have skin that bruises like fruit left in the sun.”

He snorted, flinching as she gently adjusted his arm. “Fruit, is it now? I’d have thought at least a noble peach.”

Hermione shook her head, lips twisting, “Hold still.”

Despite his protests, Remus didn’t resist. She worked quickly, efficiently, murmuring charms as her fingers moved with familiar precision. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

“How’d you get so good at healing, anyway? You never told me.”

Her movements stilled.  She shut that part of her mind off, swift and deft. Slamming a lock on the thoughts before they came spiralling out.

Remus sensed her shift and cleared his throat, “So. Are we going to talk about you and James?”

Hermione continued her wand movements down his side. “Nope.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“Not even a syllable.”

Remus racked one eye open, giving her a pointed look. “Something happened.”

“Maybe.”

“Oh, come on. You’re not even denying it.”

“I’m denying that we need to have this conversation while you’re half-naked and covered in bite marks.”

Remus chuckled, wincing halfway through. “You’re dodging.”

“And you’re bleeding.”

That earned her a full grin, albeit a tired one. “Fine. I’ll let it go. For now.”

Hermione set his arm down softly on the bed and bent over to rummage through her bag. Remus perked up immediately. She laughed, tossing the chocolate bar on his lap.

“Take it easy today,” She said while grabbing her things and turning to walk away.

“If you insist,” Remus said, already unwrapping the chocolate. She sent him a last warning look over her shoulder, and he relented with a serious nod, “I’ll be good.”

Satisfied with his answer, she walked out of the hospital room to leave him and his chocolate to their love affair.

*

Hermione sat stiffly in Defence Against the Dark Arts, her hands pinned beneath her legs in a desperate attempt not to pull her hair out large chunks at a time.

The front row of the classroom was rife with tension, as James and Lily sat only a desk apart yet still refused to even look at each other. It was the beginning of the school year all over again, only this time she knew exactly why they weren’t speaking. And it somehow all came down to her.

Hermione let her forehead fall with a soft thud onto her textbook. The cover was cold against her skin, and it gave a slight relief to the building headache that threatened behind her eyes.

A pointed throat-clearing shattered her spiraling thoughts. She looked up slowly, a slight heat crawling up her neck.

 “Yes, Professor?”

Professor Mirfield stood before her desk, arms folded, the unimpressed expression on his face a perfect match for his bristling eyebrows, “Defensive spells causing you this much anguish, Miss Granger?”

Sniggers filled the classroom.

She straightened, dislodging her hands to brush a stray curl behind her ear, “Uh, not at all, Professor.”  

Truthfully, she didn’t even know what the class had been about.

“Excellent,” Mirfield said with a dry smile. “Then you won’t mind giving us the first demonstration.”

Hermione craned her neck past him. t the front of the room stood a single, unadorned training dummy. She paled.

Sirius took pity on her. He leaned over from the desk beside hers, covering his mouth with his hand in a feigned yawn, “Just hex it.”  The whispered command was followed by a subtle gesture for her to get up.

With a tight-lipped smile, she slipped out from behind her desk, weaving between rows as students turned to watch. She ignored the sneering of the students in green.

She planted her feet firmly and shot a simple stinging hex square at the dummy’s chest. It dissipated out in a flurry of red sparks, and for a moment nothing happened, until –

“Holy-!” Only reflex had Hermione throwing up a protego and ducking as the spell shot straight back towards her. Sparks flew, the shield cracked, and she dropped low, heart hammering in her ears as the classroom erupted into laughter.

“Well, Miss Granger,” Professor Mirfield’s voice called out, now with real amusement, “now that you know what the demonstration is, mind trying again? Something stronger this time. Today’s lesson, as you’ve no doubt discovered, is defense against the counterattack.”

Hermione nodded, jaw clenched.  She reset her stance, cast a stronger hex, and this time met the ricochet with a smooth parry.  She was ready this time, and as it came bouncing back she deflected. The spell snapped back toward the dummy. Again it returned, faster this time.

It started a sequence of events she would later regret. She entered a makeshift duel, deflecting and redirecting her own curse over and over. She danced through it, almost enjoying herself as a small smile threatened to tug on her mouth.

Mirfield barked encouragement from the sidelines. “Keep it going!”

In her periphery she saw the faint shimmer of the protective barrier between her and the rest of the class. But right above it’s edge -  just a small shift in the ceiling beam. Her breath caught as an idea started to form.  James is always looking for someone to save.

As the spell rebounded once more, she made her decision.

Layering a silent bombarda beneath the returning hex, she twisted mid-cast, faking a stumble and dropping hard to the floor. Her shield flickered - just enough to let the blast redirect upward.

The ceiling groaned as her spell hit its mark.

Gasps rang out. Desks scraped back. Students dove for cover.

Hermione flinched on instinct but kept her eyes locked on Lily, right beneath the falling debris. Go to her, she begged silently.

James shot up immediately.

Only he didn’t run to Lily. He lunged for her.

James crashed down beside Hermione, shielding her with his body as stone pelted the floor around them. His arms wrapped around her, his wand gripped tightly in one hand above her head.

When the dust settled he pulled back and gave her a worried once over, “You okay?”

She nodded numbly, looking over his shoulder just in time to see a bright, precise shimmer of light cutting the dust over Lily’s head. Someone else had shielded her.

Hermione turned her head.

Snape’s wand was still raised, his expression unreadable. Her heart dropped.

James helped her to her feet, brushing plaster off her sleeve with a crooked grin. “Some stinging hex you’ve got there,” he said, adjusting his glasses.

And her stomach, the traitorous thing, fluttered.

She dropped her head again in silent resignation.

Shit.

***

27  January 1978, Friday

The castle was silent. The stillness of night only broken by the occasional snore from a portrait’s inhabitant.

Hermione crept through the corridor, beneath the invisibility cloak she had yet to return. Tucked securely under her arm was the Marauder’s map. James had been in a state looking for it all week, not knowing she had nicked it after waking up from their drunken night. At least something useful came from that terrible decision.

She ghosted silently down the stairs, ignoring the way her breath clouded in the chilly night air. She ducked behind a statue, crouching to pull out the map and her wand. She hovered the tip over the parchment, and watched as the tiny dot labeled Severus Snape moved steadily closer.

Hermione waited until he rounded the corner. Until his footsteps slowed and hesitated. Then, swiftly, she tucked the cloak and map into her beaded bag and stepped out of the shadows.

Her wand pressed firmly between his shoulder blades.

“Why are you following me?”

Snape stiffened, but didn’t turn. “Granger.”

She stepped around him, wand never wavering, until his face caught in the glow of her lit wand. He blinked against the harsh light.

“You’ve been following me. For days now.” It wasn’t a question, but the implication was there.

Ever since getting the map, she routinely checked to see his name hovering close. Following, and lurking when she would most appreciate going completely unnoticed. It was how she got him into the hallway, walking openly from the library, slipping under the cloak in a blind alcove, and drawing him away from the few remaining students still awake.

His face remained impassive, “How?”

She scoffed. “You’re not half as subtle as you think you are.”

He raised a brow, slow and deliberate. “Neither are you.”

Hermione faltered, but recovered herself before she could ask exactly what he meant.

“Just tell me why,” she said, angling her wand beneath his chin, “ and maybe I’ll spare your important bits.”

He tilted his head up. “You’re a mystery,” he said coldly. “I don’t like mysteries.”

She pressed harder. He sneered.

