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Chapter Text

When Petunia and Lily Granger-Evans were born, they were the apples of their mother’s eye. Their mother – an avid gardener – upon discovering that she was expecting twins, went through all the baby books and consumed information voraciously in preparation for the birth of her little bundles of joy. Her husband was less than pleased, to say the least. Harold Granger had married his university sweetheart during a pregnancy scare, only for it to lead to a miscarriage. But by then, the damage was done and over time, the two grew distant and complacent. Both fairly conservative and somewhat religious, they decided to make it work for the sake of appearances. However, when three consecutive miscarriages followed in the years to come, Harold Granger believed that perhaps children would not in fact be the saving grace of their ill-timed and ill-conceived – pun fully-intended – union.

Iris Granger-Evans was another story entirely. Despite her multiple disappointments in her married life, her husband became a dentist and ran a successful practice in the Hampstead suburb of London while she opened a boutique florist shop. What successes hadn’t manifested in their personal life, they more than made up for in their professional one. And then at the ripe old age of 36, she fell pregnant, and this one stuck. The terrifyingly fragile first trimester waded into the second and then launched itself into the third and final leg of the journey.

Then, suddenly, on September 19th, 1959, at a quarter to four in the morning, Harold and Iris became parents to two beautiful daughters. Harold relented after a difficult delivery and allowed his wife to name them, Lily and Petunia. They had their mother’s shock of wispy red curls even as newborns, small button noses, pink, rounded cheeks and large, almost-owlish eyes.

As infants and toddlers, the girls were almost impossible to tell apart except for one major physical difference – Lily’s emerald eyes, and Petunia’s amber ones. And right away, they made their personalities known to their parents. Lily was a little more softer-spoken, yet bubbly, while Petunia, whom her younger twin affectionately referred to by the moniker ‘Tuney’, was louder, more extroverted, and always ready to voice an opinion on any given topic the moment it popped into her head. Like their mother, they both craved knowledge to an almost obsessive degree, and they loved the outdoors, often volunteering to help Iris in her garden, to her everlasting delight. However, like their father, they were also stubborn and strong-willed. Their parents noticed pretty early on the way that their girls often spoke up about the injustices they witnessed in the world, even when their collective world wasn’t yet very large at all.

In primary school, Lily and Petunia had noticed a classmate being bullied on the playground and immediately stepped in to scare the bullies away. Petunia had thrown sand and small rocks, kicking at the older kids’ mercilessly, while Lily kindly soothed their classmate and asked if they’d like to sit with her and her sister at lunch from the rest of the school year. The small boy was in awe of them and accepted instantly, grateful to be taken under their collective wing.

As they grew older, this pattern continued, and Harold and Iris couldn’t be prouder. The girls were showing early signs of emotional intelligence, courage, and integrity. What else could they ask for? It seemed their shared love of their children had mended something fundamentally broken in each of them which in turn allowed them to work on themselves so that they had the motivation to improve upon their marriage. And if sometimes the girls made cabinets open or close from across a room or produce exploded in the midst of a childhood tantrum, well… all children had their quirks, their mother told herself in an effort to self-soothe. They would surely grow out of it someday and the odd occurrences would stop. It must just be a product of her imagination. Harold had never mentioned anything out of the ordinary to his wife, after all.

As their daughters grew, they each started to display polarizing personalities. Lily was ever the mediator and nurturer with a deep sense of right and wrong, while Petunia was strong-willed, endlessly curious, and with a rebellious streak that often drove her grandparents, neighbors, babysitters, and teachers all batty. By the age of 10, it was a miracle that the Granger-Evans girls remained as close as they were given how different they had become. It was their mother’s most fervent wish that they would remain so throughout their lives, having been an only child herself who had yearned all her life for a sibling.

Then their 11th birthday arrived, and everything changed.

A middle-aged woman in deep, forest-green… robes arrived on their doorstep in the middle of their bedtime routine. She introduced herself as ‘Professor Minerva McGonagall’ in a rolling Scottish brogue. She wore an oddly pointed hat stop ash-brown hair graying at her temples and had horn-rimmed spectacles perched atop her nose. This professor mentioned their daughters by name despite having never met the Granger-Evanses before. She wore an intense expression, and her eyes were oddly feline-esque, Iris would later think back on.

Despite the strangeness of the hour for visitors, and the woman who seemed like a caricature of a sorceress sitting in their family room, the Granger-Evans summoned the twins to join them as requested. Professor McGonagall went on to explain that the girls were witches, that magic was, in fact, real, and that she taught at a school for children like Lily and Petunia where they could learn to hone their magic with practice and dedication. Iris and Harold were stunned, to say the least. Witches? Magic? Professors from fancy, Scottish boarding schools who would take their daughters – their pride and joy, and perhaps, if Iris would admit it to herself in her weaker moments, the glue holding her marriage together – far, far away to become part of a world their parents couldn’t follow.

She handed over two near-identical letters to the twins which included a list of school supplies that their parents couldn’t make heads or tails of. Where on Earth would they acquire pewter cauldrons or owls? The professor had given each girl a copy of a large, heavy, leather-bound book titled Hogwarts: A History, bid them a good night, and took her leave with a promise to be touch throughout the coming year as they prepared for school.

Iris and Harold were left trying to process the way their life was about to be upended, and to prepare to let their daughters go because it was clear that the time they’d been dreading – when they had nothing left to teach their children – had come much sooner than they’d thought.

Sept 1st, 1971 – King’s Cross Station

The Granger-Evans family was met by Professor McGonagall between platforms 9 and 10 and helped them cross a seemingly solid barrier of pillar between the two, stepping onto the completely separate platform 9 ¾. Iris released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and held tight to her daughters’ hands while Harold stepped up behind them pushing a trolley loaded up with the girls’ trunks and other packed supplies including one owl and one cat. Their familiars, Lily had explained, sounding quite scholarly and self-assured for perhaps one of the first times in her young life, her parents noticed.

The girls had devoured Hogwarts: A History during the past year until they’d practically committed it to memory between them. Iris suspected that it was their way of making up for lost time, as it were, so they wouldn’t feel left out amongst their new peers. As Mrs. Granger-Evans looked around the platform at the other families gathered there to drop off their own children, she took in what they were wearing, and the way they regarded the Granger-Evans’ as if to say they didn’t belong.

Unconsciously, Iris gave her daughters’ hands a reassuring squeeze, partly for them, but mostly for herself. How would the girls fare in this new world where they were already starting behind their peers given their parentage? That Professor McGonagall had explained that magical children came from any combination of backgrounds and Petunia and Lily wouldn’t be alone in that experience. They would make lifelong friends and grow into accomplished adults their parents could be proud of. Iris tried to hold onto that small comfort as she turned her daughters to face her and offer her own in turn. “Listen, girls. It might feel like you’re out of place here at first, but just like at home… no one and nothing can make you feel inferior without your permission, right?” She offered them a nervous smile.

Petunia’s small cupid’s bow mouth quirked into a cheeky smile as she murmured, “Eleanor Roosevelt, though paraphrased, the thought is appreciated, mum.”

Iris released her hold on her precocious girl’s hand and ran it lovingly over her untamed, auburn curls. “No matter what, don’t forget who you are and where you come from. You are my daughters,” she looked from Petunia to Lily who was blushing now and shuffling in her Mary Janes, as she continued, “and I am already proud of you.”

Lily piped up, “Yes, Mum.”

“We’re still going to be the best, though. Isn’t that right, Lils?” Petunia elbowed her twin in gentle camaraderie, perking her up as she always managed to.

Lily met her twin’s gaze unwaveringly. “We’ll see who’s best.”

Petunia just smiled wider at her twin, a fire blazing in her amber eyes so much like her father’s. “May the best witch win.” The girls shook hands with a shared giggle as their father approached.

Their father had dropped off their belongings with one of the porters pacing up and down the platform before rejoining his wife and daughters, carrying their pet carriers back to them. He set them gently down and took his girls in his large arms, giving them a tight squeeze. “Behave and listen to your teachers. Write home when you can. And we’ll be here for the winter holidays to get you. Try to stay out of trouble.” He released his hold, setting a hand on each of their shoulders as he added with a mischievous smirk, “And if you can’t manage that, then at least don’t get caught.”

The girls let out another giggle and mock-saluted their father. “Yes, sir!” Then they each kissed his stubbled cheek and turned to do the same to their teary-eyed mother.

Their farewells were cut short by the train horn blaring, and the porters calling out, “All aboard!” The girls picked up their familiars’ carriers, and Petunia put her hand to Lily’s back to usher her towards the train.

-----

The twins climbed aboard and staggered on unsteady legs down the still-busy corridors of the train cars until they came upon a compartment with two girls already inside where they sat facing one another, sharing a bench.

Lily nudged Petunia to speak for them, so Petunia cleared her throat, pushed her shoulders back to stand taller, and lifted her chin before yanking open the compartment door. “Hello there! My name is—” she cut herself off for a moment, thinking this might be the moment when she could finally assert her independence and took the leap, “Hermione.” Lily squeaked behind her, but Hermione went on fearlessly, “And this is my sister Lily. Everywhere else seems full up. Do you mind if we join you?”

The two girls couldn’t be any more opposite in appearance but halted their animated conversation at once to take in the newest arrivals. The blonde one had her hair cut in a haphazard shag that reminded Hermione of one of the punk rock bands she’d seen on television once before their mother had changed the station, convinced it would corrupt her impressionable daughters. If only she knew how Hermione would sneak magazines from the store when their father wasn’t paying attention, or how she would beg their grandparents for popular records for the holidays or their birthday. The blonde girl had light-brown eyes that were distinctly feline, in Hermione’s observation. And her observations when it came to people were typically spot on. She had on a denim jumpsuit with short sleeves, and flared bottoms around patent leather boots. Muggle-influenced fashion choices, like Lily and herself, Hermione realized with relief. Perhaps they wouldn’t be completely out of place here.

Beside her in the seat closer to the window, the other girl was wearing robes much like Professor McGonagall had been on the night they’d been introduced. Her robes were a rich turquoise and fell halfway down her calves. She wore stockings underneath and something akin to Mary Janes – like Lily – with polished, intricately-carved, silver buckles – much fancier than Lily’s. Her long, dark hair was coiled in braids with half of it secured at the crown of her head in a voluminous bun, secured with jeweled pins in that same blue-green color as her robes. Her pouty lips pulled into a smile in greeting.

But it was the blonde one who spoke up in reply to Hermione’s request, “Sure! Come on in. The more, the merrier, right?”

“Thanks!” The twins stumbled inside when the train pulled out of the station and quickly took their seats opposite the other two girls, setting down their carriers beside them. The blonde girl folded her sunkissed arms across her narrow chest and took in the newcomers. “Hermione and Lily. Not purebloods, I take it?”

Lily shook her head. “Is it that obvious?”

“It’s the clothes. Dorcas here is pureblood. I’m half and half. Mum was a witch. Dad’s a muggle. Mum died having me. So, I was raised around muggles. I prefer the clothes, among other things.” She winked at the girls and her face split in a blinding grin.

The girl named Dorcas extended her hands next, one to each of the twins, and giggled. “I’m excited to see who I’ll be rooming with.” Her eyes darkened a bit at that, and she withdrew into herself, suddenly seeming sad.

“Maybe we’ll end up rooming together,” Hermione suggested in an attempt to lighten the mood as she took her feline familiar out of his carrier and he immediately curled up in her lap. “This is Crookshanks!” She stroked the length of the half-kneazle’s spine to the tip of his tail until he melted into a boneless heap, purring happily against her skirt. “We’re on our way, Crooksie!”

The girls giggled at the interaction before Lily introduced her owl, Hazel, which was far more sedate than her sister’s familiar. But the messenger owl suited her needs perfectly and would allow the girls to keep in touch with their parents.

They were joined a little later by another girl who introduced herself as Mary Macdonald, a cloud of thick, dark curls surrounding her face like a halo. Her smile was shy at first, but she quickly grew more talkative as the ride wore on. And soon the five girls were chattering away, surrounded by snack wrappers and their familiars as if they’d known one another for ages.

Lily observed the three new girls and wished that they would stay friends. That this new ember of friendship could be nurtured and grow rather than fade over time.

Chapter Text

Hogwarts Express – September 1^st, 1971

Hermione and Lily quickly packed up their record collection and magazines as Lily pulled down the curtain for their compartment and turned to stand guard while her sister and the others changed into their school robes before Hermione switched off so Lily could change. Once they were all prepared, they were just pulling into a dimly lit station labeled ‘Hogsmeade’.

There to greet them was a giant of a man with a long, dark, coarse beard and an animal-hide coat that nearly brushed the floor when he walked. He stood to receive them and lifted a lantern to get the attention of the first years. “First years, gather ‘round!” The older students split off towards carriages which seemed to be pulling themselves.

Lily clasped Hermione’s hand and along with their new friends, they were led down to the small, enchanted boats that would take them across the Black Lake. Hermione remembered reading about the Giant Squid that lived in the Black Lake, among other things she would rather not think about. She held her sister’s hand to steady her as she clambered into the small dinghy. Lily let out a small squeak when Marlene leapt into the boat with an excitable whoop, causing it to rock precariously. Hermione wrapped an arm around her twin’s shoulders and turned to glare over her shoulder at the blonde troublemaker. She thought they’d get along just fine as long as Marlene didn’t capsize their boat before they got across the lake.

Marlene smirked, daring Hermione to chastise her and narrowed her eyes further before she took her seat and assisted Dorcas in climbing aboard. “Milady, may I assist you?” the blonde teased.

Dorcas shook her head and took the offered hand before taking a seat beside the blonde, Mary joining them last with a nervous giggle. “No rocking the boat, please.”

“The boat is actually enchanted to stay afloat, so we should be fine,” Lily said in her swottiest voice.

“Should?” Mary asked, her dark eyes wide.

Hermione turned to look back at the girl over her shoulder. “But just to be safe, let’s keep from moving around too much.” Hermione chuckled at the noise that came out of the girl and turned back to face forward as the silhouette of the castle came into view.

-----

Professor McGonagall was there to meet them at the top of the stairs that led into the Great Hall. Lily was nibbling her bottom lip raw now – one of her tells that she was nervous – and Hermione threaded her arm through her sister’s in a show of support. Lily let out a loud exhale and turned to nod at her sister. “I can do this.”

“We can do this. You’re not alone here, Lils.”

“Never when I’m with you,” Lily whispered so that only Hermione could hear the affirmation they’d been using as long as they could remember.

“Never when I’m with you.” Hermione smirked back before returning her attention to Professor McGonagall and hoping Lily would do the same.

The Great Hall was massive – the ceiling enchanted to look like a cloudy night sky, with wax candles floating in midair giving off just enough light – and it seemed to go on longer the farther inside they ventured. There were long trestle tables on each side of the main aisle – two on each side, where each House was settled amongst their own – loaded up with oddly-empty platters and cutlery. Hermione wondered where she’d be sorted and hoped desperately that she could stay with Lily. She’d never admit it, but she didn’t think she could face this alone without her sister.

A full and bright moon peeked out from behind the enchanted clouds overhead and Hermione gazed up in wonder as her face broke into an awestruck grin. After a moment, she felt the distinct sensation of being watched. She saw no reason to be subtle since she was already being watched, and she whipped her head around so quickly that her curls hit her in the face. She met the lingering gaze of a fellow first year with sandy-blonde hair that hung down into his moss-green eyes. His face seemed to be littered with small, barely-there scars that she might’ve missed if she wasn’t watching him back so intently. His eyes were full of fear, and then for just a second – if she blinked, she would’ve missed it – they flickered gold, and his nostrils flared before he turned to face the raised dais at the other end of the room. Unsure whether or not she should be offended, Hermione harrumphed and turned to face the dais, pushed forward by the crowd of fellow First Years surrounding them.

In the center of the dais was a podium with a bronze owl that unfurled its wings and shook out its metallic feathers which prompted Lily to let out a delighted giggle beside her. The twins locked eyes which beamed with excitement that perhaps they’d finally found the place where they would fit in and belong completely. The answer to all of their silent questions since forever would be answered in this place and they would no longer be the odd ones out, like at home.

Behind the podium the teachers were seated at their own trestle table, all silently observing the proceedings. A small, wooden stool was set in front of the podium and Professor McGonagall stepped up beside it holding an old, faded brown hat that seemed to be held together only by magic and not much else. The hat was settled down on the stool and then it began to sing what could only be the Hogwarts school song. The older students didn’t seem to be fazed by this, but Hermione, Lily, and the other first years were enraptured and even gave in to childish laughter.

When the hat finished its song, the others applauded before McGonagall cleared her throat and announced the beginning of the Sorting. She read off a sheaf of parchment in what appeared to be alphabetical order by surname. “Sirius Black!”

The gathered upperclassmen seemed to break out in whispers that pricked at Hermione’s curiosity, particularly from the table where everyone was dressed in silver and green. That must be Slytherin. She wondered why they seemed to look at the ebony-haired young wizard with either irritation, or greed.

After a few moments of silence, the Sorting Hat called out, “Better be Gryffindor!” and the Great Hall erupted into chaos. Slytherin was in outraged shock and Gryffindor was cheering for the newest addition as he hopped off the stool and his robes were charmed to reflect his House. Mirth danced in his eyes the color of storm clouds, and a smug smirk tugged at his lips. He sauntered over to the table bedecked in crimson and gold.

“Celeste Brown!” Hufflepuff.

“Vincent Crabbe!” Slytherin.

“Renald Finch!” Hufflepuff.

“Kathleen Finnegan!” Gryffindor.

“Justin Fletchley!” Hufflepuff.

“Alice Fortescue!” Another first year Gryffindor was sorted to their table, and she stepped right up, confident as ever, and sat with the twins, hand extended to introduce herself. She wore a crooked smile and had lovely olive skin and a smattering of beauty marks along her square jawline. Her ashy brown hair was cropped short behind her ears, and she had full brows over warm, chocolate-hued eyes. She carried herself with an air of sincerity that called to the girls and after a moment’s hesitation, Hermione took her offered hand and gave her own name, allowing the other girls to introduce themselves.

“Sebastian Gimbel!” Ravenclaw.

McGonagall continued to go down the roll, and Hermione realized that they were getting into the G’s. Would they call her Petunia in front of everyone and embarrass her in front of her new friends and classmates? Make her seem like some sort of compulsive liar to the girls? Her anxiety settled in her gut like a stone as she chewed on her bottom lip.

McGonagall offered her best wishes to a little boy sorted into Ravenclaw and then returned her eyes to her parchment as her lips twitched. Then she cleared her throat and called out, “Hermione Granger-Evans!”

Hermione heaved a sigh of relief and disentangled from Lily who looked up at her with worry evident in the emerald depths of her eyes. Then she climbed the dais and took a seat on the stool before the Sorting Hat was placed on her head, covering her eyes.

A voice crackled in her mind: “Already blazing your own path, Miss Granger-Evans? A courageous, stubborn little thing, I see. With a good mind too. Hmm. Perhaps Ravenclaw? Ahh, but there’s a drive to excel and prove your worth. Ambition can be a double-edged sword in your case, little witch. Slytherin could lead you to the greatness you aspire to. But for someone of your background… That could be dangerous.”

She projected her thoughts back to the hat, hoping it would work, and it would take her opinions into account. “If that is where I’m meant to be, then so be it. I only want to stay with my sister. But I’m not afraid of a little danger.”

“I see that burning heart of courage. Then I know just what to do with you!” Then the hat shouted at top volume, “Gryffindor!” The applause from the crimson and gold table seemed genuine when the Sorting Hat was finally pulled from her head, and she had to blink against the brightness of the room. Hermione nodded briefly to Lily as she went to join her housemates. Be strong, Lils.

“Lily Granger-Evans!” Professor McGonagall called out next.

Hermione took a seat beside the other first years that had been sorted into Gryffindor including the dark-haired boy with the mercury eyes that had caused such an uproar. She offered him a brief nod of greeting and was met with a curious stare and that same smirk before she turned back to observe her sister’s sorting.

Lily’s sorting seemed to be much more straightforward and when the hat shouted, “Better be Gryffindor!” Hermione jumped off to her feet to cheer and receive her twin who raced into her arms, clinging tightly to her. Lily’s small hands clutched at the back of Hermione’s robes in what she could only surmise was relief. It blazed across their bond which connected their magical cores like a tether, a warmth like pure sunlight. Lily was thrilled to be with her sister. They took their seats side by side, Lily holding tight to Hermione’s hand in her lap while Hermione brushed her thumb across her sister’s knuckles in a gesture of comfort. She hoped this experience would help bring her sister out of her shell so the rest of their friends and teachers would see the Lily that only Hermione knew – the brave, kind, intelligent, defender of the defenseless. She had been sorted into Gryffindor for a reason, after all.

“Gregory Goyle!” Slytherin.

Sirius pulled a face at each peer that was sorted into the emerald and silver house of serpents. Hermione found it odd that he seemed to take it so personally but decided she didn’t know the boy well enough to press on it.

There was a little bit of a lull for Hermione who let her mind wander while Lily nattered at her about the enchantments on the Great Hall and what Hogwarts: A History had described.

“Frank Longbottom!” Gryffindor.

Then McGonagall called out, “Remus Lupin!” and the little boy who’d been staring at her while she’d been looking at the enchanted full moon mounted the dais and turned to take his seat and be sorted. There seemed to be some deliberating between him and the hat before it finally called out, “Gryffindor!”

Hermione and Lily applauded along with the rest of their house, but Hermione’s eyes tracked the boy as he came to sit in an empty seat across from the silver-eyed wizard, Sirius Black, and hung his head. She watched from the corner of her eye as the two boys struck up a conversation and the boy with the odd eyes seemed to straighten up in his seat and come to life like a marionette with his strings being tugged.

