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Chapter Text

All was silent save the pounding thud of her heartbeat pushing the blood rushing through her head. Her magic flowed in time with her pulse, now struggling to pull the two wizards to safety with each crackling POP.

No matter how quickly they Apparated, the Death Eater followed.

And Hermione was grasping to hold onto the magic draining from her like a bad leak.

They had the locket. They had the Horcrux and the Death Eater knew it.

To give up now would be to give up the months they'd already sacrificed to find it.

To give up would mean to give up their lives.

Hermione Granger was not the most powerful witch of her time. She wasn't naturally talented like the infamous wizard clinging to her hand now.

Harry Potter's magical store was largely untapped, something Hermione had always secretly envied. Because no amount of knowledge and brains could save them from the fix they found themselves in now.

She was fading. Fast.

A scream escaped her as she suddenly lost control, unaware of her best friends' struggle to keep up.

They fell to the grassy earth in a tangled heap, so hard the breath was stolen from her lungs.

Once Hermione managed to take several lungfuls of cold air, she lifted her head and braced against the pain clenching her chest.

Only after the dull ringing in her ears began to fade, did Hermione realized someone was screaming in agony.

Pushing her curls back from her face, she caught Harry's gaze… and then noticed Ron's bleeding body in his arms.

Splinched.

"Ron," she sobbed as she crawled on hands and knees. Her limbs trembled.

So weak.

She wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. But the sight of Ron bleeding out beneath Harry's hands ripped something inside of her so violently, Hermione found she was screaming too.

Upon flinging herself to his side, Hermione pointed her want to him and whispered the spell she'd rehearsed so many times before their quest began. She had memorized so many words, so many books, to make certain they would be prepared. She'd thought of every eventuality, every logical turn of events, every scenario.

Not this.

Her own voice taunted her in her head.

Distantly she registered Harry's voice shouting overhead. She couldn't focus on his words. It was too much, too fast. Her other hand grasped for the metal object beneath her shirt, unable to wrench it free with her weak hand.

No time.

POP

The Death Eater had followed them.

Harry had left Ron on the ground and was now attempting to save their lives against the influx of hexes being sent their way.

Hermione struggled to maintain the spell, ignoring her already depleted magical core. Why wouldn't Ron's wounds heal? Why was he still screaming?

Flashes of light illuminated the night and a brushing crackle of magical energy snapping angrily around them cued Hermione to the truth she wasn't willing to acknowledge.

The Death Eater who'd caught up with them was wounded but still older and stronger than any of them except for Harry.

"Hermione, get up! We need to go!"

She ignored Harry's plea as he lashed spell after spell.

POP

POP

Two more black-robed figures had followed.

Blood began to gush from Ron's mouth and Hermione could hardly see through her tears. Her spell—her magic—was failing.

One of the Death Eater's fell to Harry's wand, but the others rallied.

Ron's screams faded. His skin had grown cold. His beautiful blue eyes locked with hers and the silent message within them was unmistakable.

Hermione choked, "No! I won't leave you!"

Harry's hand wrapped around her wrist and Hermione was too weak to fight as he pulled her up and away. His last spell caused the world to explode in silvery blue light.

A Patronus charm.

Hermione caught one final glimpse of Ron's vacant stare and then—POP. Faster than Hermione had managed, Harry Apparated them through an endless stream of locations, a magical trail that only someone as powerful as he could manage.

She was too numb to the world to wonder how exactly Harry managed to lose the Death Eaters. All she knew was they had to stop and so they did, eventually. In what felt a moment and a lifetime, Harry brought them deep into the forest. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Hermione recognized this to be the wilds she'd pointed out on their map only the night before.

It would be a good place to lie low after they found and took the locket.

It was a good hiding place regardless.

The trees shadowed the earth. The forest was peaceful.

Their legs buckled and Harry barely caught her as their knees sank into the muddy earth. Rain fell in frigid drifts overhead, quickly soaking them. Hermione muffled her sobs in Harry's chest. His hands, still covered in Ron's blood, caressed her back as Harry whispered nonsensical things to her ear. He stumbled over promises of safety and love, his voice hitching with unshed tears.

Nowhere is safe.

"He's dead, Hermione," was the first thing she truly heard. "There wasn't anything we could have done."

His voice was too calm. How could he be calm? How could he say these things! Her sobs may have faded but Hermione couldn't listen to this. She pushed away from his warm chest and met Harry's emerald eyes.

Rain streaked their faces, matting Harry's unruly black hair over his forehead. Fresh cuts and bruises marked his face and his spectacles had cracked but Hermione couldn't stand the pity or sorrow in his gaze. "Hermione..." he began.

"No!" Thunder cracked the sky as Hermione somehow managed to stand on unsteady legs. Her hand trembled as she pointed her wand at Harry's chest. "How could you leave him?"

Harry flinched at her words, but it was too late. She couldn't stop the bitterness, the heartache from overflowing.

"Why didn't you take him with us? Ron was Splinched! He's not d—he's not." Choking on her words, Hermione stumbled and caught her fall on a nearby tree.

Harry said nothing in his defense. She wished she didn't hate him for it. She needed him to fight back right now, she needed him to tell her they could go back and get Ron and... Hermione logically knew Harry had if anything just saved their lives and the entire Wizarding world as a result. But she couldn't acknowledge that. Because in that same instant Hermione knew what had happened to Ron was her fault.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" Harry took slow cautious steps as he approached, his green eyes pleading with her, the same way Ron's had pleaded for her to take Harry and go.

"I—" her voice broke and thunder crackled overhead again. Hermione lowered her wand. The world began to shift in and out of focus as she struggled to blink past the fog rolling over her mind.

So damn weak.

The rain beat roughly against her skin, the only thing keeping her awake enough to say, "Going back. I can't leave him, Harry. My fault…" Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she tried to Apparate.

She heard the unmistakable, Stupefy! from Harry's lips.

His arms caught her centimeters from the ground.

Her limbs felt like lead when she woke to the crackling sound of the radio. Blinking past what felt like the worst mental hangover she had ever experienced, Hermione focused on the familiar peak of the tent she'd bought three months ago. They had been so confident of success then, though uncertain of what awaited them. Still, they had believed, no matter what happened, they would conquer anything because they were together.

Tears filled her eyes the moment the memory of yesterday crashed into her mind.

Ron, I'm so sorry.

Something fell to the floor near her cot and drew her attention. It was the radio, she realized, now zipping in and out of frequency before settling on soft white noise.

"Hermione?" Harry entered the tend and rushed to her side, his lanky frame crashing on the edge of the cot as he wrapped her hand tightly in his own. His emerald eyes were swollen and red and she knew he had been crying.

"Harry…" Tears spilled down her cheeks. She couldn't erase the image of blood gushing from Ron's lips... lips she hadn't had the chance to kiss.

Too late.

"Harry?" she attempted again. She needed to know for certain. "Is he…is Ron dead?"

Harry's jaw clenched and his grip on her hand tightened as he nodded. "We couldn't have done anything."

Her eyes widened and her lips parted as something between a moan and a sob passed her throat unbidden.

If I hadn't lost control…

"Hermione?" Harry leaned in, his lips pressed into a thin line before his expression hardened and he said, "Hermione, listen to me. I know how you feel right now, believe me. Ron was my brother. But he would have wanted us to keep going. Remember the promise we all made before this started? There are too many people out there who will suffer if we don't finish this, and I can't do it without you."

Too many people…

How many lives had been lost to this war? How many others would die before the end? The list of those she had known was maddening enough, but there had been so many others. So many who had lost their lives and their absence still affected the people she loved.

Like Sirius.

Like Harry's mum and dad…

The thought was enough to clear Hermione's mind past her shock. A familiar, logical and infuriatingly calm Hermione was taking control once again.

Harry was right. They couldn't lie in their grief or they'd fall right into the trap Voldemort had waiting for them.

Without Hermione, Harry would be alone, just like he'd intended before she and Ron pushed themselves into his plans. The Golden Trio had faced Death together. That was how they survived. Now they were just Harry and Hermione and she needed him far more than he did her.

Blinking past fresh tears Hermione gripped Harry's hand tightly back and met his gaze with fresh determination. Harry smiled and Hermione understood the pleading in Ron's eyes now. He'd been asking her to fill in the gaps. She had to be strong.

"We'll mourn Ron later," she began. "But first, we're going to take from You-Know-Who, everything he took from us. We won't let any of them die in vain." Her voice softened towards the end, yet Harry seemed to hang onto her words.

She turned to take in their surroundings. The tent was the same as they had last left it, as if nothing was amiss, save the darkness radiating from the locket innocently sitting on the bedside table.

We'll destroy the locket first.

Harry's eyes were far away when she turned back to face him. It was a look Hermione was very familiar with. She hadn't understood that look before, but she did now. Harry was thinking about everyone that had been taken from him, from his parents to Sirius. And her heart cracked to pieces knowing this was a part of Harry's past he'd never be able to escape.

The Savior of the Wizarding World looked less like a hero and more like a grieving boy right now.

Yet Hermione believed in him.

Especially now.

All the knowledge and wisdom and logic she had hoarded were pointless in a war like this. No, she didn't have the power to fight like Harry. She'd never been much of a dueler, and she wasn't marked by anything other than the fact Harry Potter was her best friend. She was seventeen-year-old Hermione Jean Granger, and she would be their strength, even if she had to pretend.

"Harry?" she softly inquired.

A slow smile ghosted his features as he spoke his thoughts aloud. "Remember that Christmas we spent at Grimmauld Place, pulling pranks with Sirius against the twins? I don't think I've ever laughed so much as I did that Christmas." His eyes met hers as his smile faded. "It's not fair, Hermione...how many have been taken. Not just me, either. We've all lost someone. It's not going to stop until he's dead, is it?"

White noise from the wireless crackled against the rumble of thunder outside their tent. Hermione chewed on her lower lip, as Harry bowed his head and adjusted his spectacles. She needed to say something and she didn't want to talk about what they were about to face any longer.

"Do you ever still wonder what things would have been like?"

Harry's head perked up as though startled, then paused before replying, "You mean if he'd never…"

"Murdered your parents," Hermione finished.

A slow transformation took over Harry's face. She watched in wonder as premature lines faded and his green eyes shone the more brightly as he answered, "I've wondered about that every day since I was old enough to understand what their deaths meant. Even before I knew they'd died sacrificing their lives for mine... Sometimes I hate how I've had to rely on what other people tell me about them. The memories I have are so few. But I always used to daydream about them and what it would have been like..."

"You could have grown up with the R-Ron long before Hogwarts," Hermione offered with a forced grin.

"Yeah…" Harry's mouth quirked up to the side and a spark of mischief flashed through his gaze. "I could have shown Malfoy a thing or two about flying our first year."

"We'd have spent holidays at your parent's home, taking turns whenever we didn't want to deal with noise at the Weasley's."

Harry's smile turned genuine as he added, "Sirius would have tried teaching me all his tricks for baiting birds."

Hermione shook her head at the thought of Harry's godfather. The man had been infuriating and endearing. They had butted heads more than not, usually when he attempted to corrupt Harry's humility. Looking back, Hermione regretted every harsh word she'd ever said to him.

Harry's face grew pensive, wistful then. "I know one thing for certain. None of them would have let me face Voldemort like this. Dad was an Auror. I bet he and Mum would have hunted us down the moment they found out what we were trying to do. Then they would have gone after Voldemort's head."

Hermione hesitated. "Harry, I don't think they would have let Voldemort live long enough to challenge you in the first place."

Harry nodded and their gazes locked. "They would have loved you," he said with a smile.

Hermione squeezed his hand and returned his smile as best she could.

Harry glanced back at the wireless and, giving her hand a final squeeze, moved to switch off the device. Setting it back on the table next to the locket, his fingers briefly grazed the Horcrux before meeting Hermione's gaze. Offering a look he had only ever given her, his best friend, Harry said, "I'd best get back out there. I've been too worried about you to watch for Death Eaters. And I know my protection charms are a patched-up mess compared to yours, Hermione."

She smiled past the pain and the lingering need to cry, pushing the confidence he needed into her reply. "Undoubtedly."

Harry beamed at her before walking to the tent opening and lifting the flap.

"Harry?"

He turned back expectantly, eyebrows raised and hidden by his messy black hair.

"Constant vigilance."

Chapter Text

With Harry gone, Hermione was finally able to drop the façade and allow her mind to stew over her preposterous thoughts.

The idea had come long before this of course, only triggered now because of her conversation with Harry about the past.

For the tenth time in as many minutes, Hermione glanced up to be certain Harry remained outside their tent. Only then did she dare pull the hourglass from beneath her shirt to watch the magical swirl of sand and endless potential dance within.

She shouldn't have taken the time turner from Professor Dumbledore's desk. But it had been one of the last things Hermione had done, those turbulent and confusing final days of Sixth Year. When Professor MacGonnagal darted from the former headmaster's office to speak with Harry before he could reach the door. Hermione hadn't paused to really think at the time, a very rare moment for her.

She would later blame it on grief, as she'd brushed her fingers over Fawkes' ashes. She remembered how helpless she'd felt, how afraid. It was fear that had urged her to the other side of Professor Dumbledore's desk. She'd found it in the first drawer she tried. The time turner had been the very same she'd used in Third Year and it had been practically waiting for her. She had slipped it in her pocket and returned to her seat before anyone noticed.

Now, half a year later, Hermione unwound the chain from her neck and lifted the hourglass to the lantern light. This was one of the few secrets she had kept from Harry, from everyone. After Sirius' death she'd watched her best friend go through a depression she did not think he could come out of. Harry had recovered, but Hermione had thrown herself into preparing for the worst. And later, once she returned home to her parents for the last time, she'd thought hard on the subject of time.

After selling her grandmother's antique jewelry her mother passed to her on her fifteenth birthday and depleting her allowance in Gringotts to purchase the supplies she'd need, Hermione remembered Dumbledore's warnings.

There are consequences for changing time.

Men went mad when faced with their past and future selves. Paradoxes were tirelessly sorted out by fate and most who'd meddled with time, from what Hermione had read, died mysterious or horrible deaths.

Done correctly and under Ministry scrutiny, time travel could be used for useful things, like allowing Hermione to take the extra classes she wanted.

Yet after Sirius Black had fallen through the Veil, Hermione met Death for the first time. And Hermione was afraid, not for herself but for Harry. If Harry fell to Voldemort, Hermione would risk all the warnings Dumbledore had given her and unravel the fabric of time to bring him back.

She hadn't been able to save Ron, but what if she found a way to save others? What if she truly were able to give them all the lives they had been meant to lead in the first place? Before evil perverted fate's purest plan?

It's a lovely fantasy, came the bitter thought. Or is it only fantasy?

What if Dumbledore's warnings were only to protect her, to scare her into submission? Their beloved Headmaster had cared deeply for them, but Hermione had also watched him use people like Harry to manipulate events in the war.

Had his caution been for other reasons? Had they been from personal experience?

The light rainstorm increased its pace overhead, and her thoughts came quicker.

What if we could undo our mistakes and Dumbledore's?

I wish I could go far enough to give Harry the people he needs. He should have had his whole family fighting with him and not just me...

What had she truly accomplished in the end?

Thunder rumbled distantly. The sound echoed in Hermione's ears and she realized how foolish her train of thought had become. How could she even consider such a giant leap through time?

It was proven no one could go farther back than several hours of their past without causing irrevocable damage. Although there was no real way to tell if anyone had been able to change the timeline, she supposed.

Since recovering her time turner, Hermione had been unable to test it. Especially while keeping up with the other chaos that was her life. It was only a preventative measure, she reassured herself. With that, Hermione curled her fingers over her time turner and looked for Harry.

The faint outline of his lanky frame was missing from the front of the tent. Hermione could hear nothing beyond the light mist of rain tapping the tent canvas.

Rising from her cot, Hermione changed out of her filthy clothes and into a pair of jeans, a jumper and trainers before wrapping her cloak around her shoulders. She recovered the time turner as an afterthought, the warm hourglass comforting in her palm as she stepped through the opening and into the rain.

The forest was so dark, she could barely see two meters. It was long past midnight, yet the clouded sky held star and moonlight at bay.

Hermione's fist tightened against the tiny hourglass in her hand as she called, "Harry?"

Silence.

The forest was too quiet. Not even insects or animals disturbed the eerie peace.

Hermione swallowed as she pulled her wand from its holster to check the wards Harry had set around their camp. It was a small comfort his charms were nowhere nearly as precise as Hermione's. Yet more disturbing, they were firmly intact, and that meant her best friend must not have left.

"Harry?" she dared call louder, as she walked around the tent. Her eyes strained to see through the night black as pitch, yet she was too wary to cast Lumos.

A limb cracked in the forest ahead and her head snapped to follow the sound. She froze and waited.

Harry must have moved the wards farther to give him space to pace and to think, she rationalized…

Or he needed the loo.

She continued a list of possible scenarios, each less likely than the last. All the while, Hermione couldn't shake the chill that overtook her as she stepped farther into the forest.

That was when she happened to see it.

Distant flashes of color revealed the war ensuing beyond their wards.

"Harry!" Panic stole her reason as Hermione darted past the protection of the wards and into the storm.

Over the clash of thunder, the shouts of Death Eaters fell deaf.

Hermione did not pause to think as she ran, allowing the gusts of light to guide her way. Her heart pounded an uneven drumbeat in her chest. The strain of tapping into her magical reserves left her breathing ragged before she'd reached the battle. Yet she couldn't think about anything except for Harry. The storm, thankfully, hid her approach.

The Chosen One was holding his own against three Death Eaters as they rushed him. Still, others watched on from the forest. It was obvious they were trying to subdue Harry rather than kill him. That was a job only their Master would allow himself.

Hermione's grip tightened on her wand as she silently cast Protego at Harry. She released a breath as her shield stopped a scarlet curse from striking his back.

Harry turned toward Hermione and shouted, "Go!" His features clenched the moment he realized that by warning her, he'd given her away.

Hermione ignored Harry's plea. She had already released several more spells, one catching a tall Death Eater by surprise. He hit the ground with an agonized cry and several heads turned at once her direction.

"Kill the Mudblood!" The screeching voice was unmistakable. What was Bellatrix Lestrange doing here?

Hermione resisted the urge to go after the Witch who killed Sirius.

"No, Bellatrix! The Dark Lord has plans for her!" A haggard-looking Lucius Malfoy shouted over his sister in-law's mad ravings.

"Run Hermione! GO!" Harry screamed.

She knew he was right, knew that she was still too weak to be of much help. She should go, somehow get help... But each time she tried to listen to the voice of reason echoing Harry's cries, Hermione couldn't leave. Instead, she stood her ground and dodged several streams of hexes. The curses missed her by a hair's breadth each time.

Stupefy, Hermione thought the jinxes as quickly as she could. Ron's face burned at the back of her mind and urging her to move faster than she'd ever been able before. She kept an eye out for Harry and determined to keep her promise.

Together.

Despite the adrenaline coursing through her system, Hermione couldn't stop the Death Eaters from pressing harder against her.

The spells were coming too quickly.

The familiar strain was beginning to pull at her senses, seeping from her pores.

Hermione gasped as the first jinx hit her knees, knocking them out of place. She screamed and barely managed to cast a protective shield as she whispered the counter-curse.

POP

She screamed when two thick arms lifted her off the ground from behind.

POP

POP

The golden signatures of Aurors rushed into the fray. How they'd found them, Hermione didn't know. Harry must have sent a Patronus, came the errant thought as she watched the scene from the awkward angle she was being carried away.

There were more Aurors than she expected. Some took off dark cloaks to reveal familiar faces.

Not just Aurors, the Order.

Together, the Light side worked to disarm the Death Eaters who had attacked Harry.

Their game was over.

Hermione glimpsed as Remus Lupin grabbed a hysterical Harry from behind, restraining him. He was screaming her name. "Hermione! Hermione no! Let go of me damn it! Let go of me! Hermione! Hermione!"

Why was he so upset when she was fine?

Hermione turned to the Auror who had caught her in his arms, only to feel a sickening gust of hot breath against her cheek.

"You're sweet enough to eat love," the Death Eater growled, "shame the Dark Lord needs you unspoiled…for now."

Her blood ran cold as sharp teeth, accompanied by breath that smelled of rotting meat grazed the skin of her shoulder but did not pierce the skin.

Fenrir Greyback.

Reality came rushing down on her then. She was being carried away by the other Death Eaters, by a werewolf.

She reared her head back as hard as she could against his while kicking at his groin. Greyback lost his tight hold on her only a moment. It was enough.

Hermione jumped out of his arms as he stumbled and ran as quickly as she could. Mud and roots slowed almost immediately deterred her escape. Still, she ran, casting stray curses she prayed hit their mark.

Until she heard a familiar vicious cackle and saw a red stream of magic rush before her. Hermione collapsed onto her attacker, Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Filthy Mudblood," Bellatrix hissed as she shoved Hermione off of her and into the mud.

"Hurry Bella!" Lucius Malfoy urged.

The shouts of Aurors were not far behind them.

"What about the locket?" Bellatrix giggled as Lucius pulled Hermione's limp body into his arms.

"We have our prize, for now," Lucius replied.

Fenrir had not come yet, at least. Hermione hoped the Aurors had already hexed the bastard to oblivion. Tears were leaking from Hermione's eyes. Her fists were still clenched over her broken wand and the time turner and she realized what she had to do. If Voldemort got his hands on a time turner, Hermione was certain she would wake to a world with no Muggles left.

She thought of the spell, just as Malfoy Apparated.

No!

The sky was lighter here. Yet, only able to glare at the sky, Hermione had no clue where they had taken her.

Bellatrix was cackling. "Filthy Mudblood whore! The Dark Lord will show you how your precious wittle family will be treated! He'll kill them slowly and make you watch! Then, he'll make you scream until wittle Blood Traitor Potter comes rushing in to save you!"

"Bella…" Malfoy's flat tone implied that he'd clearly had enough.

Hermione had done very little wandless magic. It was dangerous if done incorrectly and Hermione did not trust her own inner power enough to try it. Now she had no choice. She screamed the spell silently, with greater intent and purpose than she had wished for anything before.

Lucius never saw it coming. Her wand flew from Bellatrix's grasp and into her hand, long enough for her to speak the counter curse keeping her frozen. She then jammed the tip of her wand into Lucius Malfoy's windpipe.

He dropped her with a strangled cry.

Hermione rolled to her feet and once began to run.

"You filthy Mudblood!" Bellatrix howled as she gave chase, "How dare you defy us!"

Despite her brief victory, Hermione knew she was too weak. She knew Bellatrix was too fast. The Pureblood lunged at Hermione and the younger Witch backed both of them against a nearby tree. A tangle of limbs, nails, and screams later, the Witches fought with their bare hands now.

Hermione refused to let her win. She couldn't fail Harry, and couldn't betray Ron's promise!

A second wind gave her the energy she'd lost and with more force than she had intended she kneed the Witch, called the strange wand to her hand and shouted, "Crucio!" The Unforgivable fell from her lips with all the wrath Hermione had felt watching Ron fall because of her weakness. A sickly cold feeling sank beneath her skin and dug its claws deep and Hermione knew she would never be the same after this.

Bellatrix laughed in the beginning, then she screamed. Her mad gray eyes widened with surprise and finally fear when Hermione did not stop.

Hermione could barely find the will to stop when all she could see was Ron's bloody broken body behind her closed eyes. And then the thought of all who had fallen because of the ones who chose Voldemort's cause: Frank and Alice Longbottom, Sirius Black, Lily and James Potter…

"Petrificus Totallis!" Hermione finished and scrambled to her feet. Then she ran.

She didn't know exactly where Malfoy had brought them, didn't know where the Order would have taken Harry. Flashes of locations ran through her mind. An odd emptiness filled her as she realized none of these places were safe any longer. Not even Hogwarts.

Her vision blurred with tears and she lifted the hand that held her time turner to wipe them away. In that instant, she saw too late the rippling edge of a dark cloak and felt the force of a sledgehammer bash against the back of her head.

She crashed to the ground and the time turner smashed in between her palm and her chest.

A blinding light consumed her, colors she had never seen before dancing along the fringe of her vision.

A loud sickening roar began, unnatural and increasing in speed and volume until her screams were lost in it.

Until she felt the gush of blood matte her hair and chest and the light closed in.

Until all she could see or feel was heavy, oppressive darkness.

Chapter Text

Death was easy, a blanket of mind-numbing darkness.

Until the darkness gave way to pain—a pain so intense, she knew she couldn't be dead. The dead did not feel. So why did she ache so? And if she wasn't dead, why couldn't she open her eyes?

Slowly, she tried to move her broken body. Her fingers twitched and then closed over shards of glass lodged into her fist. 

A voice cried out that she belatedly realized was hers. 

The shock made her come fully aware. 

She blinked back tears and lifted a hand to shield her gaze from the coming dawn. The sun was warm on her skin, would have been pleasant if she could think past her pain. 

Voices carried with the wind, birds singing their morning song, a barking dog in the distance, the grind of engines on a small country road.

The sky was clear but her clothes were wet, soaked through.

Everything was too calm and pleasant. 

Something wasn't right.

Something was very wrong.

She bit her lip as she pushed up on her good hand to take in the blood matted grass around her. She stared at it and lifted her glass puckered hand to touch the back of her head.

At the sharp twinge of pain, she hissed and pulled her hand back to find blood on her fingertips. Blood ran down her hand from her cuts.

She glanced down at her jumper and gasped at the sight of more glass shards sticking through her jumper, just over her heart.

This was why it ached to breathe.

Groaning at the rush of, or rather lack of blood to her head, she found the strength to stand.

She was stronger than she'd first thought.

She stumbled through a light jog, trying to escape this wrong place, covered in her own blood.

The taint of evil still clung to the grassy hill.

She ran away from the sounds of children, dogs, and cars. No one could find her like this. Though she couldn't recall why, she knew she needed to run, hide—always stay hidden—if she wanted to survive.

Constant vigilance…

Where had she heard that before?

Spots of black dotted her vision, the darkness calling her back. and she felt as though she were about to upturn her stomach with each step.

The hill she finally crested was not very high, yet the vantage point revealed a quaint, small village of cottages and few streets increasingly busy with the rising sun. She swayed, blinking against the light. A cold sickly feeling swept over her. Something deep inside of her knew she'd never seen this place before. Something about this whole place was off. 

She needed to find…to find…

She frowned, unable to reach past the very solid and firm barrier that encased her mind—her memories.

And then she realized she was lost in more ways than one.

With the wind at his back, slipping through his robes and sliding through his hair, he climbed higher and higher. Quidditch-toned muscles gripped the Nimbus with the ease of a Wizard who'd lived part of his life in the skies. The new broom was even faster than the last, fond as he had been of "Old Bess."

With a sky this clear and perfect, the wind heavy enough to give him an extra punch, James was certain life didn't get any better than this.

Of course, Mum didn't know he had snuck out of his room just before dawn that morning, to test out his reward for making near-perfect marks last term at Hogwarts.

James grinned as he burst through clouds so cold they stole his breath away. He might have been in too big a hurry to put on the proper robes for such a climb.

Yep, Mum would have a fit, which is why it's best to fly before breakfast.

Clenching his thighs hard against the broom, James let his arms flail free on either side of his torso, teetering in that perfect weightless balance over the world.

And then he was falling.

"WOOOOHOOOO!" His cry fell to laughter as James tumbled against and with the currents, plummeting faster the closer he approached solid ground.

The world was spinning and the rush had his adrenaline pumping a vicious roar with the wind in his ears.

James narrowed his gaze at the fast-approaching the emerald hills that made up his very spacious back yard.

At the last possible second, he forced his arms together, defying death once again. His muscles strained for control just before James caught the broom handle with both hands and felt the brush of grass against his knuckles.

He laughed again, at the fact his spectacles were now fogged over from the sudden heat below the clouds.

Not being able to see could definitely be a foreseeable problem.

No good Prongs! Use your head, mate!

A grin tilted his mouth as he wondered how much fun would it be to learn to fly blind. What would everyone say the first game against Hufflepuff, if Gryffindor's team captain turned out to be suddenly blind due to a faulty potions experiment? He and Sirius were always dabbling around for new methods for their prank wars against the student body.

Lily Evans had openly remarked they were wasting theirs and everyone else's time in Potions. And they ruined more cauldrons in Slughorn's than any other student except for Peter. He welcomed the familiar tightening in his chest at the thought of Lily's face at his newly perceived handicap. Would she buy it?

Of course, she would if he played his cards right! Maybe she would feel sorry enough for him that she'd escort him during their Head Boy and Girl rounds? Couldn't hex him to oblivion and call him Potter when he was a victim, could she?

His mind reeled with his latest plot. 

Can't wait to tell Pads about this one. It's bloody brilliant!

Ingenious, was what Sirius would say.

His grin deepened at the thought of his best mate. Sirius had promised to cover for him this morning in case he felt like staying up a bit longer. Mummy Potter adored Sirius Black in a way that sickened James. Not even his own mother had ever kissed his forehead adoringly when he was being cheeky. The Marauder was practically one of the family now, had been since his wicked family disowned him.

He scowled. The only being on this planet James Potter hated more than Lord Voldemort was Walburga Black.

Several more skydives and interweaving loops in the air later, and James was once more sitting on top of the world, high above the hidden family manor and Godric's Hollow below. The village was finally waking up, he noticed while stretching his arms out to pop his back. The Hollow was as small as it had been when his father was his age. It never changed in a way James envied.

While there were parts of his life he would do anything to change—such as having Lily Evans speak three civil words to him—in truth, James loved consistency. There was even comfort in Lily's continual rejection and denial of his attentions just as much in the three mates that would be part of his life until death did part them.

He didn't like things to disturb the few things in life he called sacred, which was the main reason hated Voldemort. 

A frown marred the simple joy he'd felt moments before.

The Dark Wizard's power was growing. While the Daily Prophet wasn't entirely trustworthy, not a day went by without some report of his activities, or of the lives destroyed that stood in his path.

James hated the man with a passion and tried not to think about how soon he and the other Marauders would have to do their part.

Dad had already hinted to him Dumbledore might induct him into the Order after graduation.

The sooner the better, in his opinion.

He'd already made up his mind about the future, and he would do whatever it took to protect it. Nothing in all seven hells was going to keep him from what he wanted.

James' eyes narrowed in confusion, hands guiding his broom lower.

Someone was running from Godric's Hollow and across his back yard. 

He frowned, cursing himself for not grabbing his wand before leaving the house.

How did they get past the outer wards?

Whoever this was they weren't running very fast, they reeked of too much magic, and they were wearing something bright red.

His eyes widened, mouth gaped when he recognized it was blood.

James quickly scanned the fields behind but saw no sign of pursuers and so focused once more on the girl.

It was a girl, he was near enough to notice, though her hair was matted with blood and her body wrapped in a cloak too heavy for summer. Even more disturbing was that her clothes looked soaked through.

He hadn't heard the unmistakable pop of Apparition anywhere nearby and James always sensed wherever strong magic was conjured. For all intents and purposes, he was beginning to believe this girl had appeared literally out of air. Like she was truly made of nothing, the girl began to waver on her unsteady feet.

James shouted the moment her legs buckled and the Witch fell an undignified heap just within the wards of his home.

Tilting his Nimbus at a steep angle, James dove from his perch, faster than before, only slowing in time to make a rushed arc over the grass. He jumped off his broom with ease and crashed to his knees at the girl's side. A messy wound clotted at the back of her head and ran down her face. 

Something in his chest clenched painfully as he watched her chest rise and fall too shallowly.

There was no doubt who had been the cause of this.

James turned the girl onto her back, intending to scoop her up in his arms without delay, and ground out the harshest of curses under his breath. Glass shards stuck out from her chest and mangled hand. 

Are those chunks of gold?

Fear clutched him, powerfully and surprisingly. Not for what those bastards had done to her, but because she might not make it through the next hour.

Gritting his teeth, James wrapped her up in the folds of her robe before climbing to his feet.

She was even lighter than he'd expected, and she easily fit against his broad chest. James kept an eye on her as he whispered the words that let him through his father's inner house wards without harm, and ran the rest of the way to the front door. Her features were masked by blood and carpet thick hair, but he couldn't help but try to see past the grime. She was young, his age at the most, though there were a few worry lines about her eyes that made her seem older.

Whoever she was he intended to find out as soon as she could tell him.

Whoever she was, he was going to make certain Voldemort and his little fucks never touched her again.

Chapter Text

The warmth returned to her limbs, a slow burn that spread from her toes to her fingertips.

Sounds and scents she had been unaware of for days flashed back with the memory of blood, and pain, and a boy on a broom.

A boy?

The boy had been watching her on his broom high above. She'd first felt the weight of his eyes upon her as she stumbled over the rolling moor.

Not knowing the difference between her friend and foe, she had tried to run faster and tripped.

What happened after?

"Come on Prongsie, stop acting so bloody mental!"

The voice was smooth, rich, and somewhat muffled. Was this the boy on the broom? She listened closely.

"You've been hovering around this room for three days straight," the boy continued. "There are only two weeks left before Hogwarts, and we're running out of time if you still want to plan half the pranks we've mapped out."

The voice paused. When there was no reply, the boy sighed and added, "Moony and Wormtail keep asking when you're coming down. They are your houseguest's mate."

"I know." A deeper voice finally answered from so near, she nearly flinched.

"Then what are you still bloody sitting here for? At least tell me, we're visiting the carnie later." 

"Oh, come off it, Padfoot. You and I both know I'm not the one ruining your chances." The other male's voice was slightly rougher than that of his polished friend and carried a humorous edge the former lacked. "So what are you waiting for, mate? Don't let me keep you from making someone's dreams come true. I'm sure you won't disappoint."

"You're a right tosser, you know that Prongs? After promising the summer to end all summers, you go and pick up a stray—"

"Drop it Pads," Prongs cut in. The humor now carried a warning attached. "Mum needed a rest, and I feel sort of responsible for her, you know?"

Padfoot's voice drew closer then. "But didn't the healer say she'd wake up whenever she was ready? You could be waiting here for days. Why not come up to the village with us?" Dryly, the boy added, "Maybe she's waiting for you to leave her alone before she wakes."

A pause.

She didn't dare breathe.

"Maybe," Prongs finally replied. "But you didn't find her, mate. You didn't see how the bastards had tortured her. The healer said she would have died if I hadn't found her when I did. And she...screams in her sleep sometimes, and I feel like it helps her to have someone here."

Padfoot sighed, as though he were both exasperated and resigned. "Suppose you're right. You could always ask Tippy to watch her while Mummy P rests, though, yeah?"

"Um, yeah," Prongs sheepishly replied, "but I sort of gave her the day off."

"Prongs!" The demanding, whining Padfoot had returned.

"Keep your voice down, you git! I don't want Mum to know I'm in here. She thinks I haven't slept a wink and nearly hexed my arse off for it this morning when she found me sleeping in here."

After a brief, bark-like laugh, the other boy replied, "You know, generally, I would applaud you for being caught unawares in a lady's bedroom…"

"No doubt mum would have applauded you for getting caught in a Witch's bed."

"Prongs, don't you know Mummy P only wants the best for me?"

"Sod off, Padfoot," Prongs growled. "Go bother Remus and Pete, would you?"

"Git."

"Bastard."

Their sudden laughter was swallowed by the sounds of a mild scuffle. A chair upturned and landed on its back.

"Shit!" the boys cursed in unison.

Giving up pretending to still sleep, she blinked through a sea of blurry images. Her muscles ached as though she awoke from a hundred-year sleep. The pain and the cloud hovering over her mind was something she didn't want to think too hard about just yet. She didn't want to acknowledge the panic lacing through her surface thoughts and chose to focus instead on the two tall figures at her bedside.

Padfoot and Prongs froze as a sweet motherly voice from below. "James? Was that you? Did you disobey my orders again?" 

The two boys grinned cheekily at one another before the shorter of the two marched through the open doorway. "Oh, no, It's just me Mummy P. Went looking for Jamie to see if he wanted to come to the carnival."

The taller of the two troublemakers shut the door after his friend with a soft click. She jumped at the sound.

As the boy turned to face the lamp-lit room, she closed her eyes and tried not to panic.

Where was she? Had they caught her, after all, the ones who did this to her?

She flexed her fingers, expecting the stab of broken glass in her palm. Now her skin was grooved, obviously scarred, yet otherwise smooth. Only a distant dull ache remained. 

The boy sighed. The chair beside her bed creaked beneath his weight as the boy sat, then carefully took her freshly healed hand in his. "That was a close call…Sorry about Sirius. He can be a right git sometimes, but he always pulls through, you know? Mum shouldn't catch on before tomorrow morning. So don't worry. I'm not about to leave you to wake up alone in a strange house."

She flinched when his thumb grazed her open palm.

He gasped, held his breath, and waited.

When she didn't open her eyes he let out the breath he had been holding. "I wish you would wake up so you could tell us what happened to you."

Wish I knew the answer to that too.

"A friend of ours from school lost her entire family last term…got blown up for defying You-Know-Who. Aurors never caught the ones who did it. The Ministry says there's a war coming, but Dad says it's already started. And we're all caught in the middle."

The next time his much larger hand tightened around hers, she didn't flinch.

His tone took on a new edge, an intensity that caused something to twist inside of her chest. "I want you to know I'm going to find out who did this to you. I won't let what happened to Winifred happen to you. When I find them I'm going to make them feel what you felt and worse."

Her brow furrowed and she blinked, surprised at the tears now leaking from the corners of her eyes. She dared open her eyes again. 

No point in denying tears.

The lamplight wasn't bright enough to fully illuminate much of the room past the canopied bed. Still, the warm glow haloed the boy now hunched over her bedside. His thick, messy black hair stuck about every which way. His darkly tanned skin was furrowed above his brow, and a pair of thin-rimmed spectacles had fallen down the bridge of his straight nose. He cradled her hand as though she were something fragile, and worth caring for.

Is he the one? The boy on the broom?

Guilt warmed her cheeks, pulled at her chest till she felt sick. Somehow, though she couldn't give the reason, she was convinced she wasn't worth being looked after.

She had failed someone she couldn't remember.

She would only hurt the ones who depended on her.

She didn't notice her tears kept spilling, only that when her vision ceased to blur, the boy's head had risen and turned a fraction to her.

His eyes widened instantly, switching from anger to excitement. "You're awake!"

She cringed when the boy quite literally jumped out of his chair, causing it to teeter on its legs. With a curse, he released her, whirled around, and caught the chair just shy of the carpeted floor. Grumbling as he set it to rights, the boy then plopped back onto the side of her bed. She shivered as his long leg bent, brushing against her thigh.

The brightest of grins lit up his features, and a warm familiar feeling washed over her, so potent and unexpected she nearly tore her hand from his once he reclaimed it.

This boy was not just attractive, he was handsome in a bloody gorgeous way that made her desperate to lean in closer, and unable to move all at once.

She stared and he stared just as happily back.

Something about the thick, expressive eyebrows and the hair, the glasses, was eerily familiar. But how this could be when she couldn't recall meeting anyone with so much life burning in their eyes before now? 

The trouble isn't that he's familiar, it's that I can't remember anything before the pain, and the boy on the broom.

After several moments accompanied by a ticking clock hidden somewhere in the shadows the boy laughed. "Well, this is some way to greet your knight in shining armor," he blurted, lowered his head, and ran a free hand through his wild hair.

"My knight?" Her frown deepened at the foreign sound of her strained voice.

His grin tilted up higher at one side in a decidedly arrogant manner. "You're lucky I always sneak out before breakfast to test the winds. Mum only gave me half an earful for it later because I saved your life, but you should have seen the look on her face. Me, carrying a bloody girl through over our dining hall carpet. Oh, but not bloody in a—a bad way you see, you just looked a little—worse for wear."

His tone and expression darkened so quickly she was certain if she blinked she would have missed it. His hand squeezed hers and he leaned closer over his bent knee. 

His account also reminded her of the state she had been whenever she first arrived from...wherever it was.

Someone wanted to kill me.

That much was obvious. The rest was not.

Why do I still feel so guilty?

"Don't worry." He interrupted her dark thoughts with renewed vehemence. "You're safe with me. They won't find you here, and if they do…" An unsettling grin crept with an almost frightening gleam in his hazel eyes.

"Where am I?" she whispered.

"Oh!" The boy blinked, eyes widening behind his round spectacles. He shook his head. "What an insensitive git I've been. Mum would have my head for not giving you the state of things as she calls it."

He glanced back at the room briefly and smiled. "This is my home." His lips tipped back into his seemingly unwavering grin. "And as long as you need it, this is your home too. Name's James! Uh…James Potter, and this is the Stag Shack." His cheeky grin turned hesitant. "Don't ever tell Mum we call it that though. She'd deny Sirius had anything to do with it and blame me. Would start worrying the whole of the Wizarding World would find out and laugh. We may not be Pure-bloody snobs but we're still Purebloods—unfortunately." 

She squeezed the palm James Potter wasn't holding, unsettled by the constant graze of his thumb against her blemished skin and the weight of his thigh pressed against hers. Her nerves were too frazzled, too raw.

Her rescuer seemed to try and wait for her introductions. The leg he'd left hanging off the edge of the bed jiggled with the same nervous energy which seemed to surround James Potter. He burned with the kind of passion that was certain to grate her nerves and endear him to her at once.

When she did not answer, James gave in and asked, "So what's your name? I have to say you've given Mum a run for her galleons! Dorea Potter knows almost every Witch in England, from Pureblood to Muggleborn but she couldn't remember your face. Said you looked sort of familiar, but couldn't put a name to you. It's been delightfully frustrating."

He paused for her reaction. After several seconds beneath her curious stare, he ducked his head and played with the faintly ridged skin of her palm. "So, uh—care to share?"

She hesitated and opened her mouth. But the answer wouldn't come. "I—I can't." 

James's smile dimmed before he forced another grin. "Right, I understand. Can't let the Death Eaters know you're here."

"No, that's not it." She wanted him to understand, wanted someone to understand, so they could start helping her figure out what the hell was going on!

"It's okay love…"

"No, it's not okay because—" The rasp in her throat dragged her words. "I don't know...I can't remember." She closed her eyes, and searched her stubbornly blank mind, only to faced the same cloudy, impenetrable wall.

James's other hand clasped the underside of her palm, drawing back her gaze. "Can't you remember anything?"

As though conjured by his words, a name slipped through the fog.

"Hermione..." She repeated the name aloud, unable to tear her gaze from his again. The green within his hazel eyes brightened with the intensity she was beginning to associate with him, this boy who had saved her life.

"Hermione?" He echoed with a soft smile. "Is that your name, love?"

"I think so…yes, I think it is." She nearly gasped as fury darkened James's handsome features and she bit her lip. "I'm sorry."

His eyebrows furrowed. "What for?"

"You're angry with me."

"What? No! Why would I be angry with you? I'm mad at the bloody bastards who did this to you! The healer said the curse was powerful but we didn't know how…"

Hermione watched with wonder as the boy's whole frame tensed, and magic emanated from him in cresting waves. A smell like the skies before a storm, like lightning thickened in the air between them.

James flinched and twisted to watch the door as the abrupt rush of footsteps tread down the hall just beyond.

Only after the footsteps faded did he glance back to her, and his magic retreated within him. Hermione caught her breath at the full weight of his gaze.

"If my mum asks, tell her I just came in to check on you a minute ago, yeah?" Something in his eyes denied her denial of his request before she had even agreed to it. He smiled, flashing perfectly straight, white teeth. "For the record, I am not a miserable prat with his head up his arse, no matter what they tell you."

"Who?"

"JAMES POTTER!"

Hermione and James both turned to find the tall and graceful form of a beautifully furious woman standing in the open doorway. When Hermione tried to pry her hand from his he only held it tighter between both.

"Oi, Mum! Gonna go deaf if you keep shouting like that."

"You will have reasons to shout if your father comes home and finds you went against the healer's instruction." A tall, stately Witch dressed in twinkling sapphire robes with silver and black hair marched to her son in a huff. "This poor girl has been through enough without you chattering on at her in her sleep. She needs to be resting." Her bold blue gaze darted to the hand her son held and finally noticed the very aware Hermione.

"Oh, sweet Nimue, she's awake!" Alighting to the other side of her son's seat on the high bed, Mrs. Potter cast James a reproachful glare. "Why didn't you tell me, Jamie?" Her son frowned as Mrs. Potter pushed him gently off Hermione's bedside and took his place.

"Mum!" He protested, but the older Witch was already focused on Hermione, hand on her forehead and lips pursed in thought. Mrs. Potter was beautiful though obviously older than the average mum of a boy their age. Her face was one of high cheekbones and sharp angles that served to heighten her beauty rather than harden it. Her eyes were soft as the pillow beneath Hermione's sore head and, motherly in a distantly familiar way. "You poor dear..."

"I wasn't here long! You can ask Hermione. I just came in to check on her a bit before supper. Isn't that right, Hermione?"

He was trying to catch her eye but Hermione could only smile faintly and nod. Mrs. Potter's gaze was unrelenting, yet she seemed to see something in Hermione's expression that answered the elder Witch's own silent questions. A cool hand cupped Hermione's cheek to accompany Mrs. Potter's warm smile. "He means well, dear."

"Means well? Of course, I mean well Mum! I'm the one who bloody found her!"

"Language, James…" Mrs. Potter remarked, all the while studying Hermione. When James began another round of protests, his mother turned a firm eye to her son. "Why don't you go see how the boys are getting along now? Sirius told me to come and check on you if you didn't come down within the hour. I do believe he was worried you would miss out on all the fun."

Hermione caught the dark scowl that crossed James's face and recalled the other, shorter boy with long, wavy hair.

James grumbled threats under his breath she could barely make out. "Impossible git…wait till I—see if I keep his arse off the line next time Filch…"

"James?" Mrs. Potter smiled sweetly. "The boys said they'd meet you at the carnival."

His jaw clenched. "Mum, I can't just leave! She just…"

"Now, darling?" Mrs. Potter's tone firmed, having an immediate effect on her son.

James huffed a sigh and nodded, his broad shoulders dropping in defeat. "Yes, Mum."

Neither Witch saw the intent and wistful look he gave the young Witch before stepping out the door and racing down the long hall.

BANG

Metal bottles exploded to crumbling pieces with more force than necessary. James was already throwing his next mini-bludger. The Carnie glanced nervously at him. James had not missed a throw yet.

"Come on Prongs! You know how Mummy P can get sometimes."

BANG

James cast a dark look at his so-called best mate. "You knew exactly what you were doing, Pads. You didn't want me to spoil your plans, so you ratted me out."

James wanted to throttle Sirius just thinking about how lost Hermione had looked as he left. He had promised to stay by her side, after all, hadn't he?

He had been unable to shake the mental image of her nearly lifeless body, mottled and bruised skin painted a sickening red and gold. The dark thought inevitably led him back to the bastards who'd done this to her and recognized the fact that for him, things could never be the way they were before.

"Aren't you going to pick a prize, James?" Peter Pettigrew, another one of his best mates pointed to the cautious Carnie.

James cast a cursory glance at the stuffed prizes.

Why had he decided to throw bludgers again?

Sirius was rubbing his hands together in the way that meant he was caught and knew it.

Oh yeah, to keep from murdering my best friend.

"You gonna pick something or what?" The Carnie asked, then dragged on his cigarette impatiently.

James rolled his eyes. "Do you see a line waiting behind us? Just give me a minute will you?"

Sirius held his hands up. "Look, okay, maybe I did want you to get out of the house. So hex me! Drop me to the deepest part of the bottomless lake! But first, at least let me show you what we have planned!"

Remus Lupin watched on from behind Sirius, and James shared a brief smirk with his other best mate. Remus saw things more clearly than anyone else James knew and right now watched with mild interest, and curiosity. 

"Moony, what do you think?" James deferred to the reason they were the Marauders in the first place. They had all become Animagi after all, because of Remus, to keep him company during his monthly transformations.

Remus nodded his head to the Carnie. "I think you should get something for your mystery girl, so the trip to town wasn't a total waste."

James's eyes lit up. "Brilliant Moony!" It was just the sort of thing that would lift her spirits, wasn't it? He cast a quick glance over the selection, then pointed to the orange ball of fluff on impulse.

The Carnie practically shoved the stuffed animal into his arms but James cared little as they turned back to the other magically lit attractions and rides. Mood successfully repaired, the Marauders fell into step around him. Why had he been angry with Sirius? He couldn't recall. All he knew was they were together now, and that made them invincible. James knew they could conquer anything.

James was grateful his mates knew to take his frequent mood swings in stride, as much as they tolerated Sirius's temper tantrums. Remus and Peter helped to balance them out. Peter did right by often being oblivious to arguments and saying the right thing at the wrong time. Remus had a knack for putting all of them in their place, and thanks to the sandy-haired Marauder, all was forgiven and forgotten.

Gift in tow, James pictured Hermione's wide mouth turning up at the corners in a coveted smile and felt his own answering grin. A sudden wave of fear chilled the warmth building in his chest.

She could hate it…

Would she think it too childish? James wasn't certain if she was their age, after all. Besides, she came to them a bloody mess, unable to remember anything save her first name. Suddenly, the stuffed kneazle in his arms felt wildly inappropriate.

"Something wrong, Prongs?" Peter asked.

It will be. I'll make her smile, and maybe forgetting is best. I can give her new memories.

James shrugged, steeled his resolve, and carried the large stuffed animal in a way that dared challenge anyone's comments. Pasting a sure grin to help convince himself he glanced at his shorter friend. "Absolutely nothing in the world, Wormtail."

Chapter Text

Sirius didn't complain when James insisted on returning from the carnival early. Padfoot, quite uncharacteristically, had seemingly forgotten his goal to find a girl willing to spend the night, nor did he mention their plans for Slytherin this year. Instead, Sirius had played off his best mate's good cheer and proposed a game of Quidditch.

James could be depended upon to forget almost anything at the mere mention of flying, but the prize in his hands made him hesitate.

The memory of her broken body weightless in his arms kept him tied to earth tonight. James had never seen so much blood outside a person in his life. He hadn't known someone could bleed so much and still live.

And when she'd finally awoken... James believed her to be their age, but he'd never seen so much sorrow on a face so young.

The last thing she needs right now is to be alone.

Promising to meet his mates on the Quidditch pitch his grandfather had built a century before, James ignored the curiosity in Remus's eyes and Sirius's knowing glare. His mates could wait.

Finally free, James bounded through the front door and up the grand staircase, two stairs a time.

Deliciously short of breath, he turned down the guest hall. Remus and Pete shared the guest room beside his and Sirius's rooms on the third floor, in the family wing. But this hall had been housing Wizards and Witches as long as Potters had lived on this plot of land. And in all the years they had entertained guests, James had never had any reason to come down this hall of his own volition.