“I like facts, Granger. And here’s one: you shouldn’t be as skilled as you are. Another: you deliberately redirected that curse in class. And lastly, you’ve gotten awfully cozy with the riff-raff and half-breeds in this castle.”

She bristled at the slur, tempted to let her wand do the talking, instead she sliced him open with her words, “Here’s another fact for you. Lily doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

It hit the mark. He reeled back, façade dropping, “That has nothing to do with you.”

She smiled, an ugly menacing smile. “Oh on the contrary.” She stepped forward again, “You think I don’t know who you are, what you are?”

Hermione flicked a pointed look towards his left forearm.

His jaw twitched, “You know nothing.”

Her smile vanished

“I know one thing about you that even you don’t, Severus Snape.” Her voice dripped in ice, “One day, you’ll realise what you’ve done. And it will be too late. So make it easier now, and just stay the hell away.”

Snape standing in front of the Great Hall as headmaster. A lifeless body at Voldemort’s feet. A  silver doe flickering through the forest. Hermione shook her head. Clearing the flashes away.

“Stay away. From me, and especially from Lily.”

Snape gave a thin, cruel smile, “Or what? Your precious Potter won’t be around forever to protect you.”

Her blood ran cold.

“What did you do?”

He turned calmly, stepping away from her wand, “While you and I have had this delightful conversation, I’ve sent Avery and Mulciber to pay him a visit.”

“No.” Her heart dropped and her hand itched to reach for the map to confirm. Instead she called his bluff, “You’re lying.”

His voice dropped low, “You think you have the upper hand. But you don't belong here, Granger. And if you keep meddling, you’ll find out how much worse that can get.”

She didn’t want to hear another word. Dropping her wand, she spun on her heel and ran. Feet pounding and her breath coming out hot and fast. She didn’t care. Didn’t care about leaving Snape in the shadows. Didn’t care about portraits grumbling awake from her thundering past, some swearing and shouting for her to slow down.

Her bag thudded against her side as she turned corners blindly, the layout of the castle a blur. All she could think about was James.

"I’ve sent Avery and Mulciber to pay him a visit."

She felt like throwing up by the time she reached the entrance to the Head dorms. She swore, loudly, when her wand caught on her sleeve. She finally tapped the Hogwarts crest on the door, and it swung open with a quiet groan.

She stumbled through the common room, straight to his bedroom door, and yanked it open.

“James?”

He was there.

Alone.

Thank Merlin.

He lounged in bed, shirtless and in his flannel pyjama bottoms. Candlelight flickered across his glasses as he looked up, startled.

“Hermione?”

She scanned the room once, just to be sure. Before sagging in relief against the door, closing it with a soft click. Her chest heaved, lungs still burning.

He was up in a heartbeat, the book tumbled to the floor forgotten. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

Her mouth opened, but no sound came. She stepped forward on legs that weren’t entirely hers. She buckled slightly, and James crossed the room quickly. Steadying her with strong hands on her arms.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured. “Hermione, what happened?”

She shook her head, and tried to pull away but his grip held firm.

His voice was soft though, “Nightmare?”

She closed her eyes, and begged for silent forgiveness as she lied with a jerky nod.

He pulled her in, and the heat from his chest enveloped her in rebellious familiarity.

“Come,” he whispered softly. “Let’s get you in bed.”

She found her voice, “Okay.”

She allowed herself to be led around like a small child, following instructions all while her head was turning in record speed.

 He led her gently across the room, guiding her through soft steps and unspoken understanding. In the bathroom, he handed her a soft shirt and flannel bottoms—another pair. Seriously, she thought numbly, how many does he own?

She changed quietly while he turned away, giving her privacy.

Snape bluffed.

She pulled the shirt over her head, shaking fingers running through her hair.

He knew exactly what would make her run

She padded over to the bed and curled up into the covers. Snape held out the perfect bait for her, and like an idiot – she took it.

And as Hermione felt James’s arm snake around her, she had one last thought. Pretend propriety. She convinced herself that she only stayed because there could still be a threat. Even as she drifted off into the most peaceful sleep since the last time she had found herself in his bed, she told herself it was a necessary precaution.

Chapter Text

28  January 1978,  Saturday

James rubbed his gloved hands together, breath fogging in front of him as followed the rest of the Gryffindor quidditch team off the pitch toward hopefully warmer pastures.

Sirius jogged to catch up, broom slung over his shoulder. “Next time, maybe don’t schedule practice at dawn, you bloody sadist.”

It was followed by an overdramatised chattering of teeth that had James rolling his eyes. “Want to take over captaincy?”

Sirius shot him a look. “Maybe I should. You good, Prongsie?”

James hiked his broom higher up his shoulder, refusing to acknowledge Sirius. He knew exactly how utterly horrible he’d played. Missed catches, fumbled passes, getting clipped by bludgers and nearly falling off his broom. Every. Single. Time.

Sirius bumped his shoulder, “I’m not a shit beater, mate. But you’re usually better at dodging.”

James groaned. “Can we not relive it?”

“Fine,” Sirius said, and James braced for an even worse topic of conversation. “Let’s talk about something entirely unrelated. I caught Granger sneaking back into the dorms this morning, any idea where she might have been coming from?”

James stumbled.

Sirius grinned, “Ah. No idea at all I see.”

“I -,” James cut off, suddenly aware of how close people were to them. He reached out and yanked Sirius back with a harsh tug, pulling them both to a stop.

Once the rest of the team had moved out of earshot, James muttered, “It’s not like that.”

Sirius did not let the shit-eating grin fall from his face, “Like what, exactly?”

James dropped his head back with a groan, “Like anything. She had another nightmare.”

“Uh huh,” Sirius said. “And she just happened to have your trousers on when she woke up?”

“What was I supposed to do? Let her sleep in denim?”

Sirius wiggled his eyebrows, “Did you let her sleep at all?”

James shoved him, “You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best,” Sirius said cheerfully, then dropped the smile slightly. “But seriously… is she alright?”

James hesitated.

“She’s…I don’t know. She won’t talk to me about it.”

Sirius whistled, “Enigma that one.”

James nodded in agreement. “I saw something, I… I can’t explain it.”

Sirius hesitated, something James rarely saw him do. Usually he had a quip ready for about any situation. It didn’t sit well with him at all, “I’m guessing you’ve seen it too?”

Sirius gave him a scrutinising look, “Scar?”

James nodded, “She was still asleep when I left, I didn’t want to disturb her and…and I saw it.”

James conveniently left out the part where he was stroking a finger down her shoulder, unable to get himself to leave for a good ten minutes, however when the jagged letters on her forearm caught his eye – he was out the door before he could do something incredibly stupid.

“Pads, are there really people out there who would do something like that to someone?”

Sirius kicked at the ground, “There are a handful of people I know capable of something like that. I grew up with them.”

James swallowed, hard. “I just wish she’d say something. Anything really.”

Sirius’s eyes clouded over, “Merlin, Prongs. Things like that aren’t…easy. Bloody hell, it took me years to confide in you. We’ll just have to figure things out slowly, from what she’s willing to share.” 

He suddenly swung on James, dropping his broom on the ground. Hands gripped his shoulders and James was forced to stare into the dark and very serious eyes of his friend.

“Don’t push. That’s the worst thing you can do. Just…don’t be so James about it.”

James bristled, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, dropping his hands and picking up his broom again. “You know.”

James relented, “Fine.”

They walked in silence for a while, until Sirius suddenly regained a concerning bounce in his step,

 “So…” he said casually

James groaned for what felt like the millionth time that morning “So...?”