A few minutes later one of their new friends was called, “Mary Macdonald!” and she climbed to the stool with her hands twisting nervously in her skirt. She was promptly sorted into Gryffindor as well.

Next up was Marlene who was also sorted into Gryffindor and came to join Hermione, Lily, and Mary, take a seat beside Mary where she was sitting opposite the twins. The growing group of girls shared a delighted, relieved giggle.

“Dorcas Meadowes!” McGonagall called next. And within moments, the Sorting Hat called out Slytherin. Dorcas looked over to the other four girls with longing in her eyes before her robes were charmed emerald and silver. She descended the dais to the sounds of stiff, polite applause from the table whose housemates seemed to welcome her in with open arms, at least.

Sirius Black scoffed from beside Hermione and murmured something about slimy snakes to Remus Lupin. Hermione turned to glare at them both, focusing her ire on the smarmy boy with the stormy eyes who seemed so sure of himself that he thought it his place to judge complete strangers. “You don’t know a thing about her so shut that hole in your face!” she hissed at him under her breath.

His eyes widened momentarily in shock, and his friend across the table, Remus snorted with laughter before clapping a hand over his nose and mouth in embarrassment. “The little lioness has claws, huh? Well, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you sound like you belong with them too, Kitten,” Sirius grumbled back, his dark brows furrowing.

“You really shouldn’t judge people you don’t know.” Lily leaned across her sister to put him in his place. Her words might’ve been softer, kinder perhaps, but her meaning was clear.

Hermione nodded once in agreement before turning up her nose at the boys and turning back to the sorting. A few more minutes passed, and more first years were sorted off. Four Slytherins, three Ravenclaws, six Hufflepuffs, and then another that seemed to cause the boys beside her to perk up.

“Peter Pettigrew!” McGonagall called and placed the Sorting Hat on his mop of mousy brown hair. The boy still had his baby fat, an oddly twitchy nose, and a set of his own rather large, bucked teeth that made Hermione feel better about her own insecurities for a moment. “Gryffindor!” He hopped down from the dais and joined their table, plopping down beside Remus with a shy smile to the other boys.

Hermione felt eyes on her again, the way she had nearly all night, and in her peripheral vision caught

The odd, sandy-haired boy watching her again. She resisted the urge to meet his gaze and forced herself to pay attention to her newest friends and housemates. Was there something on her face? On her robes? In her hair? Goodness knows it had a mind of its own at times. At times, she envied her sister’s pin-straight, fiery locks and wished that her own hair was more manageable.

As they’d gotten older, their looks seemed to diverge – Lily’s hair getting brighter like fire, and Hermione’s getting darker, until it was an almost auburn like sunset. They had the same high cheekbones and sunkissed, freckled skin, the same button nose, and cupid’s bow lips, the same thick eyebrows courtesy of Harold Granger, and dimples courtesy of Iris Granger-Evans. Hermione’s two front teeth were slightly larger than her sister’s and while her parents had discussed braces, she’d been adamantly opposed to altering her looks to suit unattainable beauty standards. But in her weaker moments, sometimes she felt like the ugly sister standing beside Lily, compared by their parents and everyone else as twins always were. It felt inevitable. Hermione knew Lily would never look at her that way, though, and that buoyed her spirits and assuaged her momentary insecurity.

“James Potter!” McGonagall called next. The three boys perked up again. This must be another of their little friends. He had dark hair, and mischievous, hazel eyes behind rectangular spectacles. The Sorting Hat barely touched his head before it called out for Gryffindor, and he let out a victorious whoop as if he’d achieved something by sitting on a stool and allowing a sentient hat to read his mind. He thrust his small fists into the air and their housemates erupted into raucous laughter at the spectacle the Potter boy was making of himself.

Hermione rolled her eyes as he took a seat on the other side of Sirius Black and the four boys began speaking animatedly. She returned her attention to her own group to find that Marlene and Mary had already engaged Lily in small talk. Hermione’s eyes sought out Dorcas clear across the hall. She found Dorcas conversing politely with the other first year Slytherins around her. The Sorting continued around them.

“Quirinus Quirrell!” Ravenclaw.

“Severus Snape!” Slytherin.

“Gerald Stebbins!” Hufflepuff.

“Micah Thomas!” Gryffindor.

“Sybil Trelawney!” Ravenclaw.

“Elora Zabini!” Slytherin.

It seemed to be finally over when the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore stepped up to the podium and the stool was vanished away, the Sorting Hat carried off with it as she made a welcome speech. McGonagall retreated to the staff table and looked out at the Gryffindor house, which Hermione and Lily had been pleased to discover she was head of, with almost maternal pride. Once Dumbledore had concluded his speech, the professors clapped, and the previously empty trestle tables were filled with food – roasted, herb-crusted potatoes, carving boards with prime cuts of steaming meat, hearty vegetable stews, cheese platters and freshly-baked rolls, butter pats every few seats. There were pitchers and flagons of water, tea, and some kind of juice.

Hermione and Lily looked at each other with wide eyes and let out a laugh of surprise before reaching out to load up their plates, hesitating before they grabbed each item. Hermione could hear their father’s voice in her head chiding her for the sugar content in each morsel, particularly the desserts and pumpkin juice which appeared to be a hit in the Wizarding World. Sexist, much? But she just told herself that she’d be extra thorough brushing her teeth before bed and fed the snarling beast in her gut before she got testy the way she always did when she was hungry.

-----

Lily and Hermione were roomed with Mary and Marlene as well as a timid girl named Alice Fortescue. Hermione thought Alice seemed nice enough, but she wished Dorcas could be with them. Marlene, it seemed, was of a similar mind. “We’ll see her in classes, during free periods, and at mealtimes, Marls.” Lily was already slipping into nicknames.

Marlene gave a sad smirk that didn’t quite reach her brown eyes. “Yeah, but it won’t be the same, will it?”

“We won’t let her feel left out,” Mary piped up, a nervous blush painting her cheeks as she stepped out of the communal restroom. She was already dressed in her flannel pajamas, slippers, and silk bonnet, as she carried her shower caddy and towel back to her corner of the room.

Hermione and Lily were up last and grabbed their toothbrushes and facewash. They did their nightly ablutions in silence and went back into the room. Though their beds were right beside one another, it seemed the distance was too great for their first night of many away from home. Lily climbed into Hermione’s bed and shut the curtains around them, wishing they knew the spells to put up silencing charms like they’d read about.

Hermione whispered instead, “At least we’re together.”

“I thought it was going to sort me into Ravenclaw,” Lily confided in her sister.

“It almost put me there too.”

“Maybe we should’ve gone there together.”

“And lose Marlene and Mary too? No, thanks.”

“We didn’t lose Dorcas. We’ll still see her,” Lily asserted.

“I thought you were only saying that for Marlene’s sake. Maybe Mary’s,” Hermione murmured.

“We were put into this house for a reason.”

She heard the words that her sister left unsaid. They would both have to find their inner courage, whatever that meant for each of them. Hermione brushed her sister’s hair out of her eyes and met her gaze unflinchingly. “Then we have to learn to sleep in our own beds.”

“Okay, but maybe we start tomorrow?” Lily blushed and rolled over on to her back.

“Deal.” Hermione giggled and scooched over on her pillow to make more room for her twin. No matter what, they would never be alone if they had one another.

Meanwhile – 12 Grimmauld Place

Walburga Black sat at her vanity table in her dressing room while a female house elf – Kretin – carefully combed through her long, ebony tresses. If not for the tap at the windowpane and the glare of its golden eyes in the dark, the Mistress of the House wouldn’t have noticed her husband’s owl on the ledge. With an effortless wave of her wrist, Walburga threw open the window and the owl hopped inside and extended a leg in her direction. Finally. News of her first-born son. She was on her way ever higher within the ranks of this family the only way she knew how – through marriage to a powerful man or bearing a son in the line of succession. She accepted the roll of parchment sealed with Slughorn’s signet and scoffed at the pompous man who thought that he was deserving of such a thing. He might be the current Head of Slytherin House, but he was nothing but a tool at her disposal like all the other men of her acquaintance. And Walburga Black had spent more decades than she was prepared to admit to, to learn to play them like instruments to her own tune, making them think it was all their idea in the first place.

The art of being a well-heeled pureblood wife and matriarch, her mother had taught her from her earliest memory. Alphard and Cygnus had gotten lessons in politics and statecraft, economics and the delicate balance of power within their social strata. Walburga had instead been taught to sit and speak and conduct herself like a ‘lady’. How to be an ornament on a man’s arm, and barring that – if one didn’t have the looks to do so – to bolster her husband’s ambitions. She had done this perfectly for Orion ever since they wed and as a result, he’d been able to live a life of relative luxury while she operated as a puppet master behind the scenes. And then she had birthed the coveted heir and a spare and secured her place as the Matriarch of the family. Walburga Black was respected and feared.

She couldn’t say she proscribed to new-age ideas that she ‘loved’ her husband, but she played her role to perfection. She didn’t love many people – in fact she could count on one hand those she believed herself to love. Her little brothers, certainly. Her parents, well, she had respected them and all the wisdom they’d tried to impart. But she couldn’t honestly say that she’d ever felt love for either of them. But she loved her sons. Walburga hadn’t been able to help it. The moment the midwives had placed Sirius and then Regulus a year later in her arms and she’d held them skin-to-skin, she’d been a goner. And she had reminded herself in that moment what her mother had once told her on her wedding night.

“The only ones a woman should allow herself to love are her children. She can’t help it. But heed me, daughter. If you aren’t shocked by the lengths that you will go to for your children – for those they drag out of you while you scream – then you are not a woman worthy of the name.”

And then several years and miscarriages later, Walburga had presented her aging, exasperated husband with two sons within two years and he had finally left her bed and left her in peace for having delivered on her end of the marriage contract between them. She had been relieved to be rid of him. Now she could focus on her own goals and ambitions – the molding of her sons into perfect heirs to their Noble and Most Ancient House.

She tore into the letter from Slughorn, and her eyes flickered over the curt scrawl while her heart sank. No.

“Lady Black –

The boy has been sorted into Gryffindor. Most hearty congratulations.

I am only disappointed he will not be in my charge.

Horace.”

Well, fuck. Already her plans were being derailed. And Walburga could hear her mother’s scolding and scorn in the back of her mind. She would have to do something quick.

Chapter Text

Gryffindor Tower – September 2^nd, 1971

Lily woke with a mouthful of her sister’s hair and carefully, quietly removed it without disturbing the slumbering witch who was a notoriously light sleeper and not known for being a morning person. She parted the bed curtains just enough to slip out and shut them again so the sunlight cresting the horizon wouldn’t disturb her sister before making her way the few steps back to her own trunk and gathering her shower caddy, slippers, towel, and bathrobe.

Once she was done washing up, the other girls were finally beginning to stir. Hermione was the last of them, and she let out a long, rasping yawn that ended in a high-pitched squeak and the pops and cracks Lily associated with her sister flexing her toes. Lily went to her trunk to tuck away her toiletries and then began to dress for the day when Hermione parted her bed curtains, hissing at the brightness of the sunlight streaming into her eyes. Lily chuckled a bit at her sister’s reaction, and greeted her in a chipper voice, “Good morning, sunshine! Slept well?”

“I would’ve, if you hadn’t been trying to run a marathon in your sleep last night.” Hermione stretched over her head with another small pop of her shoulders which forced Lily to let out a chuffing laugh. For an 11-year-old, Hermione’s record for sprains, fractures, and broken bones was legendary in not only the Granger-Evans household, but amongst their primary school peers. Most recently, her dislocated shoulder over the summer after a fall out of a tree. But Hermione never let that stop her from climbing – from reaching higher, for more.

While the others were in the washroom, Lily whispered, “Tuney, why did you give them a different name? And why did it show up on Professor McGonagall’s roll call?"

Hermione began rubbing the crust from her eyes with the tip of her finger and shrugged. “I don’t know why it showed up on McGonagall’s—”

“Professor McGonagall,” Lily interjected.

Hermione continued on as if she hadn’t been interrupted, “—roll call, but on the train, well, I figured that this was a fresh start. A chance to make a new first impression where no one knows who we are, and I can be exactly who I want to be. No more Petunia Granger-Evans.”

Lily felt a twinge of hurt that her sister, named for their mother’s favorite flowers in her garden at home, no longer wanted to share that bond with her. That she was already wanting to distance herself from Lily’s orbit. A small part of her was resentful of that fact. They had always been together, side by side, and now the moment they were out of the house… Tuney was pulling away.

Sensing her twin’s discomfort along the bond, Hermione hopped out of her bed and padded over on bare feet to her sister. She took her hand and clasped it tightly. “Lils, I will always be your ‘Tuney’. That’s a given. You, and only you, are allowed to call me that because you will always be my wombmate.”

Lily scoffed out a laugh and squeezed her sister’s hand tight. “Cheeseball.” Then after a moment, she asked, “Why ‘Hermione’?”

Hermione raked her hand through her sleep-tangled curls. “I read it in a play on one of dad’s bookshelves in his office called The Winter’s Tale. And the main character was a Queen. No matter what anyone accused her of doing, or what her butthead of a husband tried to blame her for, she was always put-together, calm, and grounded. I don’t know why, but the name leapt off the page and called to me. I knew it wanted to be mine.”

Lily looked at her sister with wide eyes. “Well, alright, then. It’ll take some getting used to, but for you I can do anything.”

Hermione let out a gusty sigh of relief and released her sister’s hand. “Thanks, Lils.”

Lily turned to put on her tie and outer robes over her uniform, before turning to look at her twin over her shoulder. “But you’re telling mum.” This earned her a dramatic screech. “Now, get washed up and dressed so we can go down to breakfast.”

-----

Hermione sat at breakfast in a state of shock at what she was seeing… A floating, talking – though perhaps shrieking was the correct term – sentient envelope in deep scarlet was shouting into Sirius Black’s pale face as he attempted to eat his blueberry muffin. “HOW DARE YOU SULLY THE NAME OF THE NOBLE AND MOST ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK?! YOU INSOLENT BOY! YOU STAIN ON –”

Having heard enough, and on the verge of a migraine just being awake at this ungodly hour, Hermione pulled out her wand from her sleeve, and murmured under her breath, “Incendio,” just the way she’d practiced in their dorm with her roommates. She pointed it at the envelope – which she had gathered was called a Howler from the mutters around her – and it went up in a small, controlled burn until it was nothing but a pile of ash on the tabletop between them. A shocked Sirius turned to gawk at her, crumbs rolling down the front of his shirt, eyes wide as if he were asking for an explanation. “It’s too early for that crap,” she grumbled before stowing her wand away up her sleeve and rubbing her temples.

The boy Remus looked at her with wide eyes, no longer that startling, intriguing gold of the previous night, but back to a more natural, sedate mossy green. “Th-that’s – We haven’t learned that spell yet!” he squeaked, his voice cracking on the last word.

Hermione whipped around to face him and gave a nonchalant shrug. “I like to read ahead.”

Mary giggled behind her hand, tucking into her porridge and mixed berries. “Here we go.”

“We’re going to be top of the class, my sister and I,” Lily added with a proud look at her twin. They nodded to each other and turned their attention back to their breakfast.

The pudgy boy with the mousy brown hair, Peter Pettigrew, asked, “How will you be first if there are two of you?”

“You must be the brains of this little operation,” Marlene murmured, gesturing to the four boys with her spoon dangling from her fingers before she resumed eating her breakfast. The girls seated around her snickered.

The over-confident James Potter took his cue to jump in. “He has a point.”

“My sister and I will give it our all and may the best witch win. No hard feelings. We’re competitive, not bitter,” Hermione explained.

“We just want to make our parents proud.” Lily leaned forward to smile at the Potter boy.

Hermione noticed Sirius Black’s eye twitch at the mention of ‘making their parents proud’, and assumed after the scene his mother had made with just parchment enchanted with her disembodied voice, he didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself. And yet he hadn’t run off.

“And it’s not as if they’ll disown us if we come in first and second, or first and second.” She chuckled with her twin and flushed a lovely rose pink. Lily was always so effortlessly lovely sometimes.

From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw James nod in understanding and his hazel eyes lingered a little too long on Lily’s face for Hermione’s comfort. She cleared her throat to signal that he was being rude. “Pop your eyes back into your head, Potter!”

He shook his head as if he’d been in a daze and turned back to his plate. “S-Sorry.”

Sirius, no longer in shock, chuckled at his friend and resumed eating his muffin. “Thanks for that, by the way,” he murmured under his breath to the redhead beside him.

Hermione decided to lighten the mood since it seemed he was as unfamiliar with gratitude as he was with remorse. “It was nothing. She seems terrible, by the way.”

“Oh, there is no ‘seems’ about it. She is terrible.” He barked a short, mirthless laugh.

“Then, you’re welcome.” Hermione flashed him a cheeky grin.

Breakfast was almost done when McGonagall handed out their schedules. The girls rose to collect their bags, and a map of the school Lily had somehow obtained from their Head Girl. Sirius reached out to take hold of Hermione’s sleeve before she could get too far. She stopped to look down at him from where she was standing beside the bench. “I’m sorry about your friend,” he murmured.

She didn’t know quite how to take his words as they left a lot of room for interpretation. So, she asked clarifying questions instead, “Are you sorry that she’s not with us? Or perhaps that she was sorted into Slytherin? Or maybe you’re sorry about what you said.”

He released her sleeve. “I’m just… sorry is all,” he said. He looked annoyed at having been called out on his half-arsed apology. But he still felt like he should try to make amends, especially after that impressive display of magic the curly-headed ginger witch had employed on his behalf.

“I don’t accept apologies that aren’t genuine or sincere. Those are just to make the other person feel less like a berk.” Hermione shrugged so that her bag sat more securely on her shoulder and then stepped away from the table surrounded by her friends. The little first year Slytherin with the coronet of braids skipped over to join them, linking arms with the blonde one, as they left the Great Hall with their heads bent over their school maps.

The first week of classes was eventful, but once the Granger-Evans girls had settled into a routine, they started to grow accustomed to some of the colloquialisms of wizarding culture. Did they keep a running journal each on each little tidbit they picked up throughout the day and compare notes before bed each night? Of course. But that was neither here nor there. The girls were talented students and voracious learners.

It had also quickly become tradition at the end of each night for the Gryffindor girls, at least, to gather around Hermione and Lily’s ever-growing record collection while they – with the assistance of Marlene who’d also grown up in the muggle world – helped educate Mary and Alice on the finer points of muggle music, fashion, television and movies, and their own cultural peculiarities. They wished Dorcas could join them. But they would find a way! Hermione and Marlene were determined to never let her feel left out. And Dorcas – who had informed them that she preferred to be called ‘Cas’, a nickname given by her mother – confessed that she did often feel out of place in the Slytherin dorms which she often described as stifling and somewhat gloomy.

But each night, the girls would talk about their families, what they missed from home, and what they were most looking forward to learning at Hogwarts all with the backdrop of the Granger-Evans’ twins muggle music collection. The girls were on their way to becoming fast friends as only children could, with the unbreakable trust of the young who believed they were invulnerable to all of the world’s ills.

The highlight of their first week was their first ever flying lesson. All of the first years were present. Dorcas sidled up between Marlene and Mary who stood off to Lily and Hermione’s right, Alice taking up Hermione’s other side. Madame Rolanda Hooch with her severely cut graying hair sticking up in short, spikes in every which direction made Lily think so much of a porcupine that the girl had to stifle her giggle with her hand.

As if reading her sister’s thoughts, Hermione elbowed her in the ribs and pressed her own lips into a tight line to fight the urge to laugh herself when their instructor turned a narrow, yellow gaze on them which had them standing up straighter.

The boys – Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew – were all standing in a line facing them with an aisle down the middle where Madame Hooch could pace while she offered instruction. For the purebloods, like James and Sirius, Alice, and even Dorcas, it seemed this was nothing new and something to look forward to with excitement. And while Hermione had never let a challenge hold her back from trying her best, she had once been terrified of heights.

To combat what she determined to be a ridiculous fear, she’d forced herself to climb every tree in their front yard and back garden before moving onto the ones at the nearby parks. She’d only fallen and broken her arm once, and dislocated a shoulder another time, but the same could not be said for her sister, Lily.

From the corner of her eye, Hermione watched her sister watching Madame Hooch with wide eyes. Her twin swallowed convulsively and raised a shaky hand over her broom. Hermione focused on the tether of the bond between them and sent all the warmth of her love and support to her twin. She hoped it would give Lily the courage she knew was deep in there somewhere, just waiting to burst forth. Lily peeked at her twin and tucked a loose strand of fiery hair behind her ear that had escaped the bobble at the crown of her head, offering Hermione the smallest quirk of her lips. Hermione stood taller, pushing her shoulders back so that Lily made to mimic her, letting out a deep breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

Hermione couldn’t remember how young they were when they first discovered they were connected by something more than just blood, or a similar naming scheme. The tether or bond, as they knew it, had most likely been there since they were born, connecting their magical cores. And once they’d discovered they were magical, Lily had been on a mission to learn all about various kinds of bonds and how to work to improve theirs. Now they were learning that it could also be a conscious thing, used to communicate feelings, or send messages to one another, almost. They would improve with time until they could converse without a single spoken word.  