He reached her door in record time, muscles lightly burning from the exertion and an immovable grin on his face. Twisting the knob, he half expected his mother to snatch him by the skin of his neck like she still occasionally did when he was stupid enough to get caught.

Breathing a quick thanks to the fates, James found the room empty. With a swish of his wand behind his back, he shrunk the stuffed kneazle to fit in his palm.

The room seemed brighter since he had left, the lamp no longer dimmed and the bed no longer occupied.

She's gone?

Was this why his mother was so eager for him to leave before?

James rarely questioned his mother's motives, but he also couldn't forget she was a Black. And there had been times James was unsure if she felt just as strongly about Muggle-born rights as he and his father did.

Was she too suspicious of the girl who had arrived so mysteriously on their doorstep? James preferred to avoid his darker thoughts, but he couldn't help them anymore. Not after he'd found a young Witch bleeding out from a dark curse and shattered glass in her palm. 

Where would she have gone?

She couldn't have been sent off by his mother already could she? James had to admit he'd half expected his mum to ship the Witch off to St. Mungo's on sight.

His eyes widened and fear clutched his chest as he surveyed the room more closely.

Something strange caught his eye, something that had changed since he'd last been here three hours before.

The wardrobe across from the four-poster bed was open. The faintest of sighs escaped from the other side. Hope blazed in his chest with bursts of cannons firing and such.

Of course, his mother would never send her away! She may have been born a Black, but she had married a blood traitor. And she was his mum. James forgot he had ever doubted her.

He was upon the wardrobe in a fraction of a second, pulling the door wide…and greeted by a shout from the other side.

Hermione had her back to him as she attempted to dress in an old-fashioned white brasier.

His jaw fell open.

They had been forced to trash her clothes, of course, which were soiled and blood riddled beyond repair. She had been wearing a frilly lace spare nightgown ever since. And, he had to admit, whomever the brazier belonged to, he'd never in his wildest dreams imagined such an antiquated Pureblood garment could be so…

No matter how unprepared James Potter had been to find his Witch indecently arousing, he was unprepared for the sight of the Witch's bare torso, thankfully turned away from his eyes…barely. A very tight and uncomfortable heat crash flooded his system, settled low, leaving his face burning. He determined to move now, yet for whatever mental reason his feet and his eyes remained rooted in one spot.

Of course, her gaze finally caught his open-mouthed stare. "Get out!" she screeched, covering her breasts with one arm. She stumbled as she backed to the opposite wardrobe door. 

James jumped into action, turning to flee. "I—I'm sorry! I wasn't trying to—shit, I mean I—" he ran straight into the door he had flung aside.

Creaking on its ancient hinges, the old wood teetered back and then smacked him again in the face. His glasses fell from the bridge of his nose and he was either too disoriented or stupid to catch them.

Pick one, Potter…

He groaned, knowing he'd just royally screwed up. He stumbled, seeing stars for a moment, and reached out his hands to catch himself. Momentarily blinded, his fingers grazed something smooth and all too soft, like silk…

"James! That's me, you idiot!"

"Sorry, I can't see, I swear! I just dropped my— CRUNCH —glasses," he finished with a groan as his foot made direct contact.

This day couldn't get any bleeding worse!

"Um, James? You're still touching my leg."

Beaten he sank to the carpeted floor in a huff and reached past the blurry images for his spectacles.

If Mum knew about this she'd have a fit…

James resigned himself to a lifetime of shame as he prepared to dig his grave and crawl in. He opened his mouth to speak several times but knew anything that would come out of it would only make the situation worse.

A low hum and then several restrained, bell-like giggles broke the tense silence. He lifted his bowed head hopefully, cautious not to find a repeat of the image forever burned into his mind.

Her blurry image had backed against the wardrobe and she wasn't merely giggling now, she was laughing infectiously. 

"You stupid git!" She sighed and the words sounded like heaven.

James leaned back at the baseboard of her bed and shrugged. "A man can only try." 

He waited until Hermione had finished changing into her borrowed robes. Finally, the wardrobe shut with two strained creaks. And then she was kneeling before him, her hand using his bent knee to help her steady down.

Breathing became a challenge.

James prayed she didn't scrutinize him too closely or the situation might become more awkward than it already was.

He was still a randy seventeen-year-old after all.

With her small hand pressed to his knee, James clenched his jaw as she came into focus, much closer now. Though her features were still slightly blurred, he could make the lamp-lit outline of her face and thick, chocolate-colored curls that haloed her head. She smelled faintly of cinnamon and his tongue was tied from the dozen stupid lines he kept trying to deliver.

Her hand slid from his knee, taking her warmth with her. 

He pressed his lips tightly together as she took one of his hands into hers and whispered, "Here."

A small metal object and cracked glass…

Shit.

"It's okay, you know." Her soft voice was no longer so raspy. He suddenly realized he hadn't given her any water or offered her anything after she woke.

From being magically sustained for three days, you arse!

While mentally hitting himself with a bludger, James realized he liked the rich lilt of her tone.

"I'm sure you've seen much more than that on a girl." She closed his fingers over his spectacles.

Yes, but never in real life, just in Sirius' bloody muggle magazines.

"Do you know how to mend them?" she asked.

And never one as beautiful as her.

"Ah…yeah." Glancing at the object in his hand he focused the words through his thoughts.

Occulis reparo!

Glasses mended, he stared at them in his open hand rather than put them on again. He was afraid if he did she would see his eyes as clearly as he saw her. And he wasn't just talking about perfect breasts and satin skin...

Her laughter broke his thoughts. "Still in shock, I see. Here, let me help."

Her hands were touching his face, fingers brushing past his hair. His nerves seemed to light with magic as her caress registered with his weightless thoughts.

His vision cleared to find her warm amber eyes and wondered if he'd ever been truly awake before this.

He stared open-mouthed at his Witch, unaware he already thought of her as his, too aware her hand lingering to hesitantly smooth his hair.

"There." Her smile wavered as she pulled away. "Better, I hope?"

He nodded.

"You look like a fish right now, you know."

He nodded again.

Hermione's expressive eyebrows drew together. "You must have hit your head harder than I thought. Are you okay?"

He could only bloody nod!

"Your mum was kind enough to lend me these. She said they used to be hers. Tomorrow, she's buying me some robes in Diagon Alley…"

Hermione sat back on the carpet and played with the edge of the golden fabric of her robes. "I don't really care what they look like, and I don't know if I'm ready to face a lot of people just yet. Everything's a little too..." Her voice faded and he watched her thoughts fly over her expressive face. He was aware of the blush on her cheeks, still angry with himself for barging in without thinking, and the fact she didn't quite meet his eye.

Thankfully, he had regained enough of his faculties to regain his wits. On average, his friends had a difficult time getting him to shut up or calm down. And while James wouldn't call his magic threatening to burst from the seams calm, he worried she'd find him rude if he didn't say something.

"Here!" He held up his closed fist for her to inspect. As soon as the word escaped, time rushed to catch up with his senses. James faltered, pasted a sure grin into place, and challenged her with an arched brow. "To make up for my indiscretion, I offer you this valiantly won trinket, milady!"

"Trinket?" Hermione's manner was subdued as she carefully inspected his closed fist. "What did you…oh!"

With a discreet wave of his wand, the stuffed animal sprung from its tiny shape into the soft and cuddly form she drew against her chest and buried her face in.

James propped against his knee, smiling at her obvious approval. Until it had been five minutes and she still hadn't pulled her face from the soft orange kneazle. "Hermione?"

Dark curls spilled back from her angled features as she slowly lifted her head. Tears filled her large amber eyes and slipped onto her cheeks. James nearly cursed himself...until he caught the sad smile on her lips.

"Hope you don't think it's too childish or anything? I won it at the carnival and thought it might cheer you up. Can see I'll have to find other ways of making you smile, yeah?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, no, it's perfect. I just…I don't think you should give anything else to me."

James sat up, indignant. "Why ever not?"

She smoothed the stuffed kneazle's fur. "I can't remember anything that happened before coming to in that field, nothing except for a name I can't even be certain is mine... But I do know I don't deserve to receive anything from anyone. It would make me feel better if you wouldn't treat me this way."

"Bullshit!" James struggled to tame the heat behind his words. "Hermione, you were hit with dark magic. I would have sensed the dark arts on you a meter away if you belonged to them…but you don't. Since I was the one to find you, how about you let me decide how I get to treat you? And I solemnly swear, Hermione, if you still hate me after that, I'll leave you alone."

Like hell you could avoid her now.

She bit her lip, looking anywhere but his eyes, and nodded.

"Brilliant!" James gave into the restless energy that urged him to kiss her tears away and stood. He glanced from the wardrobe back to the gloriously bushy-haired Witch before him. "So, I was thinking that tomorrow we could test your new legs on the Stag Shack. What do you say? There are plenty of places to explore, and plenty of ghosts."

His attempt to appeal sounded more like bullocks to his own ears, but Hermione's small smile made him ready to be as ridiculous as she needed him to be. He grinned and offered her his hand.

He didn't know he was holding his breath until she slipped her hand into his. James easily pulled her to her feet. The top of her head barely reached his neck, a spot he decidedly liked as she craned her neck to meet his gaze.

The air shifted, crackled intensely with building energy.

Power pulsed between the junction of their hands in a clash of scents and magic that stood his hair on end.

Hermione's free arm, clutching her stuffed kneazle, brushed his lower chest. James sucked in a sudden breath and watched as she turned to her gift onto the bed covers.

When she faced him again, James knew instinctively something had just changed that could never be undone.

And the ripple echoed through time.

Chapter Text

At supper, Hermione met Charlus Potter. He was seated at the head of their long dining table and listening to his silver-haired wife speak of the goings-on of the Wizarding world with adoring eyes.

Hermione felt like a different person, dressed in Dorea Potter's fine robes. Of course, she couldn't quite remember what sort of a person she had been before she woke up.

Was I good, as James seems to believe?

Rather than the formal affair Hermione had been dreading, they ate a delicious, simple meal provided by well cared for house-elves. Too good.

She barely managed ten bites before her stomach protested. She pretended to take much larger bites after this, and was still embarrassed she left so much food on her plate. If the Potters cared, they didn't say. Only James watched in concern as the house-elves vanished their plates.

For reasons she couldn't explain, seeing the elves wrapped in fine woolen clothes satisfied some of the hole her lack of appetite left behind.

With a snap of his fingers, Charlus summoned them small glass bowls of frosty ice cream.

James grinned at her from his mother's side across the table.

Her mouth quirked at the corners, and her cheeks heated as she dipped her spoon in the cream, then brought it to her lips. The sugary taste sent her senses into overload. It was all she could do not to spit it out. Tears welled in her eyes.

What's wrong with me?

She glanced quickly to the empty seats at her right. The Potter's other guests were nowhere in sight.

Dorea sighed. "Where are they... Jamie, have you seen Sirius since this afternoon?"

James nearly choked on his ice cream and needed to wipe his chin before he could answer. "They went straight to the pitch, after the carnival."

Dorea hummed, then turned to one of the watchful house-elves with a thin smile. "Please keep extra plates out and warmed in the kitchens for the boys."

"Mipsy is happy to serve Mistress," the elf replied with a happy grin. 

James had rolled his eyes and tucked back into his bowl. "Course they don't have to sit at the table..."

"Well, of course they don't!" Dorea dabbed her lips with her napkin. "You are our son, Jamie. Not to mention, we have a special guest." Mrs. Potter nodded to Hermione. 

She forced a smile back.

Charlus chuckled at his son. "Too right, though I am curious as to why you didn't follow them straight to the pitch..." Though the gleam in the silver-haired man's dark brown eyes as he glanced Hermione's way betrayed his opinion.

James stuffed his face to avoid answering.

The sage Wizard's expression turned from mischievous to thoughtful in an instant and Hermione saw where his sons' temperament had come. "So, my dear, Dorea says you cannot remember anything that happened before you woke up here?"

Hermione nodded, pushing her one memory from her mind, the same one that made her healed wounds and bruises ache once again. She swirled the vanilla flavored ice round with her spoon.

"I see…" Charlus's smile was kind. "Wondrous and dreadful thing, the mind is. I confess your situation has weighed heavily on me, Hermione. Neither Dorea nor I are skilled Legillimens, or we might have tried to help you recover your memories already."

Hermione froze as a gnawing fear clawed its way up her throat.

"Which is why," Charlus continued, "and I do hope you shan't mind, I have taken the liberty of calling upon someone who might help you."

Who? 

James's head shot up from his second helping of ice cream, brow furrowed. "Who?"

Hermione glanced quickly at him before meeting Charlus's happy gaze. 

"A very old friend," he replied.

Hermione's hand tightened on her spoon. The fear had only grown with his announcement.

Stop it! They only want to help you.

But what if they find something...something to prove you aren't the Witch they believe?

Dorea Potter passed another napkin to her son. "We shall give a special dinner for him as well. Jamie, you and the boys don't need to join us if you prefer, but Hermione's attendance is certainly required."

James grinned. "I'm too curious not to come now, Mummy dearest."

Dorea rolled her eyes but Hermione caught the pleased grin twitching at the corners of her mouth.

"Brilliant!" Charlus exclaimed with a warm smile. "In the meanwhile, you are free to have a look about the Manor, my dear. No doubt James has already offered you the grand tour." He favored his son with a sly grin. "I know he has already spoken to you of our invitation to stay long as you like, but please do make yourself at home." 

Charlus masked a sudden yawn with his palm. He pulled his hand away to reveal a world-wearied face and wan traces of a smile.

Hermione wondered how she felt she understood that kind of bone-deep weariness. She wondered what James's father did for a living.

Again, she glanced at the empty chairs down the long table and thought of the dinner Dorea planned to host tomorrow evening.

What if their friend chooses not to help?

What if they do?

She twisted her fingers in her lap and hoped her memories were worth remembering.

For now, she chose to be grateful the fates sent her to the Potters.

"Come along, Hermione," Dorea said, "it's past time you take your potions, dear." 

"Yes, Mrs. Potter," she whispered. Hermione caught herself searching the face of the boy who had found her. 

His mouth parted, and Hermione tried not to notice the intensity and admiration burning behind his hazel eyes.

"What took you so long, Prongs?" Sirius Black growled as he brought his broom low.

"Late dinner, mate," James replied.

They had waited a while for James to show up before giving up, and returning to show off for a few girls back at the carnival an hour or two. When they, at last, found their way to the kitchens, they heard James's laughter competing with his father's.

Sirius dared peek through the dining hall's double doors to glimpse their missing Marauder still wearing his old jumper, jeans, and trainers. Nimbus aside, James had obviously come unprepared for a nasty two on two Quidditch match.

Bloody birds...

Remus and Peter tossed a bludger back and forth in the air, though Peter's attempts seemed feeble compared to Remus's frightening Werewolf strength.

"What's that smell?" There was something oddly sweet clinging to his best mate tonight, Sirius noted. Nose wrinkling, he couldn't deny the foreign scent was pleasant enough...on a bird. His eyes narrowed when he took in the spring to Prongs' step, the goofy grin plastered to his face, and the sun struck look in his glowing eyes.

James glanced down into his best friends narrowed gray eyes with a laugh. "What did I do, Pads? Must have been something awful if I'm getting that look."

Sirius bristled and flexed his grip on the broom.

James arched a single questioning brow before settling on his Nimbus and rising in the air above Sirius with ease.

Sirius Black loved the freedom flight gave, but he didn't take to the wind instantly the way James did. 

His best mate's black hair tossed about as he circled around. "What are you doing, standing on the ground for? We're out here to play Quidditch, yeah?"

Sirius sank onto his broom and shot up into the air roughly a foot away from James. "Yeah! That was the bloody plan, Prongsie…five hours ago!"

James had the decency to lose that infuriating grin. "Oh, yeah, sorry about that Padfoot. I got ah, well…" His face, though only lit by moonlight was very much red. Prongs was blushing?

"Well?"

"I went up to give her the present but sort of," James ran a hand roughly through his hair and added in a rush, "—walked in on her changing."

Sirius's fury eased into a sly grin.

Now, this is a different matter indeed…

James frowned the more Sirius's smile widened. "What? Don't look at me like that, Padfoot. It was nothing like t-that…Godric, it's not like I saw anything!"

"Oh?"

"Yeah!"

"Hmm…" Sirius loved his brother enough to die for him. He also loved to give James heat when the moment called for it. And now was definitely one of those moments. It was his turn to circle around James on his broom. "So, how was she?"

"Shut up about it, will you?" James clenched his jaw and his eyes shot daggers through Sirius.

Definitely the wrong track to take.

"Listen, mate, I wasn't trying to guilt you into admitting anything! Just thought it might help you to get it off your chest. I'm always here to listen, especially about birds. No, I take that back, only about birds."

"You're not helping, Padfoot." James groaned and began to fly to where Peter barely dodged Remus's hurls. "I knew I couldn't talk to you about this…"

Hmm…even more interesting.

"Try me. You might be surprised."

James sighed. "Fine..." and proceeded to confess his encounter with Hermione, his gift, and the way her magic called to him in ways he'd never felt before.

Sirius easily caught up when James as he listened, and they took an easy turn about the pitch.

James was rarely as serious as this, only ever about three things: the Marauders, Lily, and the War, in that order. And for the first time since fourth year, Sirius Black listened to his best friend talking about a girl other than Lily.

He ignored the annoying voice in the back of his head that sounded too much like a conscience and found himself just as curious about this mysterious Hermione as James was…for slightly different reasons.

The last time Sirius had seen her, the Witch had been asleep, her body fighting off a dark curse that caused his nerves to stand on end. For reasons he couldn't fathom, she seemed to have traces of his family's magic written all over the darkness eating her alive. She had survived their curse, which meant she was stronger than his cousins suspected. It was only a question of which within his lovely family members had done the deed. Bella? Cissy's little bitch? Or Regulus?

"Pads? You sure you didn't have too many Butterbeers with...what were their names? Griselda and Gwen?"

"Shit!" Sirius cursed just before colliding with the uppermost branches of an ancient oak. The twigs tore at his pant legs. 

James laughed, and Sirius almost forgot the possibility his family had tried to kill James's Witch. 

"How did you know we met up with those Witches?" Sirius finally managed.

James rolled his eyes. "Give me a little credit, Padfoot. I have known you for twelve years, and you've got the Beatty twins written all over you."

Sirius allowed a lazy smirk to settle in. "Right you are, Prongsie!"

Prongs may be considered the handsomely arrogant Quidditch god according to the female population, but Sirius was reigning king of devilishly sexy aristocrat playboy. Although, that was a direct quote from Lily Evans, who had more than likely had meant it as an insult. Certainly not the compliment Sirius had taken it for.

"So what do you think?" James asked once they had both stopped to stare at the world from a perch below the clouds.

Sirius saw the world stretching on forever in either direction, their world. But when he turned to glace at his best mate, James was focused on the floor housing their mystery Witch.

Sirius released a slow sigh, then said, "I think that I've never heard you talk about another girl besides Lily before." 

James's smile began slowly before engulfing his face and sparking the air about him with happy magic. "I know none of this makes any sense, Padfoot," he said with a laugh. Another shake of his tousled head. "Something's been off ever since she came. I can't explain what it is about her. It's not just that she's beautiful..."

James colored and clenched his jaw. "I can't stop thinking about her. And not just—what I saw earlier today. It's grown so much stronger ever since she woke up. I know it sounds crazy, but I feel this need to protect her. Almost like something or someone is pushing me towards her for a reason."

Sirius wasn't a believer in fluffy things like fate, but he still found himself replying, "Maybe you are meant to protect her, mate."

Chapter Text

She couldn't sleep.

Giving up, Hermione slipped into the robes Dorea Potter had lent her and pushed the window curtains aside.

She was pleased to find the tall window was actually a glass door leading to a small balcony. The stars still shone dimly above while the sky began spilling over into broad pastel strokes.

A cool morning breeze tugged at her long brown ringlets. Shivering slightly she blinked again, this time seeing an explosion of color where the sun was beginning to rise.

Hermione caught herself on the balcony railing and clenched it tightly as she struggled to control her labored breathing.

Because she wasn't looking at a normal sunrise, but a sky painted in shades she hadn't known existed.

The hair on her arms prickled, magic hovered just beneath the skin in a way Hermione knew was not normal.

She squeezed her eyes shut, but even through the veil of closed lids, could still somehow see the colors. 

Is this because of the curse?

But there was no record of a dark curse causing people to see colors beyond the human spectrum. Her frown deepened as she opened her eyes to face the pure gold of a new sun. She froze in the midst of her surprise.

How did she know there was no record?

The instant the thought came, pages leaped to the forefront of her mind, visual memories of endless texts on the Dark Arts she had researched. She could see them, as clearly as though she was looking at the magically protected pages and not this altered dawn. The words played out in her mind, practically memorized.

Why would she be able to remember something like this with so much detail and nothing about who she was?

What did it say about her that she knew so much about the Dark Arts?

What if she had been on the other side of the War?

Had they punished her, and this was the reason she arrived as though fresh from battle?

Hermione watched the sunrise as she searched her fractured mind for anything else and was met with nothing.

Perhaps the knowledge could only be brought to light by true need?

She worried her lip and studied the new colors dancing within the sun until her eyes could take no more. 

The Potters had invited their friend to help Hermione if possible. Where before she'd felt some trepidation, now she couldn't ignore the panic clawing at her nerves. What else would this friend dredge up to the surface, and what would James think?

Her panic quieted the moment she recalled James's open-mouthed stare as he took in her nearly-naked chest. The sight of him nearly knocking himself unconscious brought a slow smile to her lips. She had been angry, but seeing him helpless and crestfallen made her forget to be embarrassed. And though it was only her second time to speak with the boy on the broom, the boy who'd saved her, Hermione couldn't shake the sense of familiarity he evoked. Almost as though she had known him for years. She wondered if James shared the same feeling. 

Her smile faded.

What will he think once I tell him? 

Hermione shuddered as she feared James might have been wrong about her after all.

James had a wild thought that wouldn't go away no matter how many times Sirius told him it was mental and she would think so too.

In the end, after several pleas and a few not-so-innocent threats, Sirius had finally agreed to cover for him.

Moments after, James rounded the front end of the house and tried to avoid the notice of the house elves. At least he wouldn't have to worry about his Mum this early in the morning. Charlus had taken the day off from his usual Order and Ministry duties and James' parents were still very much in love. No doubt they wouldn't get out of the house before noon, disturbing as the thought was.  

James brought his broom to hover slowly around the corner to the east wing, and approached the balcony leading to her room.

"Are you there yet?"

James nearly slid off his broom, having forgotten about the two-way mirror in his robe pocket. Picking out the misshapen oval quickly, James growled, "Shove off, you knob! And stop listening in unless Mum turns up."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Fine, but don't count on me waiting here like this once breakfast is ready."

James sighed, shoved the mirror back in its resting place, and glanced up, only for his heart to stop beating altogether.

Hermione had crept onto her balcony in his distraction and the sight of her, stood dressed in his Mum's antiquated golden robes, stole his breath away. Sunlight gleamed on her golden skin and tinted her chocolate curls a deep wine red. The gold-threaded patterns throughout his Mum's robes finished her otherworldly look.

James had to grip his broom more tightly when he found himself about to crash into a brick wall. 

Hermione startled and turned at his curse.

James affected a confident grin as he came round to hover less than a meter before her, and nearly lost his balance again. In the light of dawn, her eyes weren't simply dark amber, they were fire.

"You're up early this morning," she said. "Out looking for another Witch to rescue?" Despite her lighthearted tone, her brow was furrowed by troubles he wanted her to forget. But then she smiled for him and he could hear how glad she was that he had come.

Wrong you were, Padfoot!

With a dramatic wave of his hand and quick prayer this would work, James replied, "Thought you could use some fresh air! I like to go for a quick fly every chance I get. Mum doesn't like knowing and pretends Sirius and me don't sneak around her back." His grin widened when she rolled her eyes and held his hand to her. "Come on, you're not afraid to fly are you?"

Hermione froze at his words with a frown, yet her hand still reached for his. Their fingertips brushed, and she hesitated. "I'm not exactly dressed for flying…"

James drank in the opportunity to take in the way the robes clung to her marvelous chest, before flaring into loosely flowing skirts from her knees in front and arcing to dance at her calves. "Oh, I don't mind at all…eh, that is…" He forced his gaze back hers. "No one else will be up for at least another hour. So no worries, yeah?"

"We won't get in trouble for this, will we?"

The tilt of his grin took on a dangerous edge, his eyes brightened at the prospect. "Probably."

Her tiny hand was cool and soft as her leg had been.

Stop it you randy little…

"Okay." She threw her bare legs over the edge of the balcony, and for one blessed moment, the fabric bunched to her upper thighs as she eased against his back.

James shuddered when she moved against him. Though separated by yards of fabric, he still saw flashes of golden skin every time he closed his eyes. Her bare feet settled over his boots, her small hands rested on his shoulder blades. His eyes popped open. "Oh blast, I forgot! Here take off my cloak will you love? I brought it because I thought you might get cold."

"You sure that's safe?" Her words combined with her heady scent and touch made his blood burn and his magic sing.

"Ah, yeah, here." He aided her by lifting one hand at a time, grinning to himself as she lifted the wool over his head. Her fingers grazing his exposed torso as the fabric pulled at his jumper. "Thanks, love," he said, voice thicker and deeper than before.

Hermione wasted little time to don the cloak, and then her hands clasped his shoulders again. His heart began to race as he turned them to greet the sun. "Hang on tight."

His palms flexed against the smooth wood of his broom as he pressed his heels into the hooks, and then they became like air, like lightning, climbing fast.

He laughed as Hermione shrieked and wrapped her arms around his waist, digging her small frame into his larger one. This time, he wasn't as surprised when his body reacted to her touch. Combined with the adrenaline rush of feeling the wind against his face, James felt so alive, he couldn't possibly have been living before.

Her arms tightened as he spun in circles in the air. James chuckled and turned to call, "You all right?"

She nodded against the space between his shoulder blades. The wind caught his laughter as they climbed higher, spiraling and looping with powerful ease until Hermione began to relax against him and they finally came to perch among the clouds.

His pulse pounded a syncopated rhythm in his ears. He could feel hers pounding just as steadily against his back. Breathing heavily, they peered down at the diminutive grandeur of Potter Manor and Godric's Hollow farther beyond.

Gusty winds caused them to gently sway, as though caught on an ocean wave.

Hermione leaned her head against his jumper and released a shaky sigh. "That was exactly what I needed."

Tilting his head back only afforded James a glorious view of her curls dancing in the wind. "See? I knew you'd love it! Nothing gives me the high this does. When I'm up here, I feel…"

"Belonging…" she said, and something profound shifted within James Potter. Something clicked into place that he was old enough to recognize and young enough not to understand.

She lifted her head from his shoulder to catch his eye. His heart soared at the widening of her perfect smile.

"Prongs!"  Sirius hissed.

Hermione shrieked and James groaned, reaching back to dig into the cloak pocket from her borrowed robe.

"What is that?" Hermione's expression was so classic it was almost comical.

"Prongs! Pick me up damn it!"

He only grinned as he held the two-way mirror up. The grin was for her, of course. Sirius knew him well enough to see his annoyance at being interrupted.

The mirror revealed his best mate hidden in shadows, panic written on his face. "Prongs, you had better get your poncy arse down here, yesterday. Mummy P is on her way up to check on her and I'm not about to get caught because of you, again!"

James nodded and Hermione took the mirror back from him, slipping it smoothly for him into the cloak pocket. He glanced back at her in surprise but there was mischief glowing in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his chest.

"Well? We better hurry if we're going to make it before she gets there."

Flashing her a dazzling smile, James hugged the wind and obeyed.

Sirius was already pacing frantically as he waved James down. "Hurry up, you bloody wanker! Oh! Sorry love." The disgruntled Marauder still had enough manners to color at the sight of Hermione stepping off the broom behind James. She slipped off his mate's unflattering cloak, and the sight beneath shocked the terror from him.

Sirius caught his breath as his gaze swept over her golden form and his mood was transformed instantly. Holding out a hand, he bowed. "Fancy finding such a beautiful bird like you in the Stag Shack. If I'd known how well you cleaned up, I might have made James keep watch and taken you up myself…on my motorcycle. I prefer the grind of an engine to a wooden stick, don't you?"

The last he emphasized with a wag of his eyebrows, and nearly broke into giggles at the murderous glare behind James's round-rimmed spectacles.

Hermione barely glanced at Sirius, yet he was struck by how even her eyes gleamed gold in the sunlight. Had he seen her indoors, Sirius might have passed the Witch over as plain. But out here, she was bloody gorgeous, and he forgot all about the fact she reeked of his family's dark magic.

Who is this bird?

"Pads…" James' growl was his only warning.

Hermione's hands unexpectedly alighted on Sirius as she urged, "Hurry, get on before you get caught too!"

Sirius allowed her to drag him with a somewhat befuddled grin. "Anything for you, love. Say the word and I'll buy a star and name it Hermione." Hand flourishing the air, he climbed on behind James and blew a kiss. "Don't wait up for me!"

He barked a laugh when Hermione rolled her eyes and shut the glass door of her balcony with a resounding click.

James was going to kill him later.

It was worth it.

Chapter Text

Sirius was still laughing after James closed his bedroom window and marched his hysterical best friend out the door. "Aw, come off it, Prongs. I was only joking!"

James' brow arched above his furious bespectacled hazel eyes. 

"Well…mostly," Sirius confessed. His best mate's face turned a darker red, compelling Sirius to add, "Who could resist those eyes in the sunlight, mate? Besides, she—ah…"

"Yes, Padfoot?" James urged him to continue with clenched fists.

Sirius shrugged. "Sorry, mate. It's in my doggy nature, yeah?"

Yet beneath his best mate's scrutiny, Sirius was beginning to wonder if James truly had lost his mind. Was it not only two weeks ago he was spouting off his undying love for Evans?

James lifted his chin ever so slightly, eyes narrowing behind his round spectacles as he appraised Sirius. "Find a house elf and tell them Master Potter asked them to bring food to the Marauders' rooms."

Sirius's eyes widened. "No breakfast with Mummy P? After what I just risked for you, mate?" 

"And what?" James snapped.

Sirius flinched.

"Afraid Mum will start paying attention to your nightly activities once you get caught?"

In different circumstances, Sirius might have grinned at such blackmail, but this was a bit much. "That was three times this summer, mate. And just so you know, I happen to be saving myself..."

James crossed his arms and snorted. "Unlikely."

"For your Hermione." Sirius barely had time to move out of the way of James's swinging fist.

"That's enough, you arse! She's not my Hermione!" 

Sirius laughed over his friend's obvious confusion. "Been a while since you've been this territorial about a Witch, Mate."

"I am not being territorial like some bloody mutt! That's you and Moony's department, innit?"

"Case and point." Holding up his fingers, Sirius listed, "You don't want any other Marauders around her, no doubt due to my irresistible charm. Then you try and land a fist on your best mate for coming on to her…"

"That's only two points," James grumbled.

Prongs had reclaimed some of his senses, it would seem. And judging by the slight crease in his forehead, Sirius knew he'd accomplished what he'd intended, get James thinking.

"Right, well, I'm keeping an eye out for the other points," Sirius conceded with a pat on his friend's back. "Still! This is more promise than you've shown in ages. And this has to be about her because there's no other reason for you to be so testy, is there?"

"I am not being testy." James frowned and ran a hand through his unruly black hair.

Sirius smirked. "If it's not about her, then you won't mind if I have a go?"

Though James' eyebrows shot up with surprise, he didn't say no outright.

Sirius pondered over all Prongs had said the night before pressing, "After all, it's not as though she were your bird. No one's claimed her yet so that makes her fair game, yeah? Unless you already have?"

"No, she's not some bloody prize we can win, you tosser. She's..." James caught himself with a growl and couldn't quite meet Sirius' eye. "She was just cursed, Padfoot. She doesn't know anything besides her name!"

Sirius hesitated. "So, none of this has to do with Evans?"

Once more James's dark brow lifted in surprise. "What about Evans?"

Sirius dragged his palms over his stubbled cheeks. "Lily Evans? The Witch you've only been in love with since third year? The main reason we were going to sneak into Hogsmead after lunch? We had our plan down to the last detail Prongs, how could you have forgotten about it?"

They had been working on a master plan on how to get the two of them finally together. The grandest of all grand schemes timed to a fault. Over the years their attempts had grown more refined. James had stopped declaring his love for Lily every time he saw her. He'd also finally stopped catching his own snitch to impress her, along with flirting with Sirius' favorite list of shallow bints, or hexing her in clever ways so only James could help her out of the fix. Not to mention all the romantic gestures of chocolates and flowers that exploded into mini fireworks displays that read, 'Lily and James Forever'…

The Marauders had secretly grown tired of watching Evans turn their best mate down. Sirius had only enjoyed it this far because of Lily's reactions. And the fact it made Snivellus positively green to see Lily even smiling in their direction. 

But James was his brother, closer than anyone could ever be to him, and a crestfallen James Potter was depressing as puppies left out in the cold for Sirius Orion Black.

And now, after all these years, James Potter merely stared at the doors leading to the wide hall where Remus and Peter still slept and replied, "Never mind about Lily right now."

Never. Mind. About. Lily...

Sirius opened his mouth only to find no words forthcoming.

Is James finally giving up?

James' eyes narrowed down at him again. "Right now, I could care less about the plan, mate. Don't you understand what's happened? People are dying and if I hadn't found Hermione, she'd already be dead. We don't know who cursed her, but no doubt You-Know-Who was behind it. The last thing I'm going to do is let anyone, including me, make Hermione uncomfortable. So no one is taking advantage of her, not while I'm here. Got it?"

Sirius had enough sense to close the gap between his lips and nod. "Sure thing, Prongs."

"Brilliant." James grinned, bad mood instantly vanished in the way only a Potter could manage. 

Sirius watched as James turned back to his room and began to rid himself all traces of his morning flight.

"Oh, don't forget to purchase all the supplies we'll need to give Slytherin hell this year." James began to whistle off-key as he shut his door.

Sirius stared incredulously at the ancient heavy oak with the sign that read JAMES on its plaque.

His decision was made.

It was time to bring the other Marauders into this affair.

On her way down the staircase, Hermione caught a passing glimpse of three boys, one short and two tall, headed for what she assumed was the kitchens. The moment was so brief, Hermione barely recognized Sirius as he blew her a kiss before rounding the corner. She frowned, curious as to why they were not joining the family for breakfast.

It had been a rather full day already, she mused, between her revelation with the dawn and flying with James. Every time she recalled the sensation of weightlessness, of magic, of him, her cheeks flushed. She might have enjoyed the flex of his abdominals a bit too much, but she couldn't shake the way his magic and his brightness moved her even still. James Potter flew as though he just might conquer the world.

Lost in the precious new memory, she lingered in the dining hall entrance to run a careful hand over the carvings along the walls as they changed shape and came to life at her touch.

An offbeat whistle preceded the arrival of him, bounding down the staircase three at a time. The ends of his black hair stood on end, damp from a shower, and made the green in his bright hazel eyes glow brighter as he greeted her with a warm smile. "Good morning."

"Morning." Hermione's gaze flickered to their feet, to his hands buried in his pockets, then back to the softening of his knowing grin.

He leaned in so his hair fell forward from its precarious position atop his head. "Hope Mum didn't give you too much trouble after we left."

"No..." Hermione smiled softly at the mention of Dorea Potter. It would seem she was a practiced liar because the elegant matron had suspected nothing when she blamed her presence on the balcony on a lack of sleep, though her curls were more unruly than usual.

"That bad, eh?" James held out his arm and Hermione hesitated.

She nodded to the hall the other boys had fled. "Why did Sirius and the boys not join us for breakfast?" 

James followed her direction to the kitchens with a dark glare. His arm fell back to his side as he replied, jaw clenched, "Did Sirius tell you what they were doing?"

"No, I just saw them in passing. But it looked like they were up to something."

James relaxed and a slow grin banished the shadow to his handsome features.

Hermione was beginning to suspect it could be a dangerous thing to be on James Potter's bad side. When he caught her studying him his grin widened even more.

"Nothing to worry yourself over, love. Just Marauder business."

Breakfast was a simple affair of eggs, bacon, toast, pumpkin juice, and fruits.

Charlus Potter kept his nose and furrowed brow deep in the Daily Prophet before Dorea reminded him of their guest.

His dark eyes twinkled in a way that made the gaping invisible hole in Hermione's chest ache for the family she couldn't remember. And in answer to his wife's reprimand, he vanished the newspaper with a quick burst of magic.

"Charlus…" Dorea chided as she swiped her buttered knife against her toast. "No need to show off for Hermione. She is not fooled by any of your antics."

"My love, I would never dream of it! You know I've always been a responsible Wizard." Charlus winked Hermione's way.

She smiled before noticing James's infuriatingly wide grin across the table. Her gaze flickered back to his father and found Charlus Potter noticed everything.

After chewing thoughtfully and chasing his eggs with pumpkin juice, Charlus said, "I hope you shan't think us too forward, but Dorea and I were wondering last evening about your plans for the winter holidays."

"Charlus!" Dorea seemed embarrassed for some reason and James choked on his pumpkin juice.

"Winter holidays?" Hermione's fingers slackened and her glass hit the table, primed to fall.

Charlus caught the glass and potential mess with a wandless Immobulus.

Hermione's eyes widened as she picked up her glass, and the time caught up with her pumpkin juice. It barely sloshed against the rim of her cup as she set it back on the table with a grimace. "Sorry."

"Not at all, my dear!" Charlus leaned forward in his seat. "My wife here believes it is too soon to relay such an invitation, but I have never been a patient man." He pointed to his temple. "When an idea strikes me I have to carry it out, you see. Otherwise, it is easier to forget and not all of us possess the advantage of a Pensieve!"

"Dad, do you have to?" James gripped the edge of the table, eyes anxious behind his round thin-rimmed spectacles as they darted back and forth between his parents and Hermione.

"Yes, I believe I do." Charlus slapped his hand against the antiquated table, startling a squeak from a nearby house elf. "Fact is, Hermione, we live in dangerous and uncertain world. Your arrival has only reminded us of the dangers that await you, even should you regain your memories. Because of this, Dorea and I sincerely hope you'd consider staying on with our family, no matter how tonight's dinner goes."

Hermione tugged at her thick braid and blinked back tears.

"Now," Charlus continued, "as far as I'm concerned, you are now one of the family. And every Christmas over the winter holidays, our family hosts a little dinner for our friends..."

"Dad," James groaned between the hands covering his face.

Hermione bit her lip to mask her grin and the tremulous, damnable hope welling in her chest. To accept his offer would be so selfish, when she still didn't really know who she was. When all she knew was she had somehow memorized dozens of dark texts. But Charlus was right. Whoever she had been, she had a chance for something different, something new.  And she couldn't understand what James appeared so mortified over…until Charlus finished his invitation.

"Our Jamie has not yet found a proper escort since he came of age. It is an expected thing you see, for a Pureblood Wizard of our standing in society to follow certain traditions."

The rest of his words were a blur amid Hermione's thoughts, which were now consumed by words like Pureblood, society, traditions, escort?

"Load of bullocks," James grumbled to himself, cutting through her mind's haze.

Charlus carried on as though he hadn't heard his son. "And seeing as you are already a part of this household, we hoped you might also consider this. There are a few other events preceding this one that you may be required to participate in, but Dorea will have no trouble explaining matters to you."

Hermione's eyes widened, not quite grasping but gathering some idea of Charlus' proposal. "Pardon me, sir, but how could you begin to consider me a proper escort for your son to bring into society?"

His kind eyes told Hermione what his words could not. "You let us worry about those old toerags."

"Charlus," Dorea berated.

Charlus smirked, and the years seemed to fall from his aged features. "Surely you don't disagree? It is a requirement that the parents or guardians approve of their child's escort and I very much approve of Hermione. Besides, James has never brought any lass around before, hale or half-alive, indeed. And I dare say he approves, though he will deny it and label his father a mental nutcase later on, eh Jamie?"

Hermione bit her lip to rein her laughter at the wild-eyed look James cast on the elder Potters.

Dorea shook her head with a chuckle. "Too right. And how could I argue against the chance to relive my own gala days through the children?"

"You both are unbelievable," James grumbled.

Dorea and James chuckled as they began to trade stories of the past.

Hermione finished what breakfast she managed to stomach as the elder couple shared how they had been paired for their coming of age gala season. Until they forgot to ascertain Hermione's answer and quite ignored James' half-hearted protests. 

By the end of the hour, James jumped at the chance to invite her to escape. 

Hermione never consented aloud, her lack of objections taken as assent. How could she say no? 

She allowed James to pull her away and glanced over her shoulder to find Charlus and Dorea lost within one another's smiles.

And though she was not entirely sure what she had silently agreed to, though she feared falling deeper into the lives of Wizards who knew nothing about her, Hermione could not remember enjoying a family so accepting, or content with being as the Potters.

Chapter Text

Not long after the beginning of the grand tour James had promised, he had shoved his hands in his pockets and glared at the hall ahead. His glasses had fallen down the bridge of his nose but he appeared not to have noticed. His lips pursed in thought, all earlier bravado faded. 

House elves made little noise when going about their chores in the Manor. The ghosts James had mentioned did not seem to be troubled and kept to themselves. And so, Hermione waited, content with the silence which permeated his home. She sensed it was to be a rare gift in James Potter's presence.

Her eyes graced the high ceilings decorated by paintings and carvings depicting moving scenes of the past. The walls were gothic paneled and covered in paintings and tapestries, hallways cornered by statues and hidden doors. The thick red carpet that ran down the center of each hall made their tread nearly silent. And Hermione understood how someone could look at a place and know it was truly a home. For past all it's gold trimmings and finery, there was warmth here that she found nearly overwhelming comfort in. It filled some of the ache in her chest, the empty hole that other life had left behind...

"Sorry about that, earlier." James finally broke the peace. 

Startled, Hermione turned to meet his heavily lidded gaze. "About what?"

With a slight frown, he peeked a glance from beneath his lashes. "All that Gala nonsense. If I'd have known my dad was gonna con you into that, I would have stopped him a lot sooner." His voice ran deep and rough, despite his youth, evidence of the contrast between the Marauding boy and the powerful Wizard buried beneath.

"Oh…" she whispered. "It's fine."

He led them around a corner that opened back to the main entrance, the hanging glass chandelier covered with everlasting candles tinkling a welcome. 

"You don't have to do it, you know. I'll talk him out of it," James added, ears tinged faintly red.

She bit back a smile. "Don't."

James jerked his head toward her in shock. "Wha-really?" 

They paused before a pair of high double doors hidden partly by the winding staircase and dancing shadows. "I wouldn't mind, especially if it's a way I could help you. Although...what did your father mean by winter holidays?"

From the moment Charlus had mentioned it, Hermione felt a rush of warm feelings, echoes of laughter and smiles.

James drew closer, a slow grin etching its way past his embarrassment. "Why didn't you fall out of the sky sooner?" he asked, tone low and far more serious than his usual easy manner.

A breathless laugh escaped her. "Ah—so what's this?" She gestured to the closed doors.

James searched her features another moment before he favored her with a lopsided grin. "This is the first stop of our grand tour. Alohamora."  With a small burst of magic, the double doors creaked open.

The room beyond was black as pitch and James led her through, eyes dancing. "Come on. Mum would have a fit if she knew I brought you here. But what Mummy doesn't know…"

The doors shut behind them on their own.

James squeezed her hand tightly as they walked on and on what seemed like forever until their lack of sight heightened their other senses.

Hermione hadn't expected James's sudden stop and blushed as she bumped against his back. "Oh! Sorry..."

He chuckled low and half turned to speak against her hair. "Easy love. No ghosts in here."

Though she couldn't see him, Hermione was very much aware of the heat emanating from the tall and lean Wizard. His magic seemed to charge and thicken in the liminal space between them. Every time they came this close, Hermione could almost feel him against her skin. 

She craned her neck to meet his gaze in the darkness and felt his breath warm against her cheeks. Her pulse increased and his free hand came to lightly rest over her shoulder.

"Lumos," he whispered with another charge of stormy magic. 

How did he learn wandless magic? 

Hermione gasped as the room was lit by a thousand candles, littered among chandeliers hanging from a gold-inlaid ceiling. The walls were covered with mirrors, surrounded by opulent engravings, panels marked by lions, and stag hunts dating back to medieval times. The floor was enchanted to appear like moonlit glass. The light from below their feet illuminated their features.

James's grin was slow to appear, and his words softer than she had heard before. "This room's had more parties in it than Hogwarts has had welcoming feasts."

At his mention of Hogwarts a flood of knowledge filtered through Hermione's mind, images and pictures, particularly from a book called Hogwarts: A History.

He squeezed their joined hands as he lifted her arm to the side. He used his free hand to grasp hers and bring it to rest on his broad shoulder.

"James?"

"My family's famous for throwing parties, even though we're blood traitors now."

Hermione shivered as James laid a trembling hand at her waist and gently brought them to sway on their feet.

"The Potters are one of the oldest Pureblood families in Britain, nearly as old as the Blacks. Though we never were so flashy or large, of course. The men in my family tend to marry late in life. I, however, fully intend to break that tradition." A cheeky grin and a wink were enough to cause Hermione to blush.

"I thought Purebloods despised blood traitors?" She wondered at her own knowledge, pulled from yet another book, Magical Families of Britain.

"Oh, they may say that, but the truth is, most Pureblood families have intermarried too much or died out. They can't afford to be quite so picky, these days." He grimaced. "Good lot of them have had a bad habit of choosing the wrong side too…"

Hermione gasped as James suddenly pulled them away from their comfortable sway to lead her silently around the dance floor. 

This is a waltz. When did I learn to dance?

"The truth is, once upon a time, we all came from the same place as Muggle-Borns. And someday, they're going to realize it." His eyes blazed for a moment, fingers tightening on her waist.

Hermione caught their reflection in the mirrors and lost count of the steps. She hadn't been quite aware of how much she was leaning into James.

Too close.

She stiffened her posture and said, "You're good at this."

His mouth quirked up at the corner. "Another Pureblood perk."

She narrowed her eyes. "So does this mean you're an arrogant prat, too?"  

He scowled. "Told you not to believe a word anyone else said."

"No one told me."

He snorted. "Liar. No one would say such awful things about me."

She glanced up to find his eyes were dancing above his happy grin.

Is he flirting? Oh, Merlin, am I flirting? 

She bit her lip, then added, "But I didn't hear it from anyone. I figured it out myself."

He pouted. "Hermione! How can I prove otherwise to you?"

She would be a fool to miss the dare in his tone and the curiosity and challenge in his eyes. Stepping on his foot on purpose she broke their dance and grinned. "For starters, show me something more impressive than this."

"Challenge accepted, milady."

Their afternoon was spent exploring the ins and outs of the Potter's ancestral home, with only one stop at the kitchen to sneak a bite.

James insisted on making her a sandwich, and Hermione learned she hated Mayo, whatever that was. She still ate every bite and pretended her stomach didn't ache in protest as James watched on.

After, James brought her to a library so large, Hermione was certain in her heart of hearts she had never seen anything its equal nor so beautiful. Until her pleasure with the staircase and floors of books, the couches and giant fireplace and miniature study faded.

Tomes of the books, the endless sea of titles caused even more fleeting memories of memorized text to flash through her mind. Words and diagrams, runes and knowledge, more than anyone would need to know in a lifetime. Hermione sensed she had once held a deep burning for this knowledge. But the constant flow of information buzzing at the forefront of her thoughts was painful.

James took them into a side passage the moment he noticed.

The passage was the first within a secret network of halls, stairs, and rooms within the manor.

There were dungeons down below, where one of the house ghosts, George, still chained to a wall, told them of his endless journeys and battles with dragons and the like. When he mentioned "that old cad Slytherin," Hermione realized just how old this house was.

What had it been before the Potters inherited it?

There were rooms enchanted to calm and to inspire, the walls within some covered with lifelike enchantments of faraway places.

James seemed to especially like the room he was currently leading her to, higher through hidden passage stairs. He drew out the build-up of his most special of special places for Hermione in detail without giving anything away. 

Hermione had realized after they passed the light of a window in the last room, that it was drawing closer to sundown. Had the day truly flown by so quickly?

James stopped before a doorway shorter than his shoulders and turned with a wag of his eyebrows. "Do you dare to open it yourself?"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione stepped confidently forward, tensing as she brushed against James, and tried her hand at the doorknob. It did not budge. Huffing a sigh, she steeled herself and tried again.

James shook with repressed laughter as she turned a baleful glare his way. "What?"

He shook his head, eyes dancing. "Nothing."

"You knew this door wouldn't open, didn't you?" She poked him firmly in the chest.

He rubbed the offended pectoral. "You think that I would lie to you? Never on my honor, fair lady!"

James took a knee, thrusting a hand wide, only to knock against a beam that sent a cloud of dust, and an angry doxy, tumbling between them and pinching them in its fury.

Hermione shrieked, "James Potter, you stupid git!"

He laughed harder as he sent the angry doxy away with a swish of his wand. Hermione wasted no time in beating at his chest in her wrath.

He held his hands up. "No, please! Have mercy! I'll do anything you ask!" Each successive plea turned his features more comical and the whole situation more ridiculously funny.

Hermione groaned with exasperation and turned to the door to beat her fists on the offending door. "Help! Someone get me out of this bloody passage! I'm trapped with an obnoxious arse!" The last she shouted at him, fists on her hips, sparks and curls escaping from her braid unwittingly.

James chuckled as tears eased the sting in his eyes. "Anyone ever told you how beautiful you are when you're angry?"

Her eyes narrowed at his hand. "What is that?"

He checked his hand on both sides. "Oh, this? A very useful appendage I'd like to keep, actually."

She leaned over him, one eyebrow perfectly arched. "Want to keep your favorite appendage?"

His eyes widened and it was difficult to keep his grin down in the face of her wonderful fury. "Very much so, yes."

"Then open-the bloody-door," she growled, dimly aware and amazed at her temper. She wasn't sure if she liked that he seemed unphased by her temper, or that it excited rather than mollified him. What she didn't dare let on, however, was how much she longed to kiss that silly awed expression off his handsome face.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, ignored the brush of his arm against hers as James climbed to his feet, and winked at her before waving his wand over the dull brass knob. 

"Ladies first? No? Too right, I should make sure there are no more doxies waiting..."

She was blushing too hard to willingly make eye-contact with James as he slipped past her to enter the dimly lit room ahead. 

Hermione was unwilling to budge until her nerves calmed.

Until he stuck an open hand through the door and beckoned her to follow.

She sighed, giving up the effort it took not to smile, and finally accepted his hand, allowing him to pull her through and shut the door behind them. 

The room was heavy with enchantments, covered in slowly changing scenes that varied from sunset to a sea of stars, to sunrise and back again. The heavens covered every nook in the room. The ceiling currently featured a luminous half-moon.