Sirius twirled, batting his eyelashes, “You snogged the girl?”

“I – what – how?”

“You don’t know how to snog by now, mate?” Sirius cut in, mock-concerned. “Merlin, do we need to go over our lessons again?”

James blanched, “She told you?”

Sirius nodded gravely. “Dark day, Prongs. When I have to find out my best mate’s gone and kissed a girl… from the girl herself.”

James, “I – we, I mean we were drunk, and Lily had just gone bonkers-”

Sirius gasped, in genuine delight, “You mean it happened again? ”

Shit. “Maybe.”

Sirius clapped him on the shoulder with a devilish grin. “I’m rooting for this.”

“For what?” said a new voice.

They both turned to see Remus and Peter standing just outside the castle entrance. Peter was shivering dramatically, arms wrapped tight around himself, while Remus stood with his arms crossed and one brow already arched.

James shot Sirius a warning glance, silently promising him a world of hurt if he dared to answer Peter’s question.

Instead, Sirius threw an arm around Peter’s shoulder, “A new dawn, Wormtail. A new day.”

James watched helplessly as his friends disappeared through the castle doors—backs to him, their laughter echoing off the stone.

And in a rare occurrence, James Potter had absolutely no idea what to do next.

*

Hermione was tucked into a settee in a dark corner of the common room. Nose buried in another dusty restricted book. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of a nearby fire blazing. So far her morning had been safe. Quiet. Blessedly Marauder-free.

So naturally, Sirius Black appeared out of nowhere and flopped down beside her.

“Wotcher, Granger.”

She groaned.

“That’s no way to greet a friend,” he said breezily. “ I’ll schedule another manners lesson this week.”

She didn’t look up. “Shove off.”

“Not a chance. You’re avoiding me,” he said cheerfully. “Which, frankly, hurts.”

She wasn’t avoiding him personally, but it was a welcome bonus

“What do you want?”

He leaned back, long legs stretched out and crossed his arms casually behind his head. “So, kissed him again, did you?”

Her book nearly tumbled to the floor from the force of her startled jerk, “I – what – how?”

Sirius looked positively delighted, “Godric, you two are made for each other.”

She flushed. Horribly. “What – no, stop. Stop.” She swatted at him as he reached out to pinch her cheek. “What are you doing?”

“This is called teasing, love.” He laughed when she reached for her wand and immediately raised his hands in surrender, “Alright! But seriously, you have to keep me in the loop now. You know, in case I need time to write a wedding toast.”

Hermione felt all the blood drain from her face. “Please shut up. It didn’t mean anything.”

Sirius scoffed, “Sure. Let’s go with that…for now.”

“It didn’t,” she insisted, even as her thoughts screamed the opposite. “Look, it’s not happening again so there’s nothing to keep you in the loop on.”

Sirius pouted, “But why?”

“It can’t happen.”

When Sirius didn’t let up with his prying eyes she grabbed for the first plausible explanation that came to mind, “It’s just… not right. For either of us.”

Sirius, the ever insightful bastard, seemed to grab onto the subtext immediately, “Is this about Lily?’

Hermione faltered, but tried to play it off with a noncommittal shrug.

Sirius clapped a hand on her shoulder, “Look, I’m not trying to pry. James is a great bloke but he’s not built for patience or subtlety. So whatever it is, just make sure he gets at least a chance to prove you wrong.”

Hermione clenched her jaw, “It’s not supposed to be me.”

Sirius was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice had gentled.

“How can you be sure?” Oh, she was sure. Completely sure. But that wasn’t a truth he needed to carry.

She picked her book back up, willing the conversation to end.

But he wasn’t finished. “There’s one more thing you should know.”

She was about to tell him to bugger off again, but when she looked over and saw the intense look he was giving her she leaned over.

“He – uh,” Sirius cleared his throat, looking around subtly. “He saw.”

Hermione’s brows drew together in confusion, but when Sirius threw a pointed look at her arm, realisation dawned. She gave a crisp nod and instinctively drew her sleeve down over her wrist.

“I won’t tell you what to do, but it might warrant a conversation.”

She felt her anger bubbling, “I don’t have to tell anyone anything.”

Sirius didn’t react to her tone, “I know. But sometimes, it helps.”

He threw her a last small smile, before standing up and disappearing from view. Hermione watched him go, before dropping her head back and closing her eyes.

*

The Great Hall buzzed with the usual evening chatter, clinks of cutlery, bursts of laughter, the faint scent of roast chicken and treacle tart hovering over the room. Hermione sat between Marlene and Mary, as they rehashed the Quidditch gossip from the morning’s practice.

She nodded along, laughing in the right places. But her back was stiff, upright and tense.

Because James Potter was staring at her arm. Again.

Not constantly, he was more tactful than that,  but every few minutes she felt the weight of his gaze.

He was seated diagonally across from her, between Sirius and Remus, who were engaged in a heated debate over something likely ridiculous. James didn’t appear to be listening. Every time she dared glance up, his eyes flicked away — not fast enough.

She tucked her left arm beneath the table.

“I’ve never felt more vindicated in a decision in my life. Imagine! Getting up at the crack of dawn to throw some balls around,” Marlene said, jabbing a fork toward Mary’s plate.

Hermione blinked, and forced herself back into the conversation, “What do you mean?”

Mary smiled sweetly at Hermione, even while trying to guard her food, “Oh Marlene used to play! Gave the boys a run for their galleons.”

Hermione blinked at Marlene, “Seriously?”

“Had to show them how it’s done,” Marlene sniffed, pleased. “But I had to get away from all that smell of boy.”

Hermione nodded, trying to focus. But her eyes betrayed her, she glanced up and caught him in the act. Only this time, he didn’t look away. Seconds passed. Neither of them moved. Just a quiet, wordless connection across the table.

“Oi, Hermione!”

She flinched, eyes finally breaking away.  Lily was across the table, a few seats down, parchment in hand and quill tucked behind one ear.

Lily smiled at her brightly, and Hermione’s chest tightened.

 “Just wondering if you’ve got a minute after dinner? That antidote essay is going to kill me, and I still don’t think I understood what we did yesterday.”

“Of course,” Hermione said, relief flooding. “Happy to help.”

She dared a glance back down the table, James was no longer looking at her. She looked back down at her plate, suddenly unable to stomach the food.

*

“I swear I stirred clockwise on the third step,” Lily muttered, scanning the page in front of her.

Hermione sat cross-legged on the rug, ink smudging her fingers and tapping absently against her chin. It was almost easy, slipping back into her academics. Almost. Lily certainly made it easier, bouncing ideas back and forth with her felt natural.

“It was anti-clockwise. After the hemlock, at least,”  Hermione said, paging through the Moste Potente Potions textbook and nudging aside the scraps of parchment littering the coffee table.

The Head dorm common room was stuffy. From the burning fire and the pressure mounting on her shoulders.

Lily groaned and dropped her head back against the couch. “Right. Of course. The bloody hemlock.”

Hermione offered a sympathetic smile, inking down the next sentence slowly. When she realised her scratching quill was the only sound filling the room she looked up, and found Lily staring at the door. Unreadable expression on her face.

“You okay?” Hermione asked softly.

Lily blinked, “Mmmh? Oh. Sorry.” She turned back to Hermione, offering a wavering smile. “All good.”

Hermione hesitated, then took the gamble, “Have you..have you spoken to him?”

Lily frowned, “No. I don’t know what’s confusing me more. The fact that he hasn’t done anything outrageous to get my attention again, or the fact that I might actually want him to.”