Hermione raised her hand over the staff of her broom which lay in the grass beside her and with a firm voice, determined to succeed in all things, she commanded, “Up!” The ratty, old thing with fraying bristles and a splintering body, flew up into her hand so she wrapped her small hand around it hoping she didn’t get splinters. She looked over at Lily and the girls and they beamed at one another. Sirius and James had already managed it, but even they looked mildly impressed by their new muggleborn classmate. Dorcas was next, followed closely by Marlene, Peter and Remus, Mary and Lily got it after that. The younger twin began doing a merry little dance which caused the boys to snigger and snort. Hermione turned a quick glare at them which caused at least Peter and Remus to stop and the others to lower their heads to make their laughter less obvious.

“A firm grip, children, remember. Swing a leg over and mount it,” the instructor went on when the rest of the first years had managed to call their brooms.

This was, of course, easier for the boys who were wearing trousers. Dorcas who seemed to want to ride sidesaddle for the time being. Madame Hooch gave the little Slytherin a withering look and the girl flushed and straddled the broom to avoid her instructor’s glare.

“At my whistle, I want each of you to kick up from the ground hard, hover for a moment, and then touch back down.”

Hermione gripped the broom tightly between both hands and clamped her knees and thighs around the staff. Lily followed suit as they hovered in the air, somewhat unsteady as they worked to control their brooms until they could level out.

The boys seemed to share a look before a series of dung bombs detonated in the tunnel directly behind Madame Hooch which resulted in complete chaos as the other First Years that were still getting their bearings on their brooms behind to jerk around in a panic, some even getting startled and falling. Lily was such a one.

Hermione saw her twin plunk down on the ground on her backside and let out a pained yelp, and Hermione saw red. Rather than descend the rest of the way, she tightened her grip on her broom, turned a lethal glare on the boys, and took off after them. “I’m going to rip your hair out!” She homed in on Sirius, and his eyes widened almost comically before turning to flee on his own broomstick, bumping into his own friends and causing Peter to collide with Remus so that they both fell to the ground.

James managed to stay aloft and removed from the line of fire while snickering at the scene as the curly-haired little redhead tore after his friend with an almost preternatural ability to fly which seemed driven entirely by a desire for revenge on her twin’s behalf. She seemed fixed on her current goal – bashing Sirius over the head with her tiny, clenched fist to avenge her sister. Madame Hooch had managed to quell the chaos on the ground only to discover the renewed pandemonium taking place overhead.

At the sight of the instructors glare, James carefully lowered himself to the ground to check on Peter and Remus while Madame Hooch struggled to fire off a clean Arresto Momentum to stop the two First Years tormenting one another mid-flight. After ensuring his two mates were uninjured, James stopped to steal a peek at Lily who was now back on her feet and watching her twin with a combination of horror and awe. She must be the more sensible of the two. The one to follow the rules. But he was surprised to see her cup her hands around her mouth, throw down her broom, and shout to her sister, “Get him, Tuney! Punch his pretty boy face!” She crowed when Hermione landed a kick at Sirius’ shin, almost toppling him from his broom, and the little grounded redhead pumped her fists in the air at the near victory. James was startled for a moment before he threw his head back in laughter. Perhaps he’d made his judgments too soon.

Madame Hooch blew her whistle and yelled to the pair still in the air, “Get down this instant.” The instructor finally landed a shot which caused Sirius’ broom to stop short so that Hermione rammed into him which sent them both sprawling to the ground with a heavy thud, the wind momentarily knocked out of them.

But the ceasefire only lasted mere moments before the little witch crawled over to Sirius Black on all fours, leaves and twigs in her nest of curls. She proceeded to climb on top of him, straddled his back, grabbed him by the hair and yanked at it with fierce determination. She let out a series of nonsensical shrieks as if she were channeling her inner banshee. She was so fuming mad that her hair was crackling with excess magic. “If you ever hurt my sister again, you berk, I will make you bald!”

Sirius yelped in pain and tried to turn over to buck her off of him. “Get off of me, you harpy!”’

“Not until you apologize, Sirius Black!” Hermione’s anger turned smug.

Lily and the girls were cheering on their sister-in-arms while James, Remus, and Peter were cackling hysterically at their always confident, swaggering, self-assured friend eating dirt at the hands of a tiny witch who thoroughly trounced him at both flying and a fist fight. Meanwhile, the rest of the First Years were either in awe or stunned to silence. Madame Hooch blew her whistle in another futile attempt to break up the brawl when Sirius finally managed to roll over so that he was on top of the little witch, grabbing her hands to hold them away to prevent her from hitting him while she kicked out her legs under him and shrieked like a hellcat. “Stop hitting me, you nutter!”

“You and your pack of morons set them off and people got hurt! My sister got hurt!”

“She’s fine! It was just a harmless joke. No one got hurt, except maybe me,” Sirius seethed, his raven locks looking like he’d been swept up in a cyclone, and scratches on his face.

The little witch thrashing around beneath had curls that now resembled a bird’s nest and mud smeared on her cheek and chin. But his words – those about her sister being unharmed – must’ve broken through her haze of anger. She stopped fighting him momentarily and threw her head back to see Lily and their group of friends cheering her on, and clearly uninjured. At her sister’s almost imperceptible nod, Hermione narrowed her eyes and tucked her chin again to meet Sirius’ mercury gaze before her mouth quirked up in a devious grin.

-----

Sirius Black should’ve known better. He should’ve known that look could only mean trouble. He should’ve dismounted the little witch immediately and run for the hills. But he had been filled with false confidence that he had managed to get through to her. And that’s when she gripped his hands in hers tighter, their fingers still laced together, and with all the determination of any proud lion, she fired off a spell he’d never seen before. It crackled from his palms, radiated through his entire frame, and sent him flying twenty feet away where he landed in a groaning heap. When he sat up, all of his dark hair was standing on end. Peter stared in shock and fear at the little witch while Remus and James collapsed against one another, nearly doubled over with laughter until they wheezed, tears trickling from their eyes.

The curly-headed twin scrambled to her feet and scampered back to her twin, throwing her arms around her.  The one called ‘Lily’ teased her, “You look like Mowgli!” and began picking detritus from her sister’s curls. Sirius didn’t know who this Mowgli person was, but the context was clear – a wild woman and content to be so, he thought to himself. His scalp and palms still smarted, his chin still throbbed dully, and the scratches on his face were beginning to sting.

Just then Madame Hooch stomped over and grabbed Hermione by the collar of her robes, already tugging him along. The instructor barked at the First Years, “Class is dismissed! Anyone that needs medical attention can follow me to the infirmary. And if I see any one of you in the sky, you’ll be in detention with these two before you can say Quidditch.”

His mother would surely hear about this. He supposed he’d have another Howler at breakfast to look forward to, he thought with a sigh. And no longer any merciful swots willing to incinerate the thing to spare him the mortification since he had apparently made an enemy this day. Fan-bloody-tastic!

-----

The two of them ended up receiving a week of detention for endangering their peers, inciting chaos, and engaging in fisticuffs. The rest of the boys had only escaped because, despite Hermione’s insistence that they had to be equally as culpable as Sirius Black for the dung bomb incident, Sirius refused to give up his friends. He still had the strange star-shaped scars on his palms to prove it.

Sirius would never tell the crazed little witch, even on pain of death, but he’d refused any attempts made by Madame Pomfrey to heal them using magical means because they looked cool and he wanted to keep them, if only to irritate his mother. He was the oldest son and heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and all his life until this point had been rules and regulations, etiquette and history lessons, tutors and house elves, expectations, and pressure. He felt like he might crumble any day beneath the crushing weight of it all. And at the forefront was his mother’s obsession with presenting a façade to the rest of their world that they were the perfect Pureblood family. And with that, as the heir, came the unspoken expectation that he remain spotless, perfect, and pure. Anything he could do to push back against what was expected of him, to rebel in any small way, he would. And these scars would only be the first of many if he had anything to say about it. Sometimes they still tingled when he thought about the arse-kicking the tiny ginger witch had doled out.

The two of them were helping groom the field, clean the stands, and maintain the hoops under the careful supervision of Madame Hooch. Sirius thirsted for the day when he’d be old enough – good enough – to try out for the Quidditch team.

-----

Hermione stole a peek at her fellow delinquent and watched how steady he was on his broom – standing up on the thing like he was born to it. And he probably was if the talk around the school was to be believed. Spoiled prince of some long and distinguished pureblood magical family and assured of his place in this world from the moment he opened his eyes to it. She felt a wave of insecurity wash over her at the thought that when he – and those like him – looked at her and Lily, that they must think they didn’t belong here at all. Hermione tried to push those negative thoughts away and think of her sister, their parents, and their home back in Hampstead.

If things were different, she and Lily would have been moving to secondary school with their friends from home. But now everything had changed. They were witches, not ‘muggles’ like their friends and parents back home, and the path of their lives had been forever altered by this simple, immutable fact. This world was their new reality. And they must prove that they belonged here. They would excel and learn all they could to fit in. And yet part of her yearned for the familiarity of home – for the easiness of knowing just where she belonged and not feeling like she had to be extraordinary just to get the same recognition as some of her peers just because of the differing circumstances of their births.

Hermione climbed the steps through the steps picking up trash and stuffing it into a garbage bag in her hand, huffing and puffing by the time she got to the top, determined to take a rest. She sat herself down, setting down her trash bag, and bristling at the lack of care for others by those who’d chosen to litter. She shut her eyes and tilted her head back on her neck, her face angled upwards towards the sun. In her mind’s eye, she saw her mother and sister – the three of them dancing around the family room while their mother blasted music on their record player while the girls helped prepare dinner or cleaned once a week as was their Sunday tradition. She couldn’t help the tune that popped into her mind as she brushed her fringe off her sweat-dampened forehead.

“It’s been a hard day’s night,

and I’ve been working like a dog…”

At first, she could only hear it in her head. But soon she had progressed to tapping her foot and humming it under her breath. And then the sounds and comforting feeling of home carried her away so that she had leapt up from her seat and was singing along with the words.

“It’s been a hard day’s night.

I should be sleeping like a log.

But when I get home to you,

 I find the things that you do will make me feel alright.”

She found herself reinvigorated and she picked up her trash bag and began grabbing at stray wads of paper and candy wrappers, discarded drinks and even a dented thermos. Hermione swept them all into her large bag, uncaring for the effort it took to lug it around as she continued to sing – most likely off-key.

“And it’s worth it just to hear you say,

You’re gonna give me everything.

So why on earth should I moan?

‘Cause when I get you alone,

You know I feel okay.”

Hermione went row by row, climbing the bleacher-style wooden benches, and even crawling on her hands and knees. She ached for a bath yet was determined to tune out her own discomfort in favor of completing her assigned task before dinner. So, she continued to sing and push through the fatigue, unaware that she had an audience.

“When I’m home,

Everything seems to be right.

When I’m home,

Feeling you holding me tight.”

Only when she finished, and her bag was full and tied tight for her trip down the stairs did she hop up on the wooden bleachers and begin strumming her air guitar just like she would at home when she and Lily got carried away. Behind her closed eyes, Hermione could almost feel the old springs of their parents’ couch beneath her feet while she and Lily would jump around hand in hand, laughing till their sides hurt. She could almost see their mother singing along with her wooden stirring spoon, swishing around in her floral print apron. When she finished, with her back to the pitch, Hermione gave a stage bow and shouted, “Thank you, Hogwarts! You’ve been a lovely audience!”

At the clearing of a throat behind her, she must’ve jumped a foot in the air and let out an undignified squeal of surprise, nearly toppling off the bench as she turned to look over her shoulder at Sirius Black. He had a broom slung over his shoulder and was sitting on the railing, ankles crossed, watching her with what could only be described as amusement. He set the broom aside and began a slow clap. “Nice performance. Do you take requests?”

She knew he was just making small talk, and that perhaps this was his way of extending an olive branch, but she suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable at being caught singing and dancing around. Hermione knew she wasn’t the most graceful or coordinated person, and that her singing voice left a lot to be desired. Also, she selfishly wanted to keep this precious memory of her mother and home to herself. Hackles up, she turned to face him, a glare forming on her face and her brow puckered. “Not for ingrates and troublemakers.”

He folded his arms across his chest and scoffed. “In case it escaped your notice, you’re right here in detention with me for picking a fight. And I wasn’t violent until I was forced to defend myself from a tiny harpy. I only wanted to make people laugh.”

“You could’ve gotten someone hurt – people did get hurt – but you don’t care about that.”

“I already apologized to Evans—”

“Granger­-Evans.”

“That’s too long.” He waved one of his hands dismissively. “And what happens if I need to get her attention and not yours? If I call out ‘Granger-Evans’, you’ll both just turn around. So, I have decided to call her Evans and you Granger,” he said it as if he were explaining something simple to a small child.

“You could just use our given names.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I don’t even call my friends by their names. Surnames it is until something better comes along.” He shrugged. “Now, what were you singing before I scared you?”

“I wasn’t scared!” she harrumphed.

“Uhuh, yeah, right. I’ll pretend I believe you for the purposes of moving this conversation along.”

She hung her head and mumbled her answer, “I was singing a song that reminds me of home.”

“What song?” he pressed.

“You wouldn’t know it anyway.” She blushed at the realization that he’d seen her dancing and heard her singing. She was mortified that she’d allowed herself to get carried away in public. Especially in front of him!

“Hence why I’m asking. I’m curious. Are you always this difficult or is it just something you save for me?” He canted his head to one side.

She lifted her gaze to meet his once more, letting her frustrations fly and channeling her frustrations and insecurities into a verbal whip with which to strike at him. “You irritate me.” She said it plainly, a bite to her voice that she hoped would push him away. Something about him made her feel like an exposed nerve and she found she didn’t like it.

“I gathered that after the pummeling. But why in particular?” He was relentless.

“Because everything must come so easy for you here! You were born into this world and have known what to expect forever. You know where you fit in. But Lils and I have to learn as we go and make fools of ourselves every day while people like you laugh at us for something that we cannot change. We will always have to excel and overachieve to get the same recognition that slackers like you will receive just by coasting by on family connections and money!” By the time she was finished, her chest was heaving, her hands were balled into fists at her sides, and her hair was crackling. She could not believe she had blurted that out to him, of all people.

“Been holding that in a while, huh?” He smirked at her, but she could see a flicker of something in the depths of those gray eyes. Perhaps shame, or guilt? Maybe fear? She could not be certain at all. But he was wearing a false smile, that much she knew for sure. Though, whether it was for his benefit or hers, that she couldn’t be certain of.

“Oh, you wouldn’t understand anyway, you rich ponce!” She hopped down from the bench she was still standing on, grabbed the trash bag a little too forcefully, and began her long trek down the steps towards the pitch. She was not running from the burn of his gaze on her or from his smug smirk, or even his amused laughter at her expense.

No, Hermione was making a strategic retreat.

She couldn’t wait until she knew enough about magic to hex Sirius Black in his stupid, smug face!

Later that night – Gryffindor Tower

Hermione was hanging off the foot of her bed while Lily and the girls sorted through the two muggleborn witches’ record collection. Mary had brought a gramophone from home and set it up in the corner of their shared dorm beneath the window while they decided on the next record to play. The Beatles would always hold a special place in the Granger-Evans’ twins’ hearts thanks to their mother, so they decided on the Please, Please Me record – “Twist and Shout”. Once it began, Mary and Alice, who had never heard the song before watched as Marlene jumped on her bed lip syncing along with Lily who danced around in the middle of the room while John Lennon belted out the lyrics.

“Well, shake it up, baby, now.

Shake it up, baby.

Twist and shout.

Come on, come on, come, come on, baby, now.

Come on, baby.

Come on and work it on out.”

Lily jumped onto her sister’s bed, jostling Hermione enough to pull her from detention stupor to join in the fun. She had always loved her sister’s singing voice, even if Hermione hated it. “Come on! Sing with us!” She grabbed her twin’s ankles and proceeded to yank them around like they were dancing until Hermione finally gave in with a giggle and rolled onto all fours so she could get to her feet.

“Ah yes, like the sweet serenade of a thousand dying cats.” Hermione laughed at herself, rolled her eyes and tried to sing along, trying not to be heard over Misters Lennon and McCarthy who were far more skilled than her.

“You know you look so good, look so good.

You know you got me goin’ now.

Just like you knew you would.

Like I knew you would!”

They all danced around in their pajamas and slippers, robes, and fuzzy socks until they were breathless and laughing hysterically.

“You know you twist so fine.

Twist a little closer now.

And let me know that you’re mine.

Let me know that you’re mine.”

The twins taught the others the twist and even Marlene joined in until they tuckered themselves out and had to be asked to turn off the music for sleep.

-----

“What is that bloody racket?” James whined with his head stuffed between two pillows.

“I think it’s muggle music,” Peter whispered in the dark of their dorm.

“It’s the Beatles,” Remus murmured, not looking up from his book.

“Does everyone know who these muggle musicians are except for me?” Sirius gaped.

“Do your parents even let you listen to muggle music?” Remus challenged with a knowing smirk, eyes lifting from the page he was reading.

“Well, no. But that’s beside the point!” Sirius argued. His palms tingled with repressed excitement at the thought of yet another small rebellion. And then he thought back to detention when Granger when she’d blurted her insecurities at him like he was personally to blame for the state of their world being shit. But before that, she’d gotten up on that bench and let herself go to the music while the sun caught her reddish-brown hair and shone through with highlights of copper, gold, and brass. Her freckles stood out and even her little bucked teeth seemed adorable when she begun to sing. While unpolished, and certainly nothing he’d ever been exposed to at a stuffy pureblood gathering, her voice was strong, steady, and passionate. The music evoked powerful feelings in her that Sirius couldn’t really understand. He didn’t think he felt that deeply about anything during his short life.

“What is the point, Sirius? Can you please tell me so I can go to sleep?” James complained.

“I’m going to take a closer listen!” Sirius decided and kicked his blankets off.

Peter, James, and Remus all shot up in bed to watch him leave before turning to look at one another and making the split-second decision to follow him. If only to prevent him from getting more detention. Peter grabbed at Sirius’ elbow, “We can’t go up the girl’s steps. They’re enchanted that way to keep us out.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” James scoffed.

“I assume it’ll make more sense in a few years.” Remus rolled his eyes.

“I just want to listen,” Sirius said, shaking off Peter’s hold.

When the four of them got to the foot of the stairs, they huddled close together and craned their necks as close to the stone steps as they dared. Remus, of course, could make out the words exceptionally well, but he wasn’t about to tell his new friends that and have them look at him like he was a monster. “It’s the Beatles, like I said,” he murmured.

“Are they laughing?” James smirked. “What is so funny?”

Peter shrugged. “Sounds like they’re having a good time, at least.”

Sirius found himself tapping his foot. “These bugs aren’t that bad.”

“The Beatles are known around the world in muggle circles. They’re famous,” Remus informed them. “And their singing isn’t half bad.” He was the first to turn and leave to return to bed.

Peter and James followed next, while Sirius stayed behind and strained to hear until he was humming along to the hook and chorus. He wasn’t sure these beetles were his cup of tea, but they made fun music if the laughter coming from the girls’ dorm was anything to go by.

Chapter Text

October 1^st, 1971 – Potions Classroom

The first month of school had come and gone and the twins had truly hit their stride, determined to gain as many house points as possible and excel in their classes. Surprising to all, except the twins, Lily and Hermione adored Herbology and Potions, perhaps because of the solace and routine that came with working with the soil and following a recipe towards a predetermined conclusion. Perhaps because it reminded them most of being at home in the kitchen or garden with their mother, it became a safe space.

Lily had a talent for Potions like Professor Slughorn hadn’t seen in a generation, he praised. And Lily bloomed and flourished under his attention. Hermione loved to see it.

As for herself, Hermione preferred the challenge and thrill of Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Yes, like her sister she flourished in classes like Herbology and Potions because of their upbringing, but Hermione also loved to challenge and expand her mind. She loved feeling the adrenaline of pushing her body and forcing herself to step outside of her comfort zone. And she would need to excel if she were going to be top of the class and prove that she was just as much of a witch as some of her half-blood and pureblood peers.

Today they were working on their Wiggenweld Potion – a green-hued potion used to heal injuries, replenish stamina, and even provide an antidote to Sleeping Draughts. Hermione was almost finished, adding honeywater and waiting for it to return to the expected turquoise before she could add boom berry juice. She waited patiently, bouncing on her toes while Lily hummed to herself happily over her own cauldron.

From the corner of her eye, she could see that Peter and Remus had managed to melt their cauldron by keeping the heat too high and adding too much salamander blood. James and Sirius were chortling at them, and Hermione barely managed to repress her urge to roll her eyes at their antics.

By the end of class, the twins were each carefully ladling their potions into glass vials for grading and collection by Slughorn and Lily seemed invigorated by the entire process. Things were nice and settled. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and secretly hoped it would remain so.

-----

But it was not to be. The highlight of dinner that evening was Dumbledore’s announcement that Hogwarts would be having a Halloween Ball and formal dress was required to attend. There would be live music, and all years would be allowed to attend.

Hermione and Lily faced each other with mirrored looks of worry once they got past the initial buzz of excitement around them. But, like the other muggleborns at their table who hadn’t attended a ball, and didn’t know the protocol, the girls worried about messing up and embarrassing themselves.

Dorcas joined them at their table that evening, sliding in between Marlene and Mary while Hermione sat opposite Lily and Alice. The girls all chattered about dresses and music and whether there would be dance cards. Lily and Hermione knew they’d have to send a letter home via owl to their parents and ask about dresses.

October 31^st, 1971 – Gryffindor Common Room

When Dumbledore had announced that there would be a Halloween Ball, initially the younger students were less excited than the Fifth, Six, and Seventh Years who would ask dates and try to spike the punch bowl or leave early to fraternize in one of the countless hidden alcoves around the castle. But for the First Years, it was a chance to set aside house rivalries and celebrate with good friends, good food, and good music – or so the Granger-Evans twins assumed as descended the stairs from their dorm into the Gryffindor common room and were met with a large group of other First Years who were waiting to be escorted down by Prefects.