The room was large, clearly, one of the family rooms, dominated by a large bed and wardrobe, and other personal items cluttering two corners. Scattered cushions and papers and inkwells littered the rug before an unlit fireplace and a cluster of candles. The floor to ceiling window was draped with dark red curtains and Hermione released James's hand to openly stare in wonder.

Of all the rooms James had shown her in this fairy tale home, this one felt the most like home, the most real.

Her eyes widened as she caught sight of a familiar Nimbus propped beside the cracked-open window.

This is his room...

The stars swirled and spun, and then faded in light of a burgeoning sunrise. She blinked as, for a moment, colors she didn't even know to name filled her vision while tears welled in her eyes.

She knew her reasoning was irrational because she couldn't remember why, but Hermione was convinced she didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve this, any of this. 

"Hermione?" James' voice came gently, over her shoulder.

She twisted around and once more found him much closer than she had anticipated. Her chest brushed against his in a rush that sparked through to her fingertips and drew her reluctant gaze back to his.

The magical dawn reflected off his spectacles and this close, his eyes weren't simply a muddled hazel, but a darkly stained green heavily flecked with dark amber. His amused grin had changed into something far more dangerous. Dangerous because it was causing her breath to fall shorter the closer he leaned in. His chest slightly heaved.

She wondered, as she often did, if he was angry with her or at them, the ones who nearly killed her. Because of the tears in her eyes.

She wondered how it was even possible to know a complete stranger better than herself.

She wondered how she knew in her heart of hearts that this was wrong, that somehow this wasn't the way things were supposed to be. That something had changed, and that somehow, it all had to do with her.

"James?" She sounded far weaker than she had intended. "This is…" Emerald amber flecked eyes flashed as he quickly inhaled her breath and she whispered, "—it's beautiful." 

She turned her head to watch the walls fading gradually back into sunset. "It reminds me of flying…"

"That's the idea." His voice was rougher and startled Hermione's gaze to find open wonder and desire reflected back at her.

"Your room?" She hated the faint trembling of her voice.

"Yeah. Like what you see?" His hands found hers.

"It's b-breathtaking…" This was not how she had expected their tour to end.

Is he going to kiss me?

Panic welled up inside of her. Warnings blazing like firecrackers in her head, shouting that he didn't really know her. He couldn't possibly want her. She was a stranger, and this was dangerous!

"JAMES MERLIN POTTER!" Dorea's voice carried through the house with a Sonorous charm.

"Shit," James cursed under his breath, resting his forehead briefly to hers. "I forgot about dinner." His thumbs lightly grazed her hands.

Hermione took an unsteady breath and frowned at the regret warring with her relief as James pulled away, tugging her forward.

"Come on, time for you to meet the Professor."

"Who?" She managed as he dragged her out the door and out of his spell.

Chapter Text

Everlasting candles dripped in clusters throughout the hall, illuminating the tapestry-decked walls. 

When James had half-slid, half-run down the many steps, Hermione in tow, he had revealed little. Only that whoever it was Charlus invited to meet her was a very old family friend.

So there was no reason to be afraid, right?

Voices echoed off the walls, bounced against the ceiling, and reached Hermione and James as they approached the dining hall.

"-cannot wait any longer, I'm afraid."

"-must act now!"

"Charlus, please…"

Hermione clenched her golden robes in a vain effort to quell her nerves.

Stop it! Whoever they are, they're a friend of their family!

Though she barely knew the Potters, Hermione trusted them in the way one trusts what they've always known. And as her mind was sectioned off with a wall that only occasionally chose to reveal her knowledge, all that remained was the Potters’ world Hermione had woken up to days before.  Whatever life she had lived before was forfeit.

Nevermind the aching loss she felt thinking about a past she could not recall. Her fears were banished by the large calloused hand wrapped firmly around hers.

James seemed to have a sixth sense for her moods, troubling as the idea was. They barely knew one another, yet each time her spirits fell or her nerves threatened to sweep her under, James did something to make her smile or laugh. 

Hermione gripped James's hand and tried to match his even breaths. 

He glanced down, his impossible grin splitting his face in two upon catching her stare.

Hermione managed a half-hearted glare his direction before returning her focus to the looming doorway. She tensed as James leaned into her side. His nose brushed against her curls as he spoke against her ear. "Why so peaky, love? You look like you just swallowed a boggart. It's only Uncle Albus."

Again that prickling of awareness at their proximity sent her blood racing, quite against her will. It was a new sensation, something Hermione had begun to associate with James. It felt like magic. 

The dim golden light of the dining hall was comforting rather than ominous and reflected upon the gleaming oak table, polished to a mirror's sheen. The great hearth, as high as her topmost stray curl, heated the vast room with a crackling fire.

As they followed the length of the dining table, Hermione anxiously searched for the face of their mysterious dinner guest. She held her breath as she discovered the gray-streaked auburn head turned toward the eldest Potter. The stranger wore a pointed blue hat, perched like a cap atop his flowing mane and covered with glowing crescent moons.

Charlus's face was creased with heavy lines, betraying his age, as he spoke. "Albus, the attack on the Wentworths cannot be ignored by the Ministry forever. The poor girl is alone without a family now and the Order must—"

Dorea's hand settled over her husband's. "My dear, the children have arrived."

Charlus's worry faded the instant his gaze met Hermione's. "Ah, brilliant! Hermione, you must meet a dear friend of mine. Albus, here is our poor young friend we told you about."

Hermione lifted her chin and struggled to appear as confident as she wished she felt. She glanced quickly about the table and found Dorea watching her with amused warmth. Hermione pulled her hand from James' hold, embarrassed when his mother's sapphire eyes fixed on the space between them.

The mysterious Wizard beneath the pointy hat was sipping from a crystal glass filled with a dark amber liquid. And Hermione could not shake the overwhelming deja-vu that swept over her as she caught a glimpse of half-noon spectacles when she dared a glance.

Keeping her head down she allowed James to seat her beside his mother. He grinned triumphantly at them all the moment he had finished settling her chair in. "Told you I'd get us here on time mummy dearest."

Dorea's dark brow rose at her son’s declaration. "Indeed, though I wonder how punctual you would have been without my charm to remind you dear."

A warm chuckle escaped the Wizard beneath the pointed hat.

Charlus's grin matched his son’s. "Ah, but with the company of such a lady how could he be any less distracted, my love? I dare say if I were a young man…"

Dorea sniffed. "I doubt your memory goes back that far, my dear."

"Were we ever so young, Charlus?" the Wizard in the pointed hat enquired. 

"Well, some of us have aged better than others, Albus.” Charlus erupted into a loud guffaw, quickly followed by his son.

James nearly tripped into his chair beside their dinner guest across from Hermione. Even the ever-prim Dorea failed to hide her amusement. Charlus beamed at his wife adoringly.

Hermione’s smile was strained. Would she ever be able to laugh with them at their jokes? Even if she couldn't remember the horrors locked in her mind, would they haunt her the rest of her days?

She could feel the familiar heat of James's gaze and hesitantly met it. Did he know how much she wanted to crawl into this place in his world and never leave? Candlelight basked his face in a way Hermione could not help comparing to his room's enchanted sunset, could not help remembering how it had covered them both…

"Hermione?" Charlus gently pulled her gaze and Hermione wondered how long he had been trying to catch her attention.

"Hermione, this is Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts and a very old friend of our family. He has been quite anxious to meet you, my dear."

Hogwarts… the very name filled her memory with images of endless words and pages.

Hogwarts, A History… the images came faster until she gripped the edge of the oak table until her vision spotted with dark lights and the tingle of untamed magic…

Suddenly as it came, the knowledge was tucked away, her mind blank.

The room cleared as she blinked aware, only to find her gaze caught by a pair of troubled blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles. Her mind fell blank.

Charlus was still introducing them. "James has been quite taken with her, though we found little surprise there!"

"Dad!" James groaned as though his life were over.

Albus's beard bristled as his mouth quirked into a grin, and the twinkle to his periwinkle blues returned.

"What ho? My dear boy, you’d best be forthcoming with your feelings rather than dance about in the dark!"

"Charlus…" Dorea gently intoned.

James huffed a sigh. "Dad, the whole forthcoming act didn't work so well the last time. Trust me. You can ask Uncle Albus. And for the love of Godric would you please stop? You're making Hermione blush and she’s only been with us half a bloody fortnight!"

"Language, James!" Dorea icily and effectively cut her son’s tirade.

Albus Dumbledore smile widened between sips of his decanter as he cast an amused glance at Hermione.

Charlus waved his son’s protests away and leaned toward his guest. "Ah, the young. They waste so much precious time, do they not, Albus? Why if I had it all to do over again…"

"You'd what?" Dorea smiled sweetly up at her husband. And whatever message passed from her sapphire eyes seemed to mollify Mr. Potter for now.

Albus inclined his head and peeked from above his half-moon spectacles. "It is indeed a pleasure to meet you, Hermione. I believe you have already come to know quite a bit of the Potters during your brief stay?"

Hermione pursed her lips, unable to stop her grin and more than grasping his full meaning.

His eyes twinkled as merrily as the patterns of his outer robe and hat.

"Indeed she has!" Charlus began with a chuckle. "And she will know far more than she'd ever care to the longer she stays on, I dare say."

"Don't you think we've postponed dinner long enough, dear?" Dorea offered.

"Of course, of course!" Charlus perked up as, with a clap of his hands, their meals suddenly appeared steaming beneath their noses.

Hermione's eyes widened with surprise and rose to find the Potter's laughing over James' enthusiasm for the roast lamb.

Albus Dumbledore watched the scared young Witch as he listened half-heartedly to the conversation between his old friends between bites of mutton. He tried not to dwell on the overwhelming power she was unconsciously emanating. The Potters were not a weak magical family, by any means. James was growing at such a rate that Albus knew one day soon he would surpass Charlus.

Yet this Witch was something apart, her magical signature unlike anything he had encountered all the long years of his life. Only once before had he felt something akin to this sort of raw power from a Wizard or Witch, and Ariana was dead.

"Albus?" Charlus spoke to him.

His brow furrowed deeper, the image of his timid sister and her final days returning to life in his mind.

"My dear, you know how many things weigh on our guest's mind. Leave him be." Dorea's words were followed by a snort from her husband.

James laughed with his mouth full. "Uncle Albus, you alright? Look like you've seen your own grave, mate."

"James!" Dorea reprimanded.

"Mum, don't worry! I call him Professor Dumbledore at school. Let me off at least one more week."

Dorea sighed.

Albus heard all of this, yet his mind continued searching, rifting, pulling the pieces of her puzzle together. There were days when it did feel as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, ever since the day a basilisk was unleashed at Hogwarts and a new set of nightmares began.

Yet for the first time in the last few torturous weeks of preparing and waiting for Tom's weaknesses to appear, Albus Dumbledore's mind was the farthest away from that matter as it could possibly be.

He had peeked inside the Witch’s mind already, and been startled by the contrast of emptiness and boundless knowledge. She had kept her eyes on her plate since breaking his gaze. 

Albus did not peek inside her mind again. He would wait until later on when she was ready for it.

As though his thoughts invited, her dark eyes drew to his boldly again. His breath caught in his throat at how…familiar…she suddenly seemed.

Hermione barely listened as the Potters recalled several stories concerning their beloved dinner guest. The amount of respect they held for Albus Dumbledore was very great indeed. Charlus had to be reigned in by Dorea on a few occasions while relaying several school day pranks he and Albus had instigated, particularly one involving applying a sticking charm to every seat in the dining hall of Hogwarts, including the Headmasters. 

Even Dorea had laughed at the memory of Albus teaching James how to cast his first spells and ride his first broom. It was this way that Hermione learned the strange Wizard was secretly James' godfather.

"Never told anyone outside the family, you know,” Charlus explained to her over a bowl of iced cream. "Truth is he’s too bloody famous. This old Warlock has more titles and honorary positions than he does names.”

And yet the humorous, light-hearted Wizard Hermione heard about in their stories was not present at dinner this night. Instead, the Professor seemed to be just as soft-spoken and troubled as Hermione felt.

If the Potters took note of their friend's odd behavior they made no mention.

What troubles concern him, and why do I feel as though I knew him?

James tried to catch her eye endlessly throughout dinner. Hermione could barely meet those knowing hazel orbs any more than she could those of the Professor's. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry of exasperation when James resorted to making ridiculous faces at her. Until Dorea caught him in the act and threatened to hex those expressions to his face permanently.

Albus Dumbledore laughed.

Charlus clapped his hands and the remnants of their meal disappeared entirely. He stood, shaking out his robes and stiff joints. "Well, old boy, I'd say it’s high time we moved to the cave, wouldn't you?"

"Indeed…" Albus stood and straightening his hat.

Hermione hesitated. “Man cave?”

Dorea offered Hermione a soft smile. “I allowed Charlus one room in the manor to do with as he wished. Could you imagine my letting him take full reign of the entire house? You'll know what I mean when you see, darling." She linked arms with the younger Witch, and her son pouted at being left to walk without Hermione’s hand.

Charlus whispered in a low voice with Albus, words escaping now and again like war, Tom, order, and hope.

The elder Potter led them straight through the wall of the dining hall.

Hermione's gasped when none of the rest of their party hesitated to walk on. She shut her eyes, preparing for the hard impact, only to feel herself being turned at the last second.

James snickered behind her. "Steady on, love. Open your eyes!"

The wall was disillusioned and though the wall appeared unbroken, they had stepped into a small narrow hall. Charlus Potter held open a high wooden door for the Professor.

The room beyond glowed warm and inviting past the dark hall.

"Come on,” Charlus urged. “Come in if you so dare!"

Dorea snorted and Hermione glanced up at the silver-haired woman. Despite her cool manner, Dorea's sapphire eyes glowed with mirth.

Hermione understood exactly what Dorea had meant about Charlus' man cave. It was characterized by dark leather furnishing and the heads of hunted beasts. There was a table for billiards, a dartboard, and off to the side a spacious minibar.

What Hermione was surprised by was that the walls actually looked like they had literally stepped into a cave, though the walls rippled and shifted to shimmer with precious stones. 

Hermione's fingers brushed against the back of a leather armchair and her nose caught traces of cigars in the air.

"My father and I used to hunt together. Something Jamie never quite took to. Seemed to be more interested in other pursuits like that sodding broom of his. Took too much after his mum, I suppose!" Charlus explained just before he mock-threw a feather tailed spear Hermione's way.

She yelped and ducked behind Dorea's billowing satin robes and the matron planted her fists against her hips. "Charlus Ignatius Potter! Do you really want to frighten the poor girl to death? Honestly!"

Albus chuckled from his fireside chair.

James suddenly thrust a tribal shield before the three of them. "Try and spear us if you dare!"

Charlus's eyes gleamed and he hefted the spear more firmly. "Don't mind if I do!"

"Charlus! James!" Both Wizards flinched at Dorea's biting tone, looked at one another, and passed equally amused grins before tossing the weaponry aside.

James wagged his eyebrows at Hermione as he walked past and she barely noticed the swish of his wand.

Narrowing her eyes she wondered what he had cast…

Charlus was still laughing at his wife's expression. "Would have loved to see the Father’s face at that one! How he would have howled to see us toying with his prized collection, eh Albus?"

Hermione shouted then as she began to suffer from random itches over her bum.

Dorea exclaimed over James' muffled guffaw. "What in...sweet Circe. Hermione, are you all right?"

“F-fine, th-thank you.” Hermione rubbed her bum furiously, turning her best death glare the way of the culprit.

Dorea nodded and fixed James with a pointed glare before joining the others beside the fire.

The moment his mother's back was turned, Hermione stalked up to James and hissed, “Oh, just wait until I get a wand, James Potter.” 

James shook with laughter, tears leaking from his eyes as caught her clenched hands.

Hermione panicked.

His laughter faded as he leaned forward.

What is he doing?

His smile grew as she held her breath and he whispered, "Finite."

"Albus, remember our final prank your last year?" Charlus's voice carried over, pulling their attention back to the group. "I shall never forget watching our professors break into spontaneous dance before the Great Hall. The whole room was a riot, Jamie, you should have seen... I must say it's a good thing we did, too, as you had become far too serious about school and other matters."

"I was studying for NEWTS, as you might recall." Albus adjusted his half-moon spectacles.

James and Hermione sat upon the empty chaise and her curious gaze instantly met with the Professor's. All breath fled her lungs, and she sensed the moment she'd been dreading had finally come.

The Headmaster's demeanor shifted from bemused to pensive. "If you would permit me, I believe it is time."

Charlus ran a hand through his silver hair. "Ah, yes, of course…Hermione?"

Hermione squeezed James's hand. He squeezed back.

Albus smiled as he straightened. "If you would permit me, Hermione, I should only take a moment of your time. Forgive me my dear, but I must ask the rest of you to leave us. We shall need as few distractions as possible if I am going to break through what the healers could not."

James squeezed her hand one last time before breaking free to stand.

It's going to be fine. You'll be fine, no matter what he might see...

Hermione swallowed back her fears and nodded. "I'm ready."

Charlus began ushering the rest of his family to another door formerly hidden in shadow. "We shall be in the parlor, should you have need of us."

Albus thanked him, though his eyes never left Hermione's.

The door leading to the parlor shut behind the Potters, and Albus's lilting voice drew her focus. "Hermione, before we begin, allow me to assure you, I am only here to help you. Before I look inside your mind, I would like you to try and think back from this moment until the very first thing you remember, and we will go from there."

Hermione's eyes were trapped by his as she pushed aside everything that happened this evening.

"Are you ready?"

She dug her nails into her palms and managed a single nod.

"Legillimens."

With a word, reality blurred and her vision tunneled…

Her mind was like an endless black cave with but a single candle to illuminate his surroundings. Within that light, Albus saw many things, each new memory startlingly clear. They were the only things Hermione knew and could therefore cling to.

He saw the Potters and young Sirius through her eyes. He smiled faintly to see himself through her eyes.

Does that blue clash with the emerald? 

Tossing his whimsical thought aside, Albus focused and reached further back, until he found her earliest memories, chopped and sharp, the pain all too fresh. She had barely been aware during the rigorous hours of healing first Dorea, and then Poppy mended the girl's wounds. Charlus had been the one to break the worst of her dark curse.

Before this, she stumbled unknowingly towards the Manor wards, climbing up the hill from Godric's Hollow.

Her thoughts were too sporadic. Pain began to form at his temples the harder he tried to push through them.

Splinched.

Where is…

I need to find…

Hermione groaned, trembling with the weight of her power as it pulsed through the room.

The light was being swallowed by the cave.

Albus threw everything into piercing through the wall barring the rest of her mind.

With each attempt, the wall pushed back and his pain increased.

Grunting beneath the mental weight, Albus trembled the wall suddenly enveloped him too, and then there were only words, blurred and focusing…

G odric's Hollow. For over a thousand years it has been home to notable wizards and witches…

— most famous as the birthplace of Hogwarts founder Godric Gryffindor.

Hogwarts, a History. Built by the four founding Wizards and Witches, most powerful of their time.

— Godric Gryffindor...

— more renowned since those times for the site of Voldemort's first—

Ignotus Peverell, one of the three brothers—Deathly Hallows—

— Dumbledore family—Kendra and Ariana both perished.

Albus gasped as he was thrown, drowned, and pulled out of the depths as quickly as he had dived in.

He came aware, only to realize he was on his knees, head clutched between his hands.

Hermione moaned from her place curled on the fireplace rug, "Please, make it stop! I can't—"

It took every ounce of his considerable magical control for Albus Dumbledore to fully pull his mind from the young Witch's.

His limbs shook as he climbed back into his chair, rubbed his aching temples, and tried to make sense of all he had just seen. Something powerful had latched itself to her mind, something that would not let her go now that it had her. Most disturbing was the endless knowledge of things she should not know. 

Deathly Hallows...

Finally, Albus dared lift his gaze and a familiar horrific feeling eclipsed him, the same he'd once had when faced with an equally young Wizard with an insatiable appetite for dark magic.

She is not like Tom...or Gellert.

She needed to be monitored and protected, from others, as well as herself.

A very old, familiar pain made its presence known in his heart for the second time since meeting Hermione.

Ariana's pale blue eyes devoid of life, thick flaxen hair obscuring her heart-shaped face.

"Professor?" Hermione gasped as she pushed to sit back in her chair.

His eyes widened slightly to see her recovery. The only tell was the fear masked by a fierce determination in her dark eyes. "What just happened? I saw everything you saw. What does it all mean?"

With a heavy heart, Albus pondered how to begin, let alone what he should tell her. And what of his own suspicions? The secret hope that rose from the ashes within him from the moment she'd appeared in the dining hall. "My dear, I am terribly sorry to tell you that your mind has been locked away, and we may never find the key.

"Are you..." she choked, "are you giving up, Professor?"

"Of course not. In fact, I intend to do everything in my power to aid you in your recovery. But while we wait, we must take advantage of what you do have." 

Hermione shook her head. "And what would that be?"

"Knowledge. Your memories may be locked, Hermione, but you have knowledge, far more than a mind so young should possess. Whatever your fears of the past, you have the chance to begin anew."

Hermione chewed on her lip and turned to face the firelight. "Professor, I saw the Daily Prophet this morning. I know there's a war going on out there. I can only suppose I'm part of it somehow. But...what if I was on the w-wrong side?"

Albus peered at her over his half-moon spectacles. "Hermione, I can understand why you would be afraid to rejoin the world when so much of your past is surrounded by uncertainty. But we do not know if your memory will return, and you cannot hide with the Potters forever. Especially if whoever cursed you finds you have survived."

"I can't stay," she echoed, tears slipping past her cheeks.

Albus leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "No, you cannot."

Hermione hung her head, curls spilling from her loose braid. "I...understand."

"However," he began, smiling as she lifted her head to face him. "I would like to present to you an alternative if you are willing."

The most fleeting of frowns marred her features before she set her chin and nodded.

"I am sure you have come to the conclusion I hold some high connections in our world. As you may recall, I happen to be the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Are you familiar with this school?"

Her eyes shut tightly, with the sudden rush of information no doubt. 

"You have been given the rare gift of a clean slate, however, you must sit for your NEWTS. I was hoping that you would consider attending this term at Hogwarts, to study with James and the boys as a Seventh Year."

Hermione gasped as Albus sat back in his chair again. "School?"

She seemed to doubt him, yet Albus had never been more certain of anything. "I already discussed the matter with Charlus and Dorea and they have consented to provide you with everything you will need."

"Oh, but they've already done so much for me! I couldn't dare ask…"

He held his palms up with a chuckle. "You underestimate their compassion and affection for you, my dear. While I would encourage you to remain with the Potters, for now, I should also like to further my proposal. Should you agree, I would like to officially claim you as my ward, Hermione, and to give you my name. I shall send the details of your back story by owl later in the week. However, if it is alright with you I should like to work the details with the Ministry as quickly as possible."

He couldn't contain his delight, though he prepared for the usual declarations of lunacy and such. Most people had never understood his methods. He himself rarely did. What he was unprepared for were her tears.

"Well, my dear, what is your answer?"

She choked on a sob and covered her mouth. Shaking her head in wonder, she blinked back fresh tears then said, "Forgive me Professor, but you don't know me at all. Why would you do this for a stranger?"

Albus stood and smiled as she did the same. "Because it is in my power to give it, and because you deserve this chance and more. We all need someone to believe in us, and that is what I will do for you if you'll have me, Miss Dumbledore?"

He wondered, as he tentatively spread his arms, if he spoke too soon, and if it was too much. Surely she thought him mad, as so many did. Surely he was nothing more than an old fool.

Hermione ran into his arms and clung tight.

Chapter Text

"Don't look over there, look at me, Tom. All right, mate? This is very important."

"Of course, don't you worry, Mr. Black! Tom is a man of his word."

"And the word is?" Sirius narrowed his eyes, though his smirk never wavered.

Tom's gaze quickly darted between Sirius and the occupied patrons of the Leaky Cauldron. "Firewhiskey, on-on the house, sir."

Sirius clapped the landlord firmly on the back. "Brilliant. The package you mentioned will arrive by owl after hours." And then, loudly enough for the patrons to hear, he said, "Thank you ever so much for delivering my message, Tom. I am certain Mother will be pleased to know I'm alive and well."

"Anything for dear Walburga. How she has worried about you, Mr. Black." 

A few inebriated, down-on-their-luck Wizards offered amused glances.

Sirius pointed to his temple. "Now, I can count on you to remember the word for me, eh, Tom?"

Tom twisted the rag between his hands. "On my honor as a Wizard."

Sirius ignored the death glares directed his way from the few distant Black cousins gathered at the opposite end of the Leaky Cauldron. No matter how many times Mummy P warned him to not take his family's connections to You-Know-Who lightly, Sirius never worried over his own skin. So he felt no qualms about slipping his wand from his sleeve and sending a softly whispered hex at his cousin's lovely black curls.

Sirius slipped into the booth opposite his best friends and grinned as his cousin's shriek echoed through the tavern. The heavy sack at his side contained the year's supplies of tricks courtesy Gambol and Japes. They had enough supplies to give Slytherin hell, as James always said. Taking a quick peek to find everything present and accounted for, he eased back into his seat with a sigh.

Peter was examining the crystalline cube he'd bought from a vendor and had yet to discern the mechanics of. But Remus's gaze narrowed at Sirius the moment he sat across from them. The werewolf's keen eyes and ears took in the commotion rising from the other end of the pub before narrowing at Sirius.

"What?" Sirius challenged.

Remus shook his head. "You never learn, do you?"

"Leave learning for Hogwarts, mate. I still have a few days left of freedom left." 

"Oi! Padfoot, did you get the drinks you promised, yet?" Peter's fingers slipped on the cube and it knocked against the table with quick bell-like chimes. The inside colors shifted as Peter cursed and struggled to catch the bouncing object.

Remus snatched the cube with a growl. "Wormtail, how many times do I have to tell you not to drop this? Why did you waste galleons at that stand of rubbish anyhow?"

Peter bowed his head. "Sorry, Moony. Bloke swore it'd bring me luck. Figured I'd need as much as I can get, this being our last year and all."

"Forget luck, gents," Sirius announced with a wave of his hands. "Drinks are on the way! And it's high time we turned our attention back to business." 

Peter straightened in his chair while Remus arched one suspicious brow.

Sirius held his hand casually in front of him on top of the aged wood. 

Within a blink, three Firewhiskey's appeared from nowhere.

Sirius snatched one with his waiting hand and, with a quick draught, set the glass back on the table with a heavy thump and began. "Now, we only have a week left before we're back at Hogwarts and poor Prongs has been completely witch-whipped."

"Is this about Hermione?" Remus intoned.

Sirius tightened his grip on the cool glass. "Trust me, she's all he can think or talk about. And with Prongs distracted, we have little chance of executing the master plan."

Remus took a swig and growled low at the rough burn. "Prongs seemed fine the other night."

"Right," Peter willingly agreed, ever-quick to James' defense. "Besides, he played Quidditch with us until Mrs. P made us come in."

"And I find it hard to believe he'd so easily give up on Evans," Remus added.

Sirius sighed. He was once more forced to deal with amateurs. Times like this, Sirius bemoaned Remus and Pete's lack of experience in the female department. "Neither of you have seen them together, mate. And let us not forget Evans has done her damndest this past year to crush the heart of our poor Prongs. But the worst part about this is I've met Hermione twice and she's bloody gorgeous."

Remus's eyes narrowed with suspicion once more.

Shite.

Sirius bit his tongue.

Might not be the best word to get back round to Prongs.

"Is she, really?" Wormtail's smirk held a smidge of more than casual interest. 

Sirius ignored the sudden surge of anger in his gut as he leaned forward. "Forget what I said for a second. The point is that Prongs is laying out his dick for this bint and doesn't even realize it! Do you know what he said when I mentioned Evans earlier this morning? He said, 'never mind about Lily.' Never mind! As though he were speaking of last year's…" He twisted his free hand with dramatic flair. "Hufflepuff Quidditch stats!"

Remus visibly darkened. "I thought you had told him to move on from Lily earlier this summer? You said, and I quote, 'If Evans could still say no to you after the last attempt, she doesn't deserve to walk in the same circles as us, Prongsie.'"

Sirius didn't appreciate Remus's whiny impression of his polished voice. "So what if I did! I never thought Prongs would actually listen. He's been in love with Evans for years, but the moment this Witch shows up he's a total goner. Completely mental. The Witch must have him under some sort of dark enchantment, I just know it."

Sirius took another draught for fortitude. What he failed to mention, was his dashed hope of enjoying the company of a Prongs pre-Evans-obsessed. Maybe even go back to the way things were before the winter holidays of fourth year, wooing Witches across Hogwarts as an unstoppable duo. He hadn't exactly planned on James finding someone to replace Lily so soon.

Remus ran a hand over his weary face. "Padfoot, I haven't met Hermione yet, but have you considered the possibility that she's been telling the truth? She was barely alive when James found her. Dorea told us that she lost her memories. They even called in Professor Dumbledore to help. And have you ever considered if maybe James simply feels responsible for her well-being?"

Sirius crossed his arms in front of his chest and scowled hard at his Firewhiskey.

Peter studied the cube he'd reclaimed from a distracted Remus the moment before. "Maybe we should all get to know Hermione before we try to get rid of her."

"No, you stupid arse!" Sirius groaned into his hands, dragging them slowly behind his head before he faced a wide-eyed Pete. "I wasn't saying we should get rid of her!"

"Wait, Pads, let me try to make sense of this," Remus said with a sigh. "You don't want to get rid of Hermione, because you believe there is something about her worth knowing."

"Worth watching," Sirius corrected.

Remus waved his words away. "You're afraid James is going to forget all about your important plans for Slytherin this year because he's busy looking after a cursed Witch who had the misfortune of losing her memories, her family, and her home. Am I missing anything?"

No, it's more than that, he wanted to argue. But how could he explain something he hadn't quite sussed out for himself? How could he explain the fact that Hermione unnerved him, because she smelled like his bloody family's dark magic, and because he feared she might drag them all into whatever hell she'd come from if You-Know-Who learned she was still alive.

Sirius went for another swig of his Firewhiskey and cursed when all that trickled down was air. He set the glass down and managed between gritted teeth, "When you put it like that, I sound like a complete arse."

"Deservedly," Remus growled.

Sirius spared a furtive glance for the other patrons and lowered his voice to say, "I just think we need to get to the bottom of this. Prongs is too close to her to see what we might. I think we should find out everything we can about Hermione. Good or bad, whatever we uncover can only help James in the end."

Hopefully...

"I doubt we're going to learn anything Professor Dumbledore hasn't already, this evening," Remus warned.

Peter shook his cube a few times to watch the interchanging colors and Sirius was about ready to smash the crystal into oblivion. "Dumbledore isn't all-knowing, Moony. And he won't know to look for the things I will…" He grimaced as his elegantly-robed Pureblood cousins chose that moment to file out of the Leaky Cauldron.

Better for everyone to believe he was annoyed by the Witch rather than face the truth plaguing him every time he saw the trace of dark magic around her gold-garbed form. There was a strange sort of wild beauty about Hermione, something that called to the dark legacy he'd been born to.

The sooner they talked sense into James the better.

"Firewhiskey's out," Peter announced, upturning his glass before drumming his hands in syncopated rhythm over the table. "What's the plan, Padfoot? This is our last week before Hogwarts and I heard tell there's a Hobgoblins concert playing in the Dirty Troll later tonight! Maybe we could crash it?"

Remus chuckled and shared a look with Sirius. The latter was having none of it. It was by his connections they could even hope to sneak into the Dirty Troll to see Stubby Boardman and the Goblins play. 

"No! Well, maybe if we…no!" Sirius snatched his bag of goods. "Not until after we help Prongs."

"Very good, Padfoot. And the plan is?" Remus caught the crystal cube Peter was carelessly tossing in midair and turned a hard eye to him. "No more of this for you."

Sirius put as much effort as he could into a convincing grin as he said, "Give Prongs' new Witch a night she won't soon forget!"

Peter's idea had merit, after all. What better way of discovering the Witch's secrets while keeping a close eye on her and Prongs than to ingratiate themselves? Truth be told, Sirius didn't have a concrete plan, he rarely did. But he was adaptable. He'd had to be growing up under Walburga and Orion Black's roof. He would watch the Witch, and he'd protect James from himself, and if all went well, he might enjoy himself along the way.

James Potter lay on the rug at the center of his room, watching the heavens. The stars changed patterns, allowing him to peer farther, the colors growing richer in luster. He'd chosen stars tonight, all the constellations having long ago been memorized by name. He'd always been fascinated by them as a boy and wanted to fly so high he could actually touch them. It was something he'd wanted more than anything else in the world. And it was the one thing his parents could only offer a facsimile to their miracle child.

For as long as he could remember, James had only ever been interested in his flying, Quidditch, and protecting what he believed sacred. He'd wanted to live a good life without the weight of the world on his shoulders, unlike his godfather. He'd wanted a bigger family than the one his parents had given him, and so he'd always wanted to marry young. For whatever reason, the stories Mother read to him every night had stuck with him. He wasn't sure when he'd come to so completely believe his life would play out like a fairy story.

Of course, he'd never told another soul any of this. No self-respecting Wizard his age should dream of such domestic and simple things. James groaned out his frustration as he rose and began pacing before his open window.

Lately, he'd begun to wonder if the dreams he'd had as a boy were possible. But no matter how often his mother begged him to pull his head out of the clouds, James Potter could not stop dreaming about stars. And right now, he wanted nothing more than to disobey his mother's orders.

He had been ushered out of the family's private parlor earlier that evening by his insistent mother.

"There's nothing more you can do tonight, Jamie," she'd said.

James had been belligerent until Charlus threatened him with house arrest until Hogwarts. This might not have been so bad if he didn't already know his mum planned to take Hermione to Diagon Alley on the morrow. Worse still, he hadn't had the chance to see Hermione since his Uncle Albus left.

Or is Albus still here with them, deciding Hermione's future without her say?

He pounded his fist into the wall. "Damn it!"

James pressed his forehead to the wall and tried Remus's exercise. "One…two…three…four…ah, Godric's tatty knickers!"

Grabbing his Nimbus, James crawled onto the window ledge, settled his broom, and jumped off.

The wind mussed his hair into an untamable fix, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, billowed through his t-shirt, and filled him with the high that always came with flying.

Is she already asleep, he wondered, gripping the broom tighter.

He frowned, tucked his chin, and sped faster to the corner of the manor, and narrowly avoided a house elf marching past the window of the tower stair in the process.

Yet here he was, outside of her window for the second time that day. Here the winds had stilled, and the moonless sky seemed brighter.

A nervous tension burned in his muscles as he hesitated.

What if it went badly?

He had to see her, just to be certain she was okay. Much as he loved his Uncle Albus, the old bloke could be a right git at times too, especially if he'd suspected Hermione had something to do with the War. There was no question Dumbledore would want her close, whatever the outcome.

James felt the brush of power every time his skin connected with hers.

Will he let her stay with us, or will he take her away? 

His heart raced as he drew closer to the small gated balcony leading to her room. She was awake. She stood wrapped in a silk robe gleaming with silver stars. Her thick curls and warm skin seemed darker, her full mouth wrought in a pained grimace as her amber eyes scoured the heavens.

James appeared so suddenly before her, Hermione's hand searched her robes unconsciously for a wand. Something surged in his chest and settled low when he realized she was only wearing a long thin nightgown beneath the starlit robe.

His heart ached as he watched her jaw clench and her hands clutch at the guardrail as she rasped, "James, you startled me." 

His smile felt strained, but he hoped it was enough. "Sorry, thought you noticed me coming."

Hermione ran a hand through her unbound curls. "What are you doing here? I thought you went to bed hours ago?"

"How could I sleep when I knew you were cooked up with Uncle Albus and no one to rescue you?"

She arched a single eyebrow. "Am I in need of rescuing, then?"

He narrowed his gaze at their surroundings. "Well, there are all sorts of dangers waiting at our borders."

"Oh, really?" The hint of a smile ghosted her lips and danced about her fathomless eyes.

James found difficulty in keeping his broom from crashing into her balcony. "Of course! Centaurs, ghosts, and werewolves…" If Moony is about, at least. "And just the other day I found a half-mad Witch on my lawn, didn't you know? They fall out of the sky all the time."

Hermione's grin was the first true one she'd given him tonight. "So you thought you'd save me before I needed saving?"

"Yeah…" He reached for the rail guard of the balcony and caught her hand instead. James caught his breath and barely managed to ask, "Care for a spin, love?"

His heart clenched painfully when he watched the hesitation suddenly cross her face. 

"I can't rescue you if you don't let me, you know," he offered.

Her smile came slowly, and it was a relief when she nodded as though to herself and replied, "All right." 

James pulled closer to the grating's edge as Hermione threw her long leg over the edge of the balcony. Her fingers gripped his shoulders, and then came the too-wonderful feeling of her body sliding into place against his back. This time, her hands immediately came to wrap around his waist.

Magic thrummed between them, so thickly that he had to shut his eyes and steel against the urge to pull her closer, to forget flying and follow her to her bed to follow the trail of skin beneath her robe with hands and mouth. James inwardly groaned, his muscles trembling with her touch.

Her low laugh brushed against his neck. "Are we going to sit here for the rest of the night, then?" 

James opened his eyes, pressed his bare feet in the hooks, and searched for the bottomless well of magic in his soul.

You asked for it, love...

Without warning, they burst up into the night sky.

James laughed as Hermione squealed in his ear. They crested just before the clouds, before dipping in a slow arc toward the Quidditch pitch.

Hermione didn't relinquish her vice-like grasp until they, at last, came to hover beside the lowest Keeper's ring. He laughed again as, after his Witch caught her breath, she proceeded to pound her tiny fists into his back. "What the bloody hell was that about?" she barked.

Something about the way she swore thrilled him and bade him turn so he could relish the flush of her cheeks and the flash of anger in her eyes. Her curls had been tossed to even wilder heights, and James found the sight even more enticing. "Aw, come on, my mad Witch, you know you loved it!"

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, separating them as much as she could.

He did not like that.

"So much for rescuing me! I might have fallen off and re-broken my bones, and all because you're an insufferable git, James Potter!" She prodded his shoulder with one last jab of her fist.

"I would never let you fall, Hermione, and I can prove it." James clenched his thighs around the broom and caught her by the waist. 

"What are you—let go of me! James, what do you think you're doing?"

"Proving I'm not a git, of course." He deposited her onto the metal ring with little trouble before climbing up beside her. He wasted no time in catching her about the waist until they were pressed snugly together. "There, see? Don't you feel better now that your bum's on something solid again?"

"Not when we're over a dozen meters above ground," Hermione grumbled. 

"Relax, I promise I won't let you fall," James coaxed while catching her free hand in his.

Hermione jerked her hand free with a hiss. "Never mind me, you shouldn't risk your life like an arse that doesn't care. No wonder your Mum is so strict about your flying habits. She, no doubt, knows you'll do the first thoughtless irrational thing you can think of!"

Not to be deterred, James caught her hand in his again. "After everything, do you really think I don't care? Hermione, you know me." 

She choked on a laugh. "How can I when I've barely known you two days?"

"I don't believe that, and neither do you," he said, lost to how bloody gorgeous she looked, with their thighs pressed together and her eyes wide with something akin to fear.

"We can't know each other, not this quickly," she whispered and shook her head. "I don't even know myself."

"Hermione..." James released her hand and pushed back the curls flying into her face. Her eyelashes fluttered as he kept his hand in her hair, as he ran his thumb along her cheekbone. All sound faded in the growing hum of magic pulsing between them in thick waves, ringing in his ears. And there was only their labored breaths and the silk of her cheek against his thumb. 

She seemed to notice at last his eyes had strayed from her face, and her hand tensed. "James?" She gasped as he leaned closer until their foreheads nearly pressed together. Her lips parted as her eyes flickered back and forth between this, before settling upon his mouth.

Her eyelids fluttered, and for one blessed moment, their breath mingled in the cool night air.

"—bloody as a Centaur's hoof! Man, she drains me like a vamp!" Two voices chorused together over the soft unmistakable purr of a motor engine.

Tossing…blasted…Merlin's bloody beard!

James tightened his hold of Hermione's waist and cursed the way she tensed against him. The instant she tried to pull back, James straightened and turned with a low groan. "Sodding hell."

The flying motorcycle light blinded them at first, before the enchanted Muggle machine lowered to reveal two obviously hammered Marauders and a very annoyed-looking Remus glaring at the stars in the sidecar attached to the bike.

Hermione chortled. "He really does have a flying motorbike."

James grunted, "Yeah, the tosser."

By Godric, Padfoot will pay for this. See how he likes it next time I don't cover for his next broom cupboard rendezvous!

The Marauders hovered before them, the engine resting at a low purr.

Peter held up two bottles of uncorked Firewhiskey from behind a gleeful Sirius. "Oi, Prongs! Lookie what Pads-s pickeded up!"

James rolled his eyes. "Get out of the sky before you wreck that thing, you wankers!"

Sirius sputtered mid-chorus, "Is-is that any way to treat your best mate, Prongsie? We jus-st thought we'd bring the party to you since Herminny was here! Like the bike, love?"

James's hand tightened over her hip. She glanced at him curiously before returning her focus to Sirius. "First of all, it's Hermione, and I certainly wouldn't go riding on that thing with someone as pissed as you!"

James grinned at her heated response.

Remus tugged at Sirius's robe. "Hermione's right, Padfoot. Now, would you please lower this damned thing before you murder us all?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sirius grumbled as though wounded. "I'm the most f-fecking responsible bloke you'll ever m-meet this side of Britain!"

"Too right!" Peter quipped through a quick swig and appreciative appraisal of Hermione's legs.

James grit his teeth. "Moony, you'd better get them off the pitch before I do. Padfoot won't like my way after he wakes up in the morning."

Sirius's eyes were on Hermione this time, keen and calculating and entirely too sober.

"Padfoot, just park the bloody bike already, would you?" Remus growled.

"Fine, fine, we're going... Herminny, love," Sirius blew her a parting kiss. "Next time, I'll be on my besht behavior! And you won't mind the bike after I drive you c-circles around the moon, baby!"

Peter howled before choking on his drink.

Remus rolled his eyes and set his chin heavily into his hand. "Hurry along!" 

Sirius laughed as he turned the bike away with a roar of his engine.

James wished he hadn't spent half their summer helping his supposed-best-mate fix the damned thing. He turned his head to follow their progress and frowned as Peter shouted over the engine, "Guess t-that didn't work, eh?"

"Shut up, Wormtail!" 

Hermione had also turned to watch, and only after they disappeared into the shed did she wonder aloud, "How much Firewhiskey did they have on them?"

"More like in them." James shook his head. How had Sirius convinced Tom to give them another free crate? "Sorry about that. My mates tend to occasionally go a little overboard at times."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't try to pretend you wouldn't have been just as soused as they, were you not busy rescuing me, tonight."

His grin widened, and once again he was drawn in by the cinnamon spice of her magic, and the heat of her beneath the fabric separating their skin. His breath caught in his chest and James allowed himself to wonder for the first time.

What was this draw, this magic between them?

And why did her eyes suddenly look so sad?

"So…it is late," she began, not meeting his gaze. "I think it's time we both went to bed, don't you?"

It took every ounce of will he possessed to reply, "Whatever you wish, love."

James realized later after he finally lay in his bed, he still didn't know whether Hermione was staying with him or leaving.

Chapter Text

The thin strip between the book and music shops seemed like any other dingy alley in London. The Muggles they passed by didn't look twice at their antiquated garb, but several Wizards nodded to the beautiful Mrs. Potter née Black as she ushered Hermione into the Leaky Cauldron.

Hermione's head still spun from the pull of Apparating, yet she was thankful for Dorea's decision to detour, rather than floo directly into Diagon Alley. It had been difficult enough for Hermione to agree to leave the wards beyond Potter Manor. Any excitement she may have initially felt paled the moment she imagined facing not necessarily strangers, but people who had known her from before.

Upon Hermione's insistence, her host was gracious enough to somewhat disguise her. Dorea had lent another set of old indigo robes, far less attention-grabbing than the last. Despite the charms Dorea had cast to change Hermione's hair from a bushy brown to soft straightened black, she still felt too exposed. 

"Mrs. Potter, what a pleasure to see you this fine morn!" A hunched older Wizard had rushed to meet them both.

Hermione kept her chin tucked down and tracked every corner of the room from beneath her lashes as several heads turned with curiosity.

"Thank you, Tom. We're just going to take a turn round back today if you please."

Tom appraised Hermione with a curious eye and nodded. "Of course, your ladyship, of course. Right this way—ah, you know the way, I expect."

"Thank you, Tom. A pleasant day to you." Dorea's polite mask in place, she inclined her head. "Come along, Hermione."

Hermione flinched and clenched the robes beneath her hands as she followed Dorea through the back door of the medieval pub and to a tiny, brick-walled courtyard. Everything about it was familiar, from the moldy smell of the Leaky to the tapping of Dorea's wand against the set of bricks before them. Hermione drew in a slow breath and tried to ignore her rising panic.

Dorea hesitated once the bricks reassembled themselves and revealed the crowded street beyond. "Are you ready?"

Hermione shook her head. So many pointed hats and billowing robes, crooked and straight noses, lovely and unsavory characters marching up and down amid the hubbub. Hermione shook her head again and flinched as Dorea's gloved palm pat her shoulder.

The taller woman drew in her gaze and softly smiled. "Hermione, I know you're afraid. How could you not be, after all you've endured? I know there is a risk in bringing you out in public, but you are not facing this alone. You happen to be in the company of a very capable Witch. So I implore you to keep your eyes open and try to think of this as an adventure."

Hermione squeezed the older Witch's hand at her shoulder and nodded. "I'll try."

Dorea's mask was replaced with a brief, but genuine smile. "That's my girl. Now, let's give all those old biddies something to gossip about, today, shall we?"

Against her better judgment, Hermione allowed Dorea to guide her beyond the brick courtyard. The rumble as the bricks magically reassembled didn't turn her frayed mind from desperately cataloging every new sight and sound. 

Dorea walked on, chatting amiably and briefly with Witches and Wizards in passing. Once they found a small pocket free of intrusion, Dorea lowered her voice and leaned closer. "Thankfully, Minerva has already ordered your books and potions supplies, so no need to stop by Potage's, Flourish and Blotts, or that smelly Apothecary." She clapped her gloved fingers together, sapphire eyes sparkling.

Hermione frowned. The very thought of books and knowledge filled her with both longing and fear for all her contrary brain had imprinted. Walking into a book shop might trigger the wrong sort of memories, and likely send her into another seizure. So it was with regret, Hermione half-listened to Dorea describe the rest of their necessary stops.

Until they were forced to sidestep a family of Muggles overloaded with dozens of magical items. The father, in particular, struggled to juggle the sacks and owl cage in his hands. "Come along, Harrold! We don't have all day!" The mother had her eyes screwed on the map in her hands. And their small daughter with her thick corkscrew curls glanced shyly at Hermione. 

"—was thinking we should find you a familiar first, dear. Would you fancy an owl, or something a little more manageable? Hermione?" Dorea twirled round from several paces ahead with a puzzled look.

Hermione remained frozen as several magical families shouldered past the Muggles none too gently. All the children must be bound for the same school as Hermione and James, yet many sneered at the obviously Muggle-born.

"Mudblood filth…" The tall dark-haired father of one remarked.

Her blood boiled, as the Muggle family remained oblivious to the scorn they had just received. 

"Hermione?" Dorea called again, but it was too late. Hermione's feet carried her back before her guardian could say otherwise.

"Oh Miriam, honey, I don't know how much longer I can tote these blasted books around!"

Miriam waved her husband's comment aside. "Just grin and bear it, love. Now, I think if we go down three more blocks we'll reach this Madame Malkin's." 

Their daughter watched Hermione's approach with wide eyes and tugged on her father's shirt. "Daddy!"

"Not now pumpkin, I think I may drop the whole lot!" The top package slipped from the crook of his arm and Hermione caught it with ready hands.

She exchanged a smile for their bewildered looks. "Here."

The girl smiled a toothy grin as she accepted the returned parcel. "Thanks!"

Hermione stiffened as Dorea placed a hand on her shoulder and said, "Pardon me, but I believe you need to walk the other direction if you're looking for Madame Malkin's shop."

Miriam turned around, her long brown hair bouncing behind her. "Oh, thank you so much! I've been studying this thing for the last half hour, but everything's so different here, you know?" The woman surveyed both Hermione and Dorea's clothing and faltered. "Then again, maybe you don't."

Dorea smiled generously. "Here, I imagine those are far too heavy for you." The older witch muttered a feather-light charm over the family's packages with a swift wave of her wand.

"By God!" Harrold sputtered. "That was amazing! Don't think we'll ever get used to this place, Miriam."

Hermione held out a hand to the girl. "I'm Hermione, what's your name?"

"Leah," the girl softly replied, though she took Hermione's hand boldly.

"Are you going to Hogwarts, too?"

Leah's smile brightened. "Yes! I can't believe I'm going to learn to do magic for real!"

"I'm going to Hogwarts too, Leah. Hope I see you there."

"Definitely!" Leah's curls bounced as she squeezed Hermione's hand once more.

"Yes, indeed, it was a pleasure meeting all of you," Dorea intoned. "But I'm afraid Hermione and I are on a tight schedule today. Best wished to you and your daughter as she begins her first term at Hogwarts." Dorea began to pull Hermione away and the Muggles waved their goodbyes.

"Bye!" Leah waved enthusiastically, and Hermione hoped her smile wasn't too weak.

Dorea urged them along, eyes darting to the various Witches and Wizards eyeing them still. Her face was drawn and slightly pensive. "You know, dear, I was actually thinking we should stop by Gringotts first. Albus asked me to show you how to access his vault. He's already settled matters with the goblins, thankfully."

Hermione glanced over her shoulder to find the Muggle family now lost in the sea of robes. "What's wrong?"

"Hmm? What do you mean, dear?" Dorea's grip tightened on Hermione's arm.

Hermione grimaced as they progressed toward the tall slanted fortress looming ahead. "Are you upset with me because I spoke with that Muggle family?"

Dorea flinched, and sighed. "I assure you, I am not the sort of Pureblood you are inferring I am. However, I am charged with your safety."

"But they weren't dangerous," Hermione sputtered.

Dorea glanced around quickly before replying, "Yes, my dear, but we never know who could be watching and listening."

Hermione shivered as she remembered all the reasons she had been afraid to leave the house that morning. The streets suddenly seemed too narrow, too crowded and clustered. "You're right. I just didn't want their first impression of our world to be so...unwelcoming."