She gave a quiet laugh, then shook her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about this to you.”

Hermione’s heart stopped. “What? Why?”

Lily gave her a small knowing smile and Hermione scrambled to save face, “Lily, there’s nothing going on between me and James.”

As if summoned by the mere mention of him, the door opened. James stepped in, and promptly froze in the doorway. He took a step closer, hesitating.

Lily’s eyes darted from James to Hermione. Her jaw tightened.

“Right,” she said briskly. “I’ll head to bed. See you in the morning.”

“Lily-” James started.

But she was already turning her back and heading for her room. “Night.”

The door shut softly behind her. Silence settled over the room.

Hermione stared at the table. At Lily’s half-finished notes. At the ink stain on the corner of her own page. Her stomach flipped. She didn’t need to look up to know James hadn’t moved.

“We need to talk,” she said quietly.

A pause. Then, “Yeah. We do.”

James hadn’t moved from the doorway. The fire crackled softly, casting long shadows over his face. Hermione couldn’t tell if he was angry.

She didn’t have time to deal with that, “I-”

He cut her off, “Before you say anything, let me talk first.”

He waited for her hesitant nod, then walked over. He lowered himself gingerly to the floor, stretching out his legs. Their shoulders brushed and Hermione unconsciously leaned into the warmth.

He let out a long sigh, “It’s not my place to ask, and I have been warned not to.”

She snorted, “Sirius?”

James huffed a laugh, “And while I am not usually one to follow advice, no matter how sound. I think this time I’m going to.”

Hermione blinked. “Just like that?”

James gave a half-shrug, “Just like that. You don’t owe me your past. But…” he looked at her, and she swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I hope one day you’ll trust me enough to share some of it.”

She had to look away, her eyes were burning with the threat of tears.

“I-” the words died on her tongue, what was she supposed to do now?

He reached out a hand, and clasped hers tightly. She stared at her white knuckles. And took a stupid leap of faith.

“I can’t tell you everything. It’s complicated. I think…” She forced herself off the floor, and held out a hand to him. “I think it’s better if I show you.”

He took her hand. Brows furrowed. But still followed her silently.

Sitting cross legged on his bed across from him, she pulled off her jumper (the ugly one he knitted himself) and clutched it tightly. She breathed in and out, deep, just to calm the static that had worked its way under her skin.

Then she let the sweater fall and tugged up her loose sleeve. She kept her gaze fixed on the crude letters carved into her arm.. Bellatrix was whispering in her ear, pinning her to the ground. Filthy little –

A gentle touch pulled her back. James’s hand, gripping her forearm, just below the final letter. She flinched. Refused to look up. Refused to see pity. Or disgust. Or horror.

But all he said was:

“Who did this to you?”

The words cut through her thoughts like a blade. She looked up, static fading to a faint hum.

James wasn’t horrified. He wasn’t looking at her like she was something broken. He looked furious. And behind his voice, not just a question – a promise.

She blinked fast, fighting the flare in her chest. “It doesn’t matter. It happened. They’re-” Bellatrix vanishing in a cloud of dust and smoke, exploding in front of her, “no longer any threat to me. It happened. I lived. This is my penance.”

James’s grip tightened slightly, “Your penance? What could you have possibly done to deserve this?”

Hermione bit her lip, leaning in to graze his face with her fingers. Just a slight touch.

“This.” She pulled back just as fast.

She got up to leave. Heading to the door head down. She had meant to say something about Lily. To remind him. To remind herself. But the words never came. They slipped through her fingers like water when he called out low and steady:

“Don’t go.”

He stepped up behind her. She felt the warmth of him, his breath against her neck.

“You can stay.”

She shut her eyes tightly, “Okay.”

***

31  January 1978,  Tuesday

The castle was alive with the midday shuffle. Shoes scuffing across stone, laughter bouncing off the walls, and the faint smell of ink, old parchment, and someone’s very unfortunate cheese sandwich drifting down the corridor.

Hermione and Remus moved with the tide of students, book bags slung haphazardly over their shoulders as they turned toward the dungeons.

“I still don’t understand how that rune was supposed to translate to foundation,” Remus said, frowning. “It looked more like collapse to me.”

Hermione huffed a laugh, “It was a bonding rune, Remus.”

His mouth dropped open, “Oh. Explains a lot, actually.”

Hermione bumped him with her shoulder, “A very Slytherin interpretation of relationships you’ve got there.”

Before Remus could respond, a familiar voice rang out above the crowd.

“I found it!”

They both turned just as James came bounding up behind them, a ridiculous grin spread across his face. He was waving a folded piece of parchment like a victory banner

Remus raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “Prongs, if you tell me that was with you this whole time – you owe Pads a massive apology. He’s been running himself ragged looking for it.”

James scratched his head sheepishly, “I swear I turned my room upside down. Twice.” He stuffed the map into his bag. “No clue how it was on my desk the whole time.”

Hermione kept her face neutral, but caught Remus’s pointed look immediately.

“Your desk, huh?” he said, amusement flickering in his eyes.

Hermione, to her credit, kept her expression innocent. “Sounds like someone needs to spend more time using that desk. If you studied at all, you might’ve found it sooner.”

To her dismay, James clearly picked up on what Remus was silently implying. And the fact that she was probably the only other person who’d been in James’s room - multiple times-  wasn’t helping.

“Granger the map thief? Come off it, Moons.” He leaned in to Remus and stage whispered, “She doesn’t even know the top secret password.”

She couldn’t help herself.  The grin broke across her face before she could stop it. “I solemnly swear I had nothing to do with the map’s disappearance.”

Remus choked in surprise. James dropped his shocked expression nd let out a joyful bark of laughter.

He slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side with exaggerated affection. “Oh, you minx! You know, you could’ve just asked for it. No need to go breaking and entering.”

“I did neither of those things!” she laughed, trying to shove him off. “You’re impossible.”

“Strong words from a successful thief. Blimey, I didn’t even consider you.”

They reached the Potions classroom as James leaned in conspiratorially. “Admit it. You missed me last night.”

Hermione would not. Not in a million years. Not under veritaserum.

But she had. Finally finding her own bed again was harder than she thought. But the prospect of sneaking around before classes had been worse.

Instead of telling him exactly how much worse she slept without him, she rolled her eyes and gave him a final shove. He stumbled backward, arms raised in surrender, grinning like a fool.

She made her way to her seat, sliding in beside Lily. The smile that lingered on her face suddenly faded.

Lily was watching her.

“Nothing going on, eh?” She said, a tight smile ghosting on her mouth.

Hermione froze, “Nothing.”

“…Right,” Lily said, turning back to the front of the classroom.

Hermione stared down at their shared table. And resisted the very real urge to bang her head against it. Repeatedly.

Chapter Text

31  January 1978,  Tuesday

Hermione walked with Peter going over his transfiguration essay. McGonagall had taken one look at the first sentence, and lightly suggested he ‘reconsider submitting it in its current form.’ One desperate look from Peter, and Hermione had snatched it out of his hands with a sigh.

“No, Pete. Just no.”

He flushed, “I thought you might say that.”

She laughed, “Merlin, you can turn yourself into a rat.”

Peter shrugged, “Honestly? I just did whatever Sirius told me to.”

Hermione snorted, flipping the parchment over - then paused. Down the corridor, voices were rising, malice and threat echoing off the walls.

“Give that back!“

“Or what?”

She shared a look with Peter before taking off with a jog in the direction of the commotion.