Lily had dressed in champagne colored dress with flowing, sheer sleeves which tapered at her wrists and a modest, crisscrossing bodice and a simple sash tied in a neat bow at her lower back. Mary and Alice had helped with her hair, pinning it up with pearl stick pins so that she looked like a sea nymph – all ethereal beauty and rosy cheeks.

Hermione on the other hand had asked their parents for a deep green wrap dress with three-quarter sleeves that almost looked black unless it caught the light of the crackling fireplace in the common room. Her wild curls were held out of her face by a pair of tortoise shell combs that had belonged to their maternal grandmother and had been sent by her mum along with the pearl stick pins for Lily’s hair, so she could be with them in spirit. She’d painted her finger and toenails black, much to Lily’s chagrin, and Marlene had helped with a quick drying charm in their dorm.

Marlene was dressed in a crimson, velvet jumpsuit with flared legs and tapered sleeves that accentuated her superior height over her friends. Bat-shaped earrings hung in her ears and her shaggy, blonde hair was pinned up with a simple comb to keep her fringe out of her eyes like it usually was.

Mary had on a plum-colored, bell-shaped dress with short, puffed sleeves and little flat dancing slippers, her glorious, dark coils thick and shining, adorned with tiny amethyst pins she’d been given by her father as a gift before coming to school.

Alice was draped in a pale blue silk set of formal dress robes that made her look like an angel and brought out the cooler undertones of her skin. Her short, cropped hair was slicked back with Sleekeazy’s and small sapphire studs twinkled in her ears, matching the kitten-heeled, satin shoes she had bought for the ball.

The girls gathered in a group at the bottom of the stairs and from across the common room, they could already see the boys making a ruckus. Remus looked exhausted, rubbing his eyes and repeatedly yawning, looking pale and sickly as usual. Sirius tugged at the collar of his formal dress robes in charcoal gray and black which brought out the color in his eyes, though Hermione would never tell him that! Peter was in the corner in what appeared to be brown secondhand robes over a white shirt and uneven bowtie. Had the boy never heard of clip ons? And James was laughing boisterously at something Sirius had said, throwing his arm around his friend’s shoulder. He was dressed in tailored black robes with a crimson shirt underneath and a black tie. Go, go Gryffindor.

Hermione did not manage to stifle her scoff before Mary caught her eyeing the quartet with irritation. Mary took her elbow. “What is it about them that irritates you so much?”

“What?” Hermione turned to face her friend, embarrassed to be caught staring at the Potter boy’s ridiculously gravity-defying hair. “Did you say something?”

“I asked why you let them get under your skin.”

“Oh, because they’re lazy slackers. They think they don’t have to try. They can just fall back on their names, and money, and smiles—”

Mary gave her a knowing look. “I won’t say you’re wrong – though that Remus Lupin is right behind you and Lily for top of the class – but maybe this is a little less about them and a little more about you.”

Hermione met her roommate’s coffee-dark gaze and wanted to turn away. She knew. Hermione knew deep down that her irritation with them stemmed from her own fears about not fitting in, behind judged and overlooked. But she didn’t want to say it. “I just wish that they could walk a mile in our shoes.”

“Lily seems less bothered than you,” Mary remarked.

“Lily has always been more easy-going. Merlin, love her for it. If we were both this barmy, I don’t know how we’d get through seven years of this place,” Hermione confessed in a small voice, “I want to love it. I just… don’t know how.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Mary suggested. “Break it up into smaller pieces. One term at a time. One assignment. One test. One potion. And if it becomes too much, talk to us. That’s what friends are supposed to be for.” She offered an encouraging smile to Hermione.

Hermione pasted on an unsure smile. “I don’t know where I fit yet.”

“Oh, sweetness, you fit right here.” Mary cooed over her and, as if summoned by the power of sisterhood, Lily, Marlene, and Alice encircled them in their group embrace.

-----

The boys looked over to see the girls gathered in an embrace and only Remus had overheard Hermione’s rant and her friend Mary’s soothing words. He hadn’t known she’d felt that way. And wouldn’t she be shocked to discover that her assumptions only applied to half of their group, and less every day. Remus and Peter were half-bloods – him with a muggle mother, and Peter with a muggle father.

Remus’ mother, Hope Lupin, was the epitome of goodness and patience, of kindness and care. But even though he’d been ‘afflicted’ since he was four years old, Hope was vastly unprepared to understand and be able to heal a broken son. His father, Lyall, had turned his disgust and prejudice inward and started drinking, blaming himself for the fate of his young son, leaving his position at the Ministry of Magic, and thrusting them ever further into poverty. Lyall both pitied and feared his only child. Remus could already see it in his father’s eyes, that he feared his son would grow to emulate the savage beast that had infected him. He was determined to prove his father wrong, no matter how little he thought of himself personally. Perhaps it was spite.

Peter on the other hand didn’t come from much happier stock. His magical mother had been pureblood and a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. The youngest of the Selwyn children. But Enid Selwyn had fallen in love with a muggle man in a band and eloped with him against her family’s wishes. She’d been disinherited and disowned, voluntarily leaving the wizarding world for many years and thriving in the muggle world. But her marriage grew tenuous when she announced her pregnancy to her husband, and he’d grown violent as a result. He was possessive of her and became threatened by his unborn child. Peter had almost been miscarried after a particularly bad altercation in his mother’s second trimester. But, perhaps luckily, Mr. Evan Pettigrew had had a heart attack mid-argument and dropped dead. Enid Pettigrew, with no knowledge of healing, had been unable to save him, and though she’d called the muggle ambulance, he was dead by the time he reached the local hospital. She didn’t mourn his loss for very long. And neither did Peter, who’d never known the bastard.

Remus had overheard Hermione’s assumptions of their character and bristled. Even though he’d been part of his group of friends for a couple months now, and they often lead him into mischief, he liked to think he was a decent sort of person. He didn’t go out of his way to hurt others. In fact, it went against his personal code of conduct, given how he perceived himself to be a danger to others at the worst of times. But, oddly enough, when Hermione had said those words, not knowing he was eavesdropping from across a crowded room, it had struck a chord in him.

He found that from the moment they’d stepped into the Great Hall to be Sorted, and he’d glanced at her in profile – looking up at the full moon with such awe of the beauty of nature and magic – that he’d been unable to look away. The sight of it, even in the enchanted vaulted ceiling, had made his gut clench in anticipation of the pain that always went with its appearance for him. But she had glowed beneath its light, and he’d caught the scent of her – honey, old books, and something he couldn’t describe yet… It was as if her scent, so unique to her, was undetermined or yet to be sealed, yet still recognizable to him deep in that most primal part of his soul that was the wolf. And then she’d looked at him and his heart had sped into a gallop behind his ribs. His eyes had flashed gold, and the wolf in his mind had cocked its head, scent the air around them, and decreed its curiosity of the little witch with the big hair and bigger mouth.

She hadn’t hesitated once in letting others know just what she was thinking, especially if she believed they were wrong. She’d put Sirius Black – who was never ashamed of a thing and stubborn in his own right – in his place almost at once. She had shut down James Potter whose mouth seemed to never shut of its own volition. And then she’d gone and chased down Sirius on a broom during their first flying lesson and trounced him midair and then on the ground with a spell that none of them had ever even heard of! She’d burnt the howler from Sirius’ mother and accepted a week’s worth of detention without complaint, in fact appearing a little smug about having earned it during the first week of classes. And then Sirius came back to their dorm that night telling them about the singing and dancing he’d seen and overheard, followed by the tense and heated conversation it sparked. Remus’ wolf had slipped past curiosity to intrigued. Sirius had been caught up in the music – muggle music he’d never heard before and the way she’d danced and sang like no one was watching. But Remus felt… well, he didn’t rightly know. Stirrings of something in the center of his chest that he couldn’t find the words to describe.

But when they were in the same room, his eyes always sought her out. His wolf paced in the back of his mind urging him to talk to her. And it made him nervous. In fact, it terrified him. So, he’d gone with his instincts and sought out the library, hoping to find a book on werewolves to understand if this was normal. Yes, he was almost 12 years old, and he noticed girls. They smelled nice and their hair was shiny. And when they laughed, their bucked teeth that were far too large for their face made him smile too— No. No, wait. Oh, no. His gaze lingered as the girls pulled away from their embrace. The little one, Mary, rubbed Hermione’s shoulders and Alice discretely handed over a handkerchief from her sleeve. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t have a crush on— Oh, bugger.

It was Peter who tugged on Remus’ sleeve to draw his attention to the Prefects at the portrait hole entrance. They were all escorted down, ladies first, so that Remus had to breathe through his mouth when Hermione and Lily skipped past. The latter seemed to be all exuberance and giggles, like fizzy pop, while the former seemed more introspective and reserved that evening, smiling indulgently at her twin who tugged her along. Mary, Marlene, and Alice followed in their wake, with the last of these tucking away the used handkerchief while making Remus wonder why Hermione had been crying. And then further, why did he care so much? He was buggered.

Sirius pulled him out of his reverie by throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Why the long face?”

Remus felt compelled to shrug him off but didn’t want to risk proving him right and decided instead to keep his cards close to his chest until he knew more. “Crowds make me nervous.” Lie. And then there was an uncomfortable pang in the center of his chest, as though lying to Sirius caused him pain – was somehow displeasing to his very magic. His left eye twitched.

Sirius’ expression sobered instantly, and he leaned in, to whisper, “Why don’t have to go. We can explore the castle instead.”

“We already got all dressed up. Let’s go binge on sugary snacks until we pass out,” James crowed.

Remus couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as he was tugged through the portrait door by his friends. Heck, this time two months ago, he didn’t even think he’d ever have any friends. He was still in shock every day that they wanted to associate with him – never mind sleep with, eat beside, or plan adventures with him. He was so incredibly thankful to his friends. So, sometimes in the spirit of paying back whatever good karma had granted him this gift after his short lifetime of misery, he would allow them to pull into their schemes and plotting in gratitude. But that had not endeared them to Hermione Granger-Evans, it seemed. And that thought bothered him more than it ought to.

Honey, old books… what else? The scent permeated the very air around him and lingered in his nostrils. He didn’t yet know, but he was going to find out. His wolf perked up at this decision.

-----

The Great Hall had been transformed into a ballroom – the long tables removed completely, the fireplaces at either end lit and crackling merrily, while smaller tables and chairs had been set up around the perimeter of a dance floor. Floating jack-o-lanterns and lit candles illuminated the space, and there was a refreshment table set up on the left-hand side where the Gryffindor table usually sat. Up at the dais where the staff table typically sat was a stage for the band which was setting up. They looked stuffy.

James led the way for his friends, Sirius throwing an arm around his shoulder in a very Sirius-like manner while Peter and Remus followed behind. The band started warming up and the older students were already gathering into groups and pairs, ready to dance. James hoped he wouldn’t be forced to dance, but his parents had ensured that he at least knew how, should the need arise. For as long as he could remember, he’d had tutors for all the pureblood etiquette and magical history lessons he would need someday to navigate that world. But he couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for the prospect.

Sirius was much like him in that regard. But where James had been raised with love, patience, and complete acceptance of his personality quirks, Sirius had been berated and forced into a mold that he refused to fit into. Sirius balked against all thoughts of familial duties and responsibility. He seemed to detest them and the idea of going home for holidays, especially following that first howler he had received from his mother, made the boy shut down. James tried not to press him on it and allowed his dark-haired friend to open up in his own time.

James’ hazel eyes scoured the room until they landed on Lily Granger-Evans, her hair shining in the dimly lit hall like a beacon and held together by pearls just like the ones on her skirt. He’d never seen robes like those. It must be a muggle style. And they made her look like a nature spirit, maybe born from the sea and covered in pearls for her dowry. Where had that come from? He startled and looked around at his friends, wary that he’d been caught staring and wondering if he’d be teased about it. Luckily, they didn’t seem to be paying him any mind, so he risked another glance to where she was, surrounded by her friends and twin sister, only to find said sibling turned to glare at him through narrow eyes. She made a rude hand gesture that made him gape in embarrassment and then she wrapped a possessive arm around her sister’s shoulders and whispered something in her ear without ever breaking eye contact.

Lily took a peek over her shoulder to look at him and narrowed her emerald eyes at him too before Hermione looked away to chatter with their friends. Whatever she said made them break out into giggles, some more polite than others. Marlene nearly doubled over with laughter and bracing herself with her hands on her knees, while Mary had her head thrown back and an arm wrapped around her midsection to hold her belly.

James blushed furiously in embarrassment, and suddenly the blood that was rushing in his ears went silent, and through the pounding, the sounds of his friends behind him laughing drew his attention. Sirius was leaning against him wheezing while Peter and Remus tried to rein in their snorts and chortles. “Oh, mate, I saw that.” Sirius must’ve been referring to when Hermione flashed him a two-figured salute. He’d never seen the gesture before – must be another muggle thing – but he could surmise through context clues that it was an insult meant to convey the message: “piss off”. James shrugged Sirius off of him where he landed against Remus instead, who staggered a little under the sudden weight.

This drew even more laughter from the girls across the room, and Hermione and Lily flashed them a wicked grin before turning away to converse with their friends.

“What was that?” Sirius asked.

“What do you mean?” James decided to play stupid.

“I meant that bird flipping you off.”

“Is that what that was? Must be a muggle thing.”

“Oh yeah,” Sirius chuckled. “I saw that. And it’s way funnier when it’s directed at you and not me, by the way, but I meant the ogling.”

“I wasn’t ogling anyone!” James’ voice cracked on the last word.

“Oh, really? Then why is Granger-Evans Number One glaring at you like she’s trying to set you on fire with her eyes?” Remus sidled up, joining in on the teasing in the hopes that no one would notice his own, staring.

“Oh, you’re all the worst.” James shoved past them to head over to the refreshment table while they burst into a renewed fit of giggles. From the new vantage point of the snack table, he watched as couples and groups began to trickle onto the dance floor once the band began to play.

Lily dragged her sister into the center with their group of friends and they began to dance – throwing their arms up and ignoring the stuffy minuet in favor of enjoying whatever they seemed to be singing amongst themselves. At first, Hermione seemed to resist, but Lily took her by the hands and spun her in a tight circle over and over until it drew a laugh from her twin. James watched as Lily sparkled at the sight of her sister letting loose – hands in her hair and tousling her darker, auburn curls, head thrown back in full-bodied, joyous laughter. And in that moment, James Charlus Potter watched Lily beaming at her sister, having pulled her out of her funk. Both of them spun, with their arms around one another all because Lily had been the light in the dark.

His fingers tingled around his glass of punch with the urge to hold her hand, maybe to spin her around in a circle. But he resisted when he caught his three friends still watching him watch the redheaded witch. James Potter most certainly didn’t want to dance with a girl! He most certainly did not want to hold the hand of Lily Granger-Evans and ask her to dance just to see her smile at him and her beautiful eyes light up her face— Oh no. He lowered his gaze and sauntered back over to his group of friends, terrified to meet their gazes. Afraid that they would see it in his eyes – that he had a crush on perhaps the witch least likely to give him the time of day. Okay, maybe second-to-least likely. Her twin was a terror. Sirius was right. It was more entertaining when her fury was directed at someone else, and him having a crush on Lily was most likely to put him in the line of fire.

When he rejoined his friends, they huddled around one another, Sirius putting an arm around him to pull him in while Peter pulled small firecrackers out of his trouser pockets. “Brought these from home. Thought we could liven it up a little in here tonight.”

Sirius’ grey eyes glinted with glee in the dark, Remus flashed a shy smile and offered a reluctant nod, and then the three of them looked to James for his agreement. They wouldn’t make a move unless they all agreed. James thought of Lily’s beautiful dress and her sister’s joyful smile and felt a tension deep in his gut, but swiftly pushed it away at the pleading looks from his friends. Girls would come and go, but friends were forever. He set his hand on Peter’s and nodded his assent.

-----

Hermione was ignoring the classical ballroom music coming from the band on the dais and singing out with her friends surrounding her and Lily.

“What would you think if I sang out of tune?

Would you stand up and walk out on me?”

Hermione began in a call and respond fashion with her twin, knowing that they had both memorized the words after listening to their mother’s record so often that they’d scratched it. Lily picked up on her sister’s wish.

“Lend me your ears and I’ll sing you a song.

And I’ll try not to sing out of key.”

Then they sang together, taking hold of the hands of Marlene, Dorcas, Mary, and Alice.

“Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends.

Mm, I get high with a little help from my friends.”

This lyric earned them a couple of confused looks and some giggles.

“Mm, I’m gonna try with a little help from my friends.”

Marlene joined next.

“What do I do when my love is away?

 Does it worry you to be alone?”

Lily and Hermione beamed at her, thrilled she too knew the words. And her voice was like a canary, high and melodic. Hypnotic in its quality.

“How do I feel by the end of the day?

Are you sad because you’re on your own?”

Lily sang and looked at Hermione, her eyes pleading for her sister to open up and share her burdens.

Hermione smiled at her other half as happy tears welled up in her eyes and she sang through the chorus again before Marlene picked up on the next verse while the other girls swayed along with the, humming along because they didn’t know the words.

“Do you need anybody?

I need somebody to love.

Could it be anybody?

I want somebody to love.”

Hermione threw her arms around her sister and held her tight while she sang so only Lily could hear.

“Would you believe in love at first sight?

Yes, I’m certain that it happens all the time.”

Lily pulled back within the circle of her twin’s arms and brushed away Hermione’s tears with the pads of her thumbs, cupping her face within her small, soft hands.

“What do you see when you turn out the light?”

Hermione responded, as if they were having a deeper conversation.

“I can’t tell you, but I know it’s mine.”

Marlene cut in then.

“Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends!

I get high with a little help from my friends!”

At this, they earned several disapproving looks from the staff chaperoning the dance, and from the band who were competing with them in terms of volume now.  

The group of girls fell into soft, comforting laughter and Hermione felt the ache in her chest loosen just a tad. And then the sounds of popping explosions startled them all and they whipped around, heads on a swivel, as their eyes sought out the origin of the noise.

Hermione’s eyes caught the flicker of motion from the corner of the room where Peter Pettigrew was shoving his friends through the doors of the Great Hall with a beaming smile on his face as they scurried off like rats. Bloody troublemakers! Her attention was drawn to the shrieking of a First Year Hufflepuff whose flouncing, cupcake-like skirts were on fire. Hermione and Lily sprang into immediate action, divvying up tasks to the other four girls.

“Marlene and Dorcas, put out that fire.” They nodded and ran towards the Hufflepuff with their wands out and Marlene stripping off her wrap to smother the flame.

“Alice, get Professor McGonagall and tell her what happened!” Alice scampered off.

“Mary, we’ll need Madame Pomfrey.”

Hermione took Lily’s hand and broke for the door while Lily asked, “Where are we going?”

“To catch a rat!” Hermione growled and tugged her twin’s hand with a determined cackle and a fire in her amber eyes that Lily hadn’t seen in the weeks since that detention.

----

The boys burst into the common room, falling all over themselves in laughter at another successful prank. “Did you see the looks on their faces?” Peter crowed.

James thumped him on the back. “That was brilliant, mate!”

Remus and Sirius threw themselves on the couch before the crackling fireplace, leaning against one another and trying to get their laughter under control and catch their breath after running up so many flights of stairs. “Great job, mate,” Sirius congratulated their friend who gave a jaunty bow to the others who clapped for him.

Just then, their celebrations were interrupted by the sound of the portrait door opening and the screech of a familiar banshee calling out, “Peter Pettigrew! You better run, because when I find you, I’m going to hang you from Gryffindor Tower by your skid-marked pants!”

All four boys’ eyes went wide, and their laughter immediately stalled along with all the air in their lungs. Hermione and Lily stormed into the common room, still in their evening dresses, hair crackling with magic and wands drawn. The room was completely silent except for the sound of the crackling logs in the grate and the sounds of heavy breathing for a millisecond before everyone burst into action.

James pushed Peter behind him, drawing his own wand with a slightly unsteady hand, meeting Lily’s emerald eyes with a conflicted stare, “Now, Evans, Granger… It was just a harmless prank. It’s not this serious.” His tone of voice and his single free hand raised in supplication as if he were speaking with a cornered animal.

Sirius and Remus leapt over the back of the couch and ducked behind it, raising their wands in a defensive stance, eyeing the twins warily.

“First, we’re both Granger-Evans, you dunces!” Hermione began. “I’m sorry if your collective brainpower is too pathetic to comprehend hyphenation or use our given names. But second, we’d mostly prefer to never have to speak to any of you again, so it should be a moot point.” Their current odds might be two to one, but Hermione and Lily were fairly sure they could take the boys in a fight if they stowed their wands and went full muggle. Hermione’s fury was icy cold at this point.

Lily’s, however, was a raging conflagration. “Harmless prank? Someone got hurt, you- you- you toerag!”

Hermione turned for a second to look at her sister, wondering at her creativity with regards to name-calling, brows furrowed before she offered a shrug of acceptance and turned back to their prey. “What she said! Some poor Hufflepuff’s skirt caught fire—”

“—and she probably had to go to the infirmary for burns!” Lily finished her sister’s thought.

Hermione continued while the boys’ eyes flickered between them like they were watching a tennis match. Though she doubted they knew what tennis was. “If it were only harmless pranks, we couldn’t care less what you think up with those tiny brains—”

“—but when someone gets hurt, it is no longer harmless. And it is not funny!” Lily continued their twin-speak.