"I understand, but if you want to keep a low profile, befriending Muggles before magical families in public is not wise. You-Know-Who has spies everywhere, and incidents like you just pulled could paint an open target on your back before you've even been sorted." Dorea pinched her lips and her touch at Hermione's arm eased. "You must know the consequences of your actions now, Hermione. I won't allow what's happened to some of your fellow classmates to happen to you."

"But how are we supposed to just stand by and let them be treated like lesser beings?"

Dorea pulled Hermione to a stop just to the side of Gringotts' front doors to hiss lowly, "It isn't just what might happen to you that is the danger. It is what will happen to everyone you love and hold dear if the wrong sort discover you. Please trust what I say, Hermione, I knew what happens to those who defy him." 

"So you're asking me to do nothing?"

"I am asking you to be mindful. Watch everything that you say and do. Trust an old Slytherin who knows." 

Hermione nodded and Dorea seemed satisfied by the look in her eye.

"Well, that's enough unpleasant talk for the morning." Dora brushed her hands together and pasted on her prim mask once more. "Now, let's get this pesky money business over and done with. The sooner we get on to your new wardrobe the better, I say!"

If Hermione's smile fell flat, Dorea thankfully did not reprimand her again. 

Mudblood.

Hermione couldn't get the awful word, out of her head, and shivered as she absently rubbed her thumb over the scars covering her palm. 

Was this how their world truly was?

She couldn't remember a world instilled with fear and dangers like this. For the first time, she began to actually look into the faces of people they passed by and could feel the tension in the air. Despite the bright colors and laughter of children, there was wariness in many faces, mistrust, and paranoia in others. Several shops looked recently shut down, and everywhere there were stands for the Daily Prophet that Charlus read each morning. And the headlines whispered of war.

Gringotts was a world that seemed to accept Dorea Potter very well. Hermione was beginning to understand just how important the Blacks were to Wizarding society, at least to those wearing the finest robes. Yet she also perceived how important the Potters were as well. All met them with kindness or practiced gentility and Dorea gave as well as she got. Even the goblins of Gringotts were very happy to help Mistress Potter.

What they did not seem pleased on however, was the introduction of Albus Dumbledore's heir to their vaults. The Headmaster had lived a very long time, longer than Charlus Potter. The Dumbledores were a very old Wizarding family themselves, and Albus without a family left to share his fortune with.

The Goblin who opened the Dumbledore vault had fixed Hermione with a nasty glare as she filled her pouch with Galleons. She didn't feel too guilty for taking the Professor's money after seeing just how much of it he had in reserve.

By the time they were off to Ollivander's, Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC painted with peeling gold letters over the shabby looking door, Hermione had almost forgotten to be angry at the world she had discovered today.

The shop was empty, save for mountains of narrow boxes neatly piled from floor to ceiling. 

Dorea walked ahead and sat primly in the single spindly-legged chair waiting nearby. "Go on and have a look, dear."

Hermione set her bags at her side and began to walk down a narrow aisle. 

The wooden floor creaked beneath her feet and a heavy stillness closed in around her. This was different from the weight of countless eyes she'd suffered on the street or in Gringotts. Here, her skin prickled with goosebumps, and Hermione grubbed at her sleeve as the boxes she passed seemed to faintly hum.

A back door creaked open. "Hello? Ah! What have we here?" A gray-haired old Wizard hobbled from the opposite end of her aisle and Hermione found herself warming instantly to the silvery-eyed shopkeep. "A new customer, I believe!"

"Hermione Dumbledore." It was strange to her how easily the name rolled off her tongue.

The man froze and his pale eyes widened, filled with an indiscernible expression. "Dumbledore…indeed…yes, I can see it now." His eyes traveled and outline of her form. "Heavy magic around you my dear, very heavy…finding your wand will not be easy."

He measured between her eyes, the span of her fingertips to her shoulder, from shoulder to shoulder, and then from her chin to her belly button. Upon ushering her back to the front entrance and past a very bemused Dorea, Ollivander began to bring in the boxes.

Hermione tried ten in all, two with phoenix feather cores, three of unicorn hair, two cherry wood and two of ash, and one holly and phoenix feather of eleven inches. Each brought her disastrous results, and a couple only managed to set her clothes on fire with sparks.

She could tell the old man was exasperated after the last few attempts.

Dorea laughed as Ollivander stamped flames from his outer robe. "Ah, well, it must be lovely to find a challenge once in a while, Garrick."

"My dear Dorea, your presence in my shop could mean nothing less than challenging."

Hermione arched a brow at Dorea and Ollivander returned to the back of his shop, mumbling under his breath.

"We were House rivals and childhood friends, you know," Dorea answered the unspoken question. "I'm afraid Garrick never quite forgave me for saying no to his invitation to his Gala that year."

"Of course I forgave you, dear Dorea!" Ollivander called from the dusty mountain of thrumming boxes.

Hermione's laughter faded as she turned to follow the sound of a distant song. A sudden weight settled over her. She startled as Ollivander appeared from seemingly nowhere, his silver gaze lifting to meet hers. "Try this one." A wrinkled hand pried the box open.

Hermione frowned at the plain wooden stick before her. It was ten inches, of some very old looking darkened wood, so old and thick that she could almost feel the hands that had held it before. And the song in her ears grew louder. 

"Contrary to popular belief, not every wand in my shop was made by my family. My grandfather was something of a collector, you see, and I seem to recall him saying this particular wand to be very old, of a making he could not perceive. It has not accepted a new owner since its recovery."

She was uncertain whether or not she liked the look in the Wizard's eyes or how desperately she longed to snatch the wand from its box instead of slowly plucking it as she determined. 

As the wood settled warmly in her palm, the song crashed with a wave of flowers, spring rain, sunlight, and life. A steadily growing light filled the shop, and the wands in their boxes began to rattle with the sudden wind until, as quickly as it had come, the song ceased. Hermione stared numbly at the warm wood in her palm.

Ollivander accepted Dorea's payment with an uncanny smile. "We'll be expecting tremendous things of you, Hermione Dumbledore!"

"Tell me what we're doing here again?" Sirius grumbled.

James didn't turn his gaze from the opposite side of the busy street. "Mum wouldn't let me come with today."

"Oh, and I suppose you wanted to go shopping that badly, Prongs?" Sirius scoffed.

Peter's chortle ceased as James leveled their shorter friend with a dark glare. "No, you wanker," he growled back before refocusing on the shop his mother had led Hermione into earlier. "We're here to see who takes notice of her. I won't risk the chance someone from her past could recognize her, even with the glamours…"

"Are you that worried about another bloke taking notice of her?" Remus teased. "If so, you have enough competition right here."

To their surprise, James didn't react, but rather soberly replied, "Look mate, for the millionth time, Hermione's not my Witch. I'm just looking out for her, as a friend should. Now, I don't know what you sods planned today, but I'm here to find out which arseholes wanted her dead. If meeting Hermione's taught me anything, it's that the war is already here, and we need to be ready."

Sirius scratched his head with the end of his wand. "Can we please talk about something else besides the bloody war?"

Peter tugged at James's jumper sleeve. "You really think You-Know-Who would attack any of us for helping her?"

James grit his teeth. "None of us are special, Wormtail, not alone." He pulled his gaze from Magical Menagerie and squeezed Peter's shoulder. "We're strong when we stand together. That's why we need to protect Hermione. Before us, she was all alone. Not anymore."

Peter ducked his head, but not before giving James a quick nod, something like grim determination settled on his friend's round features. James beamed and squeezed Wormtail's shoulder again, content that Pete agreed. James could always count on Peter to understand the things Remus ignored or Sirius considered beneath his notice.

"Not this again," Sirius groaned. "Look, mate, we get it there's a war coming, but can't we at least wait until after graduation before jumping into the middle of it? Or is that not still the bloody plan?"

"If anything, we should be trying to get into the Order sooner," James argued.

"Padfoot has a point, Prongs." Remus shifted and resettled against the brick wall at their backs. "Why shouldn't we try to enjoy the time we have left to be kids?"

Peter shuffled in between them. "Oi, Padfoot, d'you think you could loan me five sickles? I wanted to stop by Fortescue's before we leave today."

"No, you greedy sod, get your own sickles," Sirius replied.

"Shh!" James interrupted and pulled Sirius and Peter down by their coats. "They're headed our way, lads."

"Damn," Sirius hissed. "If Mummy P finds out we're not doing the chores she gave us, she won't let us out again until Hogwarts."

James rolled his eyes. "Maybe then she'll finally give you the same list I get every summer."

"Yes," Remus interjected, "that does tend to happen when one procrastinates. Have either of you even finished half our summer holiday assignments?"

"Aw, sod off, Moony!" Sirius shoved the tall Werewolf.

"They just walked past us. Didn't even look twice!" Peter exclaimed.

"Come on! Hurry up before we lose 'em again!" James panicked. He shouldn't have let Sirius distract him! That was all the dog had been doing, ever since James gave Padfoot an earful over breakfast while yet suffering from a hangover. It had been Sirius's guilt that led to them agreeing to accompany James to Diagon Alley. 

The Marauders followed their unofficial leader through the maze of people. Peter begged to drop by Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, to which Sirius eagerly seconded the motion.

"Oh no, none of you are off the hook yet," James reminded them of their debt for the third time that day. 

Remus chuckled and Sirius grumbled a curse under his breath.

James's suddenly ducked behind a stray booth hawking protection charms, grabbing Sirius and Peter by their shirts with him. Remus, who was nearly a head taller than James and had already seen the problem, followed.

"Oi! Easy on the linen, Prongs!" Sirius muttered. It was then Sirius took in James's clenched fists, drawn wand, and decided to follow his line of sight, only for his heart sink into his stomach. "Well, shit."

Hermione was in love.

The little orange ball of fluff had practically called her name from across the magical pet shop. Her heart had warmed at being reminded of the stuffed animal sitting on top of her bedcovers at home. The little ball of fluff looked just like the stuffed kneazle, save the more obvious cat features tossed in the mix.

A hissing, spitting creature, the half-kneazle had eagerly jumped into Hermione's arms, much to the terror of the sales clerk. The Wizard warned her they had been unable to get rid of the blasted thing since it fell on their doorstep, and thus far, had caused quite a mess in the Menagerie.

Dorea reluctantly purchased the creature Hermione instantly named Crookshanks.

Thus far, Crookshanks had been a silent companion from within the new cage in Hermione's arms.

Until the trio bumped into the richly dressed family standing directly in the middle of their path, that is.

Dorea seemed to draw on her superior height, only barely outdone by the equally tall, black-haired Witch opposite. Lifting her chin with a superior glance, Dorea's voice dripped with frigid politeness as she greeted, "Walburga."

"Dorea." The stately Witch replied.

Hermione peeked from behind the edge of Dorea's robes while trying to calm her upset familiar.

Walburga appeared to be a bit younger than Dorea, and there was something in the Witch's aristocratic features that were oddly familiar. Her black, silver-streaked hair was piled high on top of her head and set off by an equally outrageous hat. Walburga's plum robes were studded with gleaming jewels and everything about her screamed wealth and privilege.

"Fancy running into you here, dear cousin. We were just at Madame Malkin's buying new dress robes for my darling Regulus. With so many possible internships already lining up for my boy, we decided upon an entirely new wardrobe, as you can imagine." Her thin smile was more a sneer as gray eyes chose that moment to quickly flicker over Hermione. "Are you…shopping for Hogwarts?"

Dorea smiled just as sweetly. "Why yes, I am! In fact, we were just on our way to Madame Malkin's as well."

A young couple observed the interaction from Walburga's side, and Hermione did not like the wild gleam in the young woman's eye. Her thick black curls were neatly coifed and a veil partially hovered over her eyes but failed to mask the curiosity and contempt in them as she sniffed. "Aunty, why are we speaking to this Blood Traitor? Look at it, Rodolphus! It still speaks as though it were one of us."

"Enough, Bellatrix." Walburga turned a hard eye on the shorter woman. "We shall meet you at Borgin and Burkes shortly."

With this dismissal, the hard-nosed man, Rodolphus ushered his wife along. Bellatrix did not look back as she allowed her husband to lead her away, a fact Hermione was very grateful.

"Forgive Bellatrix, Dorea. Her manners have not improved with age. She has the temperament of her father, I am afraid."

To Hermione's surprise, Dorea laughed. "Indeed, that is a terrible shame. She was such a beautiful child. Oh my! So this must be Regulus?"

Walburga's smile turned nearly genuine as she urged the tall boy from behind her skirts forward. "Indeed. Regulus you will remember your aunt, Lady Potter."

Hermione had not even noticed the gangly boy until that moment. Besides the grandeur of his mother, Regulus's black and green lined robes seemed almost common. He was as tall as his mother, and something about his slightly long black hair was startlingly familiar. His features resembled his mother, yet his chin was more defined, his nose straight and thin, and his eyes framed by lashes too long for a boy. He nodded politely to Dorea and offered her a crooked grin. "Pleasure to see you again, aunt." 

It was in the midst of Dorea and Walburga's continuing small talk that Regulus's gaze flickered at last to meet Hermione's. She blinked, startled by their brilliant shade of not just any blue, but the same sapphire as Dorea's. Regulus watched Hermione, not with mischief or the cool reserve of his kin, but with keen observation, and something weighted and oppressive masked just beneath.

Was this the same family Dorea had warned her about earlier, the notorious Black family?

Her vision tunneled as her mind filled with the rush of knowledge and pages of books, and fleetingly, a faded, wall-sized tapestry...

Regulus Black had been watching the young Witch accompanying his great-aunt for some time, in fact, long before his mother had taken notice.

He wasn't sure what precisely had drawn his eye. She looked just like any other average Witch on the street, at first glance. The Witch wasn't strikingly beautiful, yet something about her had compelled him to look twice. And now, with the girl close enough to touch, Regulus realized he had been dead wrong. Because she was beautiful, in a compelling way that made him nearly forget himself. And there was something else, a glowing halo of crackling energy that pulsed between them with each beat of his heart.

Regulus decided this is what had drawn his attention, for, beneath her obvious glamours, he had felt her magical energy half a block away. This is why he'd wasted no time chancing Bellatrix's ire while directing his mother's attention to their estranged relation. Purebloods like Bellatrix and his father severely limited their potential with such rigid and unforgiving views. It was one thing to agree with whatever the Dark Lord decreed appropriate. Regulus agreed with his mother in that there were too few of the old families left to be toting around old grudges. 

Regulus clenched his gloved fists and struggled to refocus his thoughts, just in time to hear his mother say, "And who might this young lady be? I was not aware James had any close kin left after his great uncle Peverell's tragic death."

Regulus made certain to keep a pleasant smirk painted on his face, while he watched the younger Witch lift her head with stunningly fierce pride.

"Oh, no!" Dorea placed a hand on the young woman's shoulder. "She isn't any relation to us, Walburga. I'm simply aiding an old friend in seeing Hermione ready for Hogwarts this term. Her uncle decided it was past time she moves into a more public setting before her coming out into society."

Her name's Hermione...

"Oh?" came Walburga's light reply, when Regulus knew his mother would not rest until she learned everything there was to know about this young Witch. Especially if there were the chance she was Pureblood.

"Well, how kind of you to aid a friend in this matter. Where has Miss Hermione been schooling from before this?"

Hermione's brow slightly furrowed as the older Witches conversed as though neither she nor Regulus was present. 

"Private tutors, I am afraid," Dorea Potter replied. "Her uncle believed that the strain of being related to such an important Wizard might be overwhelming until she was better prepared."

Hermione's amber eyes met his once more, and Regulus caught his breath at the strength he saw, at the way her magic seemed to flare and cautiously probe his own signature. He barely repressed a shudder.

"I see!" Walburga's thin smile grew. "And to which illustrious name does the young lady come to share?"

In her sweetest tone Dorea answered, "Dumbledore," and Regulus's destiny was drastically altered, though he didn't yet know it.

Walburga could not contain her gasp, nor conceal her calculating glance between the young heiress and her son.

"Hermione Dumbledore," the young Witch spoke for the first time with a demure curtsy, "and it is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Black."

Walburga positively bubbled over with syrupy flattery in her reply as she took Hermione's hand between hers. "Well met, Miss Dumbledore! I don't believe you've had the pleasure of meeting my son, Regulus Black."

Regulus pushed aside disgust for his mother's greed and managed a wry grin, once he caught the amused gleam in Hermione's eye. He was reaching out his hand and their fingertips barely brushed when—

"Oi! Mummy, dearest! How radiant you look, today."

Regulus flinched and balled his hands into fists at his side as he twisted to observe his brother swagger toward them. 

Peter Pettigrew ambled up beside Hermione with a toothy grin. "Hello, Hermione, fancy finding you here! Name's Peter. Haven't had the chance to meet you properly yet. Sorry bout last night." The short Wizard took Hermione's hand.

Regulus drew in a sharp breath through his nose as he noticed her immediate shock and unease.

Did she not know we were related? 

Walburga drew herself up, nose high in the air as her imperious brow as her wayward oldest son slipped an arm around her stiff shoulders.

Regulus was pleased to note he was a half head higher than Sirius now.

Dorea practically glared daggers at both boys. "What are you two doing here? James isn't with you is he?" 

Walburga sniffed. "I would kindly ask you to remove your arm, Sirius."

His brother only leaned in closer with an unsettling grimace. "Oh, Mummy, I love you too, you miserable old dragon."

"Sirius!" Dorea exclaimed.

"Forgive me, Dorea, Hermione, for this crude interruption." Walburga did not look at his brother once as she addressed Hermione then. "I should very much love to have you over for tea one afternoon before you begin school, my dear. I shall send my invitation to be used at your disposal."

Hermione nodded with an equally polite grin and clutched a meowing cage closer to her chest. "You're very kind."

"Tea?" Sirius interrupted again. "Oh, yes, how very kind of you. Plan to offer Mione some of that Firewhiskey you keep in the cupboard, too?"

"Sirius Orion Black!" Dorea barked.

Regulus shook his head and stepped forward, determining this to be the opportune moment to save his brother from himself. "Been a pleasure, brother. Now, why don't you go back to whatever hole you just crawled out of and let us all be on our way?"

Sirius released their mother just in time to sneer and laugh with just the same bloody tone he'd used the day he walked out on their family forever. "Always a pleasure, Reggie, Mummy. How's about you stay the hell away from my friends, and go back to torturing Muggles with your Lord?"

"Come, Regulus!" Walburga wasted no time in nodding politely once more to Dorea and Hermione before marching away. 

Regulus hesitated long enough to return his brother's disgusted glare before obeying.

"Filthy Blood Traitor! How dare he parade about, wearing your father's ring when you are the rightful heir," Walburga fumed, attention fixed on Knockturn Alley ahead.

Regulus looked over his shoulder one last time to watch Dorea chewing out his traitor-brother and piggish friend with a satisfied grin.

Yet his gaze lingered on Hermione, and his heart raced the moment she lifted her head and met his eye.

She was a Dumbledore. That would make her the most eligible new blood on the Pureblood market. It was enough to fill him with bitter jealousy and concern for all those who would claim her to do her harm. Still...the idea of possessing Dumbledore's heir might even be his ticket out of the bloody mess his brother had left behind for him to make up for.

Sirius would not be so protective of her unless…

His grin widened. A plan was forming in his mind, one that made what he'd expected to be a miserable school year something to eagerly look forward to instead.

From now on he would be keeping an eye on Miss Hermione Dumbledore.

Chapter Text

Albus Dumbledore sent her a letter officially welcoming her to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He also sent a personal letter containing something Hermione had worn every day since. According to his note, his sister Ariana was the last member of the family to wear their grandmother's sapphire necklace. 

Albus's parting words had been:

Do try to enjoy your last days of the Summer Holiday, Hermione.

I sense you have some misgivings about your part in the conflict we find ourselves in. Do not give in to the fears that you cling to.  Rather enjoy this second chance that fate has given you.

Rest in the peace the Potters so cherish and be assured I will do everything in my power to learn all I may of your origins.

I look forward to seeing you very soon.

 

Your affectionate Uncle,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

And ever since Hermione had received his letter, she had been growing more and more anxious for Hogwarts. Something about that place pulled at her soul and bade her hurry closer, something that promised safety and shelter.

Despite Dumbledore's warnings, she struggled to dispel the feelings Diagon Alley had stirred in her. From her encounter with Dorea and Sirius's family and the signs of war looming everywhere, she couldn't shake the nervous energy that plagued her. Or the sense of familiarity with nothing but wraiths haunting her mind.

Dorea had given Sirius and Peter an earful for their behavior at Diagon Alley and sent them home, threatening that if James had followed, he'd regret it. She later told Hermione she was going to get as much use out of "her boys" as she could before term started.

Dorea had provided Hermione with a new wardrobe of the latest casual and dress robes, sundresses and winter dresses, dress slippers and practical boots. It had taken everything Hermione had to convince her to leave off some of the more outrageously priced ones. She hadn't been able to keep the former Black from making her try on a set of dress robes Hermione thought too beautiful for someone like her. She would never have agreed to it had Dorea not threatened to change some of her plainer robes for ones studded with jewels.

The last stop had been a run to Muggle London and a little lingerie shop Hermione was forced to buy all her new knickers and bra's from. "It is important to feel desirable and confident on the inside, you know," was Dorea's only blushing comment about the matter.

The following days were filled with something akin to a routine.

Mornings included the Marauders, more often than not, for breakfast. Here, Dorea was the voice of reason while Charlus encouraged the boys' antics. Hermione had quickly learned that Charlus was not so immature as he played out to be. It was part of a game that they played, Charlus teasing his wife and Dorea reprimanding him in an age-old dance.

The first time any of them heard Hermione truly laugh was the morning Sirius sent a slice of butter before Peter's path. The smallest Marauder went sailing into the air with an, "Oi!" of outrage and collided with Remus in a tangled heap onto the floor.

The arrogant Black winked knowingly at Hermione while she hid her laughter behind her hand.

Yet when she turned to James, she found his face buried in the Daily Prophet, brow furrowed. He had been increasingly silent the last few days, the more time Hermione spent around the Marauders. She told herself she should be relieved.

I've been relying too much on him, ever since he found me. Can't expect him to wait on me hand and foot…

Hermione chewed her lip while Remus lit into Sirius about how dangerous leaving out a slice of butter could be, to which the tables' other occupants only laughed harder. Sirius winked at Hermione, though she noticed the concern barely masked in his sharp steel eyes.

Later on that same day, Hermione helped Dorea plant her newest row of roses in the garden. They were Hermione Roses, to her delight.

"In honor of the new addition to the family," Dorea had said.

The feel of the sun on her skin, the way the earth felt beneath her fingers, and the heady scent of the roses, was like inhabiting a fairy tale. Something about it all felt like a sweet dream one believes to be real before waking to bitter reality.

These moments with Dorea were equally surreal. During their daily routine, Dorea took to telling her the small things Hermione would need to know as an up-and-coming Witch of high standing. Hermione learned the purpose of elaborate dining and tea sets, along with the proper decorum. She also learned all the juicy dark secrets of every Pureblood family. Dorea, as a former Black was related in some way to them all. And as a former Slytherin, she gave Hermione knowledge as a defense for anything she might face in the future.

She thought of Walburga and Regulus Black and couldn't help voicing the question nagging at the back of her mind ever since their encounter. "Why did Sirius leave his mum's house?"

Dorea barked a laugh at Hermione's question. "Oh my, don't you remember meeting Walburga Black?"

She pressed the soil tighter around the base of the rose bush, stray curls falling into her eyes. "She seemed like she didn't deserve how Sirius treated her."

"Hmm...I suppose not. Then again, you do not know how cruel some families can be. Often enough in our world, it is the ones who have much that love the least. Everything comes with a price, my dear."

Evenings at Potter Manor were spent in the private parlor after dinner, where Charlus would tell them stories of his and his father's exploits around the world. It would seem that Percival Potter was quite the world traveler. Soon, she learned about each of the strange and wondrous collections displayed about the man-cave. Often times the Marauders would join in to "re-enact" his exploits.

Once the grown-ups went to sleep, James would flash her his old grin and Sirius and Peter would drag her back outside to have some "real fun."

Thus far they had tried to con her into playing three on two Quidditch, to which she said no, opting to watch.

A rainy day found them running in the middle of it, the boys wrestling each other into the mud. Hermione managed to avoid mud until Sirius took her down with him.

Another night, they perched on the roof of the manor to drink Firewhiskey and shout songs at the stars. This is how she learned Remus preferred to watch his friends, only joining in the fun when he thought they didn't need him to be their minder. That night, Remus drank four Firewhiskeys.

Peter was the kindest and least obnoxious of the four to Hermione. He often cornered her in the manor for a game of Wizarding Chess. Though the game frustrated her to no end, Pete promised to teach her till she aced it.

Rarer times, Hermione couldn't find any of the Marauders. These were the days she spent visiting her favorite haunts about the house with the tiny orange  Crookshanks at her heels. And when she was sure to be completely alone, Hermione brought her new wand out to practice.

The energy behind her casting was overwhelming. Each of her spells packed a powerful punch. To her immense frustration, Hermione found it easier to cast wandless. In truth, she was a little afraid to use the wand.

If I can't use my wand, how am I supposed to cast at Hogwarts without drawing attention?

She screamed and threw the offending wood across her balcony and into her room, satisfied to hear it chunk into the wood post of her bed. Stamping her feet, she bit back a stream of curses.

Exhausted, she walked over to the floor and picked up the discarded wood, ignoring the pull and warmth pulsing back beneath her fingertips. She pocketed the wood in the garter belt she had started using as a wand holster. Just in case of an emergency.

Closing her eyes, she drank in the rare quiet of the manor and wondered what the boys were up to today.

She froze as a new sound met her ears.

Is that a piano?

Opening her door, she descended the stairs to the second-floor landing. Was someone in the music room? James had only shown Hermione a glimpse of it.

"Never had the patience for learning," he'd said.

Hermione smiled as she walked down the hallway. She didn't think she could play any instrument and her one attempt to learn the lyrics to a Hobgoblins song from James and Sirius had ended with them in stitches and her cheeks beet red.

She was stood in front of the wide double doors and peering through the door crack before she knew it. Her eyes widened as she quietly stepped through the door.

The black baby grand piano sat at the center of the round room, windows lining a great portion of its walls at the corner of the house. The lid had been turned up and Remus Lupin sat with his back to her, flawlessly playing without sheet music. 

"You can have a seat over here if you want, Hermione. I won't bite." Remus chuckled as Hermione jumped and came immediately to his side.

Remus allowed her room on the bench and proceeded to play, saying, "Didn't think us Marauders could have any other interests besides girls and pranks?"

She watched his fingers continue to move, mesmerized. "No, I know you're different from the others."

Though he didn't lift his head, his voice softened, "Oh?"

She smiled. "You look after for them, keep them in check."

His brow furrowed, a contemplative grimace. "Not so often as I should I think."

"I would bet they owe a lot of their freedom for mischief from you. I didn't know you could play." In the growing dusky shadows, his eyes gleamed a brilliant amber, and something itched at the back of Hermione's brain.

"My dad insisted, thought I could use a bit more Muggle learning to go along with my magical studies. Turns out, I had more talent for it than he expected. It's about the only thing we have to talk about nowadays."

Hermione's heart ached to hear him speak of his family. As much as she felt adopted by the Potters, and protected by Dumbledore's name, she couldn't escape the feeling that she would likely never find her parents again.

Did I ever know them?  Was I an orphan because Voldemort murdered them?

She shivered and wrapped her arms around her chest at the memory of dark magic on her skin. Some days, she still felt it clawing its way inside her like a disease.

"Your scent is different…" Remus murmured beneath his breath.

"What?" she asked on bated breath.

"I've noticed something about you, Hermione, ever since we met." He stumbled slightly over his words.

Did he notice something Dumbledore hadn't seen? Hope and fear flared like a newly lit candle in her heart, only to be snuffed with his next words.

"What I'm trying to say is…I think you're different, too."

Her laugh was bitter. "Not surprising considering I have a magical block around my memories."

Remus finished his song and turned to face her with a piercing gaze. "No, it's not that. Or...maybe it is part of your curse." He offered her a half-grin. "Either way, I think you're different. And that's not such a bad thing, you know." 

"I hope not," she whispered.

That afternoon, she learned Remus was staying rest of the holiday with the Potters because his family had hit rock bottom in the Muggle world. His mum was more involved in the War with You-Know-Who than she wanted him to know, and his father's health had been failing for years.

She also learned that Moonlight Sonata was simultaneously his favorite and least favorite piano piece. And yet for her, he played it again.

Yet it was then as she sat with Remus, thinking about her new friends that she realized James and Sirius had been missing at this time nearly every single day.

"What in Merlin's Beard are we doing outside the Dirty Troll, Padfoot?"

James rolled his eyes as Sirius covered his mouth with a firm hand.

"Shh! Not so loud you prat! Do you want the whole neighborhood to hear you?"

James glanced up the alleyway they had found themselves in. "Some neighborhood," he grumbled, pushing Padfoot's hand aside. "This might be the worst spot between Diagon and Knockturn. I gotta be honest, mate, so far I'm not convinced as to why we're visiting Stubby Boardman, again."

Sirius had finished checking the alley for eavesdroppers and grinned, speaking in normal volume. "Just one quick run in, and then we're through, yeah? I promised Stubby a favor after throwing Tom at him the other night."

James shook his head and sighed. "Fine, but we gotta run by Gambol and Japes still, remember?"

Ever since the day Sirius's family had cornered Hermione in the middle of Diagon Alley, he had been acting strange.

James had been livid when Sirius grabbed Peter and ran to face down Walburga Black when James had been about to do just that. Remus had held him back, reminding James it was better to sacrifice half the Marauders than all of them go down at once.

And so James had been forced to watch on with clenched fists, his magic ready to dash against the nearby brick wall. Only Remus's grip on his shoulder kept him grounded.

Ever since that day, Sirius and Peter had been on Dorea Potter's bad side. And Sirius, unable to stop pursuing a thought once it entered his bloody head, had been dragging them off to meet his cousin every afternoon.

Stubby Boardman annoyed the hell out of James. The bloke looked eerily like Sirius, only scruffier and a few years older and his ripped jeans hung too low on his hips.

Way, way too low, mate.

Today, Stubby wore what could have once been a shirt, held down by suspenders. His dark curling hair flowed past his shoulders and probably hadn't been washed for days. "Oi! James fuckin' Potter!" Came Stubby's usual greeting as he emerged from the underground club.

James allowed the easy Wizard to pull him into a man hug and pasted on his grin. "Hey, Stubby."

"Here mate, this should more than make up for pretending poor Tom was your manager." Sirius handed the man a slip of paper and the rocker's eyes lit up.

"Sirius, you are the man! You are my fuckin' man! Anytime anyway you fuckin' want, mate!"

"Well, you were the only one that got me through those horrid family holidays, Stub."

Stubby laughed. "Heard about what happened the other day with the Dragon, Siri. Glad you gave Walburga hell. I hear they're all bent up about that one, still. You oughta be careful though, mate. Damn dark times, these are. You-Know-Who's been on the lookout for someone to piss on."

Sirius nodded and began to back away towards the back door. "Well, you'll let me know if you hear anything else, yeah?"

Stubby pulled Sirius in for a sound smack on the cheek. "Oh, you got it, mate. Anything for you, cuz. See you later, Potty!"

James shook his head. "See you later, arsehole."

Stubby only laughed and turned to greet one of his current groupies as she rushed to his side. "Baby, have you met these fuckin' guys?" The bint's reply was muffled by the door of the club closing behind them.

"You hear what he said?" Sirius said as they made their way back onto Diagon Alley.

"Actually, I was trying not to listen." James narrowed his eyes at their destination through his spectacles.

"You still don't take him seriously, do you?"

"It's hard for me to take a man who dresses and acts like that seriously. No offense, Pads."

Sirius strode faster to keep up with James's slightly longer stride. "Stubby has connections, Prongs. He hears things from both sides, you know? And for your information, I haven't only been dragging you here every day because I felt like a last-minute shopping spree!" He waved his hands emphatically.

"I suppose so." James knew Sirius was trying.

It was rare that Padfoot took anything in life seriously, not that James could blame him. It hadn't been that long ago when James could have cared less about anything beyond living in the moment. It had been the motto they agreed to all those years ago when they named themselves Marauders. Life was meant to be lived and had! But that was before his dad and Uncle Albus became targets for Death Eaters. That was before Hermione Dumbledore fell out of the sky and into his life.

The fact Sirius was determined to drag him around Wizarding London on a wild goose chase for Hermione's would-be-murderer was odd enough. James hadn't asked, but he wasn't oblivious to the way Sirius watched Hermione. It was the first time James had seen his best mate really care about a witch, besides his mum.

Sirius had made it his point to make Hermione laugh as often as possible. James couldn't begrudge his best mate for making her laugh. After all, it had been his wish to see Hermione smile as much as she could, hadn't it? So what if they came because of his best friend? It was just like he'd told Sirius, no one was claiming her. She wasn't a possession or prize to be won.

Besides, he was still in love with Lily, wasn't he?

It was a question he only remembered to ask himself at that moment.  

"Come on, Prongs, let's grab those fireworks before any Aurors catch on. I cannot wait to see her face when we light up the sky, tonight. Pete said he'd have everything set up before we get back, and Moony promised to keep her distracted till her tea date with my beast of a Mum. I still can't believe Mummy P is letting her go alone!"

James frowned. He didn't like the idea of Hermione alone in a house of people connected to Voldemort any more than Sirius did. In fact, if Sirius hadn't carted them off to Diagon Alley today, James would have been more than ready to spy on Grimmauld Place.

Will she be safe?

She had a wand again, and Mum had been coaching her on high-shitting ways. He'd overheard his parents discussing it.

Calm down, you lummox. She's going to be fine!

They had just crossed the busy street, filled with last-minute Hogwarts-bound shoppers and their families yet when Sirius stumbled to a halt. "Holy shit, what are the odds?"

James frowned, pulled out of his thoughts only to stare open-mouthed at the sight before them.

Her blood-red hair hung down her back in board-straight locks, framing her porcelain skin. Her heart-shaped lips were turned up at the corners and her almond green eyes shone like jewels in the afternoon sun.

Lily Evans boldly wore tight, ripped Muggle jeans and trainers, and was leaning into Alice Greengrass's ear as they unknowingly headed the Marauders' way.

The shorter, pixie-cut brunette laughed, shaking her head, and was the first to spot James and Sirius.

Sirius ran a hand through his hair and chuckled. "How fortuitous, yeah, Prongs?"

Alice nudged Lily until a very familiar glare drew her brow together, and her pretty mouth twisted into a disgusted sneer.

Still remembering the end of last term's attempt, I see.

James grimaced at the memory. Sirius had convinced him to go all out. So far as to con her out onto the Quidditch Pitch after hours with a bouquet of lilies, a bloody song, and her name spelled in the sky with fireworks. Unfortunately, the fireworks proceeded to rush back and attack her on accident.

She had Confringo'd the flowers, doused the fireworks, and laughed at the song before declaring, once and for all, she would rather drop dead than ever concede to date him.

Sirius had finally declared her a lost cause.

James had been unwilling to give up after so many years of unrequited love. Even now, his feet carried him closer to the stunned Witches.

Alice was whispering furtively into Lily's ear and the taller Witch's features darkened further.

James attempted a carefree smile. He tried to summon the internal sparks that usually set off at the sight of her scarlet hair. Instead, he and Sirius paused three paces in front of them, and James shoved his hands in his pockets. "Hey Evans, Greengrass. Last-minute run, eh?"

Alice rolled her eyes. "Yeah, hello, Potter. Fancy seeing you two. Quite the coincidence, wouldn't you agree, Lily?"

Lily crossed her arms in front of her chest, obviously waiting for the next embarrassing Marauder pick up line.

Sirius cast an odd look at James before turning the force of his charm to the Witches. "Fairest Lily and sweetest Greengrass! Why haven't either of you returned my letters all summer!" He placed a hand over his heart and sank to one knee. "You cut me to the quick, dear ladies!"

Lily sighed. "Still making an arse of yourself, I see?"

Sirius jumped to his feet and, casting one last curious glace to James, said, "Now, now, ladies. No need to shower me with your dulcet tones!"

Lily sniffed. "The only thing you'll be hearing, Black, is the hex I invented especially for you two."

Sirius mock-sighed. "If only we had known you would be here sooner! We could have made a double date of it, yeah, James?"

Lily gaped at them, horrified and Alice giggled.

Had James been paying attention to Lily Evans, self-proclaimed love-of-his-life, he would have found her puzzled glances his way betray increasing shock. This was the most silent he had ever been around the Gryffindor Princess.

Instead, James couldn't help thinking, as he looked Lily nearly eye level, I never realized how short Hermione was. She barely reaches my shoulders.

"James?"

"What's the matter with him?" Alice glanced up at Sirius.

James smiled as he remembered Hermione was so perfect the week before, that moment when her eyelids had fluttered, and for one blessed moment, their breath mingled in the cool night air...

"Oi! Prongs?" Sirius barked.

James blinked. "Sorry, Padfoot. Guess I drifted off again, didn't I?"

"Drifted off?" Sirius echoed.

"Just like you do in Professor Flitwick's class," Lily snarked.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Not all of us are teacher's pet."

James shrugged. "Charms isn't as exciting as Quidditch."

Alice nodded. "Oh, I know! It isn't—ouch!"

Lily nudged her best friend sharply in the ribs. "Do not encourage them, Alice!"

"I wasn't encouraging them," she mumbled.

Sirius leaned into Lily's personal space. "I could think of a few ways to make you more…encouraging, Lily love."

Lily rolled her eyes.

James frowned. For the first time since Fourth year, James Potter felt nothing when he looked into the eyes of Lily Evans except for a rush of memory. And the realization struck him like he had fallen off his broom.

Sudden desperation caused him to call out with relief at the sudden appearance of Frank Longbottom. "Oi! Longbottom! Long time no see, mate. Been at Gambol and Japes, yeah? Mind coming along for another run with us?"

Frank's eyes were fixed on the anxious eyes of Alice Greengrass but he offered James a wry grin. "Sure thing, Potter. Long as you swear not to include me or Alice in this year's Marauder pranks."

At that point, James was willing to agree to anything. He turned his head. "Coming, Padfoot?"

Sirius had a shit-eating grin on his face, the kind James didn't care to investigate this time. He was too troubled to notice the sky falling at that point.

He didn't see Lily stare after him with open-mouthed amazement, just as he didn't hear Sirius tip his fingers to her in salute and say, "Well, hasn't this been pleasant! Just had to see something for myself, Lily love."

"Oh, sod off!"

Sirius certainly didn't miss the last glance Evans gave Prongs before turning her heel and dragging Alice away. 

Sirius laughed to himself, his suspicions at last confirmed.

Chapter Text

"More tea dear?" Her red-painted, thin-lipped smile pulled tight over her white teeth in a way that made Hermione think of a predator trying not to frighten its prey.

"Yes please." She proffered her cup and watched the Lady Black's lace gloved hands tip the fine china. The silver and green patterns swirled in constant motion on the bowl of the pot slithered up the curved handle.

Hermione smiled politely, ankles crossed, knees together, hands resting gently in her lap, and silently thanked Dorea Potter for every gruesome hour of training she'd endured this past week. She knew she hadn't quite mastered the role of Pureblood aristocrat, but any mention of her unconventional upbringing about Britain, her heritage as a Dumbledore, Dorea assured would erase such questions. It was to be expected her uncle would raise her differently than the preferred Pureblood pedigree.

Not knowing how she would be accepted in the Wizarding world, or what she would face, Hermione was willing to do anything to be fully prepared, to feel safe. And that included the loathsome task of befriending the enemy.

Who's to say she's the enemy when you aren't even sure where you came from?

Tea with Walburga Black was intimidating enough, Hermione had considered owling her new guardian. But Dorea claimed Albus would approve, insisting that, "all the Pureblood families will be concerned with, is whether or not you'll accept their sons' letters of proposal."

Grimmauld Place was smaller than Potter Manor, yet seemed much more opulent, cloaked with a different sort of grandeur. She had felt the brush of Dark Magic in everything she touched from the moment Walburga had welcomed her young guest within her domicile. The taint happily clung to her skin and crept through her bones, invasive, coldly searching her to be something it recognized. Despite the sense of inner rot, every piece of ancient furnishing gleamed in the candle and lamplight. Though windows had been open to allow sunlight, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling she was in a prison rather than a front parlor. 

All furnishings were decorated with green and silver of some sort, the colors of Slytherin…and the very thought of the Hogwarts House summoned another unwanted rush of endless texts to the forefront of her thoughts. She was growing accustomed to the rush. Rather than gasping for breath, now, Hermione merely blinked until her vision no longer blurred, and she was brought back to the gentle clink of porcelain and the lull in conversation.

"I do so wish my darling Regulus could have joined us for tea today," Walburga said with a careful smile. "He seemed quite taken with you yesterday, as I recall." Peering still through her lowered lashes, Lady Black topped off Hermione's cup.

Hermione inclined her head in silent thanks and answered, "Truly?" Sipping her tea allowed her time to catch the gleam in Walburga's dark eyes.

"Indeed, he was the one who insisted we introduce ourselves to you. Darling Regulus has always had a keen eye for beauty, you know. Ever since he was a small boy he helped me tend to my garden, roses in particular. He never cried when pricked by a thorn, and I dare say worried more for the state of the rose than his finger."

Hermione couldn't help her smile as she pictured a little boy with the stunning sapphire eyes of the boy who had stared at her so intently. 

"—and I am certain he will make a fine match one day," Walburga was saying, "if he ever finds a Witch to love him as fiercely as he is capable of loving."

Hermione's eyes widened, her hopefully only tell at the obvious nudge. "And I assume," she carefully replied, "the match must come from a fine family as well?"

Walburga sat back in her chair, chin raised slightly. "Nothing is too good for my Regulus. Why should you young folk only seek the alliance of bloodlines if not your hearts as well?" For a moment, the older woman's mask faltered.

Hermione, to her surprise, found something she had not expected from the Dragon of the Marauder's tales. "What of your own alliance, if I may be so bold to ask?"

Walburga's black brow arched. "Duty to House and family comes above all things, Miss Dumbledore, and that includes love. This is something most of your generation seems to have forgotten. Yet this is why a change in our society has become a necessity." Her eyes lifted at last to rest on the sapphire necklace resting on Hermione's throat before meeting her eyes. "No matter your inclination, I hope that you will never forget your duty when the time comes, my dear."

Hermione was struck by the weariness in those fathomless grey eyes, at the glimpse behind Walburga Black's mask. Was the Witch really so different from Dorea? Or was it rather circumstances that had made the younger Black matron what she had become?

Compassion bade Hermione reply with kindness and a soft smile. "I promised my Uncle I wouldn't let him down, and I do not break my promises, Lady Black."

"Please, do call me Walburga, dear. And how refreshing it is to hear such conviction from one so young. Now, you must tell me, Hermione, as we women must stick together and consult one another about such things, have any of the young men caught your eye?" 

Hermione barely managed to contain her nervous laughter. "Oh no, I don't think so. Not yet, at least."

Yet she couldn't shake the memory of James's hands against her skin and the longing in his hazel eyes.

Walburga smiled and placed her cup on the table. "I had wondered since you were staying with my cousin… But I am certain your situation will change once you are in Hogwarts and the young men have the chance to see your charms! The letters will simply come piling in, and in the meanwhile, my darling Regulus will be certain to help you hold any unwanted suitors off," the lady teased.

Hermione blinked in surprise, as the front door creaked open and shut with a resounding thud, and a shadowed figure stepped in from the hall. 

"Regulus, darling, is that you?"

The steps paused at the landing and Hermione wrung her hands atop her ivory sundress-fashioned robes.

"Just a moment, mother," answered the low voice.

Hermione realized Walburga's eyes were trained on hers with a polite smile. "Has this not been lovely, my dear? We shall have to schedule another afternoon for the holidays. Kreacher!"

Hermione was trying to think of an acceptable noncommittal answer—for she most definitely did not want to set foot in this bleak house ever again—when the ancient hunched elf appeared before them. Hermione had not yet met a house elf so old as this one, nor one with such a present foreboding in his manner.

"Clear this table at once," Walburga commanded with so superior an air that her House Elf merely bowed low in response.

"Yes, Mistress…Kreacher lives to serve the noble and most ancient house of Black." Lifting a tiny hand, the elf peered up at Hermione as he snapped his fingers.

Dishes and Elf disappeared with his snap, though Hermione stared and wondered at the dark intent in the elf's black eyes.

"Mother? You called for me?" Regulus stood at the center of the parlor doorway, hands clasped behind his back. His gaze gleamed, almost luminous, though he managed to remain in the shadows just shy of sun and lamplight.

Hermione threaded her fingers and squeezed against the sudden itch of heady dark magic that seemed to emanate from the younger Wizard.

"Why yes darling, Miss Dumbledore and I were just finishing our tea and I simply mustn't delay my reply to the Supreme Witches Society another second. Do forgive this sudden intrusion, dears, but we must always remember our duty, yes? Regulus, would you please give Hermione a quick tour of the house in my stead?"

Hermione held her breath and felt Regulus's attention fixed to her. Though his expression remained neutral, she could almost hear the smirk in his tone. "Of course, mother."

"How lovely!" Walburga exclaimed, "Please stay as long as you like, dear Hermione," before practically flying out of the parlor and up the flight of dark stairs just beyond the door.

He was staring at her, leaning against the side of the door while she wrung her fingers together and wondered how she hadn't foreseen this mess. Should she offer some polite excuse and make a run for it?

Now would be the time Hermione.

She opened her mouth, excuse in hand, when he interrupted, "You look different, today." 

"Oh?" She numbly replied.

Oh. That's all you can say? 

"You had a charm on your hair, yesterday," he drawled. "I like the way it is now much better."

She was caught off guard. Dorea had managed to tame her wild curls, but all that work went down the drain as the day's humidity undid the matron's spellwork. "Why?" she rudely blurted.

Again, that hint of a smile in his tone, though his features could have been cut from marble. "I don't know why. Though...I suppose that lion's mane suits you better as you are living in a house of Gryffindors."

She stood, fists clenched at her side with a sudden need to assert herself and to defend the Potters.

How dare he speak of them as—as though they were a disease to be cured?

"Are you going to give me a tour or should I see myself off, Mister Black?"

His lips tugged into a barely perceptible smirk. "Oh, no, it would be my pleasure, Miss Dumbledore."

Hermione was struck by how much taller Regulus Black was. Far taller than his brother, even taller than James. Yet he didn't use his height to loom over her and kept his hands clasped behind his back at all times.

"I'll make this as simple as I may, Miss Dumbledore," he began while they walked side by side down the silent hall. He nodded to the open doorways as they passed. "Sitting room, library, kitchens, guest rooms." He turned on his heel and paused in the center of the hall.

"That's it? That's your grand tour?" Hermione tilted her chin up to meet his weighted gaze, eyes far too old for a boy his age. Despite the burden he seemed to carry, his lips quirked into a crooked grin, softened by nearby lanternlight.

His grin widened. "Well, I take it Mother's already kept you here for longer than you have any desire to be. So, unless you care to see the glorious tapestry of the noble and most ancient house of Black, you should make your escape now. I'll offer her whatever excuse you like. Won't stop her from trying to steal you away though, you know."

Hermione shivered at the recollection of the aforementioned tapestry. For some reason, the image of blasted names over stitched portraits flittered past her mind's eye.

But I've never been in this house before! 

"The floo is this way...if you are ready to leave." Regulus motioned with an upturned palm and inclined head. All the while he watched her carefully.

Hermione nodded. "I suppose D-Lady Potter will be looking for me soon."

He waited for Hermione to take the first step, and then they were walking side by side once more.

The parlor was empty and darker than it had been during tea with Walburga. The silence was thick with words unsaid, with images of a tapestry she shouldn't have seen.

Have I been here before? Do the Blacks know something? Would Regulus?

She couldn't just ask him. He didn't know her as anything other than Dumbledore's reclusive niece. It was better if it stayed that way. But...

He reached for the floo powder and Hermione spoke before she lost her nerve. "You know, you're not at all like your brother."

His fist tightened over a handful of powder. "You mean I'm not a bullying, self-absorbed arse?" His light tone belied the clench of his jaw.

Hermione snorted. "No, that's not what I meant."

"Oh?" Regulus slowly lowered his arm to his side and tossed his head so the curls fell back from his forehead. "What is it, then? I'm sure my brother has made obvious his many superior qualities."

She shook her head and wrung her hands of the sudden need to say, "I think that you care."

A single black brow arched over his amused gaze. "That's a very general accusation to make of someone you've just met, Miss Dumbledore."

Hermione straightened with a surge of surety. "From what I've seen, your brother would rather pretend this world isn't dangerous, that he's invincible. Sirius pretends to be a rebel, but running away is easy, isn't it? Not you, though. You don't run away from what you're afraid of. You stand and fight." She unwittingly stepped closer, suddenly needful that he accept her meaning.

Regulus scoffed, "What, like a Gryffindor? I know you've been somewhat sheltered, Miss Dumbledore, but you'd best learn now only fools stand in the way of danger."

"And you're no fool," she whispered, hushed so the portraits might not hear. "But that doesn't mean you aren't brave, Regulus." 

His brow furrowed and those fathomless sapphire eyes seared her with such intensity, Hermione recoiled, embarrassed. 

Great, now he thinks you're barmy. So much for making connections. 

Regulus drew in a deep breath. She didn't see the way he stared at her in wonder and certainly couldn't know that she had just surprised Regulus Arcturus Black, who was never surprised about anything anymore.

She chewed on her lip and stepped into the fireplace, unable to meet his gaze. "Thank you for the tour, Mr. Black."

He shuffled closer, floo powder spilling from his white-knuckle grip. She focused on that hand as he murmured low, "You're right about one thing, I'm not like my brother. And I hope you'll keep in mind..." he took another step, "whatever Sirius may tell you, we Slytherins aren't all bad."

Hermione dared lift her chin, blinking against the afternoon sunlight pouring through the nearby window to find Regulus draped in shadows. "I think it's better to judge people for their character rather than their House, don't you?"

He grinned. "Maybe I'll take you up on your advice one day soon. Good evening Miss Dumbledore."

Hermione smiled. "Goodbye, Mr. Black."

"Potter Manor," he announced with a dash of powder at her feet. The last thing she saw was Regulus's growing smile before her vision was awash with green flames.

James stared at the brightening stars for as long as he could without blinking, or rather, as well as he could without his spectacles. He'd learned last time he went for a dip in the pond not to wear them in the water. That disaster had ended with Sirius accidentally knocking them off his nose and to the bottom four meters below. Since then, he'd taken to seeing the world without his glasses a challenge. The longer he stared, the more he leaned on his magic, the clearer his vision briefly became.