They rounded the corner and came upon three students. Two Slytherins, fifth or sixth years by the look of them, towering over a small, trembling Hufflepuff. He couldn’t have been older than first year.

“Look, Pucey,” one sneered. “Little 'Puff’s gonna cry.”

Hermione felt the familiar static building at her fingertips as she gripped her wand. Pucey.  There was an old familiar name. She looked to the boy, his gruff exterior so reminiscent to the brute she once knew. Too young to be his father, an uncle then.

“Please,” the boy whimpered. “I just want to go to the library.”

 “Castle’s too full of scum like you,” said the second Slytherin, holding the boy’s book high above his head.

Pucey grinned viciously. “I say we teach this tosser a lesson.”

Peter stepped forward, but Hermione blocked him with her arm. Shoving his essay to his chest.

“Oi!” She called. “Wankers”

The boy backed against the wall turned frightened eyes towards her and the Slytherins turned to sneer at the newcomers.

She saw the recognition flash in their eyes as Pucey spoke up. “You’re the new Gryffindor lunatic that’s got Mulciber in a spin.”

She smiled coldly, “Aw, Mulcy talks about me?”

They stepped toward her. She didn’t give them the chance. In quick successive waves of her wand, their feet were stuck to the floor and their wands in her hand.

“Send him my regards,” She said in a lethal murmur.

Then she sent another hex flying. A thick, wet gurgle followed when the first Slytherin doubled over, gagging, as slugs began to pour from his mouth.

The second followed moments later, retching and scrambling as slime hit the floor in clumps.

“Hermione!”

She whirled. Lily was charging toward her, with Marlene and Mary trailing behind, faces caught somewhere between shock and awe.

Lily skidded to a stop just behind her, eyes darting between the two retching Slytherins, the crying Hufflepuff, and Hermione -  wand still half-raised.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Hermione blinked, not entirely what she was expecting.

“Just a friendly chat, nothing to worry about.” Peter muttered, crouched beside the Hufflepuff now, awkwardly patting his shoulder and gathering his scattered books.

Lily’s jaw clenched.

“You can’t just hex people like that,” she said sharply. “You should’ve called a prefect. Or a professor.”

Hermione turned bewildered eyes to Marlene and Mary as she said slowly, still confused about what exactly was happening, “There wasn’t really an opportune moment for that…”

More retching filled the hall.

Marlene stepped forward, a flicker of admiration in her eyes. “Bloody hell Granger, you have to teach me this one.”

Lily ignored Marlene. “Reverse it. Now.”

Hermione scoffed, “Why? They were five seconds away from hexing him.”

She flicked a hand toward the Hufflepuff boy, who blushed furiously as he nodded in agreement. She turned back to Lily, “Let them choke on it.”

Lily’s eyes narrowed, “Fine. I’ll take them to the hospital wing myself then. After which I’ll head straight to McGonagall and tell her to expect you in detention.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open.

Marlene scoffed. “You’re seriously giving her grief over this?”

“She stood up for someone who couldn’t,” Mary said. “Isn’t that the whole point of-?”

“Enough,” Lily snapped. Her eyes were still locked on Hermione’s, and her voice dropped an octave. “You’ve got detention. And I’m taking them to the hospital wing.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Peter stopped moving. The Hufflepuff looked up, confused.

“Fine,” Hermione said through clenched teeth, chucking their wands back at their feet unceremoniously.

In the end, Lily had to usher them out without their shoes. Those remained firmly stuck to the ground. Lily stormed out and they stumbled after her, sock-footed and hands clasped firmly over their mouths.

Peter stood slowly, holding the small Hufflepuff’s book out to him.

Marlene gave a low whistle. “She’s really got her wand in a twist.”

Mary frowned. “That was a bit harsh.”

Hermione was still staring at the end of the hall where Lily had disappeared. Anger dissipating into something resigned.

*

Her dinner had barely settled in her stomach when Hermione stalked through the corridor, her jaw set so tightly she might’ve cracked a tooth. She nearly made it past the library stairs when James appeared, falling into step beside her.

“Heading to the dorms already?” he asked casually, flashing a crooked grin. “You know my room is on the way. I wouldn’t be opposed to some company.”  

He flung an arm around her shoulder and she shoved him off.

“I can’t,” she said.

He blinked at her tone. “If you’re worried about classes, you could always use the cloak again-”

“I can’t,” she repeated, cutting him off again. “I have detention.”

That made him stop walking entirely. “Wait, what? Why?”

She turned on her heel. “Ask Lily.”

She waited a beat. Watched as his brows furrowed in confusion. He opened his mouth to respond but she was already walking again.

James didn’t follow.

She arrived at the trophy room still simmering, the click of her shoes echoing loudly as Filch handed her a rag and a pail of something that smelled suspiciously like vinegar and bad decisions. Here we go again.

“No magic,” he grunted with a yellowing grin. “Don’t let me catch you trying anything clever.”

She rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He shuffled off, muttering under his breath and Hermione marvelled at how little one person could change over decades. She tucked her sleeves back and crouched in front of a particularly fingerprint-covered plaque, steeling herself for the long, lonely night ahead.

“Merlin, this place still smells like troll shite.”

She turned, rag in hand, and gawked.

Sirius stood in the doorway, sleeves rolled, expression smug, twirling a second rag between his fingers like it was a prize.

“What are you doing here?”

He strolled in, casually toeing the door shut behind him. “Apparently, transfiguring McGonagall’s tea cup into a rat is not the ‘genius academic demonstration’ she was quite looking for.”

Hermione raised a brow. “You did that today?”

He winked. “Ten minutes ago.”

Realization dawned. Her eyes narrowed. “You got detention on purpose.”

“Figured I owed you one.”

Despite herself, a small smile tugged at her lips. He slid down beside her and picked a goblet to start with. “You are an idiot, Sirius Black,”

He smirked, “Ah. But an honourable one at that.”

They worked in silence for a moment. Then Hermione asked the question that had been floating in her head the entire day.

“Lily didn’t give me detention just because of the hex, did she?”

Sirius hummed, “Maybe.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “But don’t take it personally. I admire the bird, but she’s always been stickler for rules.”

Hermione snorted, “I used to be too, you know?”

Sirius gave her a surprised look and she continued, “Detention used to be my worst nightmare.”

“What changed?” he asked softly.

She stared at her reflection in the brass in front of her. The dark circles threatening to appear under her eyes again.  “Realised there are worse things than bending a few rules.”

Sirius nodded in understanding, but quickly shot her a wicked grin, “So I can count on you for my next scheme, then?”

She huffed a laugh, whipping her wet rag at him.

“Miss Granger.”

The regal voice from the doorway wiped the laughter off their faces. They turned in unison, facing a stern McGonagall in the doorway. She swallowed.

“Yes, Professor?”

McGonagall stood still in the doorway. “While I am saddened to hand out detention to you again, I have spoken to all parties involved and while I do not approve of the methods – the reasoning was sound.”

Hermione’s eyes widened.

“I suggest that next time,” the professor continued a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “You don’t get caught.”

She turned around and left the room again, not before calling over her shoulder, “Mr Black, you missed a spot.”

Sirius looked at Hermione, bewildered. “Would you look at that? I think Minnie is warming up to you!”

Hermione snorted a laugh. Of all the things to come out of getting detention – she picked up another goblet.

*

James reached the Head dorms in less time than it took to wrangle the story out of Peter and in more time than it took Sirius to land himself detention in solidarity. He was silently grateful that Hermione wouldn’t be alone, that she had someone to watch her back after going toe to toe with Slytherins. Again.