The girls looked at the four of them, guilt flashing across the faces of at least three, but no apologies were made to either them or the unnamed girl they’d injured. Hermione’s eyes settled on James, protecting Peter, and her voice dropped low and threatening, “James Potter, if you don’t step aside and give him up, I will deal with you first and then punish him anyway.”

James trembled, his arm wavering as Peter squeaked in terror behind him. “It- it was a mistake. We didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. Honest! Right, Pete?”

Peter nodded emphatically. Desperate for mercy. “Is- is she okay?”

“We don’t know because we ran out of there almost as fast as you pack of cowards to make sure you didn’t get away it. The girls got the teachers and made sure the Hufflepuff was taken care of.”

“Teachers?!” Sirius balked and sprang up from his hiding place. “You ratted us out?”

Lily glared back at him. “Yes! Someone was hurt and we knew who was to blame. We weren’t going to pretend otherwise. It’s called being responsible.”

“What about house solidarity?” he called back.

Hermione raised her wand higher, inciting him to do the same, as she and her sister crisscrossed in front of one another, Lily moving towards James and Peter while Hermione advanced on Sirius and Remus. “’You might belong in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart, their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart.’” She spat the words at the pair of them, watching as the four of them wilted with every syllable uttered. “It sure takes a lot of nerve to sabotage the first party we’ve been to because you’re not having a good time and ruining it for everyone else. It’s very daring to run away the second your prank goes off instead of making sure it’s a success – which, if someone is injured, it isn’t, pea brains. Chivalry? You set a girl’s dress on fire! I sure hope magic can prevent her from being scarred for life. And bravery? Don’t make me laugh. All I see is a bunch of little boys acting out for attention! Grow up!”

“Step aside, Potter!” Lily shouted, her hair sparking.

“No! It was a mistake. He didn’t mean for—”

Lily snarled, “Regardless of what you meant to do, someone got hurt. The ball was ruined for everyone else. And that girl is always going to remember this night. If she finds out that it was you four, just imagine how she’ll feel whenever she sees you in the hall or at mealtimes.” She watched James’ wand arm falter as he considered her words. “If you were in her shoes, how would you feel?”

“We’re not just gonna hand over our friend!” Sirius called out.

“You would defend someone even when they’re in the wrong?” Hermione turned her cold amber gaze on him – silver and amber clashing, a battle of wills and stubborn determination.

“He’s our friend.” He stubbornly persisted.

Hermione sighed and lowered her wand to her side. “One day when he hurts you or someone you care about, I hope you remember this moment.” She shook her head and turned to look at her sister over her shoulder, gesturing for Lily to lower her wand.

The boys all heaved a collective sigh of relief and stowed their wands, Peter stepping out from behind James to approach warily. “I-I’ll go to see the girl and apologize. I really didn’t want anyone to get hu—”

When they were all off guard, Lily sent a flare along the bond which Hermione took to mean that this was the moment they had been waiting for since they entered this room to discover themselves outnumbered. They might be outnumbered, and they might be new to magic, but they were great students who practiced in their dorms during all their down time, and these boys had underestimated them again. That was their magic. Hermione truly hoped they would remember this night. Both girls raised their wands in tandem, striking out at their chosen pairs.

Hermione stunned Sirius with a crisp Stupefy, sending him sprawling to the ground, arse over teakettle, while Remus tried to deflect, but his wand work was a little clumsier. Hermione managed to reach behind her to a bookcase, grabbed a heavy leather-bound tome, and launched it at the center of his chest. Remus toppled over his friend who was frozen in place, only his eyes able to move, narrowed at the curly-haired witch in anger and shock.

Lily on the other hand had grabbed Peter by the shirt, turning him in her arms, locking her arm around his throat and holding her wand at his throat. “Drop the wand, Potter.”

James carefully pulled out his wand wearing a glare.

“Kick it away.” At his pathetic punt, Lily growled. “Farther.” He launched it across the room, and she smirked. “Good boy.” Then she reached into Peter’s sleeve, grabbed his wand, and tossed in the same direction James had kicked his. For a final move, she charley-horsed Peter so that he fell to his knees, all while maintaining her grip on him and her wand at his throat.

Just then, the portrait door opened and Professor McGonagall – their Head of House – walked in and froze as she took in the sight. The girls wondered if they had gone about this all wrong and would receive detention for the way they’d handled things, but McGonagall flashed a small smirk and winked at the twin witches, took Peter from Lily by the ear – pocketing his wand – and left the way she’d come without a word.

McGonagall must have cast a finite because once the portrait door closed behind her, the three boys got to their feet, James scrambling for his wand, while Sirius glared at Hermione and Remus stared in disbelief. The twins turned to one another with a shared victorious smile, still palming their wands, and nodded to the three young men. “Good night, gentlemen.” Lily smirked smugly and linked arms with her sister. “We really must do this again sometime.” And she steered them towards the stairs to their dorm.

Hermione called over her shoulder, “When you’ve all had a chance to get better, that is.” They cackled all the way up the stone steps.

When they were out of earshot, Remus huffed a laugh and walked around the couch to take a seat, tucking his own wand away. “They really kicked our arses.”

“What a woman.” James sighed.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “We just had our arses handed to us by a pair of muggleborn swots who didn’t even know magic existed a year ago, and you’re both laughing like this is funny?!”

Remus shrugged. “They were better and faster. It doesn’t matter who their parents are. They did the work and learned those spells. They worked together to take us down even though the odds weren’t on their side. I’m impressed.”

“I feel bad about Peter, though.” James ruffled his dark cowlick.

“Bollocks,” Sirius mumbled, tucking away his own wand. “He’s going to get in so much trouble.”

“Should we turn ourselves in and ‘fess up, so that he doesn’t take the heat alone?” Remus asked.

“It’s what a true Gryffindor would do.” James flashed a self-deprecating smile as he recalled the words the Granger-Evans twins had hurled at them. He felt a deep sense of shame at their actions tonight, and though he didn’t want to give up pranks and mischief-making, he vowed from that moment forward to always do his due diligence to ensure that any future schemes would be well-thought out and only practical jokes that wouldn’t cause any physical harm. Certainly, nothing permanent.

Just as the boys were getting up from the couch to retire to their dorm for the night, a record cut on and a song they’d never heard before blared through the space.

“I put a spell on you,

‘Cause you’re mine.

You better stop the things you do,

I ain’t lying.

No, I ain’t lying.”

The boys froze and unconsciously drifted closer to the steps leading up to the girls’ dorms to get a better listen.

“You know I can’t stand it,

Your running around.

You know better, daddy.

I can’t stand it,

‘Cause you put me down.”

“Is this muggle music? They’re singing about spells,” Sirius whispered, eyeing his friends with shock.

James clapped a hand over his friend’s mouth so he could listen but shuddered when Sirius licked the palm of his hand. “Ugh, gross!” He wiped his hand on his trousers and glared at his friend who was now wearing a smug smirk before his face contorted with disgust at the taste of his friend’s hand.

At this point, they heard the twin witches sang along at top volume and Remus shut his eyes to focus his lupine hearing and his wolf perked up in the back of his restless mind.

“I put a spell on you because you’re mine.

You’re mine.

I love you; I love you;

I love you really high and wide.

And I don’t care if you don’t want me.

I’m yours right now,

You hear me.

I put a spell on you because you’re mine.”

At this, a shiver went down Sirius’ spine that he had never experienced before as his ears somehow picked out Hermione’s voice from her sister’s as they harmonized along with the original singer. He had certainly gotten an earful during their various altercations, so he was intimately familiar. But hearing her sing like this – the way she had during that detention at the Quidditch pitch – holding nothing back did something to him. The singer on the record finished with a swell of music and nonsense sounds that Sirius could not make heads or tails of. But it seemed to him that it was the performer holding nothing back, giving herself over to the music completely with an outpouring of pure emotion.

When Sirius turned to face his friends, he was sure they wore matching stunned expressions of awe. Were these the same witches who’d dueled them just minutes earlier? The same Hermione who had chased him down to beat him senseless in righteous indignation during their first flying lesson? The same witch, again, who he’d caught dancing and singing during detention under the bright sun like no one was watching. Who was this witch? And would they survive the next seven years in the same house? Sirius felt a surge in the center of the chest like a second heartbeat that filled him with a flicker of fear, and he scurried away from the staircase back towards their dorm.

-----

Sirius Black was many things. But one thing he wasn’t ever – at least outwardly – was unsure of himself. He tried to always project an image of self-assurance and confidence, perhaps to conceal the fact that he didn’t know himself any more than any other kid his age. Yes, he was the heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. And yes, that role came with innumerable responsibilities and expectations, with more baggage than the Hogwarts Express at the start of a new term. And he would probably be crushed beneath the weight of it soon enough, but he was determined to enjoy the years of freedom he had left. But then this little, ginger witch with a bird’s nest on her head, and a temper that sometimes frightened him – and that was saying a lot for someone who’d grown up with Walburga for a mother – had thrown him for a loop. She seemed to carry that confidence and self-assurance in spades. She knew exactly who she was and wasn’t afraid to embrace it, unlike Sirius.

Hermione didn’t take a single thing lying down, and she always spoke her mind. And though Sirius was beginning to notice she had a habit of jumping to conclusions and making assumptions which most likely stemmed from her own insecurities, he had also taken notice of the fact that she possessed a type of courage he could only aspire to. Sure, he had tried to defend Peter, but she had been correct in her assessment of their guilt. And they had hurt someone, however unintentionally. Hermione and

Lily had torn into them, holding nothing back – like their singing and dancing, all passion and no reserve, completely fearless – and forced them all to face their shortcomings and failings as both Gryffindors and human beings. He felt shame, something that was rare for him. He felt guilty, an emotion he tried to keep at a distance. And strangely enough, he felt longing and pride.

The twins had dueled like someone older than their years, using any and all advantages at their disposal. And they had done it all by trusting in one another and trusting in the knowledge that they were right. He had looked up at Hermione’s hair crackling with excess magic and her eyes, glowing like embers in the fireplace grate, and felt a tingle in the center of his chest that startled him. And still he’d followed the sounds of her voice singing to the base of those steps, almost as if the sisters were celebrating their victory.

He flopped down on his bed, tucking his hands behind his head, fingers laced together, and looked up at the canopy trying to work through his conflicting thoughts and feelings.

Shortly after, Remus, James and even Peter joined him – Peter having received two weeks of detention assisting Madame Pomfrey cleaning up the infirmary and having taken the chance to apologize to the Hufflepuff First Year he’d injured. He told them that she was better, and the girls had gotten her to the infirmary in time so that she would have minimal scarring of the backs of her legs, if at all. Peter and the boys felt relieved at this news and made a pact that any future pranks wouldn’t be harmful, just humorous.

When the rest of their housemates started to trickle in, they listened out for the other girls in the same dorm as the Granger-Evans twins – Marlene, Mary and Alice. They briefly wondered if they should fear additional retaliation, but once they had gone up to their room, their record selection changed, and Remus smirked. Sirius could only hear the very tail end muffled strains of their music, but he wondered how good the quiet boy’s hearing was to be enjoying the music. From his bed, opposite Remus and beside James’, Sirius whispered in the dark, “Can you hear their music?”

Remus let out a sharp gasp and murmured, “I’ve always had good hearing. A good sense of smell too.”

After a long moment of silence, punctuated by the snores of Peter and James, Sirius murmured, “That’s handy.”

Remus let out a huff of laughter. “Yes, it’s useful sometimes.”

“Like, for eavesdropping on witches?” Sirius teased.

“Haha, yes.” Remus laughed lightly. “I’m sure it’ll come in useful in a few years.”

“Are you planning for the long game, or something?” Sirius inquired.

“Something like that.”

Chapter Text

November 3^rd, 1971 – Astronomy Tower

The entire day had passed, and Sirius Black had not received a single note, letter, card, or gift to commemorate his 12^th year on this godsforsaken plane of existence. After the howler from his dear old mother, he hadn’t expected the works… but some acknowledgement of the anniversary of his birth might’ve been nice. He kept quiet and pretended that it didn’t bother him all day.

And then sunset had come and he hadn’t told anyone – none of his friends and roommates, not even any of his teachers. But as his roommates fell asleep that night none the wiser, he’d crept out of bed, out of Gryffindor Tower, and up to the Astronomy Tower to gaze up at the stars, bundled against the chill in his fleece-lined dressing gown, wool socks, and boots. He could see his breath linger in the air in front of his face after climbing all those stairs. But here, amongst the quiet of night and the constellations… he could always find himself. Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky. He scoffed to himself bitterly. What a joke. And then his silver eyes sought out his brother’s namesake and he felt a twinge of, not quite homesickness, but longing for his brother. He didn’t miss their parents or home, but rather the feeling of belonging and kinship he’d always found with Reggie.

The shrill cry of an onyx-black owl cut through his reverie and pierced the silence of the night as it sought him out in the tower. It landed on the railing and sat waiting for him to approach with dark, beady eyes that Sirius almost couldn’t make out in the dark. He recognized the owl – Othello – at once and approached carefully.

The owl extended its leg where a message was secured towards the boy patiently, dark eyes watching.

Sirius detached the note. “Sorry I don’t have any treats for you,” he said softly, reaching out to stroke the bird’s beak with the back of his knuckle. It hooted softly at him and took off back into the night sky where it seemed to vanish into the shadows.

‘Dear Sirius—

Happy birthday, my boy. It’s not every day a young man turns 12, now, is it? You’re probably being spoiled rotten by your friends and family today, but I didn’t want you to think I forgot.’

The words made something bitter and angry crack in the left side of his chest, but Sirius kept reading anyway.

‘You will be the heir to our family someday and I know you’ll make us all proud. They might not say it in so many words, or even acknowledge it… but I believe that even your stubbornness gives them pride because they know one thing above all – Blacks bow to no one. You will be a strong head of our family someday and you make me proud every day you follow your own path. You will lead this house into the future, and one that we can be proud of. I know it.

Happy birthday, Sirius. Check the bottom of your trunk.

All my love,

Uncle Alphard.’

He wanted to ball up the note and toss it from the tower. He wanted to fold it up and hold it close to his heart, treasuring it always. It was a difficult thing to love one’s family and hate them in equal measure. It was painful to fear and loathe the people who are supposed to protect and love you unconditionally. Today of all days, he felt conflicted on the subject of his family. He tried never to talk about them because he didn’t want to see the pity in the eyes of his friends.

He didn’t need anyone’s pity. He just wanted to be seen – truly seen. And appreciated for who he was.

-----

He returned to Gryffindor Tower with the letter folded neatly in his dressing robe pocket and went to his trunk at the foot of his four-poster, opening it as quietly as possible. And there in the bottom was a small parcel wrapped in simple, brown parchment paper and twine. He unwrapped it and found a moving photograph of himself – he must’ve been a toddler – and his Uncle Alphard who was holding him while he hovered on a training broom in the back garden of Grimmauld Place. Alphard laughed when tiny Sirius wobbled on the broom and with a look of pinched determination, gripped the staff tighter in his little dimpled hands, sending it jerking ahead so he nearly fell off. His uncle grabbed him just before he left the frame and his head fell back in a full, belly laugh before the enchantment ended and the scene repeated on a loop.

Sirius smiled and ran his fingers lovingly down the frame of the magic photograph and forced his lips into a firm line to hold in the sob that threatened to bubble up out of him. He brought the photo over to his end table and debated with himself momentarily before sitting there beside him with pride of place. His mates might tease him about the sappy picture, but today on his birthday… when no one else knew or cared, his uncle had been there when he needed him. And he would look at this photo every day to remind himself of that simple fact: He was not alone.

He kicked off his boots, pulled off his dressing gown, shut his trunk and laid the robe over it, before climbing back beneath the warm covers of his bed, and shut his eyes.

Happy birthday, Sirius Black.

December 20^th, 1971 – Quidditch Pitch

Their first year continued to fly by with little in the way of big moments, and there had even been a tenuous truce established between the twins and their friends and the boys which had taken to calling themselves the Marauders. Intrepid explorers – of the castle and the grounds – and merrymakers, based upon Lily’s brief observations. But their ringleader, James Potter, had only continued to make an ever-escalating nuisance of himself to Lily, and by extension, her protective twin. Tuney had always been protective as the older twin, as she liked to remind Lily often – “by a whole 15 minutes, thank you very much, Lils” – and while Lily appreciated it most of the time being the quieter one, at school it was beginning to feel stifling.

They were 12 now, older than a majority of their peers given their late birthday with regards to the school term, and they were on the cusp of their teen years a year sooner, it felt like. Their bodies, their minds, their magic… their entire world and the trajectory of their lives was forever altered and constantly changing. Lily and her sister had always been close – best friends and practically able to communicate without words most of their lives – but it felt like Hermione was branching out and Lily wished her sister would give her the same space to do the same.

They were not remotely interested in the same things anymore. And while Hermione turned her nose up at the childish antics of their peers, Lily often wished she could be more outgoing like her sister and feel included. She didn’t begrudge her sister any of the social strides she’d made, or any of her academic successes, but Lily often felt left behind in terms of development. They’d only made friends that first day on the train because Hermione had taken charge and joined Dorcas and Marlene in their train compartment. Then had maintained those friendships and nurtured them because they’d been lucky enough to be placed within the same dorm as the majority of their new friends. Lily often felt like she was riding on her twin’s coattails, so the speak. All these worries rattled around in her head like bingo balls in a metal cage.

Hermione nudged Lily and drew her from her reverie, and they snuggled closer beneath their shared blankets as Lily discreetly renewed their warming charm. Hermione hummed happily in the back of her throat and pulled out a muggle thermos from her satchel bag to pour her sister a warm cup of cocoa. Lily smiled at her adoringly and warmed her hands around the mug, catching her twin begin to chug straight from the thermos rather than wait for Lily to finish and hand back the lid which doubled as a cup. “One day I’ll be good enough at Transfiguration to create a cup for myself,” Hermione mumbled sheepishly. She was the best in their year, followed closely by Sirius Black of all people.

Lily huffed a breathy laugh and sipped her cocoa slowly so she wouldn’t scald herself. Her eyes followed the gameplay as Gryffindor faced Ravenclaw, and her stomach clenched as each of the Seekers spotted the Golden Snitch, diving towards the field to give chase. She inhaled a bit of cocoa and began to choke before James Potter patted her on the back. Lily turned wide eyes on her sister and then glanced at Potter over her shoulder in shock. Hermione whipped around to glare at the boy, swatting at his hand possessively before rubbing comforting circles between Lily’s shoulder blades and producing a handkerchief from her jumper pocket. “Here, Lils. You’ve got a little—” she gestured kindly at her chin and her shirt.

Lily blushed and wiped herself with embarrassment. “Thanks, Tuney.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” James piped up, and both girls turned to look at him warily. Hermione was wary of what his line of questioning might reveal, and Lily wary of her sister’s potential for violence when it came to the Marauders. They seemed to get under her skin like nothing and no one else. “…why do you call Hermione ‘Tuney’?”

Lily and Hermione exchanged a knowing look before they responded which might’ve only lasted moments, but even their girlfriends tuned in to the conversation, no doubt curious themselves but never courageous enough to ask. The twins’ conversation, though it only consisted of brow contortions, lip twitches, nods, head shakes, and nose wiggling, and eyelid flexing, could be translated thusly were it spoken aloud: “How do you want to play this?” asked Lily.

“A good lie skirts as close to the truth as possible,” Hermione advised. “Just don’t go overboard.”

“But why do we have to lie?” Lily wondered.

“Because you are defending your only sister’s honor! And I refuse to tell them my name is ‘Petunia’. I would never live it down. Can you imagine? Me, some delicate flower? I don’t think so.”

“Oh, but it’s good enough for me, huh?”

“Lils, we’ve been over this. This was my chance for a new first impression, and I took it.”

“But Lily and Petunia – our mother named us, and those names mean something to her. They mean something to me. It feels like you don’t want to be anything like me anymore. Like you’re embarrassed of me.”

“Never!” Hermione insisted, her eyes full of fire.

“I would never do that to you.” Lily’s emerald eyes softened with sincerity.

“I’m never lonely when you’re here.”

“Never without you?”

“Never without you, Lils.” Hermione’s face lit up with a loving, reassuring smile.

They turned back to face the others and Lily took point. “It’s because she likes to sing. It’s just a nickname.”

“Oh, you like nicknames now, do you, Kitten?” Sirius purred teasingly.

The twins turned a shared glare on him, and he flinched at the fire he saw there while the boys laughed at his reaction. The twins smirked smugly like their side had somehow managed a small victory. Hermione cleared her throat. “We like music. It was a big part of our lives growing up, and it reminded us of home and being with our mother. Most of our record collection was either bought by her or leant to us from her personal collection.”

Lily added with a teasing smirk, “And Hermione has an… interesting singing voice.”

Her sister blushed before taking her in a headlock and giving a noogie to the crown of her head. “Oh, I do, do I? Beg for mercy!” Hermione crowed to the hysterical laughter of the others surrounded them.

“Never!” Lily cried back before jabbing her elbow into her twin’s ribs repeatedly. Lily squirmed in her hold and finally fought her off. “Quit it, Tuney!” She laughed as Hermione released her and smiled at her.

Hermione scrunched her nose at Lily and narrowed her amber eyes, both of them with their hands up, unmoving as if daring the other to make a move.

Finally, Lily called out, “Truce!” and held up her hands, palm up as if to surrender.

“Truce!” Hermione nodded firmly and they resumed their positions.

The group laughed while discreetly Remus and Sirius watched the closeness of the sisters and how they were only this open with one another. They felt lucky to see Hermione this free and James adored seeing Lily this confident.

“So, only Evans –” Sirius began.

Both girls interjected to correct him for what felt like the hundredth time, “Granger-Evans!”