He floated on his back, enjoying the lingering warmth from one of the hottest days they'd had so far this summer. There wasn't a season or type of weather he hadn't dared a dip in the natural pond save when it was frozen over, of course. Sometimes, James let the Marauders come with him, but generally, it was his place, a place he came to think and clear his head.

He frowned as his vision blurred and cleared, starlight fading in and out of focus.

Seeing Lily had changed things, or rather, he had changed. No matter how he tried to organize his thoughts the way Remus had taught him, James couldn't figure out why.

How could feelings James had clung to for years be undone in a few days?

How could he have claimed to love Evans at the end of term, and feel nothing now?

James Potter always claimed to live in the moment, but he didn't favor being caught off guard and seeing Lily without feeling anything had felt like an ambush.

He wished he understood why. Yet any time he began to sort the root of the change, a Witch with gold-flecked eyes and wild curls filled up his thoughts.

Hermione.

Hadn't he told Sirius to stay away from her?

James only wanted to protect her.

He had wanted to protect her from the moment he first found her, half alive on his lawn, her hands reaching out to clasp around his neck for the first time.

The second time had been so very different that he wondered what would have happened if not for that bloody motorcycle.

He closed his eyes to the stars and steeled his resolve.

She doesn't have all her memories. Even if she didn't have some bloke waiting for her somewhere, you'd still be taking advantage of her.

No matter how he tried to believe this, all James could think of was the way her bare skin had looked in the lamplight, the way the wind made her blink when they flew, the way his arm had fit so perfectly around her waist…

"James?"

He frowned. The voice came a distant echo beneath the water. He blinked and turned his head, but saw no one.

"James?" More muffled words followed.

He twisted until he kicked upright within the water and finally saw the outline of a bushy mane of hair that was unmistakably her. He grinned, swam closer until her features atop the rock were more defined. His vision cleared and his grin widened as he forgot everything he had been worrying over before.

"Sorry to interrupt." Her fists gripped the jutting rock for dear life as she leaned forward, her pulled back curls spilling forward and her ivory sundress gleaming like silver in the moonlight. "I didn't know this was your place."

He blinked the water from his eyes. "Have you been coming here then?"

"A few nights, yes."

He didn't like that he couldn't see her features more clearly, and so only read the tone of her voice. "I come here when I need to think sometimes. But I don't mind sharing with you."

"Thanks." Her features were shadowed with the moonlight a halo behind her head, but he could hear her smile.

She was silent for a few moments, to the point James felt he might burst with questions. He'd maintained more distance between them lately, not entirely by choice. And he was still somewhat reeling by the fact she'd willingly visited Walburga Black earlier today. Sirius certainly hadn't been happy when she dismissed his warnings against his mother.

"You weren't at dinner tonight," she finally said.

"Yeah, pawned a bite from the kitchens earlier…"

She hesitated. "I haven't seen you around very much the past few days, either."

He couldn't help his grin as he tried sounding as confident as he wished he felt. "Miss me that much, love?"

"No," she scoffed. "I've had my fill of company today, thank you very much."

"Oh, yeah? How was the Dragon, by the way?" James was still amazed at his power of restraint. He had nearly apparated right to Grimmauld after the Lily disaster with a mind to escort Hermione home.

Hermione sat back on her heels with a sigh. "Walburga isn't the monster Sirius thinks, just brainwashed by generations of blood supremacy. Most of our conversation centered around her darling Regulus."

He laughed aloud at her perfect imitation.

"And how I should be sure to look to him for guidance at Hogwarts," she continued. "She also believes I have a good chance of getting into Slytherin, whatever that means.”

"It means training to be a little Death Eater," he countered.

In the ensuing silence, his thoughts turned darker with the memory of the reason Hermione needed him in the first place.

He'd reached out, intending to scoop her up in his arms without delay. She looked such a slight thing as it was. He didn't think she would wake again. She had lost so much blood.

"James, do you think I'm like them?"

He flinched away from his memories. "Like who?"

"Like Walburga and Regulus—like the rest of your mum's family. So many times today, I felt it. Like their magic was welcoming me... James, do you ever wonder if I was on their side, and that's why they're trying so hard to befriend me?"

It took every ounce of self-control he had not to bridge the distance between them as his voice shook. "Hermione, yours is the purest soul I've ever known. And I know you're afraid to believe it, but I promise, you'll see the truth one day soon."

"But what if I never learn the truth? James, there is so much I could have done in my past that we'll never know about, all because I'll never remember."

He swam closer to her rock until his feet touched the muddy bottom. "So forget about the past. Try not to wonder, and do what I do." He paused and slowly reached up to grab her waist. "Learn to enjoy life in the moment!"

"Put me down! James! No!” Her protests ended as James dunked Hermione into the center of the pond.

James laughed as he stroked over to catch the hands flailing just above the water. He laughed even harder when her head popped above the pond, weighed down by a wet mop dark curls.

"Oh, you're in for—" She sank beneath the surface again.

James pulled her back towards the shore by the waist, until he could stand with his shoulders above water again. He couldn't stop laughing as Hermione crawled up his torso until her legs wrapped securely around his waist, her arms about his neck as she coughed water and fought for breath.

"You arse! Your mum just bought me this dress!" Her hair still covered her face.

James had to use both hands to lift the sopping curls and push them past her forehead. "Oh, come on, no harm done, love."

"You didn't even know if I could swim or not!" She pounded a fist into his back. "Did the thought not cross your brain?"

"Sorry love, you looked overheated. Looked to me like you needed a cool down."

Her answering glare only made his grin widen as he happily spread his hands to support her arse.

He burned where they were connected. She burned like cool fire against his skin. Every accidental touch ignited like wildfire thrumming through his veins.

His breath hitched as she dug her heels into his lower back for support. Her perky breasts had hardened enough so he felt every brush of her chest against his through her clothing.

James couldn't remember the last time he had held a Witch in his arms, but he knew he'd never held anyone so close as this. He'd never really wanted to hold anyone besides Lily. Now he understood exactly why it was this Witch that made his words stutter and his head spin. He couldn't remember a moment, that she didn't make his heart race so fast he thought it would explode. James was young but old enough to know it wasn't just because of the perfect way her wet body molded to his.

Hermione's slightly blurred features drew him in until he could barely breathe, let alone wipe the stupid grin off his face.

“Your mother won't be happy about the dress."

"I'll buy you ten more tomorrow if you like."

Her frown wavered with a scrunch of her nose. "Git."

"Snob."

"Stubborn arse."

"Doxy mouth."

Her lips twitched. "Spoiled brat."

James opened his mouth to give a better comeback, only to whisper, "Beautiful."

Her amber-gold eyes widened and her fingers tensed against his bare skin. 

James struggling to think beyond the sudden tang of wild magic on his tongue and the temptation of her parted lips as he leaned in.

"Don't you think we should find out what the boys are up to?" she blurted.

James stiffened, his jaw clicking shut with restraint. His brow darkened at the mention of the boys who had been occupying so much of her attention the past week. "Not really."

"Well, we'd best go looking before Sirius decides to begin the search." Her words faded to a whispered hush caught by the wind.

James breathed deeply in effort to grab hold of himself. She was far too close for his body not to react. "At this point, I couldn't care more than a herd of centaurs. What's wrong with my company anyways?" He quirked a brow and flexed his hold against her back.

"N-nothing…well, other than the fact you coerced me into a swim."

"And don't you feel galleons better for it?"

With a roll of her eyes, she replied, "Not when I can't stop thinking about all the things we can't see in this filthy water."

"As I said, you need to learn to stop thinking, and enjoy yourself, love." He tilted back, ignoring her protests as he spread his arms into an easy backstroke.

"What are you doing? James, I still don't know if I can swim!" She pressed willingly to him now and he kept them both afloat with ease.

"Stop jabbering on and kick your legs a bit, Witch!"

She glared at him and, even though it was almost painful to push her away, allowed James to move her hands to his shoulders and slowly swim together to the center of the pond. 

"James? Don't you dare let go!" 

"Not for all the magic in the world."

After a few more awkward moments of Hermione trying to steady herself, she began to kick with confidence. Her hands never left his shoulders. This was perfectly fine with him, of course. It was worth it for the glorious moment when she looked up at him, staying afloat with little aid.

Her mouth spread into a wide smile. "Guess I can swim after all."

"Merlin's beard! She didn't drown." James laughed as she swatted his shoulder blade. "So…does this mean you missed me?"

"What?" Her long lashes shadowed her lowered eyes as she concentrated on not kicking his legs. "What are you talking about?"

"You were complaining earlier about my being absent lately. I was just hoping it meant you missed all this perfection." He pasted on a confident grin, the sort that would have sent Lily Evans in a fit of arrogant-prat comments.

Hermione met his eye steadily. "You know, I can look after myself too, James. I don't need you to hold my hand."

He hesitated, steeling his nerve. "But what if I want to hold your hand?"

She frowned, legs idly kicking in the water. He stood on the bank once more and carefully drew her body closer once more. "James, I don't think…"

BOOM

Hermione practically jumped into his arms. James gladly held her closer, though he already knew what she was seeing as he drank in her horrified expression. It had all been part of their plan, after all.

Sure enough, the sky exploded above them with a shower of emerald sparks and distant laughter followed.

"What was that?"

James bit back a groan as her arse came dangerously close to brushing against his tented trunks, as she shifted in his arms. He managed to turn the sound into a strained laugh. "They're called fireworks, love. Shall we have a look? They were supposed to wait for you. I'd wager five galleons Padfoot’s to blame, the toerag," he grumbled and trudged out of the water, carrying his Witch with him.

Keeping one arm locked tightly around her waist, he leaned over to snatch his shirt and then broom.

Hermione's arm extended before returning with his spectacles. As she stretched back he froze as she slipped them on over his ears and the bridge of his nose. Vision instantly cleared, James grinned to see her soft smile. He shivered at the feel of her fingers trying to smooth down his wet hair. Her mouth twisted into a frown as the wet locks insisted on sticking up on top of his head.

"Oh, bugger it," she huffed with a fond grin. Her eyes widened when he began to ease onto his broom. "James?" She pressed against his chest, legs wrapping tighter as he reached for his magic and they pushed off into the air. "You won't be able to see if I'm in front!"

He tucked his chin into her shoulder and savored the brush of his lips against his ear. "Just hang on to me, love. And hope they don't set off any more fireworks before we get there."

"Fly fast then." She buried her face into his chest.

"As you wish!" he said with a laugh, and they became one with the air.

Flying had always given him time to think. It was the one time James wasn't surrounded by his brothers, or being nagged by his well-meaning Mum. And he could almost pretend he wasn't destined to become Lord Potter one day.

And now it was near bloody impossible to think. Not with her wrapped up around him.

James was still somewhat confused about his feelings for Lily, but he knew one thing for certain. He couldn't stay away from Hermione after tonight, not after holding her like this, no matter he had no right to want her. His body's reaction was evidence of just how much he did want her, whether he admitted it to himself or not.

Thank Godric she hasn't noticed! That would put things on a whole new level of awkward, mate.

Shaking his head to clear his randy thoughts, James realized they were already there.

The clearing was the same as the one his father had taken him "camping" on as a small boy. They used to lie under the stars, while Charlus taught him all the constellations, and what the Muggles had done to reach the moon.

Sirius was currently bent over the ground with his wand aimed at the fireworks stick, grumbling, "Piece of shit rubbish…"

"Padfoot, just light the bloody thing!" Remus had already cleared back several paces, wand aimed at his own firework.

"Almost got it!" Sirius called out. "Wait for it... I go—shit!" The rocket exploded in his face with a puff, POP, and cloud of black smoke coating his skin. Sirius fell promptly to his arse with a grunt.

"That's what happens when you stand too close, you arse!"

"Sod off, Moony!" Sirius growled between coughs.

James shook his head as he brought them back to earth. Hermione shook with laughter in his arms as he brought her to her feet.

Sirius whirred around with a stricken expression. 

Peter choked on his Butterbeer from his seat by the basket of snacks they'd brought and waved his arms. "Hermione! You were supposed to be asleep when we kidnapped you!"

James left his Nimbus to rest in the grass and slipped his Chudley Cannons shirt over his head. "How you managed to get around Mum's, rules I don't wanna know. After last holiday's disaster, I thought she'd never let you light a stick again, Pads."

"It was a close call, mate." Sirius righted himself and jogged over, frowning at Hermione who was still laughing into her hand. "Oi! Come on, love, it wasn't that funny!"

"Oh, yes it was! You look like you jumped in the middle of a game of exploding snaps," she countered through her giggles.

James grinned smugly at her slightly condescending tone. Crossing his arms over his chest, he cocked his head to the side. "Serves you prats right for starting without us."

Hermione shot him a quick grin as she bounced on the balls of her feet, which only served to puff him up more.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Well, we couldn't just hope everything would work itself out! Not that you would know about it with your little…" he waved his hand about, eyes roving over their drenched state, "clandestine midnight swim. We needed a test run! Even Moony here agreed with me."

When James turned a hard eye to the tall Werewolf, Remus merely shrugged and offered a soft grin to Hermione. "Sorry, Prongs. It was either this or be dragged to the Dirty Troll again."

James shook his head but couldn't help chuckling at the hapless look on Padfoot's face. They both were known for dealing in ultimatums, a side effect of Pureblood upbringing, they claimed. 

Sirius's eyes gleamed as he caught James's look and recognized his friend's train of thought.

Peter was singing a bad version of the latest Hobgoblin song, Don't Be Witching Me.

Remus had turned back to positioning his perfect row of magical fireworks.

And James froze when he noted the sudden shift in Sirius's demeanor as his best mate practically danced over to them, fixated upon Hermione. Casting a knowing glance at James, he wrapped an arm about Hermione's wet shoulders. "Hermione, you look a bit chilled, love. Fancy a Butterbear?"

"Honestly, I'm fine." She frowned when Sirius cast a quick drying spell over her anyway and proceeded to guide her back to his uneven row of craters.

Hermione huffed. "You shouldn't have wasted your energy on me. Why not cast a cleansing spell on yourself, instead?"

James nearly laughed aloud but Sirius was not to be dissuaded. "What? You know this is your favorite of my colognes, Hermione."

"What might that be? Ode to Dragon?"

"I knew you cared, love."

Remus laughed quietly to himself and James narrowed his eyes at the pair as the wind snatched the rest of their conversation away.

Shrugging off his irrational fears, James grabbed a handful of his own bundle of sticks and turned to help Remus. "So, this is gonna be some big shit."

Remus looked up from the dirt and grinned with the quiet mischief that made him a true Marauder. "Hell yeah."

James laughed, then froze as the sound of Hermione's laugher echoed from the other end of the field. He didn't realize he was crushing his load of weaponry in his arms, or that his expression was decidedly worried.

"You do realize he's only trying to get a reaction from you?"

Surprise tore James's attention back to Remus who remained focused on his task, nose to the ground.

"What?" James forced a laugh as he plopped onto the grass. "We talking about Sirius's attempts to get laid, or Pete's unfortunate lack of musical talent?"

"Oi!" Pete grumbled nearby, finished with any musical stylings for the time being and currently playing with a snitch.

James's grin widened. "Keep practicing, Wormtail!" He wagged his eyebrows at Remus good-naturedly.

Remus only paused to settle a hard-eyed, no-nonsense glare his way.

It was the sort of look James hated. "What's the problem, Professor?"

Remus turned to where Hermione and Sirius were both laughing and trying to keep a firework stick steady. "Pads has been worried about you, you know."

James's grin became harder to maintain. "Worried about Quidditch or this year's pranks?" His quick laugh sounded flat to his ears. 

"Are you really that thick, or is this trying to throw me off your scent?" Remus leaned on his knee with the same coiled tension James had seen fully realized under the full moon. "You know you can convince them just about anything you want them to believe. You're so good at it in fact, I think you've been trying to convince yourself."

James opened his mouth to protest when Moony interrupted with, "Sirius told me what happened this morning with Lily."

James briefly closed his eyes and ran a hand through his drying hair. "What did he say?" 

"For the first time in two years, you didn't propose at the sight of her or do something irrationally stupid. You actually greeted Lily like a civilized Wizard, then practically ran away once you realized it."

James tore his gaze from Hermione's smile in light of popping and whizzing sparklers, only to find Remus calmly watching him.

"The thing Sirius is wondering," Remus continued, "and I already know, is how this connects to Hermione."

James rubbed his face and righted his spectacles before his magic accidentally sparked and lit the fireworks at his feet. "I thought we already went through this, Moony. I'm only—"

"Looking out for her?" Remus finished with that damnable knowing gleam of amber in his eye. "From what I've been smelling off the two of you, I think there's a lot more than chivalry involved here, Prongs."

Hermione's rich laughter drew both their gazes as she shoved Sirius with more force than the Marauder was prepared for. Sirius sank from knee to the earth with a plop and her laughter increased in volume as she turned to meet James's eye. Her smile brightened and he couldn't breathe until she looked away again.

"Case and point, mate," Remus said.

"You shouldn't be able to use your superpowers on us, Moony," James grumbled.

Remus stood, perfectly positioned fireworks prepared and James followed. "Either way, she is staying with you indefinitely, Prongs. So you'll have plenty of time to decide whether or not to do something about how you feel."

James gaped as Remus nearly dragged him back to Pete's side. The smallest Marauder had given up on the snitch and was falling into his fifth bottle of Butterbeer. Remus drew out his wand only for James to step in his way.

Grabbing Remus by the shoulders, he demanded, "How did you know she was staying?"

Remus shrugged. "She told me."

James turned away and paced, running a hand through his upturned hair. He couldn't believe Hermione told Remus before him.

Only have yourself to blame for that one, git.

Still, the thought of her living here with them as long as…forever…his gaze lifted to find her.

She stood apart from Sirius now, arms wrapped around her chest, wet curls framing her face in thick ringlets. Sirius lit several more sparklers, which began to fly around them in circles, spreading golden sparks over their heads.

James smiled as her gold-flecked gaze drew him in until he couldn't breathe.

"Padfoot, you arse! Can't you wait a bleeding second?" Remus growled across the field.

Sirius barked a laugh. "Afraid, are we? Clearly, his display will be no match for ours, eh, Mione?"

Hermione never replied, though neither Sirius nor Remus seemed to notice as their countdown began, wands at the ready and then...

BOOM

BOOM

POP, POP, POP

The sky exploded into a flurry of dancing sparks and shapes. The woods were filled with the shouts and exclamations of two of the Marauders.

Hermione and James didn't join in at first. He couldn't have known the reason behind the pensive tilt of her chin, or the fears in her heart. Had he known, he still wouldn’t have cared as much as he should.

All he knew was the pounding drum of his heart as he felt her somehow more solidly become his that moment illuminated beneath a shower of magic and light.

Chapter Text

It was an uncommonly hot day the morning they ventured to King's Cross and gathered together on Platform 9 ¾. Steam escaped beneath the long gleaming train parked on the nearby tracks. The Hogwarts Express was trafficked by a hubbub of young witches and wizards, some tall, others short. Some wore tailored robes, others dressed in Muggle jeans and jumpers. Families of different make and size crowded round their progeny with tears, kisses, and for some, a few brief words and cool nods of the head.

The year was 1976 and even here, with the bustle of baggage crow of magical pets and shouts of children, darkness could be glimpsed between the light. For the eyes of some watched others with barely concealed hatred, disguised as indifference. Few were aware of it yet, this underlying current of prejudice that might very possibly destroy them all. Yet to those who were watching, like Hermione Dumbledore, the tension on this platform this day was chilling and foreboding.

She hefted her large satchel closely to her chest and, keeping her chin tucked, peeked from beneath the veil of her dark tresses. The air was warm and sultry after a record-breaking heatwave that had swept through lower England that summer. For Hermione, who could only remember the last two weeks of the holidays, who only knew the world the Potters had offered and the knowledge trapped within her mind, the heat was still unsettling.

She had stumbled upon James's swim hole retreat, and after thoroughly checking and charming it free of snakes, began to find the late-night swims refreshing. That last night, when she had needed an escape from the great house, escape from her disturbingly successful afternoon with the Black family. The last thing she had expected was to run into James. Rather than clearing her head, the night had only served to confuse and stir her emotions in equally unpleasant and pleasant ways.

That night, with their limbs tangled together beneath the dark water and a tapestry of stars, Hermione had seen something in his gaze she was beginning to fear.

She should have noticed it from the very first time she set his spectacles over his straight nose, the evening he managed to make her smile for the first time since waking. There was a way he had of looking at her that made her blood race in such a way, it was everything she could do not to touch him.

Without a doubt, Hermione knew this feeling was new to her, no matter what had happened in that other life she'd led. Her heart soared at the new memory, even as it sank. 

"Oi!" Long fingers wrapped around hers as James leaned forward to meet her eye. He turned around so he walked backward, in the effortless way only James Potter could manage without tripping over himself. "Why the long face, love? Embarrassed to be seen off by Mum and Dad?" He wagged his eyebrows at her before a grin, that special grin, crept into his face.

Despite her dark mood, Hermione couldn't help but smile back. Her breath caught as his thumb briefly grazed over her knuckles.

You don't even know who I am! she wanted to shout. Instead, she sighed. 

"James, do not put words into her mouth," Dorea reprimanded. "Just because you're too good for your dearest mum, doesn't mean Hermione didn't want us to see her off." Dorea took the younger witch by the crook of the arm and sent her son a hard reprimand.

Charlus chuckled, adding, "Yes and by the looks of things, we're late as usual. Darling, don't you think we could try arriving on time to these things for once?" Despite his wrinkles and salt-and-pepper hair, the old Warlock toted Hermione's larger trunk with ease.

Featherweight charm?

Dorea shook her head and leaning down to Hermione's ear whispered, "He never lets us arrive on time. Loves the dramatic entrance thing, you see."

Hermione's grin widened, then fade with a jolt of nerves as James linked their fingers together again, urging them along. 

Dorea huffed. "Jamie, dear, where has Sirius got off to?"

"Probably setting traps for the Slytherins, knowing Padfoot." His grip tightened on Hermione's hand.

Her gaze flitted nervously over the crowd as she suspected James knew exactly why Sirius had snuck off soon as they crossed the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10 of King's Cross.

Remus and Peter had left the manor earlier that morning to avoid the initial crowd and save them seats in their usual car. "After all,"  Pete had said, "We can't let just anyone sit in the Marauder's car!" 

Now swamped, surrounded by so many new faces, Hermione was beginning to wish she'd arrived early as well.

Dorea had been the one to insist on their escort. The Wizarding World was not so secure a place as Charlus liked to think of it, even for influential wizards like the Potters. They were too closely tied to Dumbledore, too vocal against Pureblood supremacy within the Ministry, and too supportive of Muggles to not be a target.

Hermione noticed the worry in Dorea's eyes as her husband and son joked together, the hard glances she graced other highborn Wizards they passed along the Platform. These same families watched the Potters pass in a way that made Hermione shiver.

Did I know any of them before? Was I just like them?

"Ah! Here we are! James my boy, let's aid our lady fair's!" Charlus and James set off to set their bags on the pile of trunks already secured to the rack. James turned to grin and wink at Hermione before hefting her large trunk with ease. His Muggle band tee shirt strained at the sleeves where his Quidditch-toned muscles flexed.

Hermione ducked her head as a familiar heat begin to flood her system. She was never more thankful for the darker tint of her skin masking her blush. She wasn't the only one to have noticed, judging by the dozen or so Witches who had spotted the leader of the infamous Marauders and begun to whisper excitedly.

"There is the last of it! Hope Sirius catches us before the whistle blows." Charlus wrapped an arm around Dorea's narrow shoulders.

"I am certain he will," Dorea replied. "He knows he'll be in trouble if he doesn't." Dorea smiled up into the shining eyes of her husband. Charlus whispered into her ear then and Hermione was surprised when the prim Witch laughed heartily in return, slapping him playfully with her gloved hand.

Hermione shook her head, then nearly jumped out of her skin when James suddenly appeared at her side and said, "A bit scary, aren't they?"

She looked up to see James' grin so wide it was a wonder it remained attached to his face. She fought the urge to check her tightly bound hair and to look to see if the Witches who had been watching him so fervently were looking at them now.

As if he'd choose you over them. He's only being kind.

His hazel eyes burned with increasing intensity the longer she stared. He had asked her a question, hadn't he?

Does he feel this, too?

His brow furrowed with concern and she came back to herself as his hand lightly squeezed hers. "Mione, love?"

She forgot to care for the opinions of others as the world seemed to blur about the edges around them.

"You're gonna be brilliant, so don't worry," James was saying. "Everyone can't help but love you, you know? Even the sodding Snakes. Course, if anyone doesn't, they'll get to know the end of my wand far better than they'd wish to."

She frowned. "James, that isn't very funny." 

Her ire only encouraged the wicked tilt of his grin. "Oh, you're only saying that cause you haven't seen my favorite hexes in action, yet!"

"Nor should she ever," Dorea protested.

Hermione jerked her hand free of James's hold, but not before catching Charlus's knowing smile.

Were they watching the whole time?

"Now, now, Dorea, let's send them off properly, lest Jamie loses his Head Boy badge before he's even worn it."

The invisible jab of Dorea's glare seemed to quickly sober Charlus as she then produced a small satchel from her robes. "Hermione, we wanted to give you this. It holds everything you will need for the Gala season, everything your parents would have made certain you have…"

Hermione's fingers brushed the soft crushed velvet of the satchel as her vision blurred. She smiled at Dorea and clutched the enchanted fabric to her chest. "Thank you."

Dorea bridged the distance to brush Hermione's curls back over her shoulder fondly. "Naturally, you'll write to let me know if there's anything else you'll need." 

"Too right," Charlus interjected. "Can't be a proper escort without the right stuff! Now, remember what I told you last night, Jamie lad. We'll be relying on you to  protect our girl."

James's answer was muffled in the crook of his father's shoulder. "I won't forget, Dad."

Dorea had turned a triumphant smile at her son. "See? I told you she wanted us here."

James rolled his eyes. "Aw, Mum," he groaned as she proceeded to draw his taller frame in a brief, but warm embrace.

Hermione didn't expect to quickly be wrapped in the billowing robes and firm embrace of Lord Potter.

"Be sure to keep our Jamie out of mischief love, but not too much."

"There you are Padfoot! You sneaky git!" James exclaimed, as though eager for the excuse to be removed from his parent's company.

Hermione would never admit to how much she craved the Potters' love, as difficult as it was to touch and be touched. As much as her magic felt foreign, as though ready to crawl out of her skin. She gathered herself before turning to find the source of their distraction. 

Sirius Black had, at last, arrived and judging by his grin, just finished whatever misdeeds he'd sought. "I see I just missed the hugs, Mummy P. Mind if I steal a few more now?" Spreading his arms comically wide he gathered and lifted a shocked Dorea off her feet.

"Sirius Orion Black! These bones are not as young as you insist on treating them!"

Hermione turned and dug her nails into her palms as she found they were some of the last stragglers on the platform. Nearly all the students were on board, their guardians either gone or in case of the first years gathered back from the tracks to avoid clouds of billowing white steam. 

All except for a small group of Slytherins. For surely they must be.

She felt his stare before meeting dark sapphire eyes, yet it was most certainly Regulus Black standing at the center of the huddle of perfectly tailored cloaks. All had the shifty looks of Wizards up to no good and the wand strapped to her wrist began to burn with a frozen heat. Several others beside Regulus had turned to watch the Potters' display of affection with disdain.

Regulus's eyes never strayed from hers and rather than adopting the aloof expression favored by his housemates, a slow smile curled about the edges of his mouth instead.

"Oi, Reggie! Eyes off, you slimy git!" Sirius bellowed across the platform the moment after Charlus and Dorea left with the pop of Apparition.

Hermione whirred to find the Marauders flanked on either side and just ahead of her. She grabbed Sirius's sleeve. "Don't provoke them."

He seemed to puff up even more at her touch. "No worries, love, I've got this covered."

The Snakes watch as the Marauders approached, Hermione in tow. The whistle blew as they insisted on blocking the way to the train. Regulus's grin darkened, eyes never straying from her as he addressed his brother. "As far as I can tell, Sirius, no one has claimed her yet. And I believe we all know what that means."

A tall blonde beside Regulus added, "Yeah, and even if one of you wanted to claim her, what makes you think the heir of Dumbledore would choose blood traitors over us?"

"You know, I doubt your slow-witted minds can wrap around this..." Sirius arched a brow and Hermione's flinched as she felt him move for the wand hidden in his back jeans pocket. "But she would rather eat grease off a troll than side with a house of Death Eaters."

Hermione flinched as the whistle blew again, interrupted the Snakes' reply. James had no such trouble, apparently.

"Back the fuck off!" He growled as he stepped into their space, nearly nose to nose.

Hermione shivered at the cold fury he left crackling in his wake.

Regulus's tall friend smirked, unphased. "A bit harsh coming from Head Boy, eh Potter?"

Sirius urged Hermione closer with a hand at her back, unwittingly pressing the length of his wand against her as well.

"I'm not Head Boy outside of this train," James ground out, "and that means I can still kick your ass."

Regulus glanced from Hermione and back to James before settling his unwavering stare to her again. "So lovely to see you again so soon, Miss Dumbledore. Until our next meeting." 

As the Snakes began to retreat, Hermione realized that Sirius hadn't interrupted his best mate's challenge and by the way the corner of his lips kept twitching, wondered why he wasn't as furious as James.

Until the POP and BANG of magical firecrackers erupted within the far end of the train, followed by screeches and screams the tailored robes seemed to recognize.

A chorus of profanities followed as the rest of the Snakes rushed inside toward the source of the commotion. 

Sirius had the gall to link his arm through Hermione's and laugh. "Serves you right, you bloody wankers!"

James's shoulders slumped as he turned a glare to Sirius. "Always knew you'd make my life hell this year."

Sirius tipped a salute. "Better go start your Head Boy duties, Prongs."

James's grimace twitched as he failed to hide his growing amusement. "You know, that was brilliant."

"Naturally, milord!" Sirius bowed low.

James shook his head but it wasn't long before he caught Hermione's arm and ducked his head to say, "Think you'll be okay with this narcissistic prat for a couple hours?"

"Oi! What's that supposed to mean?" Sirius protested. "I'm the humblest damned bloke you'll ever meet Hermione!"

"I'm sure I'll manage," she said and caught her breath as James's face split into the roguish grin she was beginning to adore.

The moment Sirius helped her take her first steps inside the Hogwart's Express was odd for Hermione. Everything around her was familiar and left her feeling oddly homesick.

She was thankful for the lack of people within the car Sirius escorted her to. James had already headed to oversee the outraged chaos coming from Slytherin's part of the train. Meanwhile, Sirius Black had no qualms with telling Hermione exactly how he had used their leftover firecrackers from their pre-Hogwarts celebration earlier this morning.

"Sirius, they know it was you! And how could you put James into such a compromising position?"

With a toss of his perfectly trimmed shaggy hair, he replied, "Mione, this is precisely why I'll get away with it, unpunished."

Hermione scoffed. "Just because he's your best friend, doesn't mean you get a free pass."

"Listen, love, if you're going to be spending time with us, you're going to have to face the facts! We're Marauders, and Marauders always come first. Besides, we may be the golden boys of Gryffindor, but that doesn't mean we can't be as sneaky and vengeful as the Snakes when we need to be."

"Maybe they wouldn't be so sneaky and vengeful if you weren't acting like snakes in disguise?"

Sirius turned to walk backward with ease and made a grab for her expressive fingers. "You know I love it when you talk dirty."

Hermione swatted his hands away. "I hate it when you do that!"

Sirius straightened and turned side-along to avoid bumping into a small first year rushing by. "Do what?"

"Turn every serious conversation you begin with a bloody joke!" She waited for his response only to be met by bemused silence. "Don't you take anything seriously?"

"Not if I can help it," he confessed. "Although, having you around could convince me to try a bit more."

Hermione opened her mouth while searching for a way to drive better sense into the handsome git. The last thing James needed was for his mates to make his Head Boy duties a living hell. And the last thing she needed was to have Slytherin breathing down her neck anymore this term.

Sirius waited patiently with the gleam in his eye until a thin figure exited the nearest compartment and marched straight for them. The tall boy's features were obscured by lank black locks which occasionally brushed his prominent nose. He already wore his Hogwarts robes, though most students hadn't bothered changing yet.

So fascinated with his peculiar appearance was Hermione, that Hermione nearly forgot Sirius, until the Marauder casually stepped forward to blog the boy's way.

"Black," the tall boy spat.

"Snivellus," Sirius replied.

What an odd name.

Even though Snivellus was nearly a head higher, Sirius somehow filled the space around them with his natural arrogance. "Aren't you a bit far from your end of the train?" 

Though Sirius clasped his hands behind his back, Hermione caught the clench of muscles in his tanned forearms, and the graze of his long fingers over the wand sticking from his back pocket.

Snivellus didn't respond at first, though Hermione noted the way the sallow boy's limbs lightly trembled beneath his long black sleeves or the burn of dark magic that wrapped around her like a chilled blanket.

"Black," came a surprisingly deep and rich tone, "were it not in my poorest judge of character to even consider wasting breath over your insults, I would gladly aid you in not wasting any more of yours. However, I believe I am beyond concerning myself with your pointless life."

Sirius grinned. "I'd hate for you to waste any more breath, Sinvellus…but can the dead still breathe? I didn't know Vampires could do anything else but suck the life out of their victims."

"Black, leave him alone! You've wasted enough air as it is." The sharp feminine voice came from just behind them, from the compartment just ahead. 

Hermione peered past Snivellus in time to see fierce green eyes on a pale face framed by long straight hair the color of flames. And now the girl's fury was fixed on Sirius.

"Lily," Snivellus warned, "you needn't interfere." 

"Just let me handle him, Sev."

"Lily?" Sirius sputtered, as though noticing the red-haired Witch for the first time. "What in blazes are you doing talking to him?"

"None of your business, Black," Lily hissed as she placed a hand on Snivellus's arm. "Sev, just go!"

Snivellus flinched but didn't tear his gaze from Sirius. "I'm not leaving you alone with him."

Lily crossed her arms over her chest. "We've only just made up, you know. I don't think you've earned the right to defend my honor yet."

Neither seemed fully aware that while they argued, Sirius had not calmed. If anything, his grip on the wand stashed in his back pocket looked ready to snap the wood in two. Discreetly, Hermione covered Sirius's white-knuckled grasp. She rose on her toes to whisper against his ear, "Come on, Sirius. Please, let's not get James into any more trouble today."

Sirius trembled beneath her touch for a moment, before seeming to grab hold of himself enough to breathe normally. "You're right," he admitted.

She noticed that Lily was watching them curiously and Sev with darkly veiled curiosity. The Slytherin, oddly enough, did not spare a glance for her gaudy phoenix crest as he sneered and said, "Letting your latest whore call all the shots, Black?"

"Why you slimy piece of shit!"

Hermione kept her hand over Sirius's as he struggled to pull his wand free. He was too strong, his magic crackling beneath his skin in an oddly familiar way. Driven by instinct, Hermione rushed round to face him, putting her back to Snivellus and Lily. 

Placed firmly between them, Hermione tried to ignore the heady energy crackling between the two. Keeping her fingers wrapped tightly over his and the wand in his back pocket, she begged, "Sirius, please? I want to find Remus and Peter."

The manic storm in his gray eyes stilled as his gaze met hers. She held her breath as the muscles in his hand relaxed beneath her hold and he leaned in closer. "If you keep your hand on my arse, I might be persuaded."

With a sigh, Hermione pried his fingers from his wand and without letting go, began to urge him along. She managed quick smiles and nods to Snivellus and his Witch and tried to ignore the whispers and stares from other students as the train, at last, began to chug along beneath them.

Once she was certain they were beyond hearing distance, Hermione dropped Sirius's hand and hissed, "What was that all about? Can't you go ten minutes without causing trouble?"

Sirius snatched her hand back in his and grinned. "Come on love, you know you enjoyed having your hand on my arse."

Hermione tried to escape his grasp to no avail. Too tired to fight him, she favored him her heaviest glare instead. "Starting fights before we even reach Hogwarts is not acceptable, Sirius Black." 

He arched a single black eyebrow, yet his grin never wavered. "Relax, love! It was only Snivellus. Trust me when I tell you not to feel sorry for the slimy bastard. He gives as good as he gets."

"From what I saw, you were the one who antagonized him. And why were you so angry when his Witch stood up for him?"

"Evans is…" Sirius chuckled low. "Well, you should ask James about that one."

Hermione frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, look! We're already here!" Too eagerly, the Marauder pounded against the windows of the car and the door immediately slid open.

Peter's voice called from within, "Bout time you two showed up! Remus was going bloody mental."

An hour spent with a bag full of candy from the trolley and Peter's deck of exploding snaps later, found the Marauder's initial boundless energy depleted.

Sirius had slipped out the moment Peter's snores began and Remus dug out his current pleasure read. And so, for the first time since they had entered the Hogwarts Express, Hermione found peace and silence.

Yet being alone with her thoughts wasn't so very comforting a place to be. She had much preferred the distractions of the Marauders at Potter Manor. Better to turn off that annoying, logical side of her brain that insisted on making its presence known. No matter how much peace she found in Remus's songs, Pete's chess games, and James's hazel eyes, a part of her feared getting too close to them. A part of her warned that this was dangerous.

They don't know who you really are.

Hermione ignored that part of her conscience more and more every day. Why shouldn't she wrap herself into their lives and their world as much as they seemed to want her? Why shouldn't she want to be a Dumbledore? Albus's occasional letters had been an unexpected comfort, for his assurance that he'd found no worldly trace of her identity.

She wished to Morgana his search would never prove successful.

At Hogwarts, she could continue living her new life, her second chance.

But you can't forget.

Her fingertips pressed against the cool glass, passing the ever-changing landscape as they pushed higher north.

Once we get to Hogwarts things will be better.

She'd be sorted into Gryffindor, or so Sirius and James insisted. How could the heir of Dumbledore not? Hermione wasn't so certain. She may be a Dumbledore, but she hadn't felt very bold or brave since she woke up cursed with dark magic.

And you're not really a Dumbledore. You're nobody. For all you know you could have been helping the enemy …

She hated herself a little for not being able to live in the moment as Sirius encouraged, for not being able to be happy as James wanted her to be.

She glanced from her window seat to the bench across. Pete sat slumped against the opposite end and Remus remained engrossed in his Muggle novel, War and Peace.

Hermione returned her gaze to the world rushing past when the car door opened with an easy slide of metal against cushioned metal and returned to its proper place just as quickly.

Guess Sirius didn't find the entertainment he was looking for.

Hermione closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable exclamations of adventure and debauchery Sirius usually tossed at them. 

Instead came the soft tread and warm calloused fingers on her smaller hand and she knew. The heat spread from her fingertips to the skin beneath her pale golden robes and up her arm into her chest. A foreign emotion invaded her, desire swelled up in her core and her senses heightened. He smelled like the wind, like sandalwood and freshly cut grass. 

Is it wrong to be happy?

His voice was rough and deep as it had been that first day she woke to it. "Sorry it took me so long, Mione. You wouldn't believe the messes I had to clean up, no thanks to my best mate," James scoffed. 

Hermione drew in a steadying breath as she opened her eyes to his lopsided grin. James's hazel eyes were strained about the corners and far nearer than she'd realized they were sitting. His fingers brushed against hers before his free hand rose and carefully, dreamily, caught one of her stray curls and gently pulled. "Hi," she barely managed.

"Guess you survived an hour with these tossers okay, then?" He waited for her nod to finally relax. He released her curl and leaned back in his seat, still too close, her hand locked securely in his all the while. "Took me longer than it should have to get Padfoot's mess sorted. You can imagine Slytherin was in a tizzy. Not even the Head Girl helped me out on that one, though no surprise there. After our Prefect meeting, she left me to calm the Slytherin demands for justice down. We're not even at the bloody school yet!"

James stretched his long legs and moved his other arm around the back of their seat to rest against Hermione's shoulders. She shivered as he played with the sleeve of her silken robes. "So you're done until they can corner you at school, I assume?"

"Too right." He inclined his head with a pleased smile. "You know you've got to be the brightest Witch of our age, right?"

Hermione grimaced and turned back to face the window. "I'm not sure cursed knowledge counts, James."

"But the knowledge can't have all come from a curse..." he said.

Hermione couldn't bear to meet his gaze, couldn't let him see how she disagreed. If she'd been the brightest witch, she never would have shown up without her memories and riddled with dark magic.

James sighed and lightly squeezed her shoulders. "I know you don't believe me, but I think you're gonna learn real how wrong you are as soon as you meet the rest of the female population at Hogwarts. None of them can even hope to compare to you, not even Evans…" 

Evans...Lily? 

Something in his tone made her chest ache with dread. She bit her lip, the question on the tip of her tongue.

Why did Sirius tell me to ask James about her?

"Hey, what is it?" James leaned forward to better face her.

Hermione caught her breath as his long fingers caught her chin and slowly urged her to turn. 

His concerned expression immediately darkened. "What has Sirius been telling you?"

Remus glanced briefly up at them over the pages of his book. 

Hermione sighed. "We ran into Snivellus in the hallway earlier." Upon James's laughter she countered, "What's so funny?"

"Sirius has definitely been talking to you. Sorry, keep going, love."

"We also ran into Lily."

His laughter died and his mouth set into a hard line as he answered her unspoken question. "Lily Evans is the Head Girl...and that's all she'll ever be to me." He hesitated at her surprise. "That is…" James hung his head a moment, glancing over to the occupied Marauders and cursing under his breath, "Damn it, Padfoot…" A tumult of emotions passed through his golden-green eyes. "I used to fancy her you see...but we've never been friends really. I mean…"

"She's very pretty," Hermione offered to him lamely, feeling smaller with each syllable.

"Yeah, I suppose she'll make some bloke the happiest man on earth one day. But she prefers to make my life a living hell." James sank back in his seat, though he seemed unwilling to increase the space between them.

Hermione didn't mind, even if having him so close was just as comforting as it was maddening. "So, she's Head Girl. Guess you'll need someone to help you keep sane after being forced to share a common room?"

Even if he wants her, he can still be my friend, can't he?

James grinned. "Well, you know, I was actually thinking of having a bunkmate every once in a while. You know, to ah, ease the tension."

Hermione gritted her teeth when he took her hand between both of his and began to graze the sensitive skin between her knuckles with his calloused fingertips. Shutting her eyes against the unexpected pleasure, she pressed, "I thought you weren't supposed to break the rules when assuming the duties of Head Boy?"

He turned her palm over to trace along its lines and circled the fluttering pulse at her wrist. Leaning over to speak low against her hair, he teased, "I'm not like most Head Boys."

His nose brushed against the shell of her ear as his chest pressed against her shoulder. She could feel the pounding of his heartbeat racing against her skin, somehow mysteriously matching her own. A dull ringing began in her ears until her skin buzzed with magic beneath the surface of her skin. Breathlessly, she moved away from him and pulled her hand free from his. "Well, I'm sure Sirius will be elated by that news."

"Padfoot? What's this have to do with him?"

She didn't miss the sharp inflection in his tone but didn't dare turn to meet it. She couldn't look into those eyes again and keep a safe distance from him anymore.

Remus caught her glance from across the room then. She wanted to hex him for his clear amusement over her current predicament.

Stupid Werewolf sixth sense!

"You said you wanted a bunkmate," she offered. "If the Head Boy is allowed bunkmates, Sirius won't bother following the rules either." Earlier this morning, James would have laughed and come back with some quip. Now he was strangely silent.

"Have you opened Dad and Mum's gift yet?" he suddenly asked.

"No, not yet." The bag rested at her feet and she reached for it, grateful for the distraction.

Thank Merlin.

"Gotta admit, I'm a bit curious," James continued, still with that odd tone. "I never pay attention to what girls need for these things." 

They poured over the contents of Dorea's gift together. To Hermione's surprise there was more to this "coming-of-age Gala" than she had expected. She wasn't just James's escort, apparently, but a participant in her own right, he said. Especially with her newly publicized bloodline.

Somehow during their talk, as Remus at last nodded off to sleep against the window, Hermione could put aside their troubling conversation and the feelings she was finding harder to ignore every day. Even if he truly preferred Lily Evans, she should be grateful for his friendship, and the closeness he sought with her. For a little while, they were just James and Hermione again.

She was laughing over the complexities of Pureblood life he attempted to detail to her. She called their expected behavior at the Gala chauvinistic, much to his amusement.

"Trust me, you should be grateful for these stupid conventions," James said as he took her hand in his again, his smile slow and sincere. Running a free hand through his wild black hair, he added, "You know the reason all the Snakes keep staring at you, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "I suppose you're about to tell me?"

"Hermione, you've become the most desired Pureblood heiress this side of the continent. That necklace Uncle Albus gave to you is as good as wearing your family crest. They're all gonna be drawn to you like flies to honey." His grip tightened briefly on her hand as his jaw clenched.

"Seriously? I don't think I can take any more of their leering stares." Eyes alight with inspiration she turned and pressed her palm to his chest. "James, is it too late to change my name and glamour my look? I could cast a few charms on my hair and skin and no one would know the difference!"

James laughed. "Honestly? I don't think, even if you tried to be the most boring uninteresting Witch at Hogwarts, you'd avoid being noticed."

She groaned and sank into her seat. "I'm doomed, aren't I?"

His lips quirked a mischievous grin. "You know, I could keep their paws off you somewhat. If you'd let me officially claim you for the Season."

Hermione paused, worried he might see just how wonderful the idea of that sounded. "But aren't you already my escort? What exactly would claiming me entail?"

"An escort is more of a chaperone than anything else, usually a member of the Witch's family, or close family friend. But if you let me claim you..." James swallowed and something dark passed over his gaze before he straightened and grinned. "Well, first of all, no one would be able to legally make any advances on you until the Gala Season ended. Second, there's a nifty little charm that would let me know if anyone else touched you or looked at you the wrong way I would, of course, give 'em hell. All you'd have to do is agree to come with me to every social event on the Pureblood calendar this next term. Oh, and ah, every Hogsmeade trip too, just to be safe."

Hermione blinked past a short history on the founding of the Wizarding village and met his gaze with apprehension. At least it would keep the Pureblood heirs’ relationship to her a strict look-without-touch policy.

The longer I stay out of the enemy’s attention the better.

At last she turned and smiled at him sweetly. "I don't know whether to be worried or learn how to thank you for saving me again."

And with a perfect tilt of his head and a slightly wicked tone, he mused, "Oh, I can already think of a few ways."

Chapter Text

Hogwarts Express was the same as it had always been, only now he was Head Boy and for the first time in seven years couldn't shirk his responsibilities. Instead, they glared at him with the wrathful green eyes of the Head Girl.

James had somehow managed, yet again, to throw away blame for the train car prank on the Marauders. He didn't like to think about the fact that it had been his idea originally. Or that Sirius had moved forward with the prank after James warned him off.

"We can't afford to draw too much attention. We need to keep her safe," he had said.

"And we need to live up to expectations, Prongs," Sirius had argued. "What will everyone think if the Marauders don't deliver?"

Sirius had also cornered James to tell him about their run-in with Snape and Evans. "Not my fault mate, I swear! We ran into them and I figured you'd rather tell her than me, yeah?"

And though he dreaded any questions she would no doubt have, James went to Hermione anyway. Her face when he first entered their compartment was a punch to the gut. It was the same lost expression she'd worn after finding her on his lawn, the look that drove James to find out who had cursed her even more. And it killed him that after everything they had tried to do the last few days of the summer holiday, this wasn't something he could fix.

James hated feeling helpless, hated seeing anyone else grounded by their fears. Ever since he was little, he'd always been the first to fix things the way they needed to be. He'd been rescuing people since then, as well, he supposed, from rescuing his Mum from garden gnomes and keeping Remus from spending each full moon alone, to stopping Peter's bullies and giving Sirius a new home. For these people, James had happily turned his life upside down.

Yet when he took in the small young witch, with her wild dark curls and lost eyes…

For her, I'd do anything.

He couldn't keep his hands to himself, and not only because he was a randy teenager, but because her skin was so soft and smooth. Because she smelled like vanilla and honey. Because holding her made him feel like he was doing something to keep her safe even if she still felt lost.

James Potter was not oblivious to Hermione's reaction to him. He knew what girls thought of him, had heard their comments, and seen the way they swooned. Being a Wizard with needs, he had occasionally taken advantage of it. Both broom cupboard occasions, he had barely reached bare skin before their cover was blown. And now, thanks to Evans, he knew there were other ways to win a Witch worth having. It wasn't all about poems and fireworks and love songs. 

So when he literally felt the spark between himself and Hermione, an ever-present heady rush every time they touched, he couldn't not crave her. Knowing she was just as affected excited him so much he forgot his own promise to protect her from anyone, including himself. He had a nasty habit of losing his wits about her. Being around Hermione Dumbledore was like flying in the eye of the storm. One second, her eyes would spark like lightning, the next fade to darkened clouds. And for one blessed moment, he nearly kissed her, right in front of Remus who was pretending not to watch them. He would have kissed her not because he thought it would make her happier or forget sorrows she couldn't remember, but because he simply wanted to. And that's what scared him most of all.

James tried not to think about the fact he'd also broken his own rules minutes before. What was it he'd said to Sirius, not a week before? That no one could claim her, because she wasn't a possession or a prize. And now look at them. 

Honestly, the ring's just to protect her! Well, and maybe to help me stay sane this term, he reasoned with himself after she accepted his family ring.

He could claim her for the entire fall term, keep her safe. The magic in her ring was keyed to him, after all, and would let him know if she was ever in trouble, and...

Merlin, the way she's looking at me.

Sirius Black walked in just as James glanced up from the ring on her middle finger to the way Hermione's lips parted and oh-so-perfect for snogging. 

"...should have seen the look on McKinnon's face!" Sirius was declaring. 

James stiffened as he took in the distance Hermione instantly made between them, pressing ever tighter to the window. He grimaced as Sirius squeezed himself between the two of them.

"Course I'll do it for you, Sirius!" Padfoot took on Marlene's Scottish trill. "I'd do anything for you, Sirius!"

Meanwhile, James's eyes found Remus already favoring him with his classic Professor know-it-all look. James crossed his arms in front of his chest as Hermione sighed and looked out the window. Pete's snores added a sort of background music to their conversation.

Remus snorted and finally addressed commented, "I doubt she meant it."

"Moony, you know it was only a matter of time before I got her to admit her obsession with me!" Sirius threw his arm around the edge of the seat and far-too-close to Hermione's shoulders. "Not that I blame her. Prongs, remember that one time in fourth year?"

James knew exactly the moment Sirius was referring to but chose to ignore his best mate.

Snogging a bint in a broom cupboard doesn't mean she's got your stamp on her arse forever after!

It wasn't lost on him that barely a year ago, James would have laughed and encouraged Sirius's exploits.