Merlin, that witch was going to be the end of him.

He stormed straight to Lily’s door and knocked like the wood had insulted him.

“Evans,” he barked.  “Get out here.”

The door opened a second later. Lily stood framed in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes flashing.

“What?”

He backed off, crossing his arms to keep them from gesturing wildly. “Hermione’s in detention?”

Lily’s expression didn’t budge. “Yes.”

James stared at her, bewildered. “You gave her detention?”

Lily’s jaw tensed. “I’m Head Girl. It’s my job. Our job, actually.”

James blinked, incredulous, “Come off it. If that was Marlene, or Remus or bloody hell even Sirius you’d have looked the other way. Given them a warning.”

Her cheeks flushed, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“She cursed two students, James.”

“Yeah,” he snapped, “because they were threatening a first-year. Because they were about to hex some kid for being born in the wrong family. And she stopped them.”

He stepped forward, “She did the right thing. Now, she has a whole week of scrubbing bloody trophies and McGonagall is apparently barring her from Hogsmeade this weekend.”

Lily’s icy expression faltered slightly, but she steeled herself again. “Those boys are still in the hospital wing.”

“Good. Maybe next time they’ll think twice before hexing someone based on their prejudice pureblood trollshit.”

He saw it then — the flicker behind Lily’s eyes. Guilt. Something else, too.

“Lils…” His voice was gentler now. “Are you jealous?”

The look she gave him could’ve frozen fire. “What did you just say?”

He held her gaze, even when she looked like she might hex him herself. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m asking. Are you jealous of Hermione?”

Her mouth opened - then shut again.

And just like that, he saw it. Clear as day. The way her eyes darted, the flush rising on her cheeks.

She flinched back, “According to her, there’s nothing to be jealous about.”

“Lily-” before he could even think of what to say in response, the door slammed shut in his face.

He stared at it for a moment, dumbstruck. The woodgrain blurred under his gaze. An unsettling feeling began to settle in his stomach.

If Lily was jealous, that meant – no. He didn’t go down that road. Not now. He looked to his own door, to the space that still smelled like Hermione’s shampoo. And all he could think about was the girl scrubbing her hands raw in the trophy room. And that somehow, it was his fault.

***

3  February 1978,  Friday

Hermione silently finished off the last of her polishing – seriously, Who knew one school could have so many bloody awards?  Not that she had ever received a single one.

Her fingertips were red, and her knuckles cracking from how the vinegar had dried them out. But she rejoiced – one more blasted piece of brass and she was done paying for her rash decision.

“Miss Granger, may I have a word?”

Her blood ran cold. Her hand stilled and ached to reach for her wand.

Across the room, Sirius - who had been pretending to polish the same goblet for the last fifteen minutes - glanced up at her, his eyebrows rising as if to say what now?

She turned to face the voice, steeling her expression, “If you insist, Professor.”

To her dismay, Dumbledore barely blinked. He met her gaze with the same unreadable calm he always wore.

“Mr Black,” he said, his voice even, “I believe Professor McGonagall will find your efforts tonight satisfactory.”

Sirius stood up, looking between Hermione and Dumbledore with uncertainty.

Dumbledore gave him a slight nod, and Sirius took the silent dismissal. Heading out with one last look at Hermione. The door clicked shut behind him.

Silence stretched, an old grandfather clock ticked loudly. It set Hermione’s mind on edge.

Dumbledore clasped his hands in front of him. “You’ve had a trying time, I imagine.”

Hermione dropped her rag onto the floor with more force than necessary, “Did you come to check on my polishing technique, or do you just enjoy sending me on impossible errands and watching me take the fallout?”

If he was surprised by her tone, he didn’t show it.

“I hoped we might talk.”

“Oh, wonderful,” she laughed without any humour. “Now you want to talk?”

“Miss Granger-”

She cut him off, stepping forward, anger blooming behind her ribs. “You dropped me into the past with vague warnings and even vaguer instructions. You handed me a handful of cryptic lines and expected me to somehow fix everything that you couldn’t.”

She took a breath, fists clenched at her sides.

“You knew what it would cost me,” she said, voice low. “That I’d have to lie. That I’d have to lose them. You knew, and you sent me anyway.”

Dumbledore was quiet for a long time. Then, gently, “I did not choose you because you were expendable, Miss Granger. I chose you because you understand sacrifice.”

She swallowed the ache behind her teeth.

“I understand pain,” she whispered. “And I’m tired of watching people I care about walk into it.”

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate. “I am not your enemy, Hermione.”

“No,” she said. “But you’re not my friend either.”

The words echoed in the quiet. Dumbledore dropped his chin, in concession? She didn’t know.

“I had no way of truly knowing until you showed up – and confirmed what I have only ever feared to be true. There is only one way our world has a future without darkness, sacrifices will have to be made.”

“Sacrifices?” She hissed. She could feel her hair start to stand up, static rolled dangerously underneath her skin and her fingertips burned with it. “They are good people.”

He nodded once, grave. “And they will save thousands more.”

Hermione swallowed hard. “I will get you your saviour. Don’t worry. But after – I will do everything in my power to fix what you refuse to.”

Dumbledore let his hands fall loosely at his sides. “I have no doubt that you’ll try.”

He turned, stepped toward the door, and paused once more.

“I believe you will come to understand the cost. And when it matters most, you’ll make the right choice.”

And with that, he left her standing alone in a room of shining brass, vinegar-slicked fingers curled into fists, chest heaving.

She stormed out, and nearly crashed into Sirius right outside the door.

“Woah! You alright there?’

Hermione pulled up short, breathing hard. She looked around, no sign of Dumbledore. She nodded tersely, the tension in her jaw unwavering.

“What did he want?” Sirius asked, frowning.

Her shoulders nearly slumped, “Too much. Too bloody much.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, but let it go. “I waited because – well. James is waiting for you. Said he wanted to talk.”

She threw her head up at the ceiling, “Why does everyone want to talk tonight?”

*

Hermione arrived in the Head dorms, still slightly fuming. True to Sirius’s word, James was waiting. He sat by the fire, one leg draped over the arm of the chair, a book open but entirely forgotten in his lap. He looked up the second the door creaked shut behind her.

“Hey.”

His voice was soft. Careful.

Hermione didn’t answer. She walked slowly to the fire, staring into the flames like they might tell her something useful. Her whole body felt like it had been wrung out and hung to dry.

James sat forward slowly, “Listen, I’ve been meaning to talk to you and – and apologise.”

She turned to him, raising her eyebrows in question. He flicked a glance toward Lily’s closed door.

Hermione nodded in understanding, following his lead into his room. She shut the door quietly behind them, layering a silencing charm over it. She rested her back against it, crossing her arms and just watching him.

James sat on the foot of his bed, staring at his clasped hands. “I’m sorry you got detention.”

She gave a short, bitter laugh. “You didn’t give me detention, did you?”

But something flickered in his eyes. “No – but still. I should’ve been there, gotten you out of it.”

She rested her head against the door, “Just promise me you’ll bring back sugar quills from Hogsmeade tomorrow.”

His lips tugged into a crooked smile. “Wouldn’t dream of coming back empty handed.”

She shut her eyes, “You pulled me in here just to apologise?”

When he didn’t answer she opened her eyes again. He was fidgeting, hesitating to say something.

She slumped down to the floor with a weary exhale. Exhaustion threatening to ebb away at the dark pit of anger in her stomach.