He just continued on as if he hadn’t heard them, “– is allowed to give you a nickname?”

“Of course. She gets not only sibling privileges, but twin privileges,” Hermione replied without hesitation.

Lily flashed a cheeky smile, seeking to regain ground in the never-ending battle that was ribbing one’s siblings. “We’re wombmates!”

The group around them groaned at her terrible pun and Hermione threw her head back with full-bellied laughter. She then wrapped her sister up in her arms and pressed sloppy, wet, noisy kisses all over her face until Lily was squirming to get free again. “That was awful! Terrible! Never change, Lils! I love you so bloody much, wombmate!” This resulted in another round of groans, laughter, and good-natured ribbing.

Lily gasped, “Hermione! You swore.”

Hermione shrugged good-naturedly. “Thought I’d try it out and see how I like it.”

Lily giggled behind her hand. “And the verdict?”

“Feels like seasoning for language,” Hermione said before the two devolved into further laughter. “Tastes good. I might do it again.”

The others around them took in the scene as if they were getting a rare peek behind the curtain that was the conjoined psyche of the Granger-Evans twins.

-----

Remus took the opportunity to crab-crawl from the upper bleacher where he was seated between Sirius and Peter to plop down beside Hermione. “What kind of music do you like? I mean, besides the Beatles.”

Hermione finally released her sister who huffed and tried to set her hair to rights to soothe the burn of embarrassment in her pale, freckled cheeks. And when Hermione turned to face the usually quiet boy, she was surprised at 1) how close he was sitting, and 2) that he was making such direct eye contact with her. His eyes are a lovely green, she thought to herself and proceeded to shake her head like an etch-a-sketch as if that would clear the traitorous thought away. She tried to play it cool instead. “You heard our music, huh?”

“I think all of Gryffindor Tower heard it.” Remus flashed an impish grin.

“I regret nothing.” Hermione folded her arms across her narrow chest and lifted her chin in mock-arrogance which was only broken by her cheeky smirk. “But if you must know, we like the Beatles, David Bowie, the Rolling Stones, Queen, ABBA… I mean, the list really goes on and on. I’m more into the song than the musician or even the genre. But I’m more familiar with muggle music since that’s the world we grew up in. I like discovering new artists and songs. Mostly, I like music that makes me want to sing and dance –”

Lily interjected with more of what Remus and the boys were coming to know as twin-speak from the two girls, “– or music that makes me sit and think about what the person must’ve been feeling when they wrote it.”

“I also like music that sends a message or artists who use their platforms to make a statement and do something good in the world,” Hermione chimed in with a nod of agreement from her sister.

“I like music that makes me feel free,” Marlene added and extended her arms out to her side and tilting her head back like she was floating or flying. Her friends gave her a tiny round of applause.

Dorcas flashed her a subtle, fond smile when she thought no one was looking.

Hermione turned to face Remus more fully. “Then, of course, there is the age-old argument of Aristotelian mimesis versus Platonic anti-mimesis. Does art – or in this case music – imitate life or is it the other way around?” she posited, tapping her chin with her finger.

She was so bloody smart. He didn’t know what half those words meant, but he wanted to learn so he could discuss them in more depth with her. Remus’ eyes flared gold for a moment and his heart began to beat a strange, new staccato in his chest before he blinked a few times to bring his wolf back under control. He only hoped she hadn’t seen his slip up, but it appeared she was in her own world now, lost to the tumble of thoughts building upon one another so that he could almost see the gears turning behind her amber eyes.

Almost gold. Like his. His wolf liked her eyes. And Remus was beginning to adore the way her mind worked.

----

Sirius observed the way his friend was sidling up to Hermione and though he was happy for his friend who was often too shy to make conversation, especially with members of the opposite sex, he felt the tug of something in his chest that made him turn away and clench his jaw just a little tighter. He focused on the match where Ravenclaw scored another 10 points by putting the quaffle through the hoops.

“DIGGLE SCORES ANOTHER 10 POINTS FOR RAVENCLAW! WHERE IS YOUR HEAD AT, PREWETT?! PULL IT OUT OF YOUR ARSE, PLEASE – sorry, Professor Flitwick. OI, HOLD ONTO THE QUAFFLE, YOU MUPPET!”

The boys chortled and Hermione gave an inelegant snort believing that the commentator was a tad overzealous. Sirius watched from the corner of his eye – his attention drawn back to her and her beaming smile, with those bucked teeth that poked out over her bottom lip adorably, her button nose which was now rosy from the cold, and her mittened hands that were clasped together against her chest to keep them warm.

He pulled his wand without thinking and cast a warming charm over the twins and Remus before tucking it away in his pocket. Hermione turned to thank her twin, and when Lily shook her head to show that it was not her, the curly-haired witch looked to Remus who shrugged. Hermione turned back to the match after a moment, and that’s when Remus caught Sirius’ silver gaze and narrowed his eyes at his friend as if to ask ‘why?’

“Gryffindor would have more luck if their Chasers actually worked together instead of showing off,” Lily said.

“Our Chasers are faster and better flyers since they’re upperclassmen and therefore more experienced. But they’re not playing as a team.” Hermione jumped onto her sister’s train of thought.

The boys, for their part, were stunned that the twins had been paying enough attention to make that determination. “Prewett is a decent Keeper, but he needs to revise tactics as the captain,” Lily remarked.

“And our Seeker is too heavy – too slow. Ravenclaw’s Seeker has his slighter build as an advantage,” Hermione observed.

“More aerodynamic, right,” her twin agreed and pointed at the Seekers trying to race for the Snitch. The eyes of their entire group followed along in awe where the Ravenclaw Seeker caught the golden ball and pulled up close enough to the ground that all of Ravenclaw in the stands heaved a sigh of relief for the Second Year.

The crimson and gold-clad students in the stands groaned their disappointment while the twins applauded politely before packing up their thermos, blanket, and bags. “Why are you clapping for them? We just lost,” Peter griped.

Lily looked over her shoulder at him. “It’s good sportsmanship. They played better and they won because of it. I’ve got no skin in this game. I don’t care who wins or loses, just that they do it with integrity and dignity.”

Hermione threw an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Well said, twin o’ mine! Shall we head back for dinner followed by a hot bath?”

Lily beamed. “We shall!” She tucked an arm around her sister’s waist and their friends Mary, Alice, Marlene and Dorcas – who no one thought strange for leaving hand-in-hand – followed in their wake.

The next day – Platform 9 ¾

“Marry me, Lily Granger-Evans!” James Potter crowed in the middle of the crowded platform on his knees with his arms thrown out at his sides.

Lily and her sister stood stunned, side by side, before they turned to look at one another wearing eerily similar wicked grins. They turned to face the smitten boy, and Lily cranked her hand back before whipping it around with enough speed and force that the result crack against James Potter’s cheek made his head turn.

The girls turned and stormed off together, trunks in hand, heads held high, and red hair swaying behind them like twin metronomes. Sirius, Remus, and Peter stood behind their stricken friend – trying to contain their laughter and second-hand embarrassment – who was still in shock with a hand pressed to his face where a red, hand-shaped bruise had already started to form.

Marlene, Dorcas, Mary, Alice were standing there watching with mouths hanging open in awe before scattering to find their parents to leave.

James staggered to his feet when his parents Charlus and Dorea approached, and he belted out, “I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it!”

His father chuckled. “With that little redhead?” He looked at his own auburn-haired, bespectacled lady wife and smiled knowingly. “It runs in the family, son.”

Dorea blushed prettily like a young girl and leaned in to embrace her son. “Ooh, we should get you home and get something on that cheek. I think your eye is starting to swell shut too.”

The boys laughed and stepped forward to be introduced to James’ parents as his best mates before dispersing themselves.

----

Remus’ eyes lingered for the split-second left when the Granger-Evans twins departed the platform through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, Hermione with her hand at her sister’s lower back to make sure she got through safe. He was surprised to find that she turned as if she could feel him watching her, and when their gazes locked, her amber eyes widened, and a rose-colored blush appeared on the apples of her cheeks before she gasped and turned to leave the way her sister had gone. Something in Remus’ gut clenched at the thought that he had been the one to put that color in her face. He wanted to do it again. The thought startled him, and his wolf sat up at attention caused even more chaos.

----

Sirius caught the brief exchange and swallowed hard at the sight of the blushing, little witch and her eyes on one of his best mates. Did Remus have a crush on the little hothead? And did the harpy have one too? Something clenched in Sirius’ chest at the thought while something warm began to pump through his veins.

December 21^st, 1971 – 12 Grimmauld Place

Bellatrix stood beside the hearth with her sisters and her husband, Rodolphus, who was maintaining his own separate conversation with his younger brother, Rabastan. Bella listened to Andromeda gush about her final year at Hogwarts and all she hoped to accomplish now that she’d completed her schooling. She wanted to study to become a healer for St. Mungo’s, and while Bella adored seeing her normally stoic sister this animated, she knew that their parents already had plans in the works to arrange a match between the second oldest Black sister and the Malfoy Heir, Lucius. However, Bella didn’t want to ruin her sister’s jubilant mood on this festive occasion.

Narcissa, the youngest and the most beautiful of the three of them, already had her own prospects lined up, though Bella had noticed the lingering glances towards her sister’s intended. And Lucius wasn’t very subtle with his own interest in the youngest Black daughter. Bella knew that Andi would do her duty, and Cissy would respect their father’s decision as any pureblood daughters were bound to do. But she didn’t cherish the idea of seeing one hurt because of the other – not that Andi harbored the same affections. To her, this would be an arrangement and nothing more, much like Bella’s union with the Lestrange Heir. Roddy was well-connected, respectful of her space, had all the right pedigrees, and shared the same ambitions and values that suited the House of Black.

Bellatrix, as the eldest of her generation, had been happy to do as commanded and marry her intended once she’d finished her formal education. Theirs was a cerebral union rather than an emotional or even physical one. She and Roddy once shared a bed on her most fertile days when they attempted to sire an heir for the Lestrange line, and it was entirely clinical between them. They worked together as equals towards achieving each of their shared goals. It really was the perfect union for someone as single-minded and driven as Bellatrix.

But then she caught the raucous laughter of her younger cousins – Sirius and Regulus – who were being entertained by their Uncle Alphard, the current head of the House of Black. Though as a determined bachelor with no wife or children on the horizon, and his only brother Cygnus only having had three daughters, the title of heir apparent had passed onto Sirius Orion Black III’s small, unprepared shoulders the moment he’d been born.

Bellatrix had secretly stewed in her rage over it as she watched over the boy in his infancy, at once hoping that he would live past the fragile stage when so many children were taken too young, and that he would be one of the countless lost to childhood disease. It had simultaneously horrified and cheered her – that he marked the continuation of their proud line. She was eight years his senior, loyal, obedient, virtuous, and ambitious. All the things a pureblood scion and heir should be, only ever doing what was asked of her by her parents and the House of Black. And yet she had been passed over, her and all of her capable sisters in favor of a male heir.

As she watched the three-manned line of succession gathered in a corner of her aunt and uncle’s ballroom, Bellatrix had the strongest impulse to draw her wand and stamp out the obstacles in her way so that she could claim the title she felt should always have been hers. Great things were coming for those like them, deserving of greatness, and Sirius was a mere child of 11, unprepared to lead them should anything happen to Alphard or even Cygnus or Orion. And Regulus? Bah! The child still hadn’t left the nest for school…

If it were up to her, this house would need reordering to prepare for what was just on the horizon. The Dark Lord would guide them to their rightful place once more. And Bella would be his right-hand and show her father, her uncles, and all the men who dared to shuffle her aside for the sin of being born female, that she was worthy of their respect – the honor of being the next head of their noble and ancient house.

She would show them all.

Christmas Eve, 1971 – Granger-Evans Townhouse

The girls danced around the family room to Christmas carols while decorating the tree which their mother had left for them to do when they got home since it was their tradition to do it together. Iris Granger-Evans was in the kitchen putting the last preparation on her pastries for tomorrow. And Harold was in the family room trying to set the rabbit ears on the telly for their season ritual of watching “It’s a Wonderful Life”.

Iris finished in the kitchen and rinsed her hands just as the girls finished hanging the last of the silver and gold baubles on the tree. Harold finished up with an angel tree topper that they had affectionately named ‘Clarence’ in honor of their favorite Christmas movie. Then they all settled in on the four-seater, Gryffindor-red couch under throw blankets, their feet up on the coffee table – pulled closer for the benefit of the girls’ short legs – each holding their own holiday beverages. Harold had a hot toddy, Iris had made a large pot of mulled wine, and the girls each had their cocoa which was more dessert than beverage at this point. Lily favored crushed peppermint flakes on her whipped cream topped cocoa while Hermione preferred a sprinkling of cinnamon. The girls cuddled between their parents on the couch and wiggled their toes inside overly fluffy socks – Lily in pink, and Hermione in purple.

The opening credits began to roll, and the score swelled as it began. They preferred it in the original black and white. It was tradition, after all. Their evening was interrupted, however, by the sudden tapping at the windowpane over their mother’s sink. All four of them turned toward the intrusion and the girls sighed. Harold got up to open the window, stunned to find four a half dozen owls perched on his wife’s window box before they fluttered in and dropped presents and cards on the laps of the two little witches still perched on the couch with their mother who watched the spectacle with wide eyes, covered her cup with her hand so no stray feathers would fall in.

The avian messengers all departed as swiftly as they’d come, a few of them snatching at the plates of Christmas biscuits cooling on the kitchen counter. Iris gasped and Harold shut the window behind the last of them while the witches set their mugs of cocoa on the coffee table, put down their feet and began to delve into their collection of cards and gifts with surprise.

They’d each received cards apiece from Marlene, Dorcas, Mary and Alice. But what was more surprising was that Hermione had received what appeared to be a mystery record from Remus Lupin, and what appeared to be a red, leather-bound journal from Sirius Black with pages and pages inside for music composition. Lily unwrapped a small black, velvet box and inside was a priceless opal ring set in a white gold setting surrounded by gems black as obsidian. The sender could be none other than the indomitable James Potter.

Iris Granger-Evans uttered a shocked gasped and snatched up the box and turned an accusing stare at her daughter. “Lily Jane Granger-Evans! What is the meaning of some boy sending you jewelry? Explain right this instant!” Their mother was gaping like a fish while their father’s expression was thunderous.

Lily flushed and swallowed hard. “W-Well, I think this boy has s-some kind of unhealthy obsession. He asked me to marry him on the train and again on the platform, and I s-slapped him!”

Their father’s mouth twitched. “That’s my girl.”

Iris gaped at him. “Harold, we cannot condone violence!”

“Well, no, love, but she set her boundaries and stood by them. And that’s important too. I was a boy once myself, and soon enough their minds are only on one thing, wizards, muggle, or otherwise,” Harold defended as if he were on the witness stand.

Iris narrowed her eyes at him and finally conceded the point with a huff and a firm nod. “We will send this back as soon as possible. It’s terribly inappropriate.”

-----

That night, as the girls lay in their separate rooms, Lily found herself thinking about that audacious, presumptuous, ridiculously over-the-top James Potter and wishing she’d taken a cue from her sister and punched him instead of going to easy on him. And in front of her parents! How mortifying! But still the flush of heat wouldn’t leave her cheeks and infuriating as it was. But worse, she found that she missed her sister and her dormmates and it was harder to fall asleep without the soft sounds of their breathing. Of Tuney’s light snores, which she denied any time Lily mentioned them.

-----

Hermione tossed and turned in bed, her mind unwilling or perhaps unable to quiet down enough for the bloody turbines to power down so she could slip into the peace of unconsciousness. Grumbling, she rolled onto her side and reached out an arm to her end table to flick on her lamp, only to be met by the sight of Remus’ record and Sirius’ journal. Remus was so thoughtful, and she wondered what new music he’d gotten for her. She looked forward to listening to it in the morning. But Sirius’ gift surprised her – she hadn’t even known he was paying attention, to be honest. He seemed so engrossed in the Quidditch match. They had taken what they’d learned about her and presented her with personal, meaningful presents. And then she got an idea… Hermione Jean Granger-Evans got a wonderful, awful idea. She smiled her Grinch smile and turned out the light.

January 4^th, 1972 – Gryffindor Tower

“Girls, gather around. I have a new record, and then I have a brilliant beyond brilliant idea,” Hermione announced.

As if summoned by the sound of her roommate’s voice, Alice stepped out of the bathroom with her hair up in rollers beneath a silk scarf.

Lily set up on the record on Mary’s gramophone and the dulcet tones of “Season of the Witch” poured out of the horn as they cranked the volume, not bothering with silencing spells. Marlene’s eyes widened and she gaped. “I don’t know this one!”

Lily giggled and shushed her friend. “Just listen. I think you’ll love it.”

“When I look out my window, many sights to see.

And when I look in my window,

So many different people to be.

That is strange, so strange.”

The song built mellow and slow, while Hermione stood on her bed, raising her hands over her head, head thrown back on her neck, eyes shut, as she allowed the music to wash over her like a warm bubble bath.

“You’ve got to pick up every stitch.

You’ve got to pick up every stitch.

You’ve got to pick up every stitch.

Mmm-hmmm, must be the season of the witch.”

At this, the girls all locked eyes – emotions flowing through them rapidly. Excitement, surprise, joy, pleasure, and empowerment.

“Must be the season of the witch, yeah.

Must be the season of the witch!”

The lyrics being simple enough, the girls caught on soon enough and began to chant along as if it were a ritual of some kind.

For perhaps the first time in their young lives, these five little witches faced one another and felt powerful in their womanhood. Marlene threw her head back, shaggy blonde, pink-tipped hair flowing past her shoulders, and she let out a loud, animalistic howl.

The girls laughed, Alice a little more bashful, and Mary looking around at others seeking approval before removing her hand from in front of her mouth. Hermione and Lily locked eyes with a nod and threw their heads back letting out a boisterous, riotous, freeing howl before starting to chant, “The season of the witch!”

This went on till the song ended, and Lily hopped off her bed to remove the needle. Hermione dropped onto her backside with a little bounce and swung her legs over the side of her bed to get to her feet and step up to the center of the room. “Now, as promised, ladies… Gather ‘round. I have an idea.”

-----

The Marauders were in their dorm in shock at the noise they heard coming from the girl’s dorm across the common room from theirs. James and Sirius were laughing their arses off, Peter was trying to stifle the sound with his pillows. And Remus was in wide-eyed shock the moment the howls and chanting started. For some reason, the moment the howling started, his wolf was front and center in his mind, thumping his paws, tongue lolling out the side of his snout, and tail wagging like he wanted to play. His wolf had never been playful like this before. Remus’ heart raced and he lowered his chin to conceal the fact that his green eyes had gone full gold. At least she liked the record, he thought in an effort to comfort himself and silence his racing heart and thrumming magical core.

Chapter Text

January 5^th, 1972 – Gryffindor Common Room

The girls sat in front of the fire with their heads together, whispering amongst themselves until the boys – James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter – descended the stone steps from their dorm, head hung, hands shoved in their pockets, and shoeless. At least the girls hadn’t taken their socks too. They didn’t want them getting sick walking around barefooted on flagstones during a Scottish winter, Lily thought to herself, struggling to contain her laughter so she wouldn’t run the risk of giving herself away.

Hermione was looking anywhere but at the boys as they trooped through the portrait hole without looking up or uttering a single consonant, which was wholly unlike them.

Once they’d left and the portrait hole closed behind them, the five girls collapsed into a fit of giggles until they were crying, wheezing, and holding their ribs to quell the ache.

“Oh Merlin, did you see their faces?!” Marlene crowed.

“It was too good!” Mary giggled, wiping away her tears with her index fingers.

Alice wheezed breathlessly, “Was it too much to prank all of them? I mean, James and Sirius are berks, but Remus is so quiet, and Peter is only guilty of following them around like a lost puppy.”

Lily grumbled, “Oh, you can’t expect me to believe that they didn’t know about Potter’s whole plan! It was mortifying, Alice! First on the train, making a scene in the corridor, and then on the platform in front of all the parents too. We’re only lucky our parents were waiting for us outside by the car.” She gestured between her sister and herself with her thumb before folding her arms across her chest.

Hermione an odd pang of guilt at causing Remus any discomfort. After all, they were the ones always going around causing mischief and attempting to prank people – however unsuccessful – so it was only kind to demonstrate a proper practical joke, wasn’t it? The charitable thing to do, really. And then there was Sirius. Alice was right. Him and James were berks, and all too enamored of themselves. But when she thought back to his gift… her tummy did a strange little flip, and she didn’t quite know what to do with that information. Hermione only hoped her next surprise would make up for it, at least a bit.

Later that day - Charms Classroom

Professor Flitwick was demonstrating the Locking Spell and its natural counter, the Unlocking Charm for them that day, enunciating very carefully as he cast at the door to the classroom. “Colloportus!” He lowered his wand and asked Frank Longbottom to attempt to open the door manually. Frank gave it his best, even going so far as to close both hands around the knob and brace a foot against the door frame to give it a yank. All he did was lose his grip and send himself sprawling a foot away onto his backside with a whoosh of air that left his lungs and a groan, most likely indicating he’d be sporting a new bruise.

Alice giggled, her hand clamped over her mouth, and Frank looked away with a bashful grin, rubbing his aching hindquarters before retaking his seat.

“Now, the Unlocking Charm – Alohomora,” Flitwick demonstrated and watched as the door unlatched and swung open just a few centimeters on its hinges.

Lily and Hermione shared an exasperated look as they’d already mastered this one themselves, practicing in the privacy of their dorm by trial and error and much locking themselves in the communal bathroom before mastering the charm, much to the dismay and intestinal distress of their dormmates. They weren’t whining when all five of them had learned the spell and charm, though, Hermione thought to herself.