"Well, am I right or not? Prongs?" Sirius frowned, his good mood gone and he glared at Remus as though he were to blame. "What the hell did you say to him, Moony?"

Remus rolled his eyes and turned the page of his latest thousand-page novel, then glanced pointedly to Hermione. "Nothing you didn't do to yourself." 

Sirius merely grinned. "Ah…I see. This about Evans?"

James shook his head. "Padfoot, after the chewing out she gave me thanks to your prank, Evans is the last person I wanna think about!"

Sirius's black brow arched with an unspoken challenge. "Well, fan-bloody-tastic, a confession at last. At least you're sharing your feelings now mate, getting things out in the open." 

"This coming from the git who can't hold a serious conversation for more than ten seconds?" James grinned triumphantly when Sirius's expression darkened.

"Least I'm honest with myself and my mates, instead of deciding what's best for a bloke before he's had his fun. Great job Prongs, you're fast on your way to becoming the next Dumbledore."

"That's enough Padfoot!" Remus thrust his book down hard enough to wake up a startled Pete.

"Oi! What's going on?" Peter's pale blue eyes darted between his mates before he slouched back in his seat. He'd witnessed one too many rows between them before to have his head bitten off now.

"Same goes for you Prongs," Remus growled. "Stop before you both embarrass yourselves."

James shook his head at Sirius's sly grin. Clearly, Padfoot had no intention of letting this one go.

What the hell is this really about?

James opened his mouth to answer when Hermione chose to end the discussion for them. Grabbing her black Hogwarts robes, the Witch briskly brushed past them. "I'm going to lavatory to change into my robes. Maybe you should, too."

Remus, already donned in his, offered her a soft smile until the compartment door clicked shut behind her. His smile twisted as he leveled a menacing glare at James and Sirius. "You two couldn't wait to settle this before we got to Hogwarts?"

Padfoot rolled his eyes. "Sorry mate, But this had to come out sometime! He's been driving me bloody crazy!"

James threw his hands up in the air. "What are you talking about?"

"Deny the truth all you want, Prongs. You are so bloody obvious, it's a wonder she hasn't caught on by now. And was that a Potter ring I saw on her third finger, mate?"

James settled in his seat and hopefully masked his growing panic. He opened his mouth, only for Remus to speak up with obvious ire, "Hermione's his escort and is letting James claim her for the season. She just agreed to it."

Sirius blanched. "What the hell? But you said..." 

"I'm doing whatever I have to do to keep her safe, Pads. Surely you can understand?" James slowly stood. "And maybe let your little brother know to keep his and his fellow snakes away?"

Sirius's grin returned full force as he jumped to his feet and clapped James on the back. "Oh, I can't wait to rub this in Reggie's smarmy face. Please, oh please let me be the one to tell them. It would make up for you threatening to tear my arm off earlier."

"I never said anything!"

Sirius tapped his head. "You don't have to mate. Told you you're too bloody obvious."

James shoved him hard enough to knock him into the window. "Am not, you git!"

"Oi!" He laughed and tried to lock his arm the next time it aimed a jab. "Please, there are children present!" He gestured to Pete who was too distracted with his damned color cube again.

"Sod off!" James laughed, winning instantly by threatening to muss Sirius's hair.

"Not the hair, have mercy!" Sirius had both hands over his head.

Remus sighed once they'd settled. "Hope Hermione hasn't lost her good opinion of us forever. What did I tell you two about taking it easy around her?"

Sirius pulled out his leftover stash of candy from a robe pocket. He too had already changed into his robes with some of Marlene's help, apparently. "Now Moony, you should know by now not to build her expectations! If we always behaved around her, she'd be even more appalled when we eventually reveal our wicked ways."

Remus's glared at the cube, now being tossed into the air by a too-easily-entertained Pete. "Padfoot, perhaps if you focused a bit more on—Wormtail, that's enough!" He grabbed the cube midair.

"Hey! I bought that with Grandmum's money, you know!"

"Well you should have bought something else then, shouldn't you?" Without another word, the former Prefect had his wand out and the cube vanished with a wink.

All was once again right with the world. And yet James could help to scan the walk beyond the glass door nervously until Hermione returned, bedecked in black. She favored him with a small smile, and to his relief, accepted the seat he offered her at his side nearest the door.

Nothing from this point will be the same again.

His mates knew how he felt, or at least thought they knew, and so would be watching. And James, who always acted on impulse and rarely thought things through, knew he'd slipped up too many times to cover his tracks again. He wasn't so clever as Moony, or charming like Padfoot when it came to women.

James hardly heard the argument ensuing between Remus and Pete, while the latter tried to barter for his cube or Sirius's amusing input.

Hermione didn't say anything but she did watch and laugh and even piped up to agree with Remus's reasoning.

Typical…those two are cut from the same magic cloth.

James grinned as he watched her from the corner of his eye and laced his fingers with hers.

This could work.

Dozens of their classmates and housemates tried to get the Marauders' attention, while they tried to avoid the crowd as they left the train.

Hermione wore the ring that James had offered her. He refused to let go of Hermione's hand until she pulled away first. He could practically feel her discomfort every time another Witch bounded up to them, gushing and grimacing once they noted Hermione's presence, then the ring.

"Just for the season," he'd said, to ease her worries that it might mean more. No matter that James deeply wished it did mean more.

The inner panic he'd been fighting earlier eased every time he caught her glancing at the tiny phoenix engraved around the Potter family crest. He couldn't help his smile every time another bloke in green took notice of her jewelry. It screamed aloud to the world she was off-limits, and would assure he could rest easier knowing she'd be protected, even when he wasn't around.

As Head Boy, James was required to help the younger years find their way. Luckily, his mates hung back with him to do it, until they had filled every carriage in record time. James was inwardly cursing Remus for not staying Prefect this year to help cover his arse. But his friends stayed, and best of all, he had Hermione.

He loved watching her drink in everything he took for granted. How tall Hagrid really was as he gathered the first years and led them to the little boats. How she shivered at the sudden drop of temp until he cast a warming charm over her. How she studied the lights of Hogsmeade village nearby, and how at times her eyelashes would flutter every so often with surprise.

She seemed to fixate most on the enchanted carriages that pulled them down the lane to the castle ahead. Her mouth parted with amazement as she stared at the empty space in front of the carriage instead of smiling at Pete and Sirius's attempt to sing Don't Be Witching Me for the thousandth time that summer. Remus looked like he'd rather be anywhere but jammed between the two, head between his hands.

Almost that time of the month again.

He leaned over her ear, partly to avoid Moony's ability to eavesdrop nearly anything, and partly to draw in the scent of her dark curls. "What's the matter, love?"

She startled and turned her head so quickly their noses brushed. James's fingers tightened on hers, as Hermione gasped and whispered, "I—I'm fine. I've just been watching the Thestrals."

His brow cocked in amusement, as he peered at her over his glasses. "Thestrals? This something you remembered from a book?" He wondered why she flinched at his words.

"No…they're what pulls the carriages. You can't see them unless…unless you've…"

"Only if you've seen someone die." In answer to her surprise and slightly narrowed eyes, he added, "I can't see them, but Uncle Albus told me about them."

"Can they?" She nodded to the Marauders and James shook his head.

"No…" And if he had anything to do about it, none of them ever would. He frowned however as the truth hit him. "I'm sorry."

She stared back at the invisible Thestrals and murmured, "I wish I could remember who it was."

James could have beaten himself with the end of his broom for making her feel worse than they had on the train. Which made him even more determined to make less than an arse of himself the rest of the night. He couldn't stand seeing her so sad and so suddenly joined in the chorus with Sirius, "Ba—aby don't be witching me! Your love is all I need tonight!"

Hermione gaped and covered her mouth as James crooned the words to her with as much gusto as he could muster.

"Merlin, make it stop!" Remus moaned.

Sirius clapped the werewolf on the back and broke verse. "Come on, mate gotta start the year off right! Can't let anyone expect us to tame down in our old age, you know!"

James laid his head on Hermione's shoulder and batted his eyes as he sang the song he truly hated by this point.

Her resolve broke and her laughter echoed in the trees around them and seared straight to his gut.

She's worth it.

Once the hell of his Head Boy duties afforded him a break, James and the Marauders found their reserved seating at the center of Gryffindor's long table in the Great Hall. Not that it was actually reserved with bloody nameplates or anything, but the Maruaders had been known to leave a few surprises for anyone else who tried to claim their space.

James was nervous in minutes after he was forced to leave Hermione behind to sit with Sirius to her right, Remus and Pete taking the seat across. Remus had shared a small grin with him that quietly assured no matter what Padfoot tried it wouldn't get past their resident werewolf. Truly, James was more worried about Sirius telling her more things she was better off not knowing. For example, what they had done to the Slytherin Quidditch team's undergarments last term and what James had to do to get access to the Gryffindor girls' dorms.

As students filtered in through Hogwarts Great Hall and found their respective tables, James noted the faces he had grown up around. Most smiled genuinely or jealously with shouts of, "Oi, Potter!" or, "glad you're Head Boy mate!" And then there were the ones he reserved the better end of his wand for and didn't miss sending a stray hex or two while Evans was preoccupied.

The trail of her long red hair glowed in the candlelight and her emerald eyes sparkled at nearly everyone who passed her by. It had only ever been for him and Sirius she'd reserved that special glare. Much like on Diagon Alley, James had been friendly with the Head Girl, but not friendly. At least today, Lily Evans only spoke to him if she was required to. Her first words on the train had been, "Look I don't like this any more than you do Potter, but since we're stuck together the rest of the year, let's try and make this as painless as possible."

He lifted a hand and saluted when her hard gemmed gaze caught his across the hall as he slipped his wand back up the sleeve of his robe.

Lily rolled her eyes as the last few students came trickling in, Slytherins at the rear, as they should be. Yet her attention shifted the moment a very familiar greasy git came towards them.

James smirked at the fond memories of a fifty-seven pranks they had successfully dealt this particular Snake. Severus always gave as good as he got, but he couldn't fight them all together. And now that he'd lost Lily's loyalty…

Wait, what the hell?

Severus Snape walked right up to Lily and for the first time since the incident last term, she smiled at whatever shite he was saying. After all the times they had tried to prove his true colors, Evans was already back to favoring Snape? And there was something odd in the way Severus inclined his head towards her and the way her eyes softened. 

She can't seriously be trusting the wanker again, can she?

James felt as though he'd swallowed five pygmy puffs and wasted no time in leaving the scene that threatened his appetite. Thankfully, he ran into his Quidditch teammates next. After years of endless drills and pushing his arse to the limit, he was finally captain this year. They'd give little Reggie Black a run for his galleons this time, the thought with a grin. Head Boy or no, he wasn't backing out of this part of the Marauders' grand plan.

Beyond the shelter of the castle, the clouds began to give at last in a gusty torrent. Everlasting candles hovered high above and about them, lighting the Great Hall and the ceiling was enchanted to reflect the stars. Unlike the majority of the students, James recognized the spells. Uncle Albus had taught James many of his best tricks.

Professors had already found their seats at the head table. There went McGonagall, ushering the first years into their rows to be sorted. There was Nearly Headless Nick already chatting it up with several of his housemates along with the other excited Hogwarts ghosts.

Along the way back to his seat, James grinned through several calls of, "Bet we beat Slytherin easy this year! No chance they'll make the Cup!" and "Ooh, James! Why don't you sit with us!"

Yet his focus was already caught on that unmistakable bushy head of mahogany curls. All thoughts of snakes and pygmy puffs were exorcised the moment she turned her amber gaze to his and smiled. James took the empty spot at Hermione's other side, wasting no time reaching for her hand underneath the table and interlacing their fingers. Her eyes were still wide in the same way as the first years up ahead as they darted quickly about the hall, taking everything in.

"Overwhelmed yet?" he teased.

"I assume you're referring to the fact I'm about to have to stand in front of hundreds of people I've never met in my life?"

"Yeah." James nodded seriously though his eyes betrayed humor behind his glasses.

"Oi!" Sirius hissed. "Not yet, Wormtail, you prat! Not until I say so, remember?"

Peter nodded and grinned. "Right."

Remus rolled his eyes and looked up from his book. "Can't you wait until after the sorting?"

"But it's too brilliant to wait!" Sirius's head bobbed like the mut he was as he looked to James. "Am I right mate?"

James sighed. "Much as I hate to say this, maybe Remus is right. We should wait...at least until after the feast and their guard is down," he added with a matching grin, almost forgetting Hermione in his growing excitement. Nothing used to get his blood going like a well-planned prank war. Course, he wasn't so sure about their plan now. 

But so long as she's safe...

Sirius's grin had turned devilish. "And by the time we put the Big One in motion, they won't know what hit them."

"Just enough time to get Evans and Filch distracted," James said.

"Agreed!" Sirius reached around Hermione to slap James on the back. 

Peter, who had until recently been caught up in the excitement, was now busy making eyes at Marlene McKinnon down the bench.

James turned to share a grin with Hermione, only to find her focus following the Headmaster's standing before his enchanted podium. And just behind, the path of the Sorting Hat. Her grip tightened around his.

"Hermione?" He whispered and grimaced. "If you keep squeezing my hand like that I might need a new one."

She jerked and turned to him with a tremulous apology. "Sorry…I just wish Albus would let me do this in private instead of in front of all these people! What if—if there's someone here who knows me?"

James shrugged. "If Dumbledore thought you would be in danger here he wouldn't have invited you, let alone tell everyone you're his niece. So far, everyone who's met you only sees what we want them to see."

Sirius, who was as notorious for eavesdropping as Moony, only he never bothered to hide it, interrupted, "Don't worry, Mione. I swear on sweet Salazar's loins all of them will find their arse on the ground before they can touch you."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Sirius."

The Great Hall buzzed with softly spoken voices, carried to the castle rafters where everlasting candles floated, and echoed back a dim hush as the gray-bearded Wizard took his place.

The sudden hush made it so that Peter's attempt to get Marlene McKinnon's attention down the table was far louder than he intended. Their fellow Gryffindor's laughed at the Marauder's red cheeks.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at them from above his half-moon spectacles briefly and the laughter instantly faded. His purple robes gleamed with tiny glowing emblems of the sun. And James felt his godfather's glance stray to Hermione longer than necessary before returning to the rest.

"Good evening! I would like to welcome you all back this year to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I hope you all enjoyed a sunny summer and did not catch any cases of the Wizard's Flu. This year promises to be just as challenging and exciting as the last. And I hold you all to no higher expectations than what I know each is capable of, no matter your origins. I am sure some of you know that a few of our treasured students will not be returning this term, as a result of the growing terror that threatens our world. I trust you shall all stay vigilant and above all try to enjoy the time you have been gifted."

James recognized the tone of the old Warlock's words for it was one he'd overheard in his father's "man cave" before fires many nights of late. And the reminder made him only more determined to protect the Witch at his side.

"On a brighter note!" With a tap of his hands and a swap of doom for joy the Headmaster continued, "Before we dive into my favorite dessert, I would like to make note of a new transfer student in our midst." Lifting a ringed hand, he gestured to the Gryffindor table and smiled. "Miss Hermione Dumbledore, would you please make your way to the Sorting Hat?"

Squeezing his fingers one last time, Hermione met James's gaze and breathed through her fears. Her palm beneath his fingers was scarred from the glass that had cut into it the day they met. Things she could not remember haunted her amber-stained eyes.

The other Marauders had reached around him to share their good wishes and assurances of which House she already belonged.

And all he could do was lean slightly forward with a goofy arrogant grin and say, "Time to go piss the Snakes off. Make me proud, love."

He knew he'd succeeded when her frown turned into a shaky grin as she disentangled herself from the table and his grip.

Head held high, she walked forward, possessed with a confidence he had rarely seen in her before.

Mum's clearly been working with her.

James tried to remain optimistic as he watched her walk away. He tried listening to Sirius's whispered assurances beside him and Peter's repetition of said assurances. He knew the nod Remus gave that was meant to encourage him. Yet he couldn't shake his fears.

What if she didn't make Gryffindor? She may be a Ravenclaw at heart, with her mysterious knowledge. And he would never peg her for Hufflepuff, but what if…

Hold it together mate…

But what if she does?

James knew one thing for certain. If she was placed into Slytherin, there was little he could do to protect her without breaking almost every rule in the handbook. And he would break them, badge be damned.

Please, let it be Gryffindor…let it be Gryffindor...

With only a passing glance for the Headmaster, Hermione picked up the Sorting Hat from its little stool and, taking her seat before the eyes of the Great Hall, placed the hat on her head.

Chapter Text

It had been a fortnight since the Sorting Hat decided her future. Hermione hadn't quite forgiven the hat, or herself since. Not that she'd confessed this to anyone. Not even her new uncle.

Every other weekday morning, after breakfast in the Great Hall, Hermione and the Headmaster had exchanged conversation over tea. In their first two visits, they'd discussed everything from Chocolate Frog Cards and the Whomping Willow's safety hazard to her thoughts on her new classes, and if she enjoyed being James's escort. Much to her frustration, none of their discussions had had anything to do with her uncle's efforts to recover her memories.

They hadn't dared attempt Legillimens again. Albus was even reluctant to use his Pensieve to collect her burrowed memories, because of how zealously the curse fought against any invasive magical force. And just when Hermione was content to let them stay buried and forgotten, her Uncle chose today to drag the topic of her disconnected magical knowledge up. 

"Hermione, I do not believe you are being quite honest with me." Periwinkle blue eyes twinkled at her over half-moon spectacles. "Beetle tart?"

"No, thank you." Hermione wrinkled her nose at the tarts squirming within the headmaster's proffered bowl and pushed down her frustration as she played with the edge of her outer Hogwarts robe. "Forgive me, Uncle, but how does my knowledge have anything to do with regaining my memories?"

It was all she could do to hide the fact she did remember some things, after a fashion. Endless facts and spells, as though recalled from a textbook. And the knowledge sprung upon her at the most inopportune moments. Not only during classes but inconsequential moments, like tea time with her new guardian.

As before, Albus wore a whimsical smile as his preferred mask. Setting down his cup, he spread his palms in a gesture. "No matter your past, it is important that you make new memories, is it not? Just as it is important that we appear nothing less than a loving Uncle and his devoted niece, yes? And every time you recall facts you have no doubt pulled from your past, the better chance we have of spelling back the layers guarding your mind."

Hermione glared at the cup between her hands. "I know you're right. I know it's better to have moments, with you than my housemates..." She drew in a sharp breath and her grasp on the porcelain tightened. 

"And still you wonder how your cursed mind will be able to reconcile this new life you have been gifted?"

Hermione flinched at the oft-thought but never spoken fear. 

How does he know?

The reason she avoided making new friends among her house and classmates. The reason she'd taken to roaming the grounds or halls with only ghosts and the knowledge in her faulty brain for company. It was enough reason for Hermione to do her best to avoid the Marauders beyond classes and the occasional visit to the Head Boy and Girl common room.

Though it's been nearly impossible to avoid James.

Unable to avoid the weight of her uncle's gaze any longer, Hermione slowly lifted her chin and said, "For not being able to use magic on my cursed head, you have a talent for reading my mind." 

The twinkle faded from his eyes as his smile softened. "Hermione, much as it pains me to fail you in regaining your memories, I truly believe the more you accept this life, to make it your own, the easier the transition will be if your memories do choose to reveal themselves." Standing from his chair, Albus left his seat by hers before the small hearth and crossed to his desk to pet Fawkes, purple and silver robes shifting to twilight gray in the morning sunlight.

Hermione smiled as she brushed her fingers over the phoenix crest around her neck and realized she too was wearing violet beneath her heavy woolen robes today. Little moments like this made her feel even more of a Dumbledore than the papers Albus had forged at the Ministry, than the document they'd both signed with blood.

Make new memories… Easier said than done.

The trouble with making new memories was it meant letting people in. 

For the past two weeks she had done a fair job of maintaining the image of the devoted student, when in fact, the necessary knowledge was already tucked away in her mind. Only once had Hermione dared peek through the door into the Hogwarts library. Even the passing glance at the endless sea of titles, filled with words already imprinted in her mind, made her head spin with recalled information. She left as quickly as she'd appeared, wary of a repeat of what happened in the library at Potter Manor.

Instead, she had taken to writing down her recent memories. Albus had gifted her with the empty magical journal her first day of classes, during their first tea, in fact, calling the empty tome a "memory charm," of sorts. As she had taken to keeping her innermost thoughts to herself of late, she could easily be found pouring into the thick yellow pages. Never mind that her roommates thought her mental. The Dumbledore name allowed her more than few expected eccentricities. Let them think her a bookworm.  Schoolwork was like a breeze to her, hardly challenging.

People were Hermione's challenge.

Fawkes cried a note of his beautiful song and Uncle Albus crooned softly spoken words back before saying, "I believe if you run, you might make it to Arithmancy on time, my dear."

"Right. Thank you for the tea, Uncle." With a wry grin, Hermione pulled her undetectably extended satchel strap around her neck and pressed her palm against her wand as she stood. Energy pulsed from the powerful wood through her fingertips and helped push her limbs into action. She'd been able to avoid using it much so far, something she avoided letting her Professors and classmates know and of which Uncle thought highly amusing.

Dodgy old coot, she fondly thought.

"Do not forget our discussion, my dear!" aforesaid coot called as she approached the stone gargoyle. "Oh, and do keep an eye out for Nargels would you? I believe they have taken to stealing my slippers of late."

Hermione chuffed as the floor shifted beneath her. "I will, Uncle Albus." 

She used the precious seconds to pull all her worries and fears behind the mask Dorea Potter had taught her just in time to face the empty hallway. The distant hum of voices echoed against the ancient stone. Hermione took another moment to tug the thick side braid she had tamed her dark curls into and, steeling her nerves, walked away from the shelter of the gargoyle.

As had become her habit in the first two weeks of school, Hermione walked to class and hoped no one else decided to take the shortcut today. She had found it by accident while roaming the halls one morning. No sooner had she wished for a shortcut than the magic of the castle shifted and beckoned her to a room that opened to a secret tunnel that connected to another room. A set of stairs curled down a corridor just beyond and safely opened into the hallway of her Arithmancy classroom.

Upon entering the first abandoned room, Hermione ignored the dusty cobwebs and lifted her hand. With barely a thought, a pale light shone from her palm. The silvery light flickered off the silent walls as she found the hidden passage and ventured farther. 

Not for the first time, she wondered if the Marauders knew about her shortcut.

Best not to give them all your secrets, she silently chided. And no matter what Albus said, could she really risk spending more time with them? Especially since her Sorting?

Even now, Hermione shivered at the memory of what Sirius later called, the longest sorting they had ever witnessed all seven years. Even Dumbledore looked nervous at one point, Peter had claimed. And Hermione had much rather forget everything the Sorting Hat had said while digging into her mind. 

"Oh, but this is very strange indeed! You are a special one, aren't you, Hermione Dumbledore? Something dark clouds your mind from me. Yet it also guards your power, and such knowledge! Imagine what you could teach your fellow classmates in Ravenclaw. Yet there is something else, isn't there? You are powerful, behind that dark cloud and cunning, to have so quickly grafted yourself into this new life..."

"Stop it!" A girl's small voice wailed from the other side of the door Hermione had just opened. With a blink, Hermione's mind cleared.

"Why should we, when every breath you take is another waste of space?" The boy's voice cracked slightly as he belittled the small girl's protests.

His friend laughed. "You clearly are a waste of space if you ever thought of talking to us."

"Give it back, you lout!" There was fear behind the girl's trembling tone.

Hermione quickened her steps as her anger hardened to ice beneath her skin and she rounded the corner.

Two Ravenclaw boys, Scamander and Selwyn, laughed as they turned their wands, a levitation charm keeping the first year's bag high above their heads.

Hermione stiffened and clenched her fists as her magic flushed, cold and dark against her skin. "What's going on here?" 

The teens turned with ready sneers, only to blush up to their ears at the sight of Hermione Dumbledore. Neither Ravenclaw offered to lower the girl's bag.

The taller blonde, Scamander grinned. "Dumbledore, you're looking ravishing this morning. Hope you don't mind but we were just having a chat with this Gryffindork."

"Shut up, Scamander," Selwyn hissed before flashing a tight smile at Hermione, his beady green eyes darting to her clenched fists.

"I see..." Hermione tilted her head as she glanced past them to the first year she had met in Diagon Alley weeks ago. Tears streaked the Muggleborn Witch's face. "And I suppose you thought it all right to pick on a first year who has only just begun to learn to use her magic?"

The boys shuffled, Scamander with uncertainty, Selwyn ever-fixated on the way her hands trembled but refused to grasp her wand.

What have my housemates told them?

Perhaps there were benefits, after all, to not only being the Headmaster's niece but touched by dark magic. 

"If you would be so kind as to return Leah's bag and apologize..." she left off the obvious. That she would do far more and far worse than simply tell someone else about them. 

Teach them a lesson they won't forget, something dark and deeply angry seemed to croon.

"Why should we apologize?" Selwyn finally snapped. "Cohen here thought she could have a crush on Scamander when his dad's bloody famous! Told the whole school she'd snag a fifth year, she did! Not that a Muggleborn's gossip takes his chances away from asking you—ow!"

Scamander jabbed his friend roughly in the elbows to stop him, but Hermione's skin prickled and several dark hexes flashed before her mind's eye, ready to burst.

She drew in a sharp breath and closed her eyes to dispel the unwanted knowledge before thrusting a hand into the air.

Leah's bookbag trembled a moment before easily breaking through the boys' combined spells.

Hermione's eyes snapped open just as the bag clipped Selwyn's head. She caught the bag and clutched it tightly to her chest before any more of her magic could escape. 

Careful, a still small voice warned.

Selwyn's eyes bugged, yet he had already taken several steps back. Scamander ran a nervous hand through his pale hair as he said, "Look, we're sorry, yeah? We just thought we'd tease her a bit. It was all harmless fun."

Hermione closed the distance between them in four precise steps, until she was looking down her nose at much taller Pureblood. "Yes, I'm sure your parents would approve of the fun you've had with Miss Cohen today. I'm sure the Headmaster would love to hear how you've bullied a Muggleborn girl who likely never meant for anyone to spread rumors. And frankly, judging from what I've seen today, I doubt she ever fancied a cruel prat like you."

Scamander's mouth worked but no sound came out, and something like fear filled his gaze as he cringed.

Selwyn, once again, spoke for them. "Say what you will about us, you think your precious Marauders are any better, Dumbledore? Those four think they run this school for all they never seem to be caught or punished. And I've seen them hex Slytherins more than anyone." His gaze drifted over her green tie.

Hermione shivered and gave in to the urge to wrap her fingers around her wand, all the hexes she'd avoided on the tip of her tongue. 

Stop, they aren't worth it!

She opened her mouth, ready to teach these two idiots a lesson. 

They won't get away with this kind of behavior anymore.

Her spells died as a pair of hands suddenly clasped her by the shoulders and pulled her back. 

"So sorry to interrupt, mates!" Sirius Black slipped a confident arm over her shoulder. "I've been looking everywhere for the lovely Miss Dumbledore, really. Class is about to start, and it wouldn't do for us to be late." Pointing to the boys as an afterthought, he added, "Oh, and you may want to think twice before messing with a Gryffindor, mates. Remember, you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us." He grinned and nodded to the wide-eyed yet beaming Leah. 

Hermione grimaced as the small girl approached them with adoring eyes as she stretched out a small hand. 

Sirius plucked the bag from Hermione's grasp and offered it to the little Witch with a fond smile. "There you are, love."

"Thanks, Hermione!" Leah said before she quickly darted past them, bag in tow once more.

Hermione clenched her jaw as Sirius guided them further down the hall. She barely heard him call over his shoulder, "Really would have loved to let her rip into both of you, but let's save that for the next time you fuck with innocent little girls, yeah?"

Scamander and Selwyn wisely did not reply as they took their cue to run to their next class.

Only then did Hermione realize just how close to losing her shite she had been before Sirius showed up. Her shoulders caved as her mask crumpled and she gave into his embrace.

"You okay love?" He spoke softly against her forehead. "Look a bit peaky, though I suppose that's to be expected now you're living in the dungeons. So, how did the chat with dear Uncle Dumbles go?" Wagging his eyebrows, Sirius gently squeezed her shoulders.

"Same as usual," she rasped. Hermione drew in a sharp breath through her nose as they approached the door to Arithmancy. She'd never cease to wonder how the Marauder managed to be almost as good in Arithmancy as she was. Who would have thought the scatterbrained boy had a head for figures?

She wanted to pull away, but Sirius was warm, and she desperately needed to stop feeling the sinking cold of dark magic.

What the hell were you thinking?

Sirius always managed to find and escort her just before their shared class. She'd gotten very good at listening to him talk of his exploits while giving little in return. She wasn't a fool. She knew everything she told one Marauder was as good as telling them all. Today, she savored every moment of comfort her friend offered as he told her of his latest rendezvous with Emmeline Vance.

For a few precious moments, as they waited for the professor to begin, Hermione chose to pretend she hadn't ruined her chances to be better this second time around. If she ignored the continued shivers that laced up and down her spine from her brush with the dark magic she'd been cursed with, she could even pretend that her tie wasn't green. And that she hadn't been placed within the Hogwarts house that was known for sheltering the darkest of wizarding kind. 

"Good morning class! I trust you all came today with your essays polished and shining!"

A chorus of repressed groans answered Slughorn's opening announcement. None of the students had reacted favorably to their Potions Professor's curriculum thus far, though his attempts to cozy up to her more connected and promising classmates were somewhat as amusing as it was nauseating.

Hermione rolled her eyes at their protests. This was supposed to be an advanced course after all. The knowledge in her mind made most of her coursework far too easy. At least in Advanced Potions, she had the chance to potentially learn something that wasn't already stirring around in her mind.

The cauldron on Professor Slughorn's desk featuring today's brew steadily steamed, though Hermione did not want to know why he would leave a standing potion available to any ignorant student. She had tested it before class just to be certain it was not hazardous. From her impression of Slughorn so far, she wouldn't have been surprised if it was.

The Potions Master waved his wand with a flourish. "Essays out, please!"

Hermione had spent much of her time at Hogwarts studying in her common room. So it wasn't surprising her Advanced Potions essay appeared to be the thickest and the most neatly margined. Her partner's on the other hand, looked half that size. She discreetly glanced over, only to wince to find a pair of amused sapphire eyes waiting for her scrutiny. Regulus Black was very good at noticing things she rather wished he didn't notice.

On her first day of Potions, Sirius's younger brother had slipped into the seat beside hers with a casual, "Good morning, Hermione."  When Hermione demanded to know how he was taking Advanced Potions with seventh years, Regulus was only too happy to explain he was "something of a prodigy." 

Hermione ducked her head and pressed her palms over her much thicker essay, before rolling it up and tying a ribbon around the scroll. There was little room for the ribbon left. 

"You seem to have done some extra credit, I see," her partner commented.

Hermione tilted up her chin and glanced over to his thinner scroll, and perfectly tied ribbon. "Not at all, I just happen to like being thorough." 

"Hmm...yes, I saw you were being very diligent the other evening in the common room. You were so busy writing, you didn't even notice Parkinson trying to get your attention." 

"As if I have anything to say to Parkinson," Hermione said as she faced him, only to frown at the amusement dancing in his sapphire gaze. "Not that it's any of your business. Maybe instead of worrying about my work ethic, you should consider yours, Black," she said with a pointed look to his scroll.

Regulus's cheek dimpled as his smirk threatened to grow into a real smile. Hermione narrowed her eyes back at the boy, quickly taking in the way his curls had come undone from his careful styling, despite how immaculate he presented himself every morning. From what she gleaned through whispers from the other Slytherins, Regulus Black was much more dangerous than he let on. Yet no matter how often she tried her best to ignore him in class and focus on Slughorn, she couldn't help noticing him in return. Something about Regulus didn't match the image he portrayed, so she couldn't just ignore him the way her dorm mates had urged her.

"Accio essays!" Slughorn called, commanding the pile of scrolls to land behind his cluttered desk. The last scroll nearly caught the Potions Master in the eye, much to the amusement of the Gryffindors. 

The Slytherins sneered and Hermione grimaced as she followed the source of that odd surge of magic, only to notice Regulus's wand held loosely beneath the table. Regulus caught her eye again and his sly smirk deepened the dimple in his cheek. 

Hermione couldn't help her sigh and couldn't believe she hadn't protested harder the day Regulus Black chose her to be his Potions partner. If she hadn't been so worried about the Marauders, she might have sat beside Peter instead (how Peter managed to make it to Advanced Potions was still a mystery to her) no matter what her housemates said. But she already invited too much attention by sitting beside Sirius in Arithmancy and Remus in Ancient Runes. 

"Now class, I am certain you have noticed this potion I was brewing sitting on my desk." Folding his hands before his waistcoat, Slughorn rocked from heel to toe, eyes skimming over the sea of heads. "Can anyone take a guess what that potion might be?"

His question was met with silence.

Hermione glanced around the room and stared at the back of Snivellus Snape's head at the table just in front of them. How could he keep silent? Everyone knew Snape, though a greasy git, was brilliant with potions. Even the scarlet-haired beauty sitting beside him glanced hesitantly at the Slytherin's stony face.

"Come now, surely someone is willing to take a guess?" Her frown deepened at Slughorn's good-natured prodding. 

Regulus tilted his head her way with that infuriating crooked grin of his. And her resolve to best him won over the voice of reason in her head. Her hand shot into the air for the first time that term.

Professor Slughorn beamed with pride. "Ah, Miss Dumbledore! Care to share with the rest of your classmates?"

From the textbook page in her head, she quoted aloud, "That is Felix Felicis or Liquid Luck, and it provides an exhilarating boost of confidence when consumed. It has been banned from being used in sporting events, examinations, and elections and taken in large quantities considered deadly."

Slughorn ignored the slight edge to her tone and clapped his hands briefly together. "Good observation! Excellent! Ten points to Slytherin, Miss Dumbledore!"

The Gryffindors seemed torn between frustration and shock, with the exception of a small nod and smirk from Peter across the aisle.

The Slytherins preened in their seats, of course, as though Hermione raising her hand in class was an everyday occurrence. 

Stupid, you should have kept quiet. 

Hermione knew her intelligence was only a byproduct of her curse, after all. She had been very very careful so far this term to keep her knowledge a secret.

She ignored the smug glances Regulus Black kept sending her.

Think you have it figured out, don't you Black?

"Now, I am very pleased to announce to you that I have gained permission for you all to brew your own draught of Liquid Luck," Slughorn continued.

Regulus straightened in his seat as Hermione gasped.

Snape's shoulders stiffened as Evans began to whisper furtively before turning and raising her hand in the air with purpose. Everyone knew Evans was Slughorn's favorite, demonstrated in the broader than usual smile he favored her with as he said, "Yes, Miss Evans?"

"Professor, forgive me, but how can you expect us to brew a successful draught of Liquid Luck? As I understand, not only is the process extremely difficult, but it's not even in our textbook."

Slughorn's eyes gleamed. "Ah yes, indeed it is not in our text, Miss Evans! However, think of this as a test of sorts, to see if you are sincere in your devotion to the art of Potions. Now, I have placed the instructions and ingredients upon the board behind me. Please carefully copy them down now." At the end of his speech, the words appeared behind the balding Wizard. He finished with, "You may do as you see fit once you have finished, to either catch a head start or prepare yourselves in your common rooms with your partner. I shall have your essays graded and back to you, next class."

Hermione frowned at the blackboard. The potion would not be impossible, though improbable any of her classmates would find success beyond Snape and Evans. Even now she could tell from their expressions who would almost succeed and who would fail. The Professor was right. This test would show push them far and beyond their NEWTS come next term, and make the rest of their curriculum a breeze.

Frowning at the quill in her hands, she jumped when a smooth voice spoke near her ear. "Wishing you had signed up for Divination about now?"

Regulus grinned when she hissed, "Did it ever occur to you that I am not one of those senseless twits you keep on your arm?"

His eyebrows lifted, one of those expressions that made him eerily resembled his brother. "Did it occur to you I might prefer the company of bushy-haired heiresses instead of the twits who leech off of me?"

She might have almost felt guilty were it not for the twitch at the edge of his mouth. "And did it occur to you I mean it when I say I'm taken?"

"Potter?" Regulus blinked rapidly, one of his few tells she had recently learned. "Hermione, I could care less who you feel obligated to play escort to the Gala with." His gaze flicked to the ring around her right-hand finger, the one that bore the Potter family crest. "I am grateful they have given you their protection, but you should not allow them to dictate how you lead your life, Hermione."

Only two weeks and nearly all their conversations seemed to come down to this...to James. "No one is dictating anything to me, thank you very much, Regulus Black," she said with an upwards tick of her chin. 

Lily Evans glanced at them over her shoulder, her emerald eyes sparking with some fierce emotion Hermione chose to ignore. She meant the Head Girl no ill will but thought the witch far too nosy for someone who had never actually dated James Potter.

"Lily, if you were finished?" Snape drawled in his low velvety drone, capturing Evans's attention again.

"Hermione..." Regulus's warm and long-fingered hand covered hers over the tabletop and she stared, transfixed at the contrast between their skin tones, at how scarred and worn their hands were. Hers from the bits of glass and a wicked curse, his for reasons she found herself often pondering.

It's none of your business, Hermione.

Reluctantly, Hermione lifted her gaze to find a slightly apologetic tilt of his head, sapphire eyes fixed to hers as if he willed her to read his thoughts. She blinked and remembered to breathe as he spoke lowly. "Forgive me, you're right. I know it's not my place, but I still would like to be your friend, regardless of who escorts you this season." 

Her lips parted and she barely aborted the urge to shake her head. "I thought Slytherins didn't have friends, only allies?" 

Regulus's smile grew, softening unexpectedly as he lifted her hand from the table and slowly, leaned over to brush his lips against her skin. "For you, I'd like to make an exception." 

Hermione shivered and jerked her fingers free. "I'll think about it, Black." She turned and began to gather her things, desperate to be free from the cloying scents of the potions room. A bead of sweat slid down the back of her neck and she shivered again. "We should meet later in the common room to discuss our brew," she added, determined to recover her senses.

"Just wait a moment, I'll walk you," he offered, beginning to shuffle his belongings together.

"That won't be necessary, thank you...Regulus," she stuttered as she caught another upward tick of his full mouth.

Stop it!

"As you wish, Hermione," he warmly replied.

Hermione stood and forced her legs to pick up an even pace as she turned and marched out of the classroom without a backward glance. Slughorn's potion could wait. She needed some air to forget the fact Regulus Black had torn down her careful guard with a chaste kiss.

It wasn't even on the lips! He's being a gentleman, that's all. You know this already, Dorea even made you read the bloody book! 

Still...

She rushed from the dungeons, eager to put the moment behind. In so many ways, Hermione felt so new. For all that she had prepared and planned, she still had no memories before this summer. And she hated the fact that Regulus Black inadvertently pointed out the fact she hadn't been holding up her end of the bargain with James as his escort very well.

Dorea's gift scorched her conscience every time she went through her trunk each morning, nearly as bad as the older witch's letters she received every Saturday. Her de-facto mentor was pleased as punch Hermione had been sorted in Slytherin, of course. In her reply to Hermione's initial, panicked owl, the elder witch had reminded her how much easier it could be to learn who might be connected to her curse. 

"...and besides, Hogwarts is safe,"  Dorea had insisted. Only, Hermione wasn't so sure, and she still felt inexplicably ashamed over the Sorting Hat's decision, no matter how Uncle Albus tried to reassure her.

James still hadn't convinced her to break with tradition by eating at Gryffindor during meal times, "Where you belong,"  he claimed. Though the boys swore their allegiance to her, no matter what House she belonged to, they also often joked they were considering stealing a Time Turner from the Ministry to put her in her rightful place. At least, she hoped they were joking.

Hermione hadn't told them everything, though. She alone knew the Sorting Hat's reasoning. After all, how could she belong to Gryffindor when she felt the furthest thing from brave?  Maybe she had been brave, once. But whatever it was that scarred her hands and clouded her past had made her a much more cautious Witch. She might not be as naturally ambitious as a Slytherin ought to be, but she was powerful. And she was tainted with dark magic.

Hermione knew, no matter what Uncle said, it was better for the Marauders if she stayed away. Only two weeks into the fall term and Pete had already been in the infirmary because of a nasty hex. She had known from the moment she woke in Potter Manor she would one day hurt them. Thus far, her time in Hogwarts proved it.

"Hey, Hermione!" James's voice carried from the staircase above and Hermione froze. The back hairs of her neck rose, being caught taking yet another detour to her special place. As she looked up her fingers tightened on the stone rail and her heart raced to see the windswept bespectacled boy skipping two steps a time to reach her. And then he was finally upon her, hazel eyes burning brightly, drinking her in as if he hadn't seen her in years instead of lunch, hands fisting at his sides as with a carefree grin.

You haven't been the escort you promised Dorea you would be.

Archaic as the old practice sounded, Hermione suddenly found herself wanting to fulfill her mentor's wish. It wasn't hard for her to agree in the first place, after all. This was for Dorea.

And James. 

And like Regulus said, associating with him is  expected of me.

"So, Slughorn let you out early, yeah?" James asked, unbothered by her silence. He was so much taller than her, especially when standing on the step above, and with the sun gleaming through the tower windows, his sun-kissed skin nearly glowed.

Blinking stupidly, Hermione nodded. "Yes, he offered us to take a study hour to work on our new assignment…" 

James's grin widened. "And so you finally came up for air after holing up in those dungeons?"

His enthusiasm was so contagious, his grin so pleased, Hermione felt herself returning his smile. "Something like that."

"Ready to admit you've been studying too much?" James teased with a knowing tilt of his head as he peeked at her from the rim of his specs.

"Of course not." Hermione rolled her eyes and attempted to step past him to the next stair. "I'm not the one who still hasn't started that essay for McGonagall."

James laughed and bounded alongside her as they continued a steady ascent towards the entrance hall. "McGonagall knows I'm brilliant, though! I always make O's in her class."

"And that gives you the excuse to slack off and prank Snape instead?" She kept her chin up, though she couldn't help the smile twitching her lips. The Marauders' last prank had been somewhat ingenious. And Snape did seem to give as good as he got, she was forced to concede.

"What? You know I've tried telling them to tone it down this year. But he really had that one coming, Hermione. Though, I didn't intend for his hair to stay pink the whole of the first week."

"Yes, and you're Head Boy." She felt like she reminded him least once every other day. "At least you might try being a little less obvious. What I still want to know is how you managed to sneak into the Slytherin boys dorm." She turned only to find James rigidly faced ahead, his mouth sliding up into another crooked grin.

"Just because I'm a likely suspect doesn't mean it was me."

"Mhmm..." Hermione rolled her eyes and stepped onto a moving staircase. When James joined her, the stairs began to shift down. Facing the Marauder head-on found him leaning happily towards her once more, this time at eye level. "James, everyone knows that Sirius may be the front to your little operation, but you and Remus are the masterminds. One day, Uncle Albus isn't going to turn the other way."

"Oh, I doubt that," James scoffed. "Uncle Albus and Dad were worse than all four of us combined! It's because of their stories we know half of the secret passages we do." His mood quickly shifted. "Speaking of secret passages…Sirius still hasn't discovered how you manage to make it so quickly between the Headmaster's office to the hall right outside Arithmancy."

Hermione's grip tightened on her bookbag. "Maybe Sirius should focus less on sucking Vance's face." The stairs reconnected and she twisted and stepped onto the new hall.

James grasped her fingers just as they left the railing and laced their fingers together. "You know it's just another phase with Padfoot. He and Vance had a casual thing fifth year too. It's just what he does."

Hermione frowned. She'd noticed this about Sirius too and wasn't so sure it was healthy, no matter how appealing the idea of benefits without commitment. It was certainly easier than this whole Pureblood business of escorts and Godric forbid—courting. Without thinking, she blurted, "Is that what you used to do?"

Their eyes met briefly, James's grin fading, brow furrowed. He ran his free hand through his unruly hair. "Well...sort of, I suppose. Third year was when we started really noticing girls. Then in fifth year, Sirius and I made a bet to see how many girls we could get to kiss us."

Her eyes widened. "Who won the bet?"

James glanced at her from beneath his brow and only grinned. "That year? Let's just say Sirius hadn't quite found his stride just yet."

Hermione stiffened and couldn't explain the anger that rose up in her, or the jealousy.

James only laughed and knocked his shoulder lightly to hers. "Mione, don't look at me like that. It was only sixteen tarts, yeah? And five have already graduated. Fifth years don't see much action anyway."

"You might have warned me sooner," Hermione huffed. "I already knew about Evans, and she's been civil. Now I need to know who else to watch my back around."

"It was two years ago, Hermione. Plenty of time for my best mate to erase all their memories of my subpar skills." James laughed as he turned to walk backward in front of her without releasing her hand. Somehow he also managed to avoid bumping into the occasional passing student. Some eyed their Head Boy with curiosity and amusement. 

"It'll be your fault if I get hexed because of you," she grumbled and shifted her bag further up her shoulder. She quickened her step on sight of the entrance doors just ahead. With a flick of her fingers, the door cracked open and waning sunlight spilled in. Her following attempt to dislodge James's hand was met failure.

His teasing grin faded as he returned to walk at her side beyond the entrance and onto the grounds outside. "If I didn't know better I'd say you were jealous, love."

His words caused her to pause just outside the castle walls and poke a finger into his firm chest. "What are you doing skipping Muggle Studies anyhow, James Potter? I have a break until dinner, but you shouldn't have got out of class another hour."

James had the audacity to smile and take a step closer. "You know, you don't have to be jealous of anyone, Mione."

She ignored the flutter in her chest at his words. "You skipped class again, didn't you? Remus has a free period right now, too, doesn't he? What did you two get up to after lunch?" She poked his chest again and tried not to be overwhelmed by the way he easily caught her free hand and kept them held against his chest. 

"Just some Head Boy duties. Nothing involving too much mischief." He tossed his gaze at the grounds around them with a curious quirk of his dark brow. "Now, where were you going in such a hurry?" 

My special place. The only place I have left to myself these days…

She berated herself. So occupied she was with James Potter, she had nearly been stupid enough to drag him with her. He was far too good at distracting her.

"I was going to visit Hagrid," she lied.

James's eyes widened. "Hagrid? I didn't even think you knew him."

"And you don't?"

"That's not what I said. Of course, I know Hagrid. Everyone does."

"No need to act so surprised, then." Hermione used his momentary surprise to jerk her hands free and march confidently down the hill towards the groundskeeper's hut. She didn't turn to see if James would follow.

Better if he doesn't.

She was still surprised when he broke into a run and darted past her with a cocky grin. "Bet I reach his hut before you do!"

He was childish. He was ridiculous. There were a dozen or more rocks along their path just waiting for her clumsy feet.

Yet there was a challenge in his grin and excitement in his hazel eyes.

Hermione quickly glanced around them and thanked the fates for the odd hour and that no one else seemed to be around.

She had never really tried running since waking up on the Potter's lawn. Who was to say she wasn't good at it? And so, without warning, she lunged after a laughing James.

His laugh turned into a shout, "Oi! Foul play!" when she shoved him hard to the side with a flick of her hand and some nonverbal magic. 

And then she was flying.

Her lungs burned, her heart pounded in her chest and her hair broke from its braids in a stream with her robes in the wind behind her. It took everything she had not to trip down the dip in the hill, yet she managed until the sight of smoke puffing steadily from a stacked chimney appeared in the near distance.

Not too far.

Faintly she heard James scuffle and his feet pounding to catch up.

Hermione laughed out loud when her foot hit a rock and she pushed off it. Rather than getting tired, a strange joy filled her as she struggled to keep breathing, determined to win.

James's laugh echoed hers. "You'll have to do better than that, Dumbledore!" He appeared at her side, grinning like an idiot.

She shrieked and this time attempted to physically push him aside. It just so happened that James wasn't expecting this tactic and tripped again on a pile of rocks, arms flailing into the air.

Her laughter was loud and breathless as a stitch pulled at her side. This was the most fun she had had since before coming to Hogwarts, the most she had let herself enjoy being with James Potter, and the closest to happiness she'd found since that night on the Potter's Quidditch Pitch.

Hagrid's hut was just a few more meters away. She was going to beat him, short legs be damned!

She ran faster and had nearly reached the high wooden door when a pair of arms wrapped around her waist. Hermione screeched with surprise as she was lifted into the air and turned so that James crashed back-first into the door instead.

"Gotcha!" His chest heaved behind her, his hot breath gusting against her ear.

Hermione stared wide-eyed at the hill they had just raced down and realized her feet were still dangling off the ground. "You won," she managed between gulps of cool air.

"You sound surprised," James chuckled.

She could hear his grin even though she couldn't see it. And suddenly, without reason, Hermione burst out in a fit of giggles. "You cheated!" 

James's chest shook with his own chuckles and he tightened his hold of her as he laughed into her hair. "Oi, you cheated first! Twice I might add! Very Slytherin of you Mione."

Neither could find their wits once they'd lost them, it seemed. Finding their wits meant that she couldn't lean back into his embrace so easily without it meaning more. No, it was much safer to forget they were very visible members of opposing Houses, and the repercussions that came with it. Far better to ignore the passed she'd read in one of Dorea's books, that a coming-of-age Pureblood usually took on an escort only if he intended to marry or ally fortunes with her in the future.

Above all, best to forget that she was madly attracted to the handsome wizard. Instead, she allowed James to hold her and relished the feel of his strong arms, the solid chest behind her, the way his breath against her neck made her shiver. As their laughter faded, he turned his head, his nose pressing deeper into her curls. Hermione's grip on his forearms tightened. 

They nearly fell to the floor as the door swiftly opened behind them and a surprised half-giant peered down at their red faces.

"Hermione? James Potter? What are you tykes doing here so close to supper?"

Hermione practically jumped out of James's embrace and focused on smoothing her rumpled robes as she smiled up at the half-giant. "Hello, Hagrid. Sorry to trouble you, but I thought you might like to visit for a bit." 

"Yes, hope you don't mind, Hagrid. I decided to tag along," James offered.

She didn't dare break her focus on Hagrid, afraid of what she might see in his hazel eyes. Much as she longed to see if he was just as flustered as she was.

Hagrid beamed, beard bristling and stepping aside. "Fine! Fine! Come out of the night air, you two! I was just putting on a kettle of tea."

James sent her a curious look as they followed Hagrid inside. Clearly, he was wondering how she had come to befriend the notorious Groundskeeper. It was true that most students kept clear of the half-giant, though few save the Slytherins and Ravenclaws suspected why. 

Hagrid had found Hermione soon after the second day of classes. It had been after her induction into Slytherin and the warnings her Housemates gave her about befriending Gryffindors. She had been crying outside of his hut, because it seemed so inviting, so much safer than her dorm or common room.