He stopped his fidgeting, standing up and moving over to crouch in front of her, placing comforting hands on her knees, “You all right?”

Hermione pressed her palms into her eyes, “I don’t know how I’m meant to keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

She shook her head. “Never mind.”

There was silence. Hermione didn’t know whether to cry or scream. Or set the bloody castle on fire. The urge to destroy something just to drown out her thoughts.

She dropped her hands, and met his concerned gaze. And then it was over. She didn’t want to think. To be right or noble. She didn’t want to carry the weight of what came next.

She just wanted something to belong to her. A choice.

So she leaned forward, and kissed him.

It wasn’t graceful - her hand found his jaw with more force than she meant. Her breath caught mid-motion - but it was real. It was taking a step off a cliff because you need to know how far the fall goes.

James stumbled slightly, before steadying himself with tight gripped hands in her hair. For a fleeting second, the world stopped asking her to save it.

Everything melted away, and too soon he pulled back.

“You sure?” he asked softly.

Hermione let out a shaky breath.

“No,” she said. “But I want something that’s mine.”

His thumb brushed against her cheek.

“Then I’m yours,” he said simply before pulling her in for another earth shattering kiss.

His hand found the side of her neck, anchoring her, and she let herself lean into him, gripping the fabric of his shirt. He shifted them without breaking contact, guiding her gently to her feet - then to the edge of the bed, lowering her with care.

His body was warm above hers. The weight and press of him more solid than she’d expected. She snaked her hands underneath his shirt, tracing along the ridges of muscle at his back.

James kissed her like he was learning how all over again. Slow at first, then hungrier.

But as his lips travelled to the corner of her jaw, brushing the sensitive skin there, Hermione’s breath hitched. Not from discomfort, just the newness of it. His lips travelled lower, as they ghosted her collarbone she jerked. Her hands stilled against his back.

James immediately pulled back. Eyes searching hers intensely.

“Too much?” he asked, voice hushed but hoarse.

Hermione shook her head quickly, her heart pounding somewhere between her ribs and her throat. “No. Just…” She blinked up at him, suddenly aware of every point of contact between them. “I’ve never done this before.”

James exhaled slowly, forehead resting briefly against hers. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Me neither.”

He pulled back just enough to see her properly — or tried to. Then he let out a soft, almost nervous laugh and slipped his glasses off. “These are going to get in the way, aren’t they?”

Hermione smiled, something loosening in her chest at the vulnerability of it. “A little.”

He set them gently on the nightstand, eyes returning to her, just slightly unfocused — softer somehow, more open.

She bit her lip, “Should we…should we stop?”

His eyes flicked between hers and her lips, “Only if you want to.”

She didn’t. Not even a little.

She answered by pulling him flush against her again. It was an unspoken yes. His mouth met hers with more heat, more pressure, and her hands roamed freely now. He groaned softly when her fingers slid over the curve of his waist, and the sound sent a jolt through her.

His hands found the hem of her shirt but paused, just for a heartbeat, seeking permission in a glance. She nodded once, breathless, and lifted her arms. In the dim candlelight she knew he would see the dark purple blotting her sternum down to her ribs, if he did – he didn’t make it known. True to his earlier promise, he didn’t pry.

Her shirt joined the rest of the world on the floor, and the only thing she felt was his touch. Careful, curious, reverent. His fingers brushed along her ribs with quiet intensity, and far more tenderness than she deserved. She arched under his touch, and he took the opportunity to slide a hand underneath, gripping her body close to his.

She slid hers up his back, to almost the nape of his neck. Then dragged downward, hard. He shuddered.

They fumbled their way through layers.  Soft laughter muffled by kisses. But the laughter faded as the space between them disappeared. Every inch of contact sent sparks across her skin. Her fingers threaded in his hair. He responded with a soft sound that made her toes curl, his hips pressing into hers with an urgency that made her gasp.

And then he stopped. Hovering just above her, breathing hard.

“We can still stop,” he said, voice rough with restraint. “Tell me to stop, Hermione.”

Her own chest rose and fell with every laboured breath, “I don’t think I can.”

What followed wasn’t perfect. It was a tangle of limbs and nervous hands. Kisses that missed and touches that asked for more before either of them knew how to give it. But it was real . And slow. And when they fell they fell together.

His name a cry on her lips that would have woken the castle if it wasn’t for her silencing charm.

Chapter Text

4  February 1978,  Saturday

The sun hadn’t fully risen, but Hermione was already out the door.

Her shirt was half buttoned and inside out. Her jacket – actually his jacket, she had yet to return – hung loose off one arm. She didn’t bother fixing either as she half-ran through the quiet corridor, adrenaline still singing in her veins, hair tangled from the decision she couldn’t take back.

She took the stairs to the boys’ dorms two at a time, not bothering to keep her footsteps quiet. She wrenched open the door – forgoing a knock. She did register slight relief when all occupants were fully dressed, or in the case of Sirius and Peter, still snoring the morning away.

Remus blinked at her from his perch at the window.

“Do you have a cigarette?” she asked, voice flat.

Remus nodded slowly, pulling the tin from his pocket.

She crossed to the window and sank onto the edge of the desk beside it, like her legs had only just remembered how to fail her.

There was silence while he lit the crisp white roll, then handed it over. She took it with shaky fingers. It burned just as badly as it did the first time. She bit down a choke, and tried to let it settle in her chest. Trying to let it burn her clean.

Remus settled onto the windowsill beside her, arms crossed loosely over his chest

Then, casually: “So ... do the love bites on your neck have anything to do with this existential crisis, or are we dealing with multiple emergencies?”

Hermione flinched. Gods, she hadn’t even thought to check –

“I crossed a line,” she said. Her voice cracked. “I crossed the biggest no-go line in the history of lines.”

Remus didn’t say anything immediately. He looked out the window, then back at her.

“Was it worth it?” he asked, not unkindly.

She didn’t answer. Behind them, Sirius stirred. Hermione’s eyes widened. She glanced down at herself—her state of dishevelment—and then met Remus’s eyes in horror.

He laughed, taking the lit fag from her hand, and shooing her to the adjoining bathroom.

“Go,” he said. “Fix yourself before they wake up.”

She could have hugged him—but given recent events, she was severely mistrusting of her self-control.

“Merlin knows I cannot deal with Sirius right now,” she huffed, already moving. “Keep him occupied, please.”

Remus gave her a mock salute, mouth twitching into a dry smile, before she disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Hermione came down the last flight of stairs with her hair brushed, her shirt straightened and James’s coat folded neatly under her arm. She’d glamoured the red on her neck and with one last look in the mirror, convinced herself she could keep it together.

Remus had stayed true to his word, and she’d slipped out behind their backs while he discreetly drew Sirius’s attention to something outside.

She made it exactly five steps into the common room.

“Hermione.”

She froze.

Lily Evans was standing near the fireplace, a satchel slung over her shoulder, her coat already on. Her expression was careful, but her eyes flicked toward the direction Hermione had come from. Hermione saw something flicker in her eyes and cleared her throat lightly, expecting more admonishment.

But Lily shook her head, smiling sheepishly. “I just wanted to apologise…for giving you detention.”

Hermione blinked. “Oh. Right.”

Lily stepped forward, placing her hand on Hermione’s arm. The touch nearly burned right through her.

“I didn’t think McGonagall was going to come down so hard on you. I realised you’ve never even seen Hogsmeade and now you can’t go today. I’m sorry…”

Of course, Hogsmeade. She had completely forgotten, students would start filling the halls soon, getting ready to leave. She had to get out of there. Now.