Flitwick conjured a row of five doors which appeared to be on wheeled frames for the purposes of this lesson and had them all line up and take turns until the First Years seemed to have gotten the hang of things.

Each time the girls saw the boys in class with no shoes, they were unable to contain their laughter, Hermione even going so far as to let out the most unladylike, indelicate snort in the middle of class when they marched in looking sullen, that would’ve made her mother glare at her in disappointment. Peter had gaped at her while Sirius beamed, somehow looking pleased at the sound even though she was mortified that she’d likely be compared to some kind of farmyard animal. She wondered, bitterly, if the spoiled, rich boy had ever even seen a farm.

-----

By lunch, the boys had found a few odd shoes. Though they definitely weren’t hidden in pairs because where the fun be in that? Hermione thought with another laugh brewing inside of her. She would just wait and observe for the next part of her and Lily’s trick. They’d been reading ahead and practicing nonstop just for this – something special for the boys. Part of her, a part hidden deep down wondered at their possible reactions should the Marauders ever discover that the girls were the culprits. Would they be impressed or cross? And why did it fill her with a little thrill to be breaking the rules and not only meeting them at their level, but surpassing it?

That night – Gryffindor Tower

Remus had come from his shower, dressed and ready for bed before his dormmates could finish and catch him without a shirt on. He still didn’t want them to see his scars. But as he buttoned up the last of his long blue and gray flannel pajamas to his throat, he parted his bed curtains and was pleasantly surprised to find a small box with a bow wrapped in simple brown parchment paper and topped with a cherry-red bow comprised entirely of curled ribbon. Remus looked around the room and found himself still entirely alone, his three dormmates still showering. With a shrug, he climbed into bed, shut his curtains, and sat cross-legged facing the box. He hesitated for a moment before reaching out to open it, but when he did, he pried off the bow, sliced through the parchment paper wrapping with the blunt edge of his thumb nail, and quietly lifted the lid off the box.

 Inside appeared to be a small pile of well-loved books and on top sat a small card with his name scrawled on the front of the green envelope.

‘Mr. Lupin. Remus,

Thank you for the record. I loved it. I’m sure you heard just how much we all did. Now I wish I had sent you something.

It was a most welcome surprise. As well as the half-dozen owls that showed up in the middle of Christmas Eve and startled our parents half to death. But the look on their faces was priceless and well worth it – especially when Lily opened the engagement ring from James. Mum about had a coronary!

But I wasn’t aware we had the kind of friendship where we sent each other holiday presents. It’s nice to hope that perhaps we do. As you can probably tell, I’m not always great at getting to know new people. Lily’s always been the people person who drags me along kicking and screaming since we’re a package deal. So, it was nice to discover that I had perhaps made a friend all on my own. And I’m pleasantly surprised that it’s you. And now I’m rambling. I do that when I get nervous.

Thank you. Looking forward to getting to know the real you. That is, if you still want to know the real me.

Your friend,

Hermione.’

Remus set down the card in the overturned box lid and stuck his hand into the box, carefully retrieving three paperback muggle fiction novels. Dune by Frank Herbert, Lord of the Flies ­by William Golding, and Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. He smirked at the books and how obviously worn and well-loved they appeared. As he flickered through the pages, the scent of Hermione carried to him and his nostrils flared, his wolf stirring in the back of his mind. He didn’t know what it was about this witch, but his wolf seemed intrigued by her and that gave him pause.

And then a thought occurred to him as he tucked the books into his bag and the note beneath his pillow, shoving the box under his bed. How had she managed to sneak the gift into their room? And what else had she potentially meddled with? She seemed to have her own mischievous streak, and Remus found that the thought made him smile.

----

When Sirius finally got back to his bed and changed out of his robes, preparing to bathe before bed, he’d only found three shoes – one belonged to Peter, and neither of the remaining two paired with the other. He was curious and anxious to know who had somehow snuck into their room, stolen all four boys’ shoes, and taken the time to scatter them across the castle. He hoped they were only hidden inside because if his feet got any colder, Sirius was afraid his toes might snap off. Once he got past his frustration and irritation, he was mostly impressed he hadn’t thought of it first. Perhaps a treat for Snivellus! He’d sighed and tucked his shoes under his bed, wishing he knew how to transfigure himself a new pair. His feet were sore from a full day spent traipsing around the castle and grounds – the damp grass had been a real treat in only his wool socks. Now he just wanted to clean off the day and go to bed.

Once he was finished, he changed into his pajamas and parted his bed curtains only to come up short at the sight of a flat, square, wrapped… gift? laying in the center of his bed. Wrapped in shining red Christmas paper and a ridiculously oversized gold bow, Sirius found himself smiling and clambered up onto his bed, tugging his curtains closed around him for privacy.

He was filled with a sudden burst of warmth in the center of his chest at the feel of the present between his fingers where he turned it over to spot a small, handwritten note. His only parents did not exchange gifts or decorate their home for the holidays. Yes, they entertained guests and attended gatherings together, but children were rarely permitted to go, and so he and his little brother, Regulus, were left behind at Grimmauld Place in the care of their parents’ house elves. Neither of which were pleasant at the best of times, and certainly not to Sirius. He refused to cry about it, even to Reggie, and they’d played pretend in their nursery, using their blankets and pillows to make a fort in between their small beds with the help of their elves’ sticking and levitation charms. Sirius missed his brother when he was here, even surrounded by friends, and wished he could take him away from that cold, loveless place.

But he was currently wearing the last item he’d been ‘gifted’ by his parents – a warm set of black, fleece pajamas charmed to combat the cold of Scottish winters in the Slytherin dungeons before Sirius had left for Hogwarts and disappointed them by being the first Black, perhaps ever, to be sorted outside of Slytherin, much less into Gryffindor. Neither he nor Regulus had received Christmas presents that year or ever, except from Uncle Alphard, one of their mother’s brothers and the only one who seemed to understand Sirius’ need to push back and ask questions rather than just accept what he was told and go along to get along.

Sirius took up the note in small, pale, shaking hands and read it reverently:

“SB –

I have to admit, I was surprised to receive a gift from you at all, so please excuse the fact that this is late, and technically borrowed. But I have memorized every song by now. You once asked about the song from detention – the one you caught me singing and dancing to like a fool.

I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of The Beatles, but they might be one of our favorite muggle bands to date. They might not be to your taste. Something tells me that deep down, you’re a rebel at heart, and that spark will most likely only grow as you do. If that’s the case, you’re among kindred spirits, friend. May I call you ‘friend’? I know we both have a few, but in my limited experience, it doesn’t hurt to make more.

Please listen to the music. I hope to hear your thoughts. I’ve always felt like The Beatles have a way of creating music that makes it feel like they’re speaking directly to me. I’ve always found it comforting. Maybe you will too.

Thank you for the beautiful journal. I promise to treasure it always and put it to good use…

Happy Christmas!

Signed,

HGE.”

Sirius gaped at the initials and in reference to their shared detention and The Beatles, he knew immediately who they belonged to. He’d agonized over sending that journal and was secretly pleased to know that she’d received and appreciated the gesture. He had taken note of the way that Remus was paying her attention lately and hoped that he could make peace with the hot-tempered witch, if only for his friend’s sake. Honestly, when her rage was directed elsewhere, she made him laugh. She was wicked smart, and she and her twin were well on their way to being the top of their class. He would never admit this out loud, but if they’d been born boys… he might’ve invited them to join the Marauders.

Sirius carefully set the note aside and unwrapped the gift, starting with the giant bow. He pulled it off and set it aside, intent on keeping it as a memento. When he pulled back the wrapping paper, he felt the cardboard and looked down at the cover where it appeared there were four different men in grayscale photos with similar haircuts – a fringed bowl cut – all making silly faces back at him. The photos didn’t move. Did muggle photos not move? he wondered with awe and a flash of curiosity.

He felt a tingle of fear at the base of his spine which was immediately overwhelmed by the thrill of knowledge of the forbidden. Perhaps this was why his parents had always been so adamantly opposed to any kind of outside influences in the upbringing of Sirius and Regulus. They knew the temptations were great, and Sirius wondered if curiosity meant he was weak-willed. But then he’d been sorted into Gryffindor whose virtues were daring, boldness, bravery, and courage. So, perhaps by that logic, it took a stronger will to step outside the norm of expectations and try something new. Something unexpected. He turned over the record and wondered how he’d listen to it, and briefly considered asking to borrow the girls’ gramophone.

Sirius climbed out of bed, grabbed the record, bow, and note and tucked them safely into his trunk at the foot of his bed. He crawled back into his bed and went to sleep with thoughts of Hermione’s smiling face on his mind – her front teeth bucked out, and the apples of her cheeks rosy as she received the journal. He found himself less concerned than before about the tingling at the base of his spine at the thought of having made her smile.

-----

The following morning, at breakfast, Remus felt compelled to ask about the surprise, but found he didn’t want to draw attention to himself in front of his friends. He tried several times to catch Hermione’s eye, but she, her sister, and their friends seemed to be gathered around her notebook again while she chewed the end of a ballpoint pen between her teeth. She seemed to be full of anxious energy and Remus briefly wondered if she was worried that he would be upset for her sneaking into his dorm.

“Remus! You with us?” James asked.

“You were away with the fairies for a moment there.” Sirius smirked, grey eyes flickering to Hermione before settling back on Remus. “Or maybe the fireflies?”

Remus’ brow furrowed at the implication, and he grumbled, “I was just thinking about the potions assignment. You know I’m pants at potions.”

“You know who’s great at potions?” Sirius laced his fingers together, elbows up on the tabletop, and propped his chin against his hands. “Granger and Evans.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “They’re both Granger-Evans.”

James shrugged. “Too much of a mouthful and confusing if they’re together. Which they always are!” He leaned forward to see past Sirius, trying to catch a glimpse of his lady love, Lily, to no avail when he was met by the sight of Hermione’s bushy auburn curls which blocked out her sister’s face entirely. James sat back with a huff. “Does she keep a family of birds in there?!” His words seemed to put Remus on edge for reasons he wasn’t ready to comprehend or acknowledge. He was only 11 and, unlike James Potter, not remotely ready to profess his undying devotion to a witch who barely acknowledged his existence. He and Hermione were friends – just friends – and barely that. Acquaintances, really, at this point. It was still early days yet for declaring them friends.

Peter nearly squirted pumpkin juice from his nose and coughed while Remus thumped him on the back. “You okay, Pete?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Peter croaked as she wiped at his face with his napkin.

Sirius chuckled. “You’re not setting foot within a kilometer’s radius of Evans without getting past the guardian at the gate.”

Remus was suddenly overcome with anger on Hermione’s behalf, turning a glare on his friends. “She’s protective of her sister. Can you blame her with numpties like him,” he waved a hand to James who scoffed in mock offense, “pulling stupid stunts like proposing to her on a crowded train platform in front of the entire student body and their parents?”

“What are you trying to say?” James pouted.

“I think the important take-away here is that Remus is getting all mooney-eyed over a girl. And he is sticking up for her to his best mates.” Sirius grinned like the cat who’d eaten the canary.

Remus blushed and lowered his head too, but not before he caught Hermione in his periphery, blinking at him owlishly, even with a smudge of dark blue ink on her lip. Had she overheard? Oh, great! Now she was going to lump him together with James and classify them both as ‘creeps’.

January 10^th, 1972 – Gryffindor Tower

When the boys had at last found the remainder of their shoes – conveniently enough, their dress shoes that were part of their uniform – they’d dressed for classes, relieved that they would no longer be given detention. When suddenly, they all felt a strange, collective tingle against their skin beneath their socks. Peter, gullible as ever, continued dressing, and James, the optimist that he was, only hesitated for a moment before checking the mounted wall clock and hurrying so they wouldn’t be late for breakfast. Remus and Sirius, however, paused in their dressing and exchanged a long wary look before they peeled off their wool socks and were shocked to find that their feet had turned blue, green, red, and even bright, buttery yellow. Peter froze doing up his laces and gawked at their multicolored feet before James fell back on his bed in laughter, not yet connecting the dots that this was a byproduct of their shoes and he and Peter had most likely been victim to the same practical joke.

“Look at your feet!” James guffawed.

Sirius’ left eye twitched before he lobbed his shoe at James’ head. James caught the shoe before it could hit him and Sirius growled, “Look at your own feet, then, both of you.” He pointed at James and Peter with a shaking, accusatory finger.

Remus just shook his head, holding his second shoe in his lap before shrugging his shoulders, letting out a huff of resigned laughter. “Doesn’t really matter now, does it? We’ve been had, boys. And I’m not walking around the castle all day without shoes a second longer than I have to in this cold!” He pulled on and laced up his other shoe, hopped down from his bed, threw on his outer robes, and slung his crossbody satchel bag over his head.

Sirius grumbled, took his shoe back from James, and pulled it on, lacing it up haphazardly. “Just wait till I find out who did it!”

Remus smirked as he led the un-merry troupe down the stone steps towards the common room. “Oh, I know who did it.”

Sirius whipped around to face him with wide eyes. “Who?”

“I want to see if you can figure it out before I tell you.”

James and Peter followed behind them walking two-by-two until they were met by the five Gryffindor first years descending the steps on their side to make their way down to breakfast. The moment the twins – who were at the very front – met the combined gazes of the four boys, their eyes drifted downwards to their covered feet and their lips quirked, trying to rein in their laughter.

The three behind them – Alice, Mary, and Marlene – stopped short, colliding like dominos with their ringleaders. Their reaction was much the same. But they led the twins out, pushing at their shoulders and greeted them with shaky, laughter-riddled breaths. “Glad to see you guys found them.”

They were barely through the portrait hole door before the girls keeled over with laughter, almost falling all over themselves as they attempted to make their way down the hall. The boys froze, the truth suddenly dawning on them – well, all except for Remus – who’d figured things out once he’d received that surprise Christmas gift from Hermione. She was smart, creative, and loved a good practical joke as much as the next person. His wolf preened in his head. Remus stopped short as his heart thumped almost painfully against his ribs. What did it mean? What was his wolf trying to tell him?

James crowed, “It was Granger and Evans?!”

Sirius gaped, eyes wide, shock and disbelief written all over his face. But at least he no longer seemed angry, Remus observed with a modicum of relief. “They pranked us.” It was more statement than question.

Peter shook his head. “Can’t believe we got pranked but a group of girls.”

Remus shrugged his bag higher on his shoulder and led the other three out. “Guess they were just smarter and faster.”

Sirius snapped out of it first. “We’ll just have to be better next time.”

Remus stopped short, James colliding with his back. “What do you mean by ‘next time’?”

Sirius threw back his shoulders, raised his chin haughtily, and began to swagger out of the common room. “I mean…” he spun on his heel to face the other three, “…that this means war.”

“Okay, but first we have to find out how to turn out feet back to the normal color and remove the spell from all our other shoes just in case,” James reminded him.

Sirius gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “I could pull off colorful feet if I had to. Plus, it’s the middle of winter. Not like anyone’s gonna be seeing them except for you three knob heads.”

“Hey!” Peter grumbled with feigned offense.

Remus caught up to Sirius and grabbed him by the elbow. “You think a prank war is the best solution? I thought we were going to try to be more careful with our pranks. The girls didn’t hurt anybody. It was just a little silly, and embarrassing. That’s probably the whole point of this – to make sure we learn the lesson.”

“We have enough professors. We don’t need a bunch of know-it-all swots trying to teach us a lesson about pranking responsibly.” James grimaced.

“So, you’re all with me?” Sirius looked around at the other three.

“Prank war?” Peter asked, steepling his fingers in front of him like a cheesy villain in a play.

James nodded without hesitation. Peter followed, as always. And finally, when the other three faced Remus, he took a deep breath, remembering the twins’ words that night of the Halloween ball. “As long as it stays funny, and no one gets hurt. That’s the rule.” He wagged his finger at each of them to show he meant business.

“Fine, fine. So, Remus are you in?” Sirius asked again.

“Prank war,” Remus said simply, and the right corner of his mouth pulled up into a mischievous grin to match his comrades. It might be interesting to see what the girls came up with, after all.

-----

Over the next month, the boys and girls went back and forth pranking one another as things escalated. However, the boys had at least one natural disadvantage – not being able to get up the stone steps to the girls’ dorm. So at least there, the girls were safe. But the boys were willing to take any advantage they could get.

Sirius Black used all of his considerable charms – though at the tender age of 12 weren’t many – which were apparently enough to get the assistance of Moaning Myrtle to leave her bathroom on the second floor and terrorize the girls after their scheduled flying lessons with Madame Hooch. After being in the rain and cold for an hour, they all hurried inside one frosty mid-morning, shook off the snow and rain, and raced to the nearest restroom. As planned, Moaning Myrtle appeared and promptly made all the toilets explode while the girls were inside. The boys waited in a hidden alcove and listened for the telltale shrieks and cries as the girls all sprinted back out of the restroom soaked to the skin, shivering, and in shock. It was Marlene who spotted Peter around the corner and informed the other girls that this was intentional. From that moment, the war was officially on.

The girls bribed the house elves to assist with altering the boys’ uniforms all one size too small so that they wore high-waters and short sleeves all day, uncomfortable in too-tight unforms and received yet more detentions. Peter even split his pants at the seams when he bent to retrieve his fallen wand in the middle of the Great Hall to the amusement of the others who got a view of his full moon. The boys lost points for Gryffindor for their appearances, but the Granger-Evans twins more than made up for the losses by being top of their class.

The boys blackmailed a Fourth Year they caught snogging his girlfriend behind a tapestry to sneak them some potions that would make the drinker make animal noises for 24 hours. The boys promptly snuck it into the pitcher of pumpkin juice right where the girls usually sat. It was a particularly eventful breakfast. Hermione and Lily ended up losing Gryffindor 50 points in total when their professors thought they were being purposefully disruptive in class. By the time the effects of the mystery potion wore off, the twins nearly electrocuted James and Sirius, but not before they figured out a way to reverse potioneer the blasted concoction and keep that in their back pocket for a rainy day.

The girls then retaliated by slipping something into Peter and James’ cauldrons during Potions which caused them to melt down and explode in their faces respectively. Peter was given yet more detention while James was covered in acne for three days which had him draping his outer robes around his head to hide until the side effects of the failed potion wore off.

The boys got even by converting all the schoolwork in the girls’ bags into invisible ink so that when they went to turn in assignments, they were docked points for incomplete work and lateness. The twins were the most miffed by this one and vowed to create the prank to end all pranks for jeopardizing their class rankings.

Finally, the girls somehow charmed Nearly Headless Nick to startle them either while they were mid-meal, or deeply asleep. The first time, chowder projectile shot out of James’ nose and his snotty chowder ended up all over Peter who was sitting across the table from him. The next time, all four boys were awoken by Sir Nicolas and ended up shrieking at such a high pitch that the entirety of Gryffindor House was woken by the sounds which resulted in them being teased mercilessly by the older boys. The following evening at dinner, Sir Nick startled Sirius so badly by phasing through a platter of mashed potatoes and that the boy nearly ended up choking on a chicken bone until Remus thumped him on the back.

The boys were stumped, exhausted, constantly on edge, and begrudgingly declared the girls the victors if only to get decent sleep again and not to be terrorized during mealtimes. The girls resumed their studies, their plotting around Hermione’s composition notebook, and their music-fueled pajama parties each night.

Sirius would sometimes linger on the couch in the common room to listen. What he didn’t know was that Hermione would usually leave the door ajar just an inch or so because she suspected that he was listening. She smirked to herself in the knowledge that they’d won the prank war, the boys had a heaving helping of humble pie, and that the boys had hopefully learned a thing or two about how to prank others responsibly. Although seeing Sirius Black choke on that chicken bone at dinner had nearly given her a heart attack and overwhelmed her with guilt.

She’d attempted to make her apologies after the fact. But they let bygones be bygones and Hermione resumed writing to Remus, lending him books, and introducing Sirius to muggle music, however indirectly. Though they hardly interacted in public – which she could admit sometimes bothered her – it felt nice to be branching out and making friends. Though an ugly, insecure part of her wondered if perhaps they were too embarrassed to be seen speaking to her. Was it because she was a girl? Or was it specifically that she was one half of the muggleborn Granger-Evans twins?

February 13^th, 1972 – Greenhouse Three

They were with the First Year Slytherins for Herbology this term, which cheered the girls to no end, feeling like they barely saw her except for study halls and mealtimes. There were also the rare times they found her wandering the ground without a flock of other Slytherin girls crowded around her like a physical barrier to deter her Gryffindor friends from getting close. Hermione and Lily were still working on ideas to sneak her into the Gryffindor common room so they could work on their song lyrics together. They had already confided in her their idea to start a band, and Dorcas had confessed to wanting to be their percussionist. Apparently sleeping in the dungeons with the ‘stuck-up, snooty Slytherin princesses made her want to hit something,’ so she needed a constructive outlet for her aggression. The confession had sent them into a fit of giggles and Dorcas’ deep, brown eyes had glittered with mirth when she met the lingering gaze of Marlene.

Alice tamped down her earmuffs again against the cries of their juvenile mandrakes which they were focused on trying to repot. “Are any of you sending Valentine’s Day cards?” she called out over the shrieking plants.

The girls exchanged curious looks before ultimately shaking their heads in the negative. Lily, who was sandwiched between Hermione and Alice, turned to shout nearer to Alice’s ear, “Are you sending any?”

Alice flushed and shook her head emphatically. “Just curious.”

Lily smiled and stole a peek at the others, waggling her eyebrows teasingly. When Alice looked up and saw, she giggled and elbowed her friend playfully. “Quit it, Lils!”