The giant had surprised and frightened her out of her wits at first. But three cups of tea later and a visit to his pride and joy garden quickly mended matters. Since then she had taken to visiting whenever she felt lonely or received homemade candies from Dorea Potter. She always gave him three-quarters of the treats.

Hagrid started their discussion that evening by telling her about a three-headed crup he had heard about and was trying to bargain for.

James laughed as Hermione tried to feed the tentacled creature Hagrid kept in a glass jar and got her finger caught in its arm.

After that, James told them tales of his family's vacations to Wizarding Europe and some of the stranger creatures they'd encountered along the way.

Hagrid was fascinated and listened carefully to his description of Romanian Dragons. "If I could only get my hands on a dragon egg!" he lamented.

Hermione inwardly cursed when she noticed the sky was nearly dusky purple rather than burnt rose-gold. James rose when she did, exclaiming, "Well, we'd best be off or we'll miss dinner entirely. Thank you for the tea, Hagrid! It was lovely!"

"Nice place you got here mate! I'll definitely be back." James laughed and waved as Hermione caught his hand and dragged him away. 

"Be careful you two! Filch may be on the lookout already!" Hagrid called from his open door.

James gave her a hard time the whole race back to the castle and through the wide creaking doors, amused by her panic over getting caught on the grounds after nightfall. Candles illuminated the castle and cast shadows on the two as they trotted toward the Great Hall.

"I haven't even started on my Arithmancy homework yet! A whole afternoon wasted! I should have watched the time."

James pulled her to stop behind a pillar once the din of students met their ears and the glow of the Great Hall filled the nearby corridor. "Hermione, you just had Arithmancy this morning, I don't think you need to panic just yet. Besides, Hagrid is brilliant! Can't believe we spent all these years without swapping stories sooner. He could have really helped us out with some of our pranks last term…" His eyes drifted, brow furrowed in thought, eyes scrunched behind his glasses.

Hermione shook her head. "Everyone won't have seen us all afternoon! What if they think…"

"What?" James interrupted, turning to lean a hand over the pillar above her head. He blinked rapidly as he caught her scent, a usually frustrating trait of his Animagus senses.

Hermione blinked owlishly at him as she whispered, "What if people talk?"

James shook his head and rubbed a thumb over the hand he held. "Hermione, I'm a Potter and you're a Dumbledore. We're in two Houses that go as opposite as they come. Of course, people are going to talk. And you know what? I could honestly give a fuck what anyone thinks of me anymore."

Her gaze darted past him and James grimaced at her obvious unease. Gone was the witch who had happily raced him across the grounds, who he'd held so bloody close a few hours before. For just a moment, he'd hoped that maybe, finally, he had gotten through to her.

Clearly, she needs more convincing.

He shifted closer and watched as she inhaled a deep breath, nearly groaning as he caught a sudden, sharp whiff of her desire. He released her fingers and slipped his hand slowly past her robe until his hand settled about her waist. He closed his eyes as a small moan escaped her lips. "Hermione..." 

"James," she gasped, her fingers clutching at the front of his robes.

Please, more.

His grip tightened on her waist, firm and unyielding. He was so bloody tired of watching her every day in the Great Hall and occasional glimpses between classes. The rare times she visited them was far too short for his liking. She hadn't spent this much time with him since the train and James would be damned if he let her shut him out again. He wished her eyes weren't so sad when he dared open his again. "I know what your housemates said would happen if you spent too much time with us. I expected it. They can't stand the fact a blood traitor like me could have any claim to you. But I think you're forgetting the fact that I can take care of myself, love. I am Head Boy, remember?"

Her eyes narrowed, as she hissed, "Remus told you didn't he?"

Damn Remus and bleeding heart!

Remus was the only one he knew of that Hermione had confided in the past two miserable weeks. It hadn't been entirely the werewolf's fault that James interrogated him close to the full moon on purpose until he cracked.

"I wish you had come to me," he confessed. "I vowed to protect you, but I can't do anything if I don't know you're being threatened!" His voice grew louder the more agitated he became.

"They didn't exactly threaten me, James," Hermione argued with another tug of his robes.

James rocked into her before tightening his hold on the pillar overhead and forcing the space to remain between them. He couldn't lose his head to her right now, no matter how much he'd missed her.

Fuck it.

He pressed his forehead to hers and slipped his other hand to clasp the other side of her waist. He shuddered as his magic rippled just beneath the surface of his control, brushing over her skin and teasing her own tightly bound energy. 

Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but it's just like you said, James. You're Head Boy. You have other duties and responsibilities. I can't risk you blowing a fuse and cursing my housemates just because they give me the Slytherin equivalent of helpful advice."

A myriad of emotions barrelled through him, from relief to annoyance to anger. He settled with anger. "You are my first responsibility, Hermione. Don't you understand that yet? I promised I would protect you ever since I found you half alive. Remember?"

She bit down on her lip and slowly slid her hands up his chest until her fingertips barely brushed the skin above his loose tie. "I know I haven't been a very good escort lately…"

James did his best to ignore the tightening in his pants as he said, "I don't care about the damned Gala business, Hermione. I'm worried about you because I'm your friend."

She smiled. "Well, I'm going to be a better escort from now on. My housemates can't argue with my spending time with you since we're playing by their rules. Maybe we should start acting like it."

James Potter was too lost in the way her lips formed those bloody sweet words to realize she was pulling away from him again. Only this time, she said, before he could protest, "Wait a moment before you come in."

James returned her parting grin with a grimace and watched her don what he called her Slytherin Mask as she used her wand to right her disheveled appearance. Her posture straightened and her steps evened as she walked with purpose into the Great Hall and directly to her house table. 

And in his head, James Potter began to form a plan.

Chapter Text

Hermione Dumbledore downed her pumpkin juice and wished it were made of something stronger. She had only sampled a bit of Firewhiskey the night of their end-of-summer party. She hadn't fancied the taste at all. No, what she wished for was something to dull the edges just a bit. Just enough so she could ignore the memories she'd struggled to repress since James held her close the night before. All her carefully laid walls crumbled when she remembered the look in his eyes as fireworks illuminated the night sky around them or the way he'd held her against his bare chest beneath the cool water of his pond.

Stop it! You're not helping yourself.

Hermione set her glass down a bit too hard on the table, earning a few careful glances from the huddle of nearby third years. Their whispers ceased until she cut a glance their way. She released a slow breath rather than give in to the urge to sigh and resigned to push James Potter out of her head and focus on finishing her breakfast in peace.

Until her dormmates descended onto the bench across from her. She met their accusing eyes with a grimace.

Hermione made a point each morning, to come to breakfast the moment the doors opened. Her only friends in Slytherin occasionally came early enough to keep her nose out of her spelled journal. Few of the other students managed to pry themselves out of bed this early. Not even the annoyingly persistent Regulus Black arrived without his entourage. 

"James Potter is staring at you again," said Desdemona Lefay. Her narrowed gray eyes sparkled with amusement as Hermione dared glance at the Gryffindor table.

And there he was, sitting by himself and reading from a textbook between bites and glances at her. It was a wonder James managed to multitask at all with how often he paused to watch her. Like clockwork, he munched on toast and his eyes rose to meet hers again with a searing intensity. The effect was quickly broken by James's sudden goofy grin and wave.

Pervincia Macbeth, who had looked over her shoulder to follow Hermione's perusal, giggled shrilly into her hand. Her artfully pinned blonde curls bounced as she twisted back to face Hermione. "Merlin, he sure has it bad, doesn't he? Before you came along, none of those Marauders ever showed up this early except for Remus. Who would have thought James Potter would ever fancy a girl other than that snit, Evans?" Her pale blue eyes sparkled with malevolent glee. "Just goes to show that Slytherin girls really are better at everything." She winked before diving into her breakfast.

Desdemona rolled her eyes and shared a look with Hermione. "You really should learn to think before you unleash what you call a quick wit, Perv."

Pervincia glared darkly between bites at the hated nickname but said nothing to Desdemona's bark. Everyone in Slytherin, and Hogwarts for that matter, knew that Mona was the richest Pureblood in the school, daughter to a British ambassador to Norway, and the last heir to her ancient Pureblood name. And it was for these reasons not even Pervincia Macbeth spoke against her. 

Hermione offered Pervincia a small smile before meeting Mona's shrewd gaze. "Of course James watches me, he is my escort."

Mona's shrewd gaze turned sly with the gentle turn of her mouth. "Let's not be coy, dear. Everyone knows Potter's been pining for you ever since you arrived. Why shouldn't you be flattered? He's powerful, rich, handsome, and not anything like these insufferable gits in Slytherin. Contrary to popular opinion, I have no aversion to the occasional dalliance with members outside our house."

"Potter certainly is delicious," Pervincia giggled into her Pumpkin Juice, provoking another roll of Desdemona's eyes. "I've seen him practicing in the Quidditch Pitch down to only his vest at least half a dozen times! And he always does that little trick where you can clearly see his—ouch!" Startled, the Witch blinked and sneered at the taller Pureblood beside her. "Look, all I'm saying is we have every right to appreciate beautiful things. And Potter is beautiful, isn't he, Hermione? Ooh, I knew it, you've seen him shirtless, haven't you?"

Hermione nearly sprayed her pumpkin juice over as she sputtered, "I most certainly have not." 

"We'll see," Pervincia said with a smug grin that instantly froze as a cooly even voice interrupted, "Why, hello ladies! Dumbledore, Lefay, Pervincia… The morning is already looking brighter." The Wizard's short stature did not detract from his pale, handsome face or the way Pervincia erupted into a fit of nonsensical giggles.

Hermione would be eternally grateful for the distraction Wilkes never failed to provide her dormmate. Wilkes was another oddity within Slytherin. Though an established Pureblood through and through, he didn't seem to hold any allegiance with any of the Sacred Twenty-Eight scions. He talked to whomever he pleased, whenever he pleased, and that included their little group. Though he flirted with all three, Wilkes always paid his closest attention to Pervincia Macbeth.

With a hand over his heart and an easy tilt of his brow, he added, "Then again, I should not be surprised to find the sun shining over your golden locks like a divine halo, Pervincia." 

"Oh, Percy!" Pervincia giggled.

Mona's fork paused halfway to her pursed lips. "Wilkes, if you were able to actually express more than your charm through pretty words, you might be considered a real threat."

Wilkes scowled briefly at her. "I see we woke up radiant as ever, Desdemona."

Mona hated her full name as much as Pervincia hated her nickname.

"Why don't you go seduce a third year, as it seems they're the only ones yet fooled by your charms," Desdemona snapped.

As though on cue the nearby third years burst in a fit of silent giggles.

Wilkes had the decency to look sheepish beneath his impudent mask and changed tactics. "So, what's on the agenda for today, my darlings? Going to watch the Carrows race across the lake? House has been buzzing about it all morning. We have a bet going that they won't make it by half, though if I were pressed I'd go for Alecto. Much better swimmer, that one."

"Oh dear!" Pervincia exclaimed, beaming to have garnered Wilkes's attention. "Isn't that dangerous? What about the Giant Squid? What about the mermaids? I've heard they're not very nice…"

"Perhaps you should chaperon them across if you're so concerned," Mona replied without looking up.

"Black was actually the one who made the bet with them. I warned Alecto not to try him."

Hermione's jaw clenched at the mention of her potions partner and cast a quick glance down to the table, unable to see if Regulus had yet arrived. She leaned back and froze as she caught Desdemona's calculating gaze fixed on her, and watching with veiled amusement. Hermione often wondered why Mona didn't associate with the other Slytherins, choosing instead to link herself to Hermione and Pervincia exclusively. Perv had come close to spilling the truth once or twice in the last week when they were alone, only to be conveniently interrupted each time. And so Hermione chose to keep her suspicions to herself, though it didn't go beyond her notice Desdemona Lefay despised anyone she suspected had ties to You-Know-Who. 

Mona's mouth tilted as she said, "Perhaps you should be asking Hermione about Black's preferences. He is your potions partner, isn't he? Perhaps you ought to talk him out of this venture before someone gets hurt?"

Hermione gripped her robes beneath the table while smiling vaguely for their audience. Mona knew exactly what she thought of Regulus Black. Most of Slytherin did in fact, thanks to the two incidents he'd made her lose her head in the common room.

"Regulus Black," Pervincia sighed. "He's sort of dreamy, don't you think Hermione? Though maybe not so dreamy as—ouch!" Perv glared at Desdemona, the latter now fully occupied with her breakfast once more.

The flutter of wings filled the hall above as dozens of owls descended with the morning post. Professors and students reached out to receive their morning post. Most of the student populous had roused from their beds by now and their voices created a light din just above the screech of the thickly plumed birds. 

Hermione watched their descent and caught her breath as she found a pair of sapphire eyes already watching her further down the table. 

Wait, when did he get here?

Regulus accepted a copy of the Daily Prophet without breaking eye contact with Hermione. It was strangely difficult for her to look away, especially as she noticed the way his mouth quirked slightly at the corners the longer they held one another's gaze. 

Just then the snowy wings of a large owl fluttered before her. Hermione startled and caught the offered note in her hands just in time. It wasn't the Potter's owl, no not a letter from Dorea, then. Hermione's brow furrowed and she was grateful her friends were occupied with their own mail at the moment, as she unfolded the parchment simply labeled: Mione

The inside was blank.

She chewed on her lip and didn't dare look to the Gryffindor table to check if James Potter was still watching her. The Marauders were the only ones who occasionally called her Mione, but why would any of them send a blank parchment? Unless...

The moment she grazed her fingertip over the paper searchingly, she realized the parchment had been spelled.

What if it's a prank?

At the thought, the parchment slowly filled with James's familiar scrawl:

Surprise!

Oh come on, you know you're impressed right now. Bet that brilliant mind of yours would just love to know how I managed this. Well, you'll have to torture the answers out of me...or offer me a really fantastic bribe.

Don't look at me that way, you know Mum was Slytherin. I know the basic ropes.

Okay, so here are the rules to our new and improved secret form of communication.

1. You cannot in any way try to trace the magic I used, or a nasty stinging hex will get you. (Sorry love, knew benign threats wouldn't faze you.)

2. You must not, under pain of death, allow any of your fellow snakes get their hands on this.

3. Before I know I can trust you, I need you to say these words out loud, or else the enchantment won't work from now on: I solemnly swear I am up to no good.

4. Last but not least, trust me and wait for my next instructions. The first being to meet me before lunch in front of the statue of the ugly hag.

Isn't this more fun than bumping into one another on the stairs? 

Also, please don't be late. I'll be waiting. 

Yours,

J.M.P

James watched as she nearly spewed her Pumpkin Juice all over her snotty friends at breakfast. He grinned as she blushed while trying not to look in his direction. Of course, he couldn't help observing while she read over his letter. Seriously couldn't thank Moony enough for pushing all three of them to leap so far ahead in their Transfiguration skills.

She eyed him across the Great Hall, her gaze searing him through the chaos around them in a way that made his blood sing. Before her, James had thought the only thing that could make him feel like that was flying or Evans. But thoughts of Evans had been obliterated when she had landed in a cursed heap on his lawn. He was so pleased with himself as she finally rolled her eyes and murmured the passcode as instructed, glaring at the Witch across from her, that James hardly noticed he wasn't sitting alone anymore.

Until his best friends decided to burst his happy bubble.

"Can you believe this, mate?" Sirius grumbled. 

"Padfoot, will you give it a rest already?" Remus groaned into his hand, looking worse for wear as the moon waxed.

Hermione's eyes suddenly flicked up from the parchment to his mates, before resting upon James with a slight tug at the corner of her full pink mouth...

And an unfortunate corresponding tightening in his pants.

Sweet Godric, she has no bloody idea.

Sirius threw down James's copy of the Daily Prophet. "Prongs, help me out here, mate. You think it's ridiculous too, don't you?"

"Oh, certainly, let's ask the bleeding Head Boy, why should you listen to a Prefect, after all?" Remus sat at his full height, the beast too closely revealed through his amber eyes. "In case you were unaware, there are far more important things going on out there than your bloody games, Padfoot!"

James froze and resisted the increasing hum of the Animagus beneath his skin at such an obvious Moony display. He glanced up to find Peter rubbing his hands anxiously together. Poor mate was never best with words. James opened his mouth to dispel the situation before Sirius ran his mouth again when Peter surprisingly spoke first. "Oi, come on Moony, what do you expect from us? Dumbledore told us not to think about the War right now. It's our last year after all…"

Remus smacked the table with enough force to rattle the nearby cutlery. "Damn it, Wormtail, for the last time, it's Headmaster Dumbledore!"

James knew the best tactic in distracting the Werewolf when the signs came on was to ignore them. More than anything, Remus hated to be reminded of his wolf any more than he already was. "Okay, Pads, what is it I'm supposed to be agreeing with?"

Sirius threw up his hands in disbelief. "Am I the only person besides Wormtail who actually goes to Hogwarts? I thought being Head Boy meant you knew all the latest gossip."

James grinned. "Is that what this is about, gossip?" He flicked his gaze to their moody Moony, who glared harder into his marmalade toast and eggs.

"Come off it Prongs, this is serious!" Sirius clearly expected him to know this piece of news.

James ran a hand over his stubbled cheek. Admittedly, he'd been a bit occupied last night while Prefects reported in and he started his rounds, thankfully apart from Evans. "I give up mate, what?"

Several of their other nearby housemates stopped talking and turned to listen by this point. Frank Longbottom in particular was giving them the usual looks, as though they were speaking a foreign language. With as much time as the Wizard spent in his Herbology text, it was a wonder Frank remembered how to speak the English language and hadn't transitioned completely to Latin.

Unfortunately, Sirius tended to become even more unmanageable with attention. "Hufflepuff is facing off Slytherin for the first match this term, and you didn't say one bloody word to us!" Sirius barked. "You might have, you being the captain of our team, before a bloke went and made a few bets."

James's temper flashed. "Well, the thought hadn't occurred to me Padfoot. It's not like I'm busy or anything," he snapped as he thumbed his Head Boy badge.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Oh, now you want to use the bloody badge as your excuse. Certainly could have used it last week before I got detention with McGonagall."

James gritted his teeth and fisted the Prophet into his calloused hands. "You see this?" The front page replayed the latest attack on a street of Muggle homes, smoke rising over the wreckage. Pads had the decency to flinch, and Pete turned a whiter shade of pale. "Remus had a good point when he said there are a lot worse things going on out there. So what if it's our last year? So what if Dumbledore told us to enjoy it. It's a luxury for us to know we're safe here, but we can't ever forget what's waiting for us out there, either."

Unconsciously, James gave in to the compulsion to search for Hermione. He'd never asked for a subscription to the Prophet before her arrival. Now he read it because he couldn't stop searching for any hint of anything that could be connected to her past, or the ones searching for her. If they weren't inside the castle walls, they were certainly waiting out there.

Selwyn's fat head was in the way now…he couldn't catch a good enough glimpse of her.

"…suppose you're right." Padfoot was saying, low enough the rest of Gryffindor couldn't hear them now. "But you're a Marauder too, Prongs. And that also means giving a bloke a warning before changing the Quidditch schedule! I'll have to fix the tables over again."

James sighed as he stood. "Clearly I'm not getting through to you, today." He glowered as he realized Hermione had left the Slytherin table. Her friends were still huddled together without her. Tossing the Prophet into Sirius's lap, James snatched up his book bag and climbed over the bench. "Don't worry Pads, I'm sure you'll make as much money off my hard work as ever."

"Where are you going?" Peter queried.

Sirius smacked him on the back of his mousy head. "Where do you think, you arse?"

Being Head Boy so far was everything James Potter had expected it would be.

A pain in his arse. 

It also meant less sleep and more responsibility for him.

It meant he had less time to spend with his mates and his witch.

But it also had the downside of forcing him to speak to Lily Evans every bloody morning and night without fail, whether he wanted to or not. Still, James was grateful the Head Girl seemed to have her own set of distractions. It kept her nose from breathing down their necks long as she had Snivellus around again. Funny how James was silently thanking the git he'd once hated for stealing the girl he thought he'd wanted.

And it was a good thing James was already brilliant or he'd never catch up with his studies between being captain of Gryffindor's Quidditch team and the occasional private lesson with McGonagall and his godfather.

There were perks of course.

As Head Boy, he could practically get away with murder. He had everything and everyone so easily wound around his finger. Which meant he could change schedules and direct Quidditch in a way that might give them the advantage without looking like that was what he'd done. Best of all, it meant he could take away House Points and redistribute them: fairly, of course!

Being Head Boy also meant James could run through the halls until his lungs burned as he raced to the place his Witch was waiting for him, before lunch as he'd asked. He wasn't too late.

She came.

His heart soared as he slowed his steps and grinned, knowing she'd be lost in her thoughts like she often was.

Hermione screeched when his arms wrapped around her and twisted her in mid-air. "James! Put me down, you idiot! What if someone sees you?"

There it was again, the same bloody thing she'd been saying since every time he tried to get her alone this last week. He set her gently back on the ground and tugged on a curl as he forced a smile. "I'm surprised you remembered where the Hag was."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We all met here when Sirius tricked me into coming with you lot to sneak into Honeydukes last weekend, remember?" 

"So you still have my letter?"

Another roll of her eyes and she waved the folded parchment between them.

"Good. You'll want to keep that close."

Hermione hesitated and her expression blanked. "Why?"

He shook his head. "Salazar's loins, they've really been training you haven't they?"

She lost her patience just like he hoped she would. "James, would you please explain to me what this is all about? I have Charms after lunch and Remus will be looking for me."

"Don't insult me, love. You know I always have a backup plan."

Hermione tilted her chin and set her iciest glare up at him. Every inch of her screamed Pureblood Princess. "Fine, then you'll be ready to tell me why you dragged me here when I could be eating lunch?"

"Why have lunch here, when we could be having it in Hogsmeade instead?" He took her hand in his then and wagged his eyebrows he teased, "Ready to skip some classes today?"

Hermione caught hold of his arm with a panicked, "James, we can't! We'll be caught, and you're Head Boy." 

Ignoring her horrified expression, James threaded their fingers together. "Come on, where's your sense of adventure, Dumbledore?" He pulled his cloak out of his book bag and let it drape over his arm.

"James, no," she said with a stamp of her heel.

James grinned as he leaned in. "Would it help if I told you I have a free pass from Minnie anyway?"

"I'm certain Professor McGonnagal didn't intend for you to use it for this," she sputtered, but James was determined.

"Come on, I hardly ever get you all to myself. And besides, you know that you'll have fun, and I solemnly swear I'll have you back in time to walk Remus to class."

Hermione sighed, and he knew he'd won.

The Hag parted for them soon after and the Head Boy led the wary Slytherin princess into the dark tunnel.

"Lumos," he whispered and his wand illuminated the familiar path ahead.

Honeydukes hadn't even opened when they emerged from the basement under the cover of his invisibility cloak.

Hermione whispered warnings about magical laws against stealing when James snatched two sun-flavored lollipops, but he did set a couple of sickles on the empty counter before they left for High Street.

"I can't believe we're doing this! If Uncle Albus finds out…" Hermione muttered as they stuffed their cloaks into her extendable book bag.

They didn't need his invisibility cloak once he'd transfigured their clothing into something more suitable for a Hogsmeade visitor. Not that it made much difference. All the shopkeepers on and off High Street recognized the son of Charlus and Dorea Potter. But it was enough for him to convince Hermione they were being discreet and safe.

Only once they passed an uninterrupted lunch in the Three Broomsticks did she begin to smile at his jokes and intentional stupidity.

Every smile made him more convinced his plan would work.

And then he forgot that he had a plan, along with much else as she actually agreed to join him on a quick run to the new joke shop, Zonko's. Before he had the brilliant idea to invite Hermione, James had been considering a run to Hogsmeade for this express reason. He may not agree with focusing so much of their attention on pranking when they truly did have far greater concerns ahead. 

But this will all be over soon. 

Much as he didn't agree with Sirius, his oldest mate was right about that at least. James was still a Marauder, and he could at least supply his friends with goods now that they'd begun to run low. 

"Now this was worth the headache you gave me earlier," Hermione exclaimed as they poured over all the jokes and tricks the shop provided.

He was more than pleased when she gathered her own small pile of goods and placed them next to his on the counter. Until he noticed her devious grin and was so bloody turned on, he accidentally set off a small rocket in the store. They barely managed to escape with their purchases and James's tattered dignity intact.

"I can't believe you convinced me this was a good idea," Hermione teased once they retreated back into Honeydukes. "Salazar, did you see their faces? I don't know how you managed to set off a rocket on accident! Or at least, I hope it was an accident, wasn't it, James? Please tell me you don't purposely cause mayhem wherever you go on principal."

James grinned sheepishly as he shifted the invisibility cloak over them and opened the passageway again. "Yeah, ruddy brilliant of me, getting banned from Zonko's for life." He shook his head and scrambled down after her, magically turning the stone in place. When he set his feet on the cool ground beneath he blinked back his surprise.

Hermione held a blue sphere of glowing light in her bare hands, illuminating her face with strange shadows. "Then it's a good thing I was there to protect you," she softly replied.

He drew closer with a soft grin, a moth to her flame as he said, "It was worth it." 

This time she was the one who took his hand in one of hers and led them back through the wind whispering tunnel.

Hermione was learning to think of herself as a sensible, thinking young woman. But every time she was around James Potter she lost that small ounce of control she possessed. Dorea's training withered and faded and a reckless, wild thing took Hermione's place. It was disconcerting to have such strangely, happily reckless instincts buried inside of her.

If being with James brought out the Witch Hermione had been before she was cursed... Well, she wasn't so sure she wanted to know that other Hermione. Clearly, that recklessness had led to trouble, had led to her cursed and without her memory on the Potter's lawn. Wasn't it better to avoid the risks, if it meant no one was hurt because of her?

Today Hermione had finally taken her Uncle's advice and let someone fully in again...and quite thoroughly lost her head.

She was the one who had set off the rocket, giddy with the look on his face when he believed it had been his fault.

She had even lied afterward as they entered the tunnel leading to the stone hag.

She was mad enough to pull James into an alcove just past the hag statue before a passing student could catch them.

Her hands had backed James into a wall, before she buried her face against his chest to mask her giggles, relishing the race of his heartbeat against her ear.

He ran his hands tentatively over her arms, then fluttering over her lower back, hesitating as though he were afraid of holding her too close. And then finally, his arms wrapped securely about her back, drawing her closer against firm muscles she'd only caught glimpses of before.

It was far too easy to brush her palms over his chest and savor the way he shuddered beneath her touch. To close her eyes tightly and wish she could stay, just for a little longer.

Did I ever know anyone like this before? Or is this as new as it feels?

She caught her breath as James slipped a hand over her cheek and drew her head to tilt back and meet his sharp, heavy gaze. The world beyond them was dulled with the added veil of the invisibility cloak.

They didn't notice the passing student was long gone, of course.

James's lips parted, and the tension came crashing down as he whispered her name and leaned closer.

"There you two are." Remus's annoyed growl pierced the haze of her muddled thoughts.

James cursed as Hermione jerked from his arms. The cloak slipped free as they turned to find their friend marching down the corridor in their direction, a familiar folded parchment in hand. "Did you know I had to use the map to find you? Might have told me which secret passage you were planning on meeting her at so I wouldn't worry… James, are you listening to a word I'm saying?"

"Sorry, we lost track of time," she murmured, biting her lip as James clenched his fists. He still hadn't pulled his fixed gaze from her.

Remus sighed. "Hope lunch was fun, but now we really need to hurry, Hermione. We're gonna be late to Charms!"

She didn't dare look back to face what that other Hermione had done, and she pretended that it wasn't painful to don her Slytherin mask. To pretend she wasn't shaken to her core from such a simple touch from the boy who meant entirely too much to her. 

It wasn't until much later that Hermione wondered how Remus had known exactly where they were beneath the invisibility cloak. 

Chapter Text

For as long as she could remember, Lily Evans had hated James Potter.

There was simply no excuse for the way he and Black treated Severus like a doormat. No reason why they apparently earned the right to piss on everyone beneath them, who wasn't in the same bloody house.

James Potter was arrogant, cocky, and a womanizer. He was worse than Black, because, unlike Sirius, James didn't seem to realize he was any of these things. It made him the worst kind of toerag in her opinion.

In order to avoid Tuney and her rotten Dursleys, Lily had escaped by watching a lot of films at the cinema over her summer holiday. It was something completely Muggle, something she'd once done with her best friend in all the world, as often as they could afford it. And unlike all those summers before the one leading to her seventh year at Hogwarts, Lily had been without her best friend.

We had a plan, me and Sev, a good plan.

Every time Lily had passed Spinner's End on her bike on the way to and from the cinema, she searched for a stringy mop of black hair despite herself.

A plan he bloody ruined.

And every time she passed the junction between their adjoining neighborhoods, a piece of heart died over again. As she recalled the way Severus had spat "mudblood" at her in front of everyone, Lily had begun to wonder if Potter and Black had been right all along.

"You should get a job if you're bored, pumpkin," Mum had suggested, "instead of wasting all your time at the cinema."

Yet aside from the extra pounds babysitting offered (for her cinema habit), Lily felt it pointless to waste her time seeking more gainful employment. In Cokeworth, the only other job opportunities included working at the local market or waitressing in the town pub, like every other bint. Lily had every intention of joining the Wizarding World once she graduated next summer, so why create ties with people she would be forced to leave behind?

Petunia had been bitter and distant, more so this summer than all the ones before. Lily loved her sister out of childhood habit, but she knew there would be no more kinship between them after graduation. And though Mum and Dad were wonderful as ever, Lily knew that a war was brewing. They had one less roommate this year because of it. Lily felt it every time they came up to Remus in the halls and saw the crestfallen look on his handsome face. Everyone knew Remus had never found the balls to ask Winifred out after their disastrous Hogsmeade outing last term. And since then, he had retreated so deep into his shell not even Lily could get him to peek out.

Much as she hated to admit it, Hermione Dumbledore was the first person that had managed to make Remus smile that special smile again. Hermione was the only one who could handle Peter for extended periods of time, and apparently the only person Sirius Black listened to these days. The odd Witch had even managed to keep Regulus Black on his toes during Potions every day, trying to impress her. Perhaps most mind-boggling of all, Hermione Dumbledore, a Slytherin, was the reason Potter was acting…well…so un-Potter-like.

Jabbing her quill harshly to her parchment, she cursed when the ink splattered. "Shit!"

Alice Greengrass peeked up from their third week of Charms homework with a curious grin. "Language, Miss Evans." 

Grabbing her wand, Lily banished the inky mess away with a huff and ignored her roommate. They had been friends too long for her Pureblood friend to not suspect the direction Lily's thoughts had turned once again.

According to Alice, she had been in denial most of the last term about Potter. But who could take the berk's over-the-top, ridiculous overtures seriously? And now, well, something had certainly changed Potter over the summer in ways that made Lily wonder hadn't been there all along.

Especially after the incident with Severus.

Mudblood, Sev had called her. In front of everyone after she'd defended the berk! It didn't help that Lily had already been angry with her best friend for most of sixth year for dabbling too much in the Dark Arts. Not that she had any tangible proof. She just knew. 

So it was easy, over the long and lonely days of summer, to begin imagining Severus as the villain and James as a potential hero. And just when she was coming around to the idea of finally accepting James Potter's advances, she had to show up.

"Shit!" Ink spotted her parchment again. Alice giggled and Lily shot a very fierce glare. "Don't say anything."

Alice shrugged good-naturedly, a mischievous smile on her light pretty features. "Wasn't planning on it."

Lily rolled her eyes and glanced at the grandfather clock in their common room. It was magically inclined to tell centaur time as well, which was confusing when the extra set of hands occasionally spun backward.

10 p.m

"Where is that bloody prat?" she hissed as she turned to glare at the Head dorm entrance and tapped her fingernails on the study table.

A cool hand covered Lily's, drawing her back to Alice's pale blue gaze. "Lils, will you calm down for two seconds? You're driving me spare. Besides, didn't you say earlier you didn't care what Potter got up to, so long as he kept up with Head duties?" 

"I don't care!" Lily snapped and immediately felt guilty for it. With a groan, she threw the quill down and sank her face into her hands. "I'm so sorry, Alice. Gods, what's happening to me? I used to be a nice person."

"Except to the Marauders...and Selwyn, oh, and the Slytherin Quidditch team," Alice teased.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Witch."

"Bitch." Alice sweetly batted her lashes.

"I suppose I have been rather awful, haven't I?" Lily's eyes fell to Potter's half of their common room, littered with the remnants of the Marauders' last exploding snap game.

"You have to let it go you know." Alice's serious tone surprised her.

"What do you mean?" 

Alice sighed. "You worry about the Marauders too much. Frank's been their roommate the last six years and even he gave up worrying a long time ago."

"Yeah, well Frank isn't having to make sure they don't bloody blow up the school. Or start a war with the way they parade Slytherin's princess around."

"All right, that's it." Alice gathered her texts and notes and shoved them in her bag with a cutting glance at Lily. "I swear to Merlin, if I hear you say one more nasty thing about Hermione, I'm gonna hex your hair blonde overnight! Don't think I won't, either!"

Lily had no doubt, having received many similar fulfilled threats over the last three weeks. Ever since she had come to Platform 9 and ¾ and watched a miraculously improved James Potter arrive with his escort.

Bleeding archaic Pureblood traditions.

Alice had informed Lily of the whole escort and Gala business since she was attending each event with Frank. Apparently, Purebloods made it their business to know each other's business, no matter their political stance. Even though Lily called the Gala sexist and outdated, she wished she didn't have to watch the bloke she'd started to have feelings for taking another Witch. After James had said (last term, alone) how it would "only ever be you for me, Evans,"  at least fifty times, Lily had started to believe him.

"Evans, are you hearing me?" Alice was in her face now, brow furrowed.

Lily blinked and offered her a weary smile. "I hear you, Greengrass." Alice was right after all. Three weeks were behind them and Lily hadn't been able to enjoy much of anything.

Because of Potter.

With a brief nod and pocketing of her wand, the once-again cheery Gryffindor walked to the door. "I'm clearing out before the Marauders come crashing in. Sure you don't want me to walk part of your rounds to the tower?"

Lily smiled and waved her away. "No, I know Frank's waiting for you." She glared at her unfinished homework.

Wish someone was waiting for me.

No one had even dared to ask her out to Hogsmeade yet. Potter had moved on and snagged the Dumbledore heiress, but Lily felt like she had his stamp imprinted on her forehead still. Maybe it really was time for her to try to put it all behind her and admit the truth. That she had her chance, and she had been the one to reject him endlessly. Now was the chance to start fresh.

"Okay," Alice said after the brief silence. "Looks like you're having another chat with yourself so I'll leave you two alone."

"I do not talk to myself," Lily grumbled.

"Love you Lils, but you are a bit of a nutter sometimes, you know? Probably all that time you've been spending again with…"

"Don't say it." She warned.

Alice laughed, no doubt about to say something that would remind Lily of another troublesome Slytherin.

On top of keeping an eye on the Marauders, the prank wars, her classes, and Head duties (not to mention N.E.W.T.'s) Lily couldn't afford to think about him too.

No sooner did Alice open the door than the four Marauders came stumbling through, arms wrapped around one another's shoulders, laughing over their latest conquest, no doubt.

Remus blushed and ducked his head the moment he caught Lily's scrutiny. "Hey, Lils."

Sirius perked his head up, glared briefly at her, and then bowed at the waist to Alice. "Alice, love! What brings your marvelously round—ahem—I was going to say eyes, Moony…to us this evening? Frank being a dog again?" With a wag of his brows, he added, "Know I'm free and single, yeah? Anytime you want it, love just say the word."

Alice chuckled. "Frank's never failed to satisfy me, Black. Goodnight, lads. Good luck, Lils." She called the last with a click of the door.

Crossing her arms across her robes, Lily tapped her foot and waited for the Marauders to collapse on the nearby couches.

Peter laughed at Sirius's whisper and James practically climbed over to interrupt with, "What? You wanker, don't tell Padfoot, too!"

Sirius gaped. "You're bloody joking? Fuck me, I'm impressed Prongsie! Man after my heart, after all." The last he said with a casual glance Lily's way. "Oh, Evans. Didn't notice you still sitting there. Was there something you needed?"

The others turned to face her at once, Remus with a blush still staining his cheeks, Peter with very wide fearful eyes.

She tried to ignore Sirius as she focused her attention on Potter. "Your rounds finished for the evening?"

James's expression was mostly blank, albeit a bit sheepish. "Yeah, Evans, got most of it done…"

She narrowed her eyes on him. "Did you check the dungeons?"

James shrugged and nodded but didn't meet her eye. "Well, I'd planned on finishing with the dungeons later…"

"After he escorts Hermione back to the dungeons later, he means." Sirius's sharp grin and slightly narrowed eyes were trained on Lily, waiting for her reaction.

And Lily was determined to give him none. "Good, I'll be off then. Try not to make a mess again if you toerags can help it."

As she stepped through the door she heard Sirius Black mutter "bitch,"  after her.

That's what they're calling you behind your back, you know…

Brushing away the thought, and an errant tear, Lily focused on the corridor illuminated by the end of her wand as she descended to the eerie dungeons. Clearly, Potter couldn't be trusted to finish the bloody job. 

Can't believe that berk left it to me, of all people. Need to get one of the Slytherin Prefects with me on this route next meeting.

She tightened her grip on her wand and ignored the fact she was essentially alone in enemy territory.

We should have been doing rounds together.

Thus far on her walk to the dungeons, Lily had caught three small first year scampering out after hours, one fourth year trying to escape the library undetected, and two Ravenclaw boys in the midst of a very thorough snog. All walked obediently back to their dorms, but not without bitter glares for their Head Girl.

Much as she didn't like it, Lily's reputation had been changing. Before Potter chose to focus his unwanted attention on her, she had been a favorite among her classmates and Professors. Aside from most of Slytherin House, she had faced little persecution. Hogwarts was home. She and Severus had both agreed they wanted to return to it one day. He would teach DADA and she would teach Charms.

It was the perfect plan.

Lily loved helping others. She'd never thought of herself as a people pleaser or suck up like some viewed her.

And now, she was a cold-hearted bitch that turned James-bloody-Potter down.

Misogynistic pigs!

With Hermione's presence, everything grew increasingly worse.

In one month, Hermione was rising to the top of her class—a place Lily had held for years—was popular with seemingly little effort, yet hardly paid attention to her escort. And then suddenly in the last week, James and Hermione were everywhere together.

Hermione was coming to the common room to study.

Hermione and James were running around the grounds doing god knew what.

James had to walk Hermione to her dorm every bloody night.

James had even dared sit across from Hermione during lunch the day before at the Slytherin table. The Great Hall had never appeared so outraged or so serious before.

Like the stage of a bloody Shakespeare play!

"Oh god, you're obsessing again," she hissed. 

"What do you mean we cannot act?"

Lily froze and covered her mouth with one hand at the new voice.

Holding her breath, she pressed her back tightly to the nearest dungeon wall and released her Lumos, until she was left with only the faint glow of dimmed lamplights further down the corridor.

Shit.

This was exactly the sort of encounter she didn't want to face. Yet she had to do something.

Come on, Lils! You weren't the top of your class six straight years for nothing.

Wand at the ready, Lily began to carefully step forward, only for her blood to run cold at the sound of a very familiar velvety voice.

"Calm yourself, Travers. When Malfoy wants us to act we will. You remember our orders, don't you?"

"You know, if I didn't know any better, Snape, I'd say you didn't have the balls to go through with it," Travers sneered.

Lily hated Travers. Ironically, so did most of Slytherin.

Why is Severus even talking to him?

Her shock was giving way to dangerous anger. But she couldn't let Sev know she'd overheard him talking to a rumored Death Eater. Lily didn't want to think about what it could mean.

He promised…

"I already know where my loyalties lie," Severus drawled lazily. "What you should be more concerned with is what everyone thinks about your proclivities."

Travers laughed. "No one cares enough to notice me, Snape. Besides, I'm not the one who spends all his free time with a filthy Mudblood."

Tears escaped Lily's eyes.

God, has he changed at all? Was his apology just an act?

Yet the next sound she heard was nothing at all, followed by a litany of whispered hexes that left Travers moaning his agony.

And Severus Snape whispering something dangerous and low against his ear before stalking away.

Lily gasped and cast a quick Disillusionment charm over herself, praying Sev was too angry to notice.

She watched with bated breath as her best friend marched past her, chin tucked, brow bent, and furrowed in frustration. The fury in his face frightened her, but not as much as the moment his black eyes turned directly to fix on her hidden form.

She had no time or room to protest before long-fingered hands roughly grabbed her arm and dragged her down a different corridor.

Lily thought her heart might explode, it was beating so fast. There had always been a part of Severus that frightened her. Because of the incident by the lake, she no longer knew how he would react. This new Severus, the one that had already lost her once before, seemed even more volatile. 

Since they had renewed their friendship on the train to Hogwarts (after a long speech and much begging on Sev's part), they often spent hours studying together in abandoned corners of the library, going over Potions assignments together and occasionally slipping away for walks near the forest. And somehow, her anger had eventually stripped away. She wasn't sure if she fully trusted her best friend, but she was also convinced she had seen the worst in him, and she was still willing to give him another chance.

Sev didn't pause in his long-legged stride until they reached the level just above the dungeons, and he immediately pulled her into an abandoned classroom. His wand was out immediately as he cast several charms and even a couple of wards over their surroundings. Sound pillowed against the wall of silence that would hide them and their conversation.

His paranoia has never been this bad...

Candlelight erupted from the ends of several half gone wax candles. His dark gaze scanned the room for any further potential surprises, before resting finally on her. He was furious.

Shit, shit, shit!

Lily found herself backing with each step he took towards her until she was pressed into a desk with Sev's arms braced on either side. Pinned beneath him, Lily couldn't seem to find her tongue, or her breath for that matter.

"What the hell are you doing down there, Lily? Don't you have any idea what might have happened if you were caught by anyone besides me? Haven't I told you enough times what they could do to you?" This close, she saw how pale his face looked in the candlelight, contrasting with his wide black eyes and potion-smoked hair spilling into his eyes.

She drew in a steadying breath, breathed in through her nose sharply, and said, "I'm doing my bloody job, Sev. And what were you doing talking to Travers, anyway? You promised…" Emotion stole the rest of the rant she had been preparing.

Severus always had a knack for banishing her temper, probably as much as he invoked it. Yet he was her best friend, even after everything. Things had subtly changed between them in the past few weeks, she suddenly realized. It was in the way his gaze kept darting about her face, flicking constantly to her parted lips. It was in the way her chest brushed against his with every shallow breath. The way her magic seemed to buzz from being so near to him.

Oh my god...

"Lily," he breathed with a pained grimace. "I have to play both sides. Remember what I told you? I'm in too deep to suddenly become neutral now. It will take time. You promised you would be patient."

Lily blinked, dumbstruck as she tried to process Sev's plea. 

How long have I been feeling like this?

How long had she willingly ignored the passion in Sev's eyes because it was easier?

Because you were afraid to lose him.

Lily closed her eyes to dispel the thick air between them and whispered, "I just don't want you risking yourself like this anymore. You-Know-Who isn't going to let you choose both sides."

Had it been because she was afraid of losing her first and truest friend? Of losing him to the Dark Arts he was so good at? Or maybe...she was afraid of the familiar emotion burning in her blood because of moments like these. When he was so close she could smell his aftershave, could feel the hard body he hid beneath layers of black cloaks. She heard his smile in his reply.

"You've been worrying about me again."

Lily's eyes fluttered open and her breath hitched. "So what if I worry? Somebody has to worry about you."

His gaze grew soft and heated, almost tender as he said, "No one else ever bothered before. Why should you?" 

"I will spend every day of my life making it up to you Lils," he had promised.

He had also promised to protect her. Part of that meant they shouldn't reveal their renewed friendship to the rest of Hogwarts. Not until after graduation.

Though she hated to admit it, Alice was right. Lily had been so angry with the Marauders and Hermione, she had let herself be blind to the young man pressed against her.

God, when did he lean closer?

Before, Severus would have given her space the instant his temper fell away. He had always been a gentleman with her. He'd never made her uncomfortable. And it was only then Evans realized she'd partially agreed to be friends with him again to piss off both Potter and Black. She'd wanted James to hurt as much as he hurt her with his indifference of their encounter this past summer.

But there was another part…a hidden part…

The part that came alive with him so close, that made her grip tightly to the desk beneath her as their legs brushed together, his chest a heady weight against hers. Confusion mirrored in her eyes, as well as something she'd only ever once fancied she wanted before...until now.

Something flickered again in Sev's fathomless eyes, and then his lips brushed hers, softly, once. Twice.

Lily gasped, stole his breath into her lungs, and before she was fully aware, she was kissing him. The tide that swept through her was so powerful she trembled and grasped at Sev, clung to his neck, and sat further upon the desk to draw him in.

His hands had moved to caress her cheeks and then after what felt like minutes (or hours), he pulled back to rest his forehead against hers.

Both gasped to catch their breath. Unshed tears glittered like starlight in Sev's dark eyes, and Lily realized just how shaken up he was.

You know why.

No one, not even his own mother had touched Severus much. No one had ever touched him...except for Lily. And as she ran her fingers through his long silky hair she realized everything had just changed.

"Lily," he began, his voice hoarse and heavy with that same wonderful, painful emotion. "I was wondering if you wanted to accompany me to Hogsmeade?"

The laugh that escaped her sounded a little hysterical, but she had just thoroughly snogged her best friend. "Sev, the trip isn't scheduled until October fifth."

A rare smile lit his solemn features. It totally changed the sour expression into something that Lily found adorable. "I don't want you to go with anyone else." His eyes traced the features his hands couldn't reach quickly enough. 

When those long fingers combed through her long red tresses, and pleasant shivers licked down her spine. Lily tightened her legs around his waist, and giggled. "It's not like you have any competition." Yet she wondered as she rested her cheek against his chest, "Sev, what about our promise? I thought we weren't going to let anyone know we were speaking again? You said it was safer."

His arms wrapped so tightly around her then, as if afraid she might vanish if he let her go. "I'll never let anyone harm you, Lily. I'll die before I let that happen."

She soothed him with the press of her palm to his neck. "I know." With a smile, she sank further into his arms. "Sev?"

He pulled away, a question in his eyes. Lily couldn't ever really know, of course, that with one kiss, she had just given Severus Snape the world.

"What are we going to do about…us?" 

"Whatever you want to do about it, Lily. Either way…" He brushed his lips over her cheek, her forehead, her chin, the corner of her mouth and paused, "I'm not letting go now that I have you."

Lily smiled because he was absolutely right. He had her, and she was beginning to suspect he might have easily all along if he'd only tried sooner. "I think we should keep it just between us for now. The last thing I want to deal with is everyone else's immaturity."

He nodded, already too distracted by trailing kisses along her neck to really listen. They were seventeen, after all. "Mhmm…"

His kisses before had been somewhat hesitant. Now he claimed her mouth with increasing confidence and insistence until Lily answered his unspoken question.

I do want you Sev.

She would worry later that they ended up releasing years of pent-up sexual tension after hours later. Or that neither she nor Severus discussed how they were going to go to Hogsmeade together without acting like a couple. She would worry about how Sirius eyed her so suspiciously when she showed up still smiling goofily to the Head dorm much later.

Nothing else seemed to matter at that moment, because she was his, and he was hers. And that Saturday night was the first happy one Lily Evans had experienced in a long time.

Chapter Text

"Okay, Peter try it again," she began patiently. "But I swear, if you don't get it right this time, I will hex you into the next oblivion!"

Sirius chuckled to himself as he watched the bushy-haired Witch become even more bushy-haired after her hour with Wormtail. Not that he could blame her. He and James had given up tutoring Pete after Fifth Year.

The aforementioned Marauder squinted hard at the parchment rolled out between them. He wrung the feathered quill until it was clear he'd need a new one before long. Sirius always bought him extra quills every Christmas for this very reason.

"Is it…t-tiwaz?" Peter asked as he rose from his hunched position.

Hermione's eyes narrowed and flickered briefly to the Werewolf sitting nearby. "Remus, I told you not to interfere! Don't think I didn't see!"

Sirius barely suppressed his laughter while Remus blushed beet red and mumbled a vague apology. Her amber gaze shifted to SIrius like a tack. The heat of her gaze inspired a different heat that shot straight to his cock, yet again.

Fucking hell.

Hermione turned her attention back to Pete's paper with renewed determination. "Peter, you can't rely on them anymore for the answers. I know you can do this on your own merit, but you have to trust me, all right?"

Wormtail nodded, though he didn't seem very convinced. "All right, Hermione." When she ducked her head to point out the problem with his answers, Pete met Sirius's eye across the way and smirked.

Manipulative git.

Sirius shook his head. Pete wasn't the prettiest of them but that didn't mean he didn't know how to work his own angle. The look clearly spoke what they all knew. Even though Hermione practically belonged to James, it didn't change the fact she was fucking gorgeous, and they all noticed.

Sirius tried to tackle his Transfiguration homework again, tried to keep his brilliant mind focused for more than ten seconds…

Hermione threw down her hand on the Common Room desk. "Peter, I know you didn't get this one wrong, too. Not after we studied for three bloody hours together? No wonder Professor Babbling called you out in front of the class."

Sirius chuckled. "She has a point, Wormtail."

Hermione turned her glare back to Sirius. "And if you hadn't kept him awake the entire night after Slytherin won the Hufflepuff match, drinking Firewhiskey…"

Remus rolled his eyes as he set aside his third completed assignment atop the scrolls piled on James's couch.

Sirius dropped his quill and held up his hands. "Oi, give a bloke a break, love! We were pissed with the Puffs, but at least we won the pool, yeah Pete?"

Peter's grin disappeared the moment Hermione noticed it and she shook her head. "Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. You know, for all the trouble you give Slytherin you certainly live up to our expectations."

Remus paused from his study, gray eyes darting back and forth to see who would win this latest verbal spar.

Sirius would be lying if he said he didn't find them the highlight of his week. He propped his elbows onto his knees and tossed his hair from his eyes with a devilish smirk. "And what expectations might those be, love? That we are the most brilliant, brave, and bold Hogwarts has to offer."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she stood. "Even if that were true of your housemates, you are a disgusting pig of a human being, Sirius Black."

Sirius pressed a hand to his heart even as his grin rose in contrast to her frown. "I love it when you talk dirty, Mione. Won't you leave my best mate and end my agony by saying yes?"

Remus groaned into his hand as Pete sank deeper into his seat as magic crackled in the room.

"For the last time, Sirius Black," Hermione seethed, too lost in her fury to notice the way Peter pointed past her. "James Potter and I are not a couple!"

Sirius winced and dared a peek over his shoulder.

James stood inside the portrait hole, weatherbeaten from the last rigorous hour of Quidditch practice, and looking at Hermione as if he'd just been hit with a bludger.