“I… it’s fine,” Hermione said quickly when she realised the silence had become awkward. “You were just doing your job.”

It was actually a relief. No one else would be in the castle today.

Lily gave her a long look. Hermione shifted underneath her gaze. Lily’s eyes dropped, And her hand flinched back from Hermione, from the coat draped over her arm.

Hermione’s eyes widened. She thought fast—how to start fixing this mess.

“Here,” she said,  shoving the coat at Lily. “Potter forgot this in the boys’ room. Mind giving it to him?”

Lily looked…relieved? But she took the coat, nodding and hiking up her bag.

“Well, I should go—Mary and Marlene are waiting,” Lily said, adjusting her scarf. “We’ll bring you back some Honeydukes?”

Hermione managed a nod. “Thanks.”

Lily lingered for a moment longer, then finally turned and left. The portrait hole closed behind her with a soft thump.

Hermione didn’t move.

The guilt hit her so hard it stole the air from her lungs.

She turned without thinking and bolted back up the girls’ staircase. Into her dorm.

The door closed behind her and she collapsed onto her bed. She curled into her side.

Fuck fuck fu- what had she done?

Her body still ached with memory. Her lips still tingled with every kiss. Her skin still hummed where James had touched her like she was something sacred.

And all of it—every bit of it—was wrong.

She buried her face in her pillow. Gods, even her hair still smelled like him. Pine and warmth pulled her back. James whispering, his voice low and trembling. Saying her name like a secret prayer. The heat of his body.

The memory slipped through her fingers as she grabbed hold of the pillow, and finally let the sob she’d been holding in wrack her body.

*

Hermione spent the day hidden away in the dormitory. She didn’t want to face anyone, but sitting alone with her thoughts was somehow worse.

So she kept herself busy, catching up on her classwork that she had severely neglected. But even there, her thoughts crept in. Her very normal Arithmancy essay suddenly turned into her working out the probabilities of maintaining the timeline.

So far she had predicted the extinction of the entire wizarding world, Sirius becoming Minister of Magic of all things and Hagrid opened a chain of magical pet cafés.

But one thing was for sure, Harry’s entire existence was hanging in the balance – Gods, Harry. If she managed to ensure her best friend lived, he would surely hate her for this.

By evening, the sound of footsteps and laughter floated in from the common room as Marlene and Mary returned from Hogsmeade, their arms full of shopping bags and stories of the village.

Hermione tried to play busy. Marlene tried multiple times to get her to leave.

“Merlin, Hermione. What’s gotten into you? I’ve never seen you this stuck in your books.”

That was a sentence she never thought she’d hear.  She looked at the rudimentary N.E.W.T.’s schedule she had drafted, and all the empty spots she usually would have filled to the brim with revision time.

Mary leaned over and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “Joining us for dinner?”

Hermione shook her head, smiling politely. “I’m not hungry, thank you.”

They exchanged worried glances, but didn’t press.

Marlene tried one last time to get her out. “You should see Potter. He looks truly put out today. Merlin, I even nicked his butterbeer and he didn’t say a word.”

So much for keeping him out of her mind. She was back to square one.

Hermione said nothing, keeping her head down.

Mary sighed softly. “All right then. We’ll see you later.”

The castle quieted over the next few hours. Mary and Marlene had long since gone to bed, their soft snores the only sound in the room. Hermione slipped out from under her covers and padded into the bathroom, the cold air crawling under her skin.

She took a long warm shower, letting the water run down her spine until she was sure all trace of James had been washed away.

When she returned, the dorm was still.  But her bed was no longer empty. A small parcel sat on her pillow, carefully placed where she’d see it.

Her heart skipped a beat. She reached for the familiar brown paper bag. Sugar quills, their sweet cinnamon scent instantly soothing. Beside it, a cheesecloth. She unwrapped it, already knowing what she would find inside. Bread, and grapes. Like he had once brought her, every night. Before everything had gone to hell.

And folded carefully on top of her pillow, his jacket.

A piece of parchment was pinned under the collar, scratchy handwriting adorning it:

No take-backs.

Hermione’s breath caught, tears blurring her vision. She brought the jacket up to her nose, taking in a deep breath. Holding onto the pieces of him she could still keep.

***

5  February 1978,  Sunday

Hermione managed to keep herself holed up for one more day. One more torturous day. But by nightfall, the dormitory felt like a cage.

So she slipped out. Quietly. Her feet took her to where they always had. The Astronomy Tower loomed above her, wind curling around her as she stepped onto the stone landing. She leaned on the railing, staring up into the great expanse of stars above her.

For a moment, she could breathe again,

And then she heard footsteps behind her.

She turned, already knowing.

James stood in the doorway. His hair was a mess, like he’d been running his hands through it all day.

He offered her a crooked grin, but it was half hearted. “Should’ve kept the map if you wanted to keep avoiding me.”

Hermione looked away, “Maybe.”

He stepped closer, slow. Careful. “You weren’t at dinner.”

“I wasn’t hungry,” she murmured.

“That excuse only worked the first time.”

Her jaw tensed. But her eyes shifted toward him again—toward the outstretched hand that held morsels from the Great Hall.

She remembered the routine, he wouldn’t talk until she took a bite.

She contemplated throwing it over the edge, but her rumbling stomach betrayed her and she settled on at least popping a grape in her mouth.

He smiled like he won the Quidditch world cup. It dropped immediately.

“You were gone when I woke up.”

Not a question.

 “I’m sorry,” she said

“Was it that bad?” He hesitated. “Did I-”

“No! It was -” She protested immediately. No of course not it was so bloody- “perfect.”

“Then why?”

Her mouth opened, and promptly shut again.

“Look,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not asking for a bloody love poem, Hermione. I just… I just need to know if that meant something to you. Or if it was just…”

“Don’t,” she interrupted. “Just…don’t. I’m sorry. I was angry. Angry at the world and-”

“And I was there?” 

And so you used me. He didn’t say it, but it hung there anyway, thick in the air between them.

She flinched.

“I waited for you,” he said quietly. “All day. Thought maybe… I don’t know. That we’d talk. That you’d at least look at me.”

Hermione swallowed hard. “I didn’t know what to say.”

James leaned against the stone pillar beside her. “Is this what it’s going to be like now?” A pause. “Did we fuck everything up?”

She shut her eyes tightly.

“I didn’t plan any of this.”

James glanced sideways at her. “You make it sound like there was a plan to begin with.”

She snorted. “Yeah, a half-baked shite one.” She dropped her head, muttering under her breath, “I’ve really lost my touch.”

James hesitated, “What if- what if there was a slight change in plans? In the name of spontaneity.”

She shook her head, “’Fraid not. This one is quite set in stone.”

James watched her carefully, “Why?”

“I can’t tell you that,” she said softly. “Not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t. You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”

James let that settle for a beat, then nodded slowly. “Okay.”

She blinked. “Okay?”

“Yeah.”

She looked down at her shoes, shoulders relaxing just slightly.

“I just wish I understood what it is you’re so afraid of,” he said, not accusing. Just a quiet sort of hurt in his voice.

Hermione didn’t answer. Instead, she tugged lightly at the collar of the coat she hadn’t realised she was still wearing.

His eyes followed the movement. “That mine?” he asked, trying for lightness.

She snorted, “I tried giving it back. So no, it’s mine now.”

He smiled. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She let the comfortable silence settle, and then reached a hand out to his arm.