Having cottoned on at last, Hermione bit her lip and forcibly dragged Pete into another pointless discussion over Ancient Runes.

Sirius had spent most of his life watching James Potter's reactions, stepping in only when necessary, because quite frankly, his best mate's dramatics could be bloody hilarious. Right now however was neither the time to intervene nor to laugh out loud. Especially when Prongs' grin faded the instant he heard the Witch's declaration.

"Hey, Prongs." Moony offered belatedly. "Practice was shite again?"

When Sirius dared another glance he found James's crestfallen expression replaced with a too-familiar look. The same look James had every time Evans treated him like shite.

"I need another shower," James said in a strained voice. Without another word, he disappeared through the ornate door labeled Head Boy.

The moment James was gone Remus turned on him. "Well that was just brilliant, Padfoot, you prat! Why can't you ever use your head instead of your arse before you speak?"

Thank Merlin it's not that time of the month, or he would've used his fists.

Sirius hated that his best mate was pissed and hurt because of him. Not to mention, without James's Quidditch insights he didn't have a clue how tomorrow's match might turn up. This could sorely put a dent in his and Pete's profits.

If we thought things with Evans fucked him up…

He found his gaze resting on Hermione and acted on impulse. "Hermione, what do you say we get a bit of fresh air, yeah?" 

Hermione flashed a quick smile at Peter before she stood. "I'll be back in a few. And I'd better see some real progress on this, Pete."

"Sure thing, Mione." Peter offered a hopeful grin and screwed his face as he turned back to the ink-splattered parchment.

Remus glared balefire Sirius's way, which was both a threat and warning, before picking up his next weeks-ahead assignment.

Sirius snatched Hermione's hand and led them quickly out of what she'd dubbed the Marauders' Common Room.

The moment they stepped through she turned on him, her curls sparking with magic. "Sirius Black, do you have any idea…"

"Listen, Hermione, I know I can be something of a prat at times."

"Sometimes?"

"But I can't express to you how much it would mean to me if you would cheer up my best mate." He couldn't help the Marauding glint that caught his eye.

The moment she saw it her eyes narrowed. "Why do I have the feeling I'm not going to like this?"

They paused before the window bleeding light into the dim castle hall.

"This has nothing to do with you! Okay, fine, it does. But Prongs is obviously upset and while I know you're not technically his bird, you can't honestly say this week of flirting…"

"I do not flirt!" She sputtered as Sirius held a finger to her plush lips.

"Not that I'm judging you for flirting," he interrupted, cursing the rasp behind his tone. "But that's not important right now. Listen, Gryffindor faces off against Ravenclaw tomorrow and everyone knows Selwyn never plays a fair game. Not to mention, everyone saw what an arse Prongs made of himself for Evans last year and Selwyn hasn't forgotten it. We're going to need our captain in top condition."

Hermione batted his hand away and crossed her arms over her chest. "Sirius, what exactly are you trying to con me into?"

"When a Marauder sees a fellow brother in trouble he, or she, does everything they can to help him. All I'm asking is for you to help James get his confidence back."

"This has nothing to do with the fact you're betting galleons on Gryffindor's success?" Her lips twitched slightly and he knew he had already won. "So what do you want me to do?"

He shrugged. "I'll get you inside. I'm sure your brilliant mind will think of the rest." His smirk fell with her next words.

"And what will you give me in return?"

Never trust a Snake.

He shook his head but didn't mask his pride. After all, she may be a Snake but she was their Snake. "A favor. For later."

Eyebrows raised she stuck out her hand. "Is that a promise?"

"Upon my honor as a Marauder." Sirius took her hand and winced as her magic sent a warning jolt through their linked hands.

What the hell?

She led him back in by the hand after a gleefully spoken, "Orange Kneazles."

After ignoring the curious glances from the boys upon their return to the Head common room, Sirius had tapped James' door with his wand. The instant the door opened, Sirius shoved her through and closed the door behind her with a barking laugh.

Hermione spent the first few terrible moments after stumbling through glaring daggers at the door. She should have known better than to seal a bargain with a Black.

He'd better follow through with his favor, or he'll end up bald for a month.

It was somewhat devious of her to jinx him like that, but she needed something to ensure she was risking everything for nothing. Not that his proposition wasn't tempting. This was more than just a bet over Quidditch or helping a fellow Marauder out. They were all waiting to see what happened between her and James.

Closing her eyes, Hermione drew in a steadying breath and clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms.

Much as she told herself to ignore it, a growing coil of electricity seemed to tighten within her every time they touched, her magic fit to burst every time James drew near. Ever since the day he had whisked her away to Hogsmeade, or maybe since the evening they spent with Hagrid before that, things between them were changing. And it had happened so suddenly that Hermione forgot she meant to keep James at a distance. She allowed herself to forget for three blessed weeks that she was a potential Death Eater with a borrowed legacy and name that was not her own. Like an idiot, she was truly beginning to think of herself as a Dumbledore.

And like an idiot, she'd been caving in ever since their fateful trip to Hogsmeade. That damned ever-changing parchment of his reset every day with new "instructions" or notes and sketches to make her laugh during class. So she found her heart stuttering with every little moment. Like after Astronomy when James drew her palm to his lips with heat brewing in his hazel eyes. Or when they hid beneath the invisibility cloak to sneak into the kitchens after hours, his hands brushing her just shy of appropriate places. Only now did she realize just how deep in she was. 

Pull yourself together, she thought before finally turning to take in James's dorm room. There was a spacious sitting area and a very thick rug in front of a large fire. The furnishings were devoted entirely to Gryffindor of course from wall hangings to tapestries. Orange and gold and deep amber and reds balanced with dark brown set off the very masculine appeal to the room. And yet the only thing that really made the place scream James Potter was the Nimbus carelessly tossed aside on his bed.

Sweet Merlin.

The bed was huge and inviting, his practice robes haphazardly tossed atop brown and gold sheets. Hermione froze and remembered a very important fact. James had said he was going to shower...

She shivered and rubbed her hands together as she crossed the room and wondered just exactly what she was supposed to do that would lighten James's mood. 

Her fingers danced over the edges of the furniture and came to light over the desk hidden behind an ancient stone bracing that curved the eastern wall. He'd shoved his curtains over the window.

The rush of water pounded against the nearby wall and she found herself backing until her bum made contact with something incredibly silky and soft. Ducking down she realized she was half sitting on his bed and biting her lip, glancing about quickly to be certain no one saw…

She jumped up onto the unmade covers and couldn't help but to fall back the moment she sank into the slice of heaven. "Not fair at all." Their beds weren't half this comfortable...

The door opened before she had enough time to prepare.

When did the shower turn off?!

She sat up, flushed, her hair disheveled and suddenly wishing she had her robes on over her uniform.

Sirius, you git, I swear if you set me up I'll never give you your hair back!

All protests stopped along with the rest of her bodily functions the moment a wet and half-dressed James Potter stepped into his room.

He was bloody sexy.

It was fact, not simply biased opinion. Glasses still fogged from the bathroom's steam, his black mop stood straight up in every direction. His muscled chest flexed with each step he took. Her gaze involuntarily trailed lower,  past washboard abs and beginning trail of hair disappearing into his towel.

Merlin, is there anything soft about him? 

She breathed inner relief at the fact he'd at least worn a towel out of the shower until he froze and his gaze landed heavily upon her.

James blinked and nearly lost his grip on the towel as he pulled off his glasses and shoved them back on. He blushed past his tan and stammered, "H-Hermione? What are you…how did you?" He motioned dramatically from the door to his bed and back with his free hand, his chest rising and falling with each rapid breath.

She blinked, tried not to sound equally breathless as she said, "Well I felt bad about what happened out there." His expression darkened, then shifted to that horrible emptiness she'd seen in his common room. Rushing on nervously, Hermione stood from his bed. "And…and Sirius sort of let me through so I could—could apologize."

"So you just thought you'd break into the Head Boy's dorm?" he asked roughly.

She nodded, cursing her embarrassing lack of eloquence. Salazar, she was a mess...

"Only to remind me again that you're not my girlfriend, yeah?"

"Y-yes…I mean no! I just wanted to tell you sorry. That you had to hear it that way...not that it matters. I know we're just friends, James." Hermione flinched and opened her mouth, suddenly finding the carpet betwixt them fascinating. So she was surprised when James's bare feet came into view, and her magic began to burn beneath her skin at his proximity. She slowly dragged her gaze up, and paused again at his frankly too-perfect musculature, until his finger on her chin forced her to meet his gaze. She wasn't expecting to see a pleased grin fixed on his face until she realized it was meant to mask the utter vulnerability swirling within his hazel eyes.

"I was just angry because of Sirius and it came out," she whispered. "You know how he teases me and it gets old after a while."

His grin was sad and maybe a little disappointed. "Yeah, I know." Dropping his finger he walked over to his wardrobe and found a pair of briefs and a pair of Muggle jeans.

Hermione averted her eyes, thankful for the chance to breathe properly again. She gasped as James proceeded to change not even a meter behind her.

She turned just as he zipped up his Muggle jeans, then ducked to dig through the pile of shirts in his open wardrobe door.

He's looking for his Cannons tee.

She knew because it was his favorite. The memory of the wind in her hair, fear making her vision blur past her eyes, the hard body she was pressed against the only thing keeping her from falling to the earth, caused something other to rise up and possess Hermione then.

"Here, let me help," she said as she joined him. Her hands brushed against James's calloused fingers and desire shot straight between her legs with embarrassing heat. She may only be friends with James Potter, the best of friends, even. But he had saved her life and helped her find a new one. He was escorting her throughout the season for her protection, and a nudge from Charlus. And that was all.  

Relief filled her the moment she found the black tee and lifted it with a triumphant smile. 

James's lips tugged up at the corners. "How'd you know that was the one I was looking for?" Something in the hitch of his voice told her he needed to know why.

Holding the fabric bunched in her hands, inches in front of him she forced a calm smile. "It's the first shirt I ever saw you wear. You've worn it every time we've flown together. I guessed it might be your favorite."

His grin deepened, amber flecks of his eyes glowing from the nearby candlelight. "You'd be right. It is my favorite."

She nodded and without any clue of what to do next straightened the tee and glanced shyly up at him.

He held his arms out and bent so that she could pull the shirt through its holes and over his head, careful of his spectacles.

Her nose brushed against his wet hair and drew in his enticing scent before forcing herself to focus on pulling the fabric over his long torso.

He let her smooth down the fabric over his stomach, and stood immobile when she hesitantly drew her hands back up to rest against his upper chest. Still bent to accommodate her, his soft grin had turned into something decidedly different as his hands covered hers. "So Sirius thought he could make up for being a wanker by sending you to cheer me up?"

She nodded hesitantly. "Is it working?"

His eyes studied her features, searching for something Hermione wished she could answer. Finally, he breathed a husky reply, "Hell yeah." The shadow masking his mood lifted and her James peeked through.

Her grin was instantaneous and a weight lifted off her shoulders. "I'm so glad! I would hate to see you so upset with me or Sirius that you couldn't concentrate on the game."

A dark promise flashed behind his smile. "Don't worry about Padfoot, love. I'll make certain he gets his next time he tries to ask his next bird out."

His hands reached up to smooth slowly over her bare shoulders. Hermione attempted to pull back, only to find him gently drawing her closer with a furrow between his brows. "Mione, why do you always pull away now when I touch you?"

Blinking back her surprise, she blurted, "What?" It wasn't that she disliked his touch, she wasn't so comfortable touching anyone. She'd even considered wearing gloves because of the constant barrage of knowledge her curse too often triggered.

"I hope it's not because you're worried because everyone thinks you're my girlfriend. Padfoot was baiting you because he thinks he needs to play matchmaker."

"It has helped me turn down the flood of marriage proposals from within my House," she offered with a tight smile. It was a test of her resolve when his hands moved from her upper back to press over her lower back and draw her flush against him.

"Good," he nearly growled. "Because I'm not going anywhere, not until you tell me to, Mione."

Her eyes narrowed, the Slytherin mask his mum had taught her freezing into place. "What makes you think I want you so close?"

"Tell me to stop." James only curled his body closer with a wicked grin, until their hips rocked together and his fingertips lower than he'd dared before. His control was slipping. They'd been playing this dance for the past two weeks now, longer than that if Hermione ever allowed herself to acknowledge it.

She couldn't deny the feelings in her heart or the desire flooding like poison through her veins was of the platonic sort. And in that moment, Hermione knew instantly what would make James feel better and more than seal her deal with Sirius. Damn the consequences later. They were just friends and would laugh about it later, wouldn't they?

James's smirk fell and his eyes widened as her hand slipped around his neck and pulled him closer. Their noses brushed briefly, eyes meeting in surprise and challenge before Hermione pressed her lips to his.

A fiery jolt of something like magic, like power, pierced through her and threatened to tear down every wall she had built. Her kiss was painful in its restraint, so sweet to taste and so pleasurable it threatened to tear her apart. Eyes shut, she moaned as James sank further into her embrace, as Hermione sucked his lower lip between hers and arched her back so she felt the evidence of his desire.

James shuddered against her, gasping as he answered her kisses with his own, a wondrous, desperate meeting of tongues and magic filling them, teasing the edge of a far greater hunger lurking just beneath the surface.

Yet the shattered pieces of the girl she'd once been seemed to scream louder at the back of her mind, piercing through the hazy fog. 

What are you doing, stop!

Hermione stiffened and James groaned as his hand tangled in her curls, drawing her back to him and slanting his mouth over hers in search of a deeper angle. She pushed against his chest with her free hand, until James stumbled back several steps.

"Hermione," her name fell from his lips a rumbling plea.

But she didn't want to make him hate her later on, because this couldn't mean anything. No matter how much she wanted it. No matter how alluring the sight of him breathless and panting with wild hair and a clash between adoration and shock twisting his handsome features. Hermione pressed her hands over her heated cheeks and dared to finally meet his gaze.

And wished she hadn't.

Because the world was in his beautiful eyes.

"That was for luck," she said as she backed away. "In case I don't see you before the match tomorrow…"

He moved as though to follow her, to grab her, she did not know. She was too afraid to find out.

Instead, Hermione turned and practically flew through his door and away from the curious Marauders, and wondered what the hell she had just done.

Chapter Text

"And you're sure about this are you?" The narrowed eyes of the fourth year Ravenclaw fixed onto the ticket in his palm.

"Course I am, Pince!" Sirius smoothly replied. "Would I lie when I've known the bloke all my life?"

The librarian's scrawny nephew grumbled to himself as Pete ushered him away and called, "Next!"

The line went on and Sirius was already calculating the earnings they were about to make off the second match of the season. Slytherin had beaten Hufflepuff in the previous game, unfortunately, so the stakes were higher than ever that Gryffindor take Ravenclaw next. Luckily for them, if the look on James' face the night before was any indication, their odds for success were ten times better than the time Evans spoke civilly to him for more than thirty minutes in Fifth Year. He chuckled as he finished booking the last bet from a pair of hopeful-eyed Hufflepuffs.

Everyone trusted the word of Sirius Black, unofficial Hogwarts bookie and self-proclaimed opportunist. "All right, that's it for today, wixen!" he announced to the greedy students before them. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Always remember, if it ain't Black it ain't worth shat," Pete added as he shooed the rest away, wand in hand.

Sirius rolled his eyes and barely restrained an inward groan at Pete's poor quip. If only Mione could see her esteemed pupil now! Sometimes he truly wondered if the rat ever used his brain.

Once the unused classroom was cleared and all traces of Filch gone to another section of the Marauder's Map, Sirius returned everything to the bottomless pit of his old knapsack. He was folding the map when Wormtail returned with a gleam in his pale eyes.

"You really think we're gonna cash in big this time, Padfoot?"

Sirius smirked and slung his sack over his shoulder. "Oh, you can bet your sainted mother's bunions on that one, Pete." He hung his free arm around Wormtail's shoulders and led them through another door hidden behind a dusty tapestry leading to a hidden passage. Pete worked hard to support his mother any way he could, and Sirius didn't want to rely only on Uncle Alphard's good graces, or the Potter's boundless generosity. No, if he wanted to be somebody, if he wanted to prove her wrong—filthy bloodtraitor!—he had to be enterprising. 

Peter brightened at this and reached up to pull the chord that would obscure their route. "One thing I'm curious about though..."

"What's that, Pete?"

"Well, it's just that...yesterday, you swore Prongs was gonna ruin our chances. Then after Hermione left our common room you were back to being an arrogant bastard again."

Sirius flashed his mate a canine grin. "If I'm right, and I'm always right about these things, Pete, you'll see soon enough."

They paused as they reached the other end of the passage. Sirius removed his arm from around Wormtail, grateful as ever to have the loveable git at his back. Pushing the door slowly aside, Sirius poked his head from behind the statue masking the passage entrance. Dawn peeked through the smoke vents high above on the second floor of the west end of the castle. Far away from any ongoing classes, they found the coast clear as expected.

Sirius's stomach grumbled and his mood brightened at the prospect of breakfast.

"Gotta go meet up with McKinnon now, mate," Pete offered once they had made the turn to head towards the Great Hall.

Sirius elbowed the shorter Gryffindor. "McKinnon again, eh? You sly rat! You do me proud sometimes Wormtail, you know that?"

Pete blinked rapidly as though surprised and a slow smile. "Oh really? Yeah, well, I try…" Glancing once to meet his friend's eye, Wormtail slipped out of reach and shuffled with his hands in his pants pockets. "If we do half as well as you claim, maybe I can finally ask her on a proper date! See ya at the game, Padfoot."

Sirius hummed as he watched the extra perk in Wormtail's retreating step and mused, "Must be shagging her."

"Padfoot! Wait up!" James came running down the hall at that moment, already dressed in his uniform and obviously recently back from early morning practice, judging by his gravity-defying black hair.

Sirius grinned smugly at the dramatic difference in his best mate's demeanor as they walked to the Great Hall together in step. "Haven't been tiring too soon before the game have you, Prongs?"

James blushed deep through his sun-warmed skin and grinned goofily. "I doubt anything could do that, Pads!" He popped his back with a twist of his arms. "Right now I'm on top of the world and I'm gonna give Selwyn hell for what he pulled last spring."

Sirius flashed a grin every bit as confident and eager. "Hope you leave some of him left to let me in on the fun." Smashing a fist into his palm, he added, "The git owes me for not cursing his balls off."

James laughed. "Can't wait to see how you pull off that one!"

"Says the Head Boy." Sirius barked a laugh and shook his head. "Sure is great to have you back in peak form, Prongs. Glad we convinced Hermione to waste her time with us yeah?" He was baiting him and his intentions weren't entirely honorable, but Sirius really did need the extra money for his burgeoning enterprise and he just so happened to also care to see his best mate happy. Not to mention, it was a hell of a lot more fun marauding with Prongs than without him.

A frown crossed James's features and his voice lowered. "She… Do you think I should…" Clenching his gloved fists, James glanced either end of the long corridor.  "Hermione left after wishing me luck yesterday. Do you know why she didn't stick around? We were supposed to raid the kitchens for a couple more slices of yesterday's dessert and I—I just wondered if she said anything to you?"

Sirius knew that look too well, but he never would have imagined Hermione actually would go through with it. "Great Godric! She finally ride your broom, Prongsie?" Elbowing him was a mistake because James punched him hard on the offending arm.

"Shut it, Pads! Hermione's not your usual brand of Witch!"

Rubbing his bruised arm with a groan, Sirius countered, "No need to go spare, Prongsie. It was just a joke!"

James's hazel eyes narrowed behind his spectacles but he seemed to otherwise accept Sirius's flimsy excuse, for now. And Sirius was beginning to wonder exactly what Hermione had done to keep her end of the bargain. She'd been in there a while, not too long but long enough he supposed…

Scrubbing a hand through his already messy hair, James attempted to explain. "I just can't get her out of my head. It's worse than it's been before. I thought I could ignore it but I can't."

Sirius frowned as a strange look stole over James's face—wonder, and elation, and madness wrapped into one dangerous package. In a rare moment of perception, Sirius realized his best mate was on the precipice of something big, something Sirius had never felt before himself. Something he wished...

James turned and thrust his wand arm out without hesitation. "Expelliarmus!"

And the group of Slytherins that had been ready to ambush them scattered.

"Fuck!" Sirius snatched his wand out of his jeans pocket and barely managed a protego before a nasty, purple-hued spell clashed against his shield.

Thus far Sirius had kept to his word and managed to avoid the usual hexing wars with their greatest house rivals. But the more time Hermione spent with the Marauders, the more that itch in the back of his head burned, warning him things wouldn't take long to turn nasty. Slytherins were notoriously possessive after all, and Hermione had been sorted with them.

Gloves were finally-fucking-off, obviously. Faces masked with the cowl of their cloaks, the bastards put up an outnumbered and unfair fight.

Sirius and James stood back to back, weaving around one another as James struck a bloody offense and Sirius claimed a defensive stance.

Two of the seven Snakes stumbled away after a couple of James's hexes broke their barriers apart.

Rocks crumbled from the ceiling above and fell over the heads of another as the Snakes turned to run, knocking them to the floor. The other four were incensed and renewed the attack.

They know James is Head Boy. What the fuck are they trying to pull?

"Stupefy!" Sirius cast just as James shouted another wandless, "Obscuro!"

One Slytherin stumbled into another, hands grasping at his face trying to see.

James and Sirius burst into laughter.

"Nice one James!" Sirius said before jerking his mate aside to dodge a loudly shouted "Reducto!"

"Expelliarmus!" Three wands flew into James's hand and if his wandless threat was bad enough, with one, Prongs was downright scary.

"Incarcerous," a Slytherin witch shouted.

"Shit!" Sirius cursed as they dove to either side of the narrow hall to avoid the ropes grasping for them. Without their initial target, the ropes latched onto the witch's fallen comrade.

Sirius hissed when a stinging hex grabbed his thigh and turned vengefully to the bastard who was attempting to haul his fallen friends with a quick levitation spell.  "Oh, I don't think so!"

James laughed. "Is that really the best you can do?" 

Their eyes met at the same time and the Marauders shared a particularly wicked grin before jumping up. Their wand arms aligned, Sirius's right arm to James's left and they shouted together, "Confundo!"

The Slytherins tumbled into a panicked heap upon the stone hall.

"Let's finish them off," Sirius growled eagerly.

"No," came James's baffling reply as he threw their attacker's wands to the floor. The air crackled and burned with petrichor as James stalked up to one of the nearby fallen and ripped off his mask with a wave of his hand. "Travers."

Sirius came to stand at his side, pulse still pounding, and sneered. "That's one of Snivellus' little friends, isn't it? I swear if he set us up!"

"No." James held Sirius back with a firm yet trembling arm. "Not today."

Sirius staggered back with another growl. "Prongs, we have to do something! They can't get away with this one!"

James tilted his head and an inscrutable look fell over his usually expressive face. "They won't. But we aren't going to report this. Not today, Padfoot. Come on, we need to go before anyone notices we aren't at breakfast."

Staring in disbelief at the wreckage around them, Sirius asked, "And how do you propose we explain this?"

James threw back an annoyed glance at the hall, lifted his hand and muttered, "Reparo."

Stone rushed up to find its place on the castle walls and ceiling above with a few rumbling snaps. Until all that was left was a huddle of confused and unconscious Slytherins covered in dust.

Sirius jogged to match his friend's stride and tried to walk off the stinging hex still clenching his thigh muscle in uncomfortable ways. "Aren't you at least gonna take away house points or something? They could have killed us! Or worse, hexed you till you'd never be able to ride a broom again! No doubt that was their bloody intention all along..."

James rolled his eyes. "Relax, Pads. That's what they want us to do. Otherwise, they wouldn't have dared to attack the head boy, would they?" His gaze turned calculating. "We need to find out who was behind this and why. There must be another reason…"

Sirius flung his arms out to his sides. "They don't need a reason! They're fucking Death Eaters, or as good as. Prongs, I'm telling you, we should at least go to Dumbledore and tell him."

James froze and rounded on him with a fiery glare. "Tell him what? Tell him why you were here so early when you never get up until five minutes before breakfast any other day?"

Sirius reddened but refused to back down, his blood still too hot. "Point taken. But don't think I'm gonna let this one go Prongs."

James clenched and unclenched his jaw. "Not saying I'm not out for blood, but can't just rush in blind anymore, and we can't afford to start another bloody hex war, Pads. You've seen the Prophet, same as I have, no matter what you say. We need to start thinking about the people they'll go after if they can't get to us outside of Hogwarts. They're the ones they'll go after if we aren't careful."

Sirius scoffed. "You've gone soft ever since little Miss Dumbledore..." He didn't get to finish because James turned suddenly, grabbed his tee shirt with a fist and dragged him up to his toes.

"I've gotten smarter," James snapped, a ferocity in his hazel eyes too like the way he'd been this summer. Hermione had been a bloody mess, cut up with glass and dark magic and Merlin knows what. And if he thought James had looked murderous then...

Sirius didn't realize James had set him down, or placed two firm hands on his shoulders until he began again in a low murmur. "We've gotta start thinking about what's waiting for us outside of Hogwarts, Padfoot, or we're not gonna last five months out there as Aurors. You've seen what they do to those who cross him. And right now Hermione is in the same fucking house with the children of his followers."

Letting Sirius go in a huff, James stalked away before Padfoot could see the pain in his eyes.

Sirius took a moment to will his breath to slow and banish the hatred and self-loathing mention of his family always evoked, before he adopted a manic grin and raced to catch up. "Okay, Prongs. You say wait, we wait, yeah? And..." He hesitated, swallowing roughly. "I do think about them too, you know."

He was thinking about Dorea and Charlus who were better parents to him than his had ever been. He was thinking about Pete and Moony, whose families lacked the influence to gain real protection. And he was thinking of Hermione, who belonged to James but Sirius couldn't help but fantasizing about himself in his lowest moments.

James's grin was slow to replace the weight of the future they couldn't avoid. "I know Pads." He nudged Sirius with his elbow. "Come on, let's eat. And maybe count to three before you let out the utter shite that comes out of your mouth."

Sirius flashed a sharp smile in return. "Are you seriously asking a Black to show restraint, mate?'

James rolled his eyes. "Not every Black is unhinged, Pads, just you."

As they came across more students, their playful jabs took on a life of their own. And if their smiles were too tight to be believed, and if their eyes never stopped searching for the next attack, for now they chose to pretend they were only students and not headed wands-first into a war they coudn't escape.

You're a coward Dumbledore, Hermione thought bitterly to herself as she paced up and down the length of her cool dormitory in the hour just after lunchtime.

Loathe as she was to admit this fact to herself, she couldn't deny she was a coward when faced with the same self-loathing and self-preservation she'd wakened with in Godric's Hollow. The fear that kept her practically running from the Great Hall after breakfast rather than speak with James Merlin Potter. And she was beginning to wonder if it was such a crime when she had been sorted into Slytherin. Perhaps it was that innate paranoia she'd struggled with each day that led her here.

A groan from the vanity nearby and clash of cosmetics on its table caused all pacing to cease. "Are you quite finished?" Lefay's narrow gray eyes were mere slits in her mirror.

Hermione raised a single eyebrow and clenched her fists as she cooly rplied, "Forgive me if I was disrupting your daily ritual, Lefay."

Desdemona Lefay smirked, knowing full well her acquaintance meant otherwise. Setting her hands primly over the mess Hermione's carelessness had just made, Lefay twisted to face Hermione in the flesh. "I am simply requesting you do not dig a deeper hole into our floor with your feet."

Hermione waved her hands as if to brush away her words and fell back onto her bed in an undignified huff. "I just happen to have a lot on my mind."

"And if anyone else in Hogwarts caught you talking to yourself like that, no one would ever question your relation to our Headmaster." Lefay painted her lips like it was a fine art, the bold red somehow perfectly blending with the black ringlets pinned expertly about her head.

Lefay's polished beauty ever served in perfect contrast with Hermione's unruly mane, a reminder of all the other witches James could and should easily fall for. She had seen Lily Evans with her emerald eyes and pin-straight scarlet hair. Even Wilkes once admitted Evans was a "hot piece of arse," if Snape would ever lay off enough to share.

"Be careful how you speak of my Uncle, Lefay," Hermione warned, the fire in her golden eyes a blend of cool Pureblooded indifference and the fierce loyalty Albus inspired.

Mona grinned, anticipating this reaction, and applied the rest of her makeup with a few well-placed charms. "Try not to get your knickers in a twist, darling. I am reminded every day how influential my father's position is. At least people look to that now instead of our sordid family history."

Hermione sank carefully onto the edge of her bed. Mona had never volunteered to discuss her roots in depth. Among Slytherin, such information was simply known. Were Hermione to openly ask, it could potentially betray everything she and Dorea had worked for those last crucial days before term. Because even if Hermione had been privately tutored, as a Dumbledore, she should already know her family tree and a vague outline of the others.

Remembering Dorea's latest correspondence, Hermione snatched up the letter still resting on her pillow, torn open the moment she returned from the Great Hall.

After dodging the Marauders, thank Merlin.

She shuddered to think how James's gaze had seared into her until she was fit to burst. Even across the Great Hall she had felt his gaze branding the places on her body they had briefly touched. 

He's probably wondering why the hell you kissed him Dumbledore!

She berated herself and read over Dorea's weekly letter a third time.

Darling Hermione,

I am certain that you have realized by now being an escort does not necessitate you should feel pressure to anything other than your duty.

Yet I cannot write without being completely honest with the questions I am certain are tumbling about in your head.

My son is not the most secretive of his family. None of the Potters ever had a talent for subtlety. And James likes to forget he is half of me as well.

Yet there will be times when you must sort out the mystery of his actions for yourself.  There will be times when you must trust your heart even when I know you fear to trust your hidden self.

Trust the word of a reformed Black when I tell you I read them like the book.  So does my son. And you my dear are a puzzle too tempting not to try and sort out.

From what I have seen through our correspondence and time together, you have reason to trust the pieces even you do not know.

Take heart and have courage,

Love, Dorea

She barely registered Mona's donning of her casual robes, freezing when the tall Pureblood appeared at the corner of her bed.

"Are you finished talking to yourself, Dumbledore? I, for one, am ready to watch Ravenclaw beat Gryffindor's arse."

Hermione groaned. Late again. She was supposed to meet up With Remus and Pete before hand so they could sit together. But that was the plan they'd made before. Besides, Hermione sensed it was a ploy to get her closer to James's line of sight she'd rather avoid, and the look in Mona's eye gave no room for argument.

"I'm not so sure I should go," she murmured. 

Because all she could think about when she shut her eyes was the way his lips had felt against hers, Godric, the slow thrust of his hips against hers... How his hair was sharp and so soft at once beneath her hand… How he smelled like home and how his heart had shined through his eyes so boldly, she had to run away.

It was just for luck! I was only trying to cheer him up. I didn't know he would see it any differently, she tried to rationalize.

"Coming?" Lefay's narrow silver eyes turned beside the door, gloved fingers resting on the old wood. "Or would you rather fantasize about Potter in bed than watch him win this match for you?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," Hermione said as she inwardly panicked. How could she have realized just how deeply he could affect her? Or her him? 

Mona rolled her eyes lazily. "Though I find your denial of his obvious affection for you amusing, I am growing bored. And we all know what happens when I get bored, Lady Dumbledore."

Hermione sighed because Slytherin Ladies never grunted or huffed. They were well bred and if they occasionally lost their cool they recovered in seconds, unlike their rivals. And as she followed her ally-sometimes-friend, Hermione realized what Mona had just confessed. "I thought you wanted Ravenclaw to win?"

"Maybe I'm going to this game just to see a miracle?"

Slytherin House parted to accept two of its wealthiest members. Preliminaries were already out of the way and Hermione realized how late they were by the density of the crowd and the silence dimming the roar of the mob. Slytherin wore blue and bronze in a clear show of support for Ravenclaw. Hermione nodded to the necessary acquaintances they passed and rolled her eyes at the obvious attention of annoyingly persistent boys. Percival Wilkes and Pervincia Macbeth met them at the railing.

Even in the waning days of summer the Scottish winds sank into her bones and she drew her cloak more firmly over her bare shoulders.

Maybe you should finally give in and stop wearing the sundresses after all?

"Took you long enough!" Pervincia was in a mood over something, perhaps the brunette flirting with Wilkes on his right. "Lefay, I don't know why you spend so much time primping when the wind will ruin your charms before the game's finished. And it's already started raining!"

Desdemona's only acknowledgement was the slight tilt of her head and otherwise her gaze kept forward. "I am perfectly capable of maintaining a simple hair charm, Macbeth. Were I a lesser witch, perhaps I would knowingly toss an hour of work aside by not adding the necessary charms."

Ignoring the thick curls blowing madly round her head with each gust, Hermione rolled her eyes as she tuned out the usual argument. The announcements were just beginning and anticipation was building up and boiling over, because she was about to see him again. And she would learn soon enough how Sirius's plans turned out on the field toady.

All good feeling was swept aside the moment the Other Black dared to glare down the Fifth year beside her. The poor boy scampered away too quickly, almost eagerly, almost as though he had been planted there.

Regulus Arcturus Black eased into his classmate's spot as though he had been there all along. His uncharmed chin length curls blew just as madly as Hermione's. She wasn't going to ask why he hadn't bothered with a charm when he was usually so perfectly composed. And she wouldn't meet his amused sapphire gaze burning the side of her cheek, an increasingly difficult challenge, she had discovered of late.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted, furious she was breaking so easily already.

Regulus leaned forward over the railing on his elbows, fingers clasped elegantly together and turned the full weight of his piercing focus on her. "I thought I was watching a Quidditch match. I am on our House's team, as you know. I have to observe the competition when I can."

Hermione lifted her chin, still refusing to directly meet his eye. "Your team mates seem to have taken another seat further down."

She glanced over to the nearby convergence of Slytherin and Gryffindor. Regulus, like many of their housemates, seemed to thrive on the clear discomfort and in some cases hostility in the Gryffindors. Oddly enough, Hermione noticed Severus Snape and Lily Evans were standing at the junction of the blurring lines, her hands wrapped round his fist. Hermione blinked to be certain she wasn't imagining how much more relaxed Snape looked in that moment.

Averting her gaze, she unfortunately caught the furious eye of Regulus's more obviously handsome brother. Pete stood next to Sirius, exchanging things with different housemates, no doubt making deals with other people's money. Yet Sirius's attention was fixed firmly on her, or more importantly the git beside her.

"I can speak with them anytime I want," Regulus was saying with a tilt of his mouth that said he was fully aware of his brother's ire. "But I rarely see you anymore outside of class, Hermione."

"I thought you were here to watch a game, not talk to me," she replied with a false smile.

"Why don't you study in the common room again? I fear I may be falling behind in Potions," he countered with a what would be believable sincerity... if his dark blue gaze wasn't practically dancing with shades of the same madness rumored to plague his family.

"After what happened last time I attempted to study in the common room, I thought you'd be glad to be rid of me, your royal highness," she snapped, grip tightening on the railing as she recalled their previous argument. Hermione had made the mistake of thinking because they managed in Potions together they could study togther as well, but she could not bloody stand the sycophants that hung around him as though he were the prince of some medieval court. He wasn't even a Seventh Year and yet they all seemed to defer to him!

Regulus hummed low and straightened, turning his torso to face hers as he leaned even closer, the corner of his full mouth quirking faintly. "I already told you they've been corrected for their rudeness," his voice lowered, smooth as silk against her ear against the roar of the crowd. "If you like, I'll banish everyone else's company besides our own."

Hermione cut her chin in his direction, her curls brushing against his cheek. "We may be partners, but I haven't accepted your invitation for friendship, and I don't need your protection, Regulus Black."

Regulus's eyelids fluttered and the palm of his hand faintly pressed against her lower back through her robe. "You have been growing careless, spending too much time with those Marauders and the others are beginning to take notice. Despite your Uncle's name, there are those among us who would do anything to rid the world of the blood traitors you associate with. You may deny my friendship Miss Dumbledore. But we both know you need my protection."

"I can protect myself, Regulus Black," she snapped, their eyes met and a familiar conflict stirred in her gut. Why must he insist on pulling and pushing her every time they met? There were times at the start of term she had considered trusting him. But he had a reputation that rivaled his brothers, far more discreet but impressive for a Fifth Year. It did not help that he already looked older than Sirius, in the lines about his eyes and face, the strained look he masked with charisma.

Regulus adopted that mask now, a confident quirk of his mouth as he rose to his full height and eyed her knowingly. "We'll see, Miss Dumbledore."

The roar of the crowd turned her attention from his presence.

The four balls had been released and the teams flew around the pitch, taking their positions as the snitch and bludger darted about the arena. A familiar burning sensation prickled at the back of her neck and sang in her blood, and she knew, even though she hadn't seen James he had found her.

Hermione watched the snitch soar into the clouds and when she looked down once again the quaffle had been tossed and the game begun.

James was at the center of the mad fray as a heavy mist coated them. His body made an effortless line with his Nimbus. It was no surprise he had already scored ten points with the quaffle, but it was a surprise to see how effortlessly he did it again... and again... and again.

Fierce concentration and power were behind his every twist and turn. Yet he still laughed each time Selwyn gestured back at him.

He's so beautiful like this, came the traitorous thought, and she squashed the thought, dutifully cheering on Ravenclaw with the rest of her housemates.

Yet her heart pounded fiercily in her chest as the match wore on. The snitch had not been caught, but Gryffindor was on their way to winning without needing the snitch either way. Only once did she dare a glare at Sirius who was calling out obscenely while he gathered more and more money from angry gamblers. Because at that moment Ravenclaw caught the snitch... and the crowd held their breath.

James Potter was still laughing in the pitch, avoiding the bludger that kept aiming straight for him.

I swear he has eyes on the back of his head!

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted Scamander from his stand.

Sirius had better make good on his vow.

Or everyone would learn how a Black looked bald. She barely registered the curses and groans of her housemates, and a good portion of sour-faced Ravenclaws.

"Aw fuck!" Wilkes was yelling. "Come on what the hell was that?"

"Curb your barbarity Wilkes," Desdemona seethed as the stands quickly cleared around them.

Pervincia pouted while entangling herself in Wilkes' arm. "Oh, how they can live with the shame is beyond me. All thanks to James bloody Potter." Yet when her eyes met Hermione's she winked.

Hermione wanted very much to knock the other witch into the pitch. She could only pray Black had not noticed. Yet when she turned to find out, Regulus was already blessedly gone.

The field flooded with a sea of gold and red. James and his Nimbus were hoisted high above the crowd, along with the rest of the Gryffindor team. Pete jumped up into Remus' arms and the taller Marauder hexed the smaller one for daring. Somehow, Sirius ended up on someone's shoulders near James.

Hermione had to shake her head and smile at the sight, that pompous idiot, acting as though it was his victory, indeed. 

While watching the party that was already beginning and likely to last the rest of the evening, another gust of cold wind pierced through her cloak. She gathered the cloak more snugly over her arms, shivering against more than the chill as a profound sadness ate at her moment of amusement.

"Follow your heart," Dorea had said.

Hermione watched the boy who had saved her life only a month ago laughing and now searching wildly in the sea of faces for something. Or someone. Breath hitched in her throat, she tightened her grip against the railing.

His search ended the moment he spotted her standing alone in the stands and slowly, both their smiles began to fade. As Gryffindor carried their Captain away from the pitch, he was swallowed up into their sea of chants and song.

Hermione shook her head. "So much for clarity," she muttered. She had been hoping for more, she could admit to herself, now that the match was over. And maybe, just maybe, even admit that a part of herself had wanted to kiss James, not because Sirius conned her into it. After all, she could have said no.

Closing her eyes briefly, Hermione tightened her grip on the railing. Her past had not become any less dim since her arrival at Hogwarts. And Uncle Albus was unsuccessful in all his attempts to break into her mind piece by piece. More than once, she had ended up on the floor in pain. Once, the barrier round her mind fought back enough to send the aged Wizard across the room into a bookshelf.

That unknown frightening blood-stained-past was locked securely away, apparently. So maybe, if she were brave enough, she could follow her uncle's advice and find happiness in the here and now? 

She opened her eyes and drew in a deep breath. "What do you really want, Hermione?"

She studied hard to become the best student possible, even though the material bored her. Slytherin tried and failed many times to induct her into its more selective circles. At least Lefay and Macbeth helped her keep her sanity and find some amusement at their housemates expense. Letters from Dorea and occasionally Charlus lightened her load. Meetings with Albus softened the hard edges of her structured mask. Yet it was her time with the Marauders when she laughed and genuinely smiled. Although she didn't want to admit it, every part of who she was now was connected in some way to James. Being with him was what made her happiest of all.

"But what does that mean?" she whispered aloud, turning to gasp at the glory of the sun setting behind Hogwarts. Shades of rose burned deeper before fading to a softer pink and rusty violet. Yet it was the colors most people had never seen before that stole her breath. Showers of golden sparks and half blues and greens, and shades of a spectrum she was not familiar with, exploded with the descent of the sun. As if seeing all the hidden hues black overshadowed and white overwhelmed at once.

She blinked, and the world around her shifted back into focus. Was she the only one left on the pitch? Not even her housemates had lingered, she sheepishly realized. Her stomach grumbled as she reached into her robe pocket and pulled her wand free.

"So stupid to stay out here alone, you idiot," she grumbled as she rushed down towards the safety of the castle and headed towards the dining hall. Surely she still had time to grab a light supper.

Loud music and cheers erupted in the direction of Gryffindor tower and she shook her head. She was tempted to pass by to cast a silencing charm like any sane wixen would, but did not want the risk of running into him right now. Hermione did well enough to collect her thoughts on a consistent basis without these new revelations. Besides, she hadn't eaten since breakfast.

Resolved, Hermione case a drying charm over her hair, then another charm borrowed from Dorea to tame her mane into softer ringlets. Only then did she begin to feel more like the collected Slytherin she was pretending to be, not the lost girl she truly was.

It was as she passed by a tattered tapestry of what looked to be two of the founders in the midst of some historical battle that the hall cleared completely. Her gaze caught and lingered on the faintly shifting threads as she passed. So she was completely unprepared to collide into a broad wall of muscle, let alone swept off her feet and twirled in the air before she could cast a reflexive curse.

"Hermione! I've been looking everywhere for you!" James's face was suddenly level with hers, grin perfect and brilliant as ever, eyes luminous with his victory.

Hermione couldn't help but refelct his excitement as she returned his smile. "You did it! I knew you would..." It seemed only natural to wrap her arms around his neck and draw their bodies even closer. They were still friends after all, safely in the role she had given her savior.

"Only because of you," James confessed as he turned to bury his nose in her curls and sighed.

"You haven't showered yet, have you?" she asked as she rubbed her thumb over his dirty cheek.

His grin widened. "Trying to tell me I smell, Miss Dumbledore?" At her scrunched nose he laughed. "I haven't had time. They were trying to pour Firewhiskey down my throat the moment we came in and it was everything I could do to get away from Padfoot."

Hermione scuffed the toe of her shoe over the floor and his hand at her hip flexed, then gently squeezed as she muttered, "I don't want you to miss your party."

He shook his head, grin softening as the light in his eyes burned brighter. "I had to come find you first. I'm not drinking one lick of that rubbish unless you're right next to me."

"I can't go in that common room, James!" She gasped at the traitorous thought, even as some small part of her yearned desperately to accept. Her fingers brushed the unkempt hair at the back of his neck and he shuddered.

James reached to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, smile growing at the challenge. "Anyone has anything to say about it they can go to hell, I say. It's our party, Mione." He lifted his chin. "And I'm making sure everyone knows it."

Her lips tugged up to answer his smile, compelled by his joy and the open fondness he showed her even now, when she had yet to find the courage to bring up the kiss. Her cheeks flushed at the memory, and James shifted them until her back pressed firmly against the tapestry she had passed before.

Her lips parted and his bright hazel eyes quickly honed on her mouth. She could barely breathe as she managed to reply, "I suppose you're right... You're the reason they won the match, but... James, you know they won't want a Snake celebrating with them."

James's jaw clenched and the storm he so often kept buried was suddenly upon him. "I want you, damn it!"

She was unprepared for the way his arms tightened against her, fingers at her hip pressing lower against the curve of her backside. Her knees weakened as James used a knee between her shaking legs to hold her in place.

"Haven't you been listening to me, Mione? I left my own party because I couldn't fucking celebrate without you there. It wasn't my victory alone, because you made me feel like I've never felt before. All from one bloody kiss..." His mouth brushed against hers.

Her eyes squeezed shut and she let her head fall back against the stone to escape him before she burst. From what, she wasn't sure, only she was so bloody terrified for reasons she couldn't name. She didn't know who she was... he didn't know who she was. How could he truly want her, when she may always pose a risk to his friends and family for helping her?

"Look at me," he commanded, somehow rough and tender at once as his free hand smoothed over her hip. And as she did, she saw his intent too late. "Tell me you want this," he murmured, his chest heaving against hers as they stole one another's breath. "Tell me you've dreamed of this just as long as I have."

A helpless laugh escaped her and she blinked back tears. "I'm scared, James," she finally confessed.

"Of what, my love?" He pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of her trembling lips, caught the tear that arced over her cheek before it could reach her jaw.

Her hand flexed against the back of his head, threading through his thick black hair. "Of hurting you," she blurted out, breath hitching as she struggled to get the words she had felt for so long free. "Of losing you."

Of loving you...

James smiled and the edge of his spectacles brushed against her brow, cool and the exact pressure she needed. Merlin, she could see countless shades of verdant green and gleaming gold interchanging in his irises. His smile was like the sun, his arms a refuge. "Silly witch, don't you know I'd never let that happen? I swear to you, Hermione, nothing you could ever do or say will make me want you any less. I'm here, for however long you'll have me. Carve out my heart and keep it in a box if it makes you feel safer, only don't push me away again. Please?" 

Please...

Hermione choked on a laugh because he was so bloody ridiculous... and wonderful, and so beautiful she couldn't and didn't want to fight this any longer. She was his.

And he is mine, a darker corner of her mind whispered.

James gasped as she surged forward, pulling him down to meet her kiss, stealing his breath for her own. Some great beast within her came to life with every touch of his lips, possessive and needful at once. She felt starved, as though she had never had this before, had never felt anything close to it.

You haven't, that dark part of her whispered again.

Hermione ignored it, giving in to the electric path of his hands ghosting over her hip, her breasts. Unbearable heat grew between her thighs, spreading along every nerve in her body, the hum of magic permeated the air. All thoughts faded as she instinctively rolled her hips against his leg and dug her fingers into his hair. 

James gasped, then groaned against her, rocking his hips and the evidence of his need for her brushing against her hip.

"I want you," she moaned as his tongue grazed her lips. "I'll always want you, James," she confessed before opening to let him in. 

This is what we live and die for.

James tangled his hand into her loosened curls and it was everything he could do to keep from losing himself far too quickly. He needed to savor this moment, to savor her.

In case she changes her mind.

Desperation urged him to urge her hips to drag over his leg more firmly, setting a steady pace. He refused to come before she did. It was the least she deserved. She was still within her right to shove him off, call him a lech and never speak to him again for taking so many liberties. But Godric, he had held back for so long, had wanted her from that very first morning, had carved a place for her in his heart so easily. She fit so naturally, so perfectly in his life. 

She was silk and fire and warmth that was snaking against him and doing terribly wonderful things to his body. His heart pounded in his chest and soared in a way only she caused. Not even flying brought him so close.

He hadn't planned on kissing her tonight, had been terrified of pushing her too quickly after she ran from him before. Not that he could think about anything else but her lips even during the game. And when the map showed him where to find her, he'd used his cloak to sneak away from everyone to find her.

Fuck the party.

He had to see her. Watching Reggie Black and all those other Snakes crushing her between them, seeing the way she watched him made something snap inside of him. It had somehow been far worse than the moment he saw Lily holding Snape's hand tightly in her own and realized exactly what it meant. 

Too late now.

Remus was right. His Mum had been right. No more waiting or pretending. The Daily Prophet reminded him every morning that not her past would eventually catch up to them and on that day he could lose her.

And so James Potter let himself feel everything. If this was the last time that he kissed her he wanted it to count, to brand this into both their memories as something neither of them could ever forget. He whispered a wish each time his lips drew hers between his, every time he caressed the nape of her neck and answered her soft sounds with everything left in his sore muscles. He wished that she could be his and he would belong only ever to her. He would die to himself if it meant he could keep the war away from her and keep her past from haunting her anymore.

James was no fool. He knew when she was preparing to withdraw into herself. He knew she had been afraid since waking up with no memory in his arms. He had watched her do this every time happiness chanced upon her, her grief and fear a thief for her joy. And it always left James with the unparalleled urge to kill the thing responsible for that look.

He knew that giving into Hermione also meant giving in to a darker side of himself, the one that he kept buried from everyone except, perhaps, for Moony. To protect her from the darkness that clung to her even now, James needed to bleed into the gray in between and anchor himself to her, come what may.

Of course, he wouldn't reflect on any of these things until much later. Long after her tongue ceased teasing his into her mouth, her moans spilling into him, growing with every thrust of her fucking gorgeous hips. She came apart with a sharp cry, and pressed sharply against him, her leg brushing his arousal. 

That was all it took for him. He groaned and the world burst into an explosion of stars that scattered and took form once again. Awareness came back to him slowly, to uncomfortable pants, and her gorgeous body still heaving and pressed against his.

Oh Godric, I fucking came with her even bloody touching me. If we actually have sex, I'll probably die. What a fucking perfect way to go!

His jaw ached from what felt like a permanent smile.

Hermione looked up at him in shock, her golden eyes dark as pitch, lips stained blood-red.

He wanted to say something clever, something romantic, something brilliant and witty, something to win her over. James knew that the best snog of his life and a painful hard-on didn't come close to meaning he'd won her. They had the Gala event to deal with the first of the month, an event they were supposedly only going to as friends. And if the rest of the school found out about this before he had properly courted her, especially Slytherin house, there would be hell to pay for Hermione. If anything, he had just made things a lot harder on her. Yet he ignored the mess in his pants (they could spell that away in a moment, after all) and shared the same space of breath with his love in a silence that was too fragile and too deep for words. 

So naturally he broke it with something as inane as, "Want to skip the party, raid the kitchens, and go back to mine?" 

Hermione snorted and fell into his chest to muffle her giggles.

James beamed and cradled her against him, pleased he made her happy so easily, when she let him. He wanted to show her that every day could be like this, if she'd only let him. "Ready, love? Or do I need to carry you?"

She swatted him on the chest and pulled back to look at him with wonder, her fingers tracing the features of his face. "That sounds perfect."

And once they were cleaned with quick evanesco or two, a plate heaped with more treats than they should safely consume, and a successful retreat to his Head dorm, it really was.