“I call it like I see it,” Lily said, smirking at Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary who were standing across the table from them.

Mary laughed and went to cover her mouth with her dragon-hide leather-gloved hand only to get dung fertilizer on her lips. She gagged and tore out of the greenhouse with a shriek. The girls watched her go, bursting into raucous laughter.

Hermione had to grab her large pot with both hands to be sure it didn’t tip over the edge of the potting table and undo all her work when she doubled over with laughter, tears welling up in the corners of her ears.

Lily had her hands braced on her knees, slapping one of them as she peeked sideways at her twin. Just when they thought they’d gathered themselves, the moment of eye contact sent the five remaining girls into another downward spiral.

Professor Sprout sent up red sparks from her wand to gather their attention and arched a censuring brow at them, though the corner of her lips twitched like she was trying to refrain from cracking her own smile.

That night at dinner, there seemed to be a buzz in the Great Hall – mainly from the upperclassmen – who seemed to be either looking forward to, or dreading the next day, but whether the former or the latter, they were all talking about it. It was perhaps the first time that Lily and Hermione felt so young compared to their peers. Were they all so much more mature, their heads filled with romance and courtship, hearts and dating, dresses, dating, and kisses? Godric forbid!

“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” Mary scoffed as she pushed her mushy peas around her plate.

Hermione nodded her agreement. “We’re only First Years. There’s no rush. There will be loads of time for all that lovey-dovey stuff later.” She made a grimace as she faced her sister and their friends.

Marlene was sitting to her right and every so often she lifted her gaze to the Slytherin table across the hall. Hermione thought that Marlene must truly believe she was being subtle. Perhaps some people matured faster than others.

Hermione cleared her throat. “Right, Marls?”

Marlene shook her head and turned to face Hermione with an embarrassed flush on her olive-toned cheeks. “Right!”

Lily smirked. “Smooth.”

Marlene grumbled and turned her attention back towards her pork chop, cutting around the bone with a little more aggression than was perhaps necessary.

Alice, Mary, and the twins exchanged a look before changing the subject. “We need to find somewhere to work on the… project,” Mary lowered her voice, “altogether. We can’t go to each other’s common rooms without an invitation, and something tells me we wouldn’t all exactly be welcome in the Snake Pit. Plus, it’s too loud in the Great Hall.”

“Too cold outside,” Alice added with a frown.

“And too quiet in the library,” Lily and Hermione replied together. Their twin-speak was no longer such a strange occurrence to their friends that knew them. They often completed each other’s sentences or seemed to have full conversations with only a look.

Hermione swallowed another spoonful of pumpkin soup before tapping it against her lips in thought. “Maybe we need to take a page from the boys and explore the castle a little more.” When she received a frown from the girls – all except Lily, who seemed to already be on the same wavelength – Hermione went into further explanation, “A magic castle that’s more than a thousand years old? It has to have some secrets – some hidden passages or rooms. But we won’t know if we don’t have a look.”

Their exchanged smiles started off timid and wary, but when Lily waggled her eyebrows again, drawing some more laughter from them, Marlene and Hermione nodded their assent, and their smiles were pure mischief. Now they just had to come up with a way to sneak out of their common room, after curfew, and avoid patrolling prefects.

The next morning, the Great Hall was pure anarchy and nauseating in its embrasure of all things romance-related. The pillars were twined with ribbon, streamers were scalloped from the rafters, heart-shaped bubbles floated in the air above their heads, and even the stained-glass windows were tinted in rose hues so that the winter sun cast kaleidoscopic lights across the tables and flagstone floors.

When the owls began to arrive, Hermione covered her teacup with her hand and glared up at the birds as they delivered cards and parcels of all sizes, heart-shaped boxes of candy, and even bouquets of flowers. Lily grimaced at her friends and shook her head as she reached for another blueberry scone.

Dorcas was sitting with them again this morning and she was turned to talk with Marlene, sitting astride the bench while Mary worked to expertly pin the Slytherin’s long braids atop her head in a large coronet that made her look like royalty. Meanwhile, Alice was making calf eyes at Frank Longbottom who sat a little further down the table laughing with his friends.

Hermione watched Marlene and Dorcas, Alice and Frank, and wondered again with a pang of something deep in her chest. Why did it feel like the others were growing up faster than her? Why did it feel like she was being left behind? She was only 12. Where was the rush to relinquish childhood and go sprinting headlong into adulthood? Hermione stirred a fifth cube of sugar into her tea, sending some of it sloshing over the rim and onto her grey, pleated skirt. With a frustrated growl, she set down the tea and saucer and went to mop up her scalding lap carefully with her cloth serviette.

Just then, all conversation stopped around them when a small parcel and pink lily dappled with white, and fuchsia landed in front of her on her empty plate. Lily coughed around the rim of her own teacup and Hermione looked up to pat her sister on the back before lifting her sister’s serviette to offer it to her.  “You okay, Lils?”

Lily rasped, still letting out smaller, breathless coughs, and looked down at the parcel and flower as if it might bite her. “I’m… not sure.” She lifted her hand like she might take hold of the parcel.

In a moment she would later regret and acknowledge was petty of her – childish, even – Hermione pulled out her wand and incendioed the whole thing. Lily’s eyes flared as she leaned back in her seat from the burst of heat, as did the other girls. Hermione glared at the small pile of ashes before dusting them onto the floor with her already-soiled serviette.

“What was that for?” Mary gaped.

“We don’t know who sent it. It could’ve been a prank or a trick. It might’ve hurt Lily or all of us just for sitting close by.” Hermione shrugged as if it were the only logical response. “We just reached a truce in the prank war. Who knows?”

They all sat in silence for a long moment as if weighing her words and how much they believed her reasoning before Lily nodded her assent. “Thank you, Tuney. You’re right. Better safe than sorry.”

Hermione turned a guilty smile on her sister. “Never without you, Lils?”

“Never without you, Tuney.” Lily smiled back.

It was only on the way out that Hermione spotted the crestfallen expression of one James Potter being comforted by his friends that she realized the truth. She was instantly confused as to why she felt so guilty and wondered if she should apologize to him or perhaps her sister. As far as she knew, Lily didn’t reciprocate the overzealous boy’s ridiculously over-the-top feelings. But Hermione had interfered, stepping right into the middle of a tacit conversation and offering her unsolicited opinion. Her disapproval, more like, because Hermione didn’t approve. She knew her sister well enough to know that no one as showy as James Potter would ever succeed in winning her heart with his current methods or flashy gimmicks. Yet, Hermione knew that no matter how Lily might’ve responded, it wasn’t her place to respond for her sister. Hermione had spent months trying to explain to Lily that changing her name wasn’t a personal insult, but rather her way of taking her first steps towards becoming her own person. And how hypocritical of Hermione to take away her sister’s autonomy just like that.

-----

That night, as they lay in bed with their dormmates slumbering peacefully around them, Hermione crept over to Lily’s bed and crawled in silently beside her. “Lils?” she whispered, her stomach in knots.

“Mm?” Lily hummed sleepily.

“Are you asleep?”

“Well, I was trying to be.” Lily smirked and turned on her pillow to face her twin, her eyes fluttering open. Once she’d blinked the sleep from her eyes and they’d adjusted to the dark, she really took in her sister’s expression. “Oh, Tuney. What happened? Are you okay?”

Hermione tried to hold them in. She really did. But at the look of concern in her twin’s eyes, she broke. Tears streamed from her eyes, and she whimpered, “I was stupid and selfish today.”

Lily tucked one hand under her pillow, taking her sister’s hand with the other. “What are you talking about?”

“At breakfast. I don’t know where it came from. One moment everything was fine, and we were the same – side by side like we always are. And then you were running ahead, and I saw myself left behind, and I was so afraid of being left behind I acted without thinking,” Hermione blurted until her chest was heaving.

“Is this about the gift and flower?” Lily asked softly.

Hermione could only nod.

Lily took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes to look at her twin dead on before speaking again. “And when you saw it, you thought what? That I would fall in love with stupid, annoying James Potter—” at her sister’s gasp, she went on, “Yes, I knew it was from him. No one else would notice a muggleborn First Year.”

“That’s not true. Anyone would be lucky to be loved by you, Lils. I know I am.”

“Stop sucking up and let me finish before you jump to another conclusion and end up blowing up the castle,” Lily teased. “You thought that I would honestly see that gift and flower, and ride off into the sunset with James Potter, of all people? Not if he were the last boy on earth.”

“I still took away your choice and made one for you.”

“You did.”

“I don’t have any excuse. I was afraid of everyone growing up around us and getting left behind. You and I have always been together and if there’s one thing I can’t handle, it’s you leaving me.”

“I love you, Tuney. Always. And I will never leave you, even if it was James Potter.” Lily gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Someday we’ll be older and maybe I’ll be better at this…”

“What?”

“Letting go.”

“No one and nothing – no class, no boy, no job, no grades – could ever pull me far enough away from you to leave you behind. And it is too early. I’m not thinking about boys and kissing. Gross!”

Hermione finally let herself smile. “So gross!”

“I promise to never leave you behind. I couldn’t if I tried. I mean, where would I even go without you to keep me out of trouble? We’re wombmates.”

“Never without you?” Hermione asked, seeking reassurance for the second time that day, feeling like a raw, exposed nerve. She was usually the confident one, the self-assured one. At least to everyone else. But she knew that her twin knew her better. Hermione knew that Lily could sense her more vulnerable moods and knew just how to soothe them.

“Never without you.” Lily promised. “I bet we’ll even get married on the same day, have kids on the same day, even die on the same day.” Her eyes went wide, and she put her hands on her cheeks like the character in the painting ‘Scream’.

Hermione ducked her face into her sister’s pillow to muffle her giggle. “Gross. Marriage? Kids?”

Lily shrugged. “It might happen someday. And I hope you’re standing right next to me when it does.”

“That sounds good.” Hermione’s fingers tingled. For the briefest moment, she pictured an over-the-top white wedding where she and Lily were escorted down a long aisle by their father towards their grooms who stood at the altar together, beaming at them. The grooms didn’t have defined faces yet, but the feeling… it caused a flurry of butterflies in her stomach akin to something like hope and excitement. Perhaps she wasn’t getting left behind after all.

March 10^th, 1972 – The Great Hall

Breakfast was a hectic affair for Remus’ first birthday at Hogwarts. He received a simple, homemade card from his parents – signed by his parents, but all in his mother’s handwriting – and a small parcel with a set of second-hand books on the last Welsh Prince of Wales – Llywelyn ap Gruffudd – and Cymru grammar. His muggle mother was adamant that he learn just as much about his muggle heritage as his learning about the wizarding world and its history, culture, and customs. He tucked them safely away in his bag and caught the eye of the curious Hermione across the table from him, sandwiched between Lily and Alice, who must’ve seen the spines before he’d put them away for safekeeping.

“Curiosity or cultural?” she asked, crossing the divide that seemed to exist at their age between boys and girls who attempted to forge friendships.

“Erm, a little of both, I guess.” Remus blinked at her owlishly, caught off guard by the way she leapt headfirst into a new topic of conversation without transitions between one topic or the next. He’d noticed over time that, unlike her sister, she had little patience for social niceties. She was an impatient and sometimes impetuous person, but very logical and practical, almost obsessive in her thirst for knowledge. And she liked to learn about people he’d observed over time. More time than he was comfortable admitting even to himself. Hermione Granger-Evans intrigued him. He found that the more he learned about the little witch, the more found himself wanting to know. And exchanging letters and books with her had only been the beginning.

She beamed at him and offered her tacit approval as she leaned closer with her chin propped up on her fist. “Who’s Welsh? Your parents?”

“My mum,” Remus said. He was honestly surprised that she wanted to know. That anyone would. He rarely spoke about himself. Only the Marauders really cared enough to ask. Except, now Hermione was asking. She was curious. But did she truly care? Or was it just a result of that insatiable curiosity?

She nodded. “Our nan was Welsh. She taught our mother, and our mother attempted to teach us, if you ever want a study buddy.”

She made the offer so readily – her time, her effort, and her mind, which was perhaps her most precious asset. Remus nodded slowly and mumbled, “I’ll let you know if I have trouble.”

“Edrychaf ymlaen ato,” she whispered back, not knowing that he overheard with his lupine hearing. I look forward to it. He knew that much from listening to his mother speak it at home since he was a baby.

Remus gaped at Hermione and tried to contain the furious heat blazing in his face as he cleared his throat and reached for the pitcher of pumpkin juice between him and Sirius. He met his fellow Marauder’s knowing gaze and watched as his grey eyes flickered between Remus and Hermione with a teasing smirk. ‘Very cute,’ Sirius mouthed.

Remus’ brows furrowed and he mouthed back, ‘Shove off.’

Sirius snorted in his pumpkin juice and turned his attention back to the conversation with James about Puddlemere United – their shared favorite professional Quidditch team.

When Remus stole a last glance at the sometimes confusing, often intriguing, mostly interesting Miss Hermione Granger-Evans, he found that she was at the center of her girlfriends, including the little First Year Slytherin Dorcas, while they all gathered around a muggle composition notebook whispering about something. He tried to be polite and tune them out so he wouldn’t accidentally overhear, but he caught the tail end of their conversation. Something ‘lessons’, something something ‘group’, something ‘Valkyries’. The last was posed as a question and the girls all locked eyes gleefully and nodded emphatically. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one with extracurricular hobbies and interests. Perhaps the twins were teaching their magical sisters about muggle mythology. 

And then breakfast ended, and everyone rose from their tables to head out to their first classes for the day, but Remus’ hand slid against the surface of the table when he stood, using his arm as leverage to swing a leg over the bench. He looked down at the simple, homemade card beneath his hand wondering how it’d gotten there and who it was from before grabbing it up and stuffing it into his bag quickly. He followed his friends out and never caught the disappointed look on Hermione’s face because she couldn’t see his reaction to her birthday card.

Later that night – Gryffindor Tower

“Not all of us play instruments.” Alice sighed defeatedly.

Hermione shrugged. “We’ll learn. And we’ll encourage each other to practice.”

Lily was seated cross-legged on her bed, twiddling her thumbs in her lap. “Not everyone can learn, Tuney. What if we try our best and we’re just not any good? What if we’re tone deaf or something?”

Alice nodded her agreement. “I second that.”

But it was Marlene who backed Hermione up. “Then, clearly, we’re not trying hard enough. And it’s not like we’re doing this to tour the world and play sold-out stadiums and arenas. This is just a hobby for us. And who knows? Maybe we will be good, and we’ll love it.”

Mary let out a shaky exhale and blurted, “I play the piano. And well. I’ve been playing since I was four.”

The four other girls gaped at her before Marlene launched herself off her bed and hug-tackled Mary into her pillows. “You brilliant, beautiful witch, I could kiss you!”

Mary squealed and the other girls piled on, Hermione ended up on top and crowed, pumping her fists into the air. “I’m Queen of the hill! And there ain’t nothing you girls can do about it! Muahahahahah!”

Lily poked her sister in between the ribs and Hermione let out an inelegant snort before the pile of girls morphed into a tickle war and then eventually a pillow fight.

-----

In the common room, the Marauders were sitting on the couch in front of the fire overwhelmed by the sounds emanating from the girls’ dorm while trying not to laugh. Just then, Peter reappeared carrying a covered tray and moving about a kilometer an hour trying not to topple the thing over.

James and Sirius spotted him coming through the portrait door and burst into laughter which only served to make the quiet, pudgy boy nervous. Remus gaped and immediately scented the overwhelming smell of dark chocolate. He was a weak, undisciplined boy when it came to desserts, particularly of the chocolate variety. And dark chocolate was his absolute favorite.

“What is this?” He gaped.

Peter set down the tray on the accent table beside Remus before stepping back and uncovering the tray. “Happy birthday, Remus!”

Remus blushed and chuckled. “Aww, thank you, Pete.”

And then the moment was interrupted by the banshee-like screeching of who could only be Hermione Granger-Evans, “I’m Queen of the hill! And there ain’t nothing you girls can do about it! Muahahaha!”

The boys were all stunned into silence for a few moments, heads swiveled to face the stone steps that led up to the girls’ dorms before Sirius barked a laugh. “That one sure knows how to liven up a party, huh, Remus?”

“That’s one way to put it.” James shook his head with a smile. “She’s a firecracker.”

“She’s a bomb,” Sirius corrected with a snort.

“You’re right. Whoever ends up with her will have to be a confident wizard, because if she’s a handful now, I can’t imagine in 6 years when she’s a grown, fully trained witch.”

Peter’s blue eyes were wide with mock concern. “How much time do we have left to hide?”

Remus shrugged, unsure why his friends’ comments made something unpleasant churn in his gut. “Two points. One, she might prefer witches to wizards.” That earned him a laugh. “And two, if it’s the right fit, it just works. At least that’s what it seems like when I look at my parents.” He shrugged.

The three other boys looked at him with a shared look of confusion. James might have a childish crush, but they were barely twelve – and only Sirius and him, at that, with James and Peter’s birthdays not for a bit yet – and they didn’t have time for girls or dating. They had mischief to manage.

“Not like her sister,” James continued on.

“Oh, you think you’re a match for Lily after that slap?” Sirius teased. “When I close my eyes, I can still see it.” He mock-shuddered. “I can still hear it.”

“Yeah, but she only gets prettier when she’s angry. Her eyes shine and her hair crackles.” James swooned.

“Their tempers are identical. Lily is just better at hiding it. Just you wait. In 6 years, we’ll meet back here, and I’ll get to say a big, fat ‘I told you so’.” Remus vowed.

James stuck out his hand. “It’s a deal.”

“Deal.” Remus took his hand in a firm grip and his eyes flashed gold for a moment before the bespectacled wizard pulled his hand back with a nervous chuckle.

-----

That night, when the others were asleep, Remus pulled his bag into his lap and shut his bed curtains for a measure of privacy. Only when he heard the steady, slow breathing and soft snores of his dormmates, did he pull out the mystery birthday card he’d received at breakfast.

Unsurprisingly, it was from Hermione. Surprisingly, it was rather personal:

‘Remus -

Happiest of birthdays. Hope that it’s filled with enough happy memories to last you until next year!

Thanks for sending the books back in one piece. Though I may need to learn how to preserve them soon or get new copies as they’re falling apart! Here are a couple more. I hope you enjoy them. I was glad to hear you enjoyed the others. Little Women is my favorite. I love Jo March and her passion to discover herself, but I can respect your argument made in favor of Beth. She’s always been Lily’s favorite…

Between you and me, I enjoyed the fact that she wasn’t just another conventionally attractive female lead because average, everyday people have dreams, work towards their goals, have to overcome obstacles, struggle to find friendship, and average people certainly fall in love too!’

Remus’ heart clenched at her words and his wolf paced in his head restlessly. He wondered if Hermione saw herself in this Jo character because perhaps, she felt ‘average’. Remus knew that he had his own issues with his looks, his scars not helping in that department. His heart went out to her, traitorous thing that it was, and he forced himself to read the rest of her letter.

‘Also, I suppose I understand the love for a sister deep in my soul. It felt like the heart of that book. Our mum would read it to us at bedtime and I would have dreams of a house full of siblings and all the chaos we would rain down on our parents if we ever outnumbered them. Though that might’ve been their plan all along, stopping after two. Oh well. Do you have any siblings? What is your family like?

Please let me know what you think of these. I have plenty more where these came from…

Your friend,

Hermione Jean.’

He chuckled at her letter and then slapped a hand over his mouth and listened to be sure he hadn’t woken his friends. After a minute, he lowered his eyes back to her letter. Her handwriting was neat and simple.

A firecracker. A bomb. Too much to handle. All those words rattled around in his head like a Golden Snitch while he just wanted to hear her thoughts on… everything. Anything. He liked the way her mind worked, and like her first letter had suggested, Remus wanted to get to know the real Hermione Jean Granger-Evans. He smirked at her middle name. An offering to entice him. But as his wolf pawed at his mind, pacing restlessly, and practically panting at her words, Remus folded up the card and stuffed it back into his bag. He couldn’t. It wasn’t safe. His heart sank at the realization that they could never be as close as he was with his other friends.

They knew about his wolf now, and his condition. Hermione might be disgusted by him, or afraid of him. She would be safer and happier far from him. His wolf let loose a feral growl deep in his throat at this, and Remus rolled over to press his face into his pillow in anger and frustration as he held two new books to his chest: The Secret Garden and Arabian Nights.

March 23^rd, 1972 – Gryffindor Tower

The full moon was tonight, and Remus was exhausted and snapping at his friends left and right. But when he collapsed into the couch before the fire in the common room after his last class, he was relieved to discover that there was blessed silence so he could get in a nap before dinner and a night in the Shrieking Shack. He was only happy that there would be just enough time to recover afterward for James’ 12^th birthday. But at that moment, Remus barely had the energy to climb the steps to their dorm to crawl into his own bed. So, he toed off his shoes and flopped over onto his side, curling into a ball, and shutting his eyes.

-----

When Hermione entered the common room to change her clothes after a disastrous herbology class, she was surprised to discover Remus napping in the common room when his own dorm was steps away. She approached carefully, not wanting to startle or wake him, and peeked over the arm of the couch to catch a glimpse of his face. It was then she noticed the small, light scars on his neck, cheeks, and hands in detail. She’d never been this close to him before. He looked paler than usual, and there were dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t been sleeping. He shivered and for a moment Hermione thought he might be cold and looked around for a blanket to toss over him, but then he let out a whimper and his brow pinched. Was he having a nightmare?

Something in her heart clenched at the thought that he was ill or unhappy. And then she was struck by the newness of this feeling – caring for someone who wasn’t family, or friend. Despite their few conversations since the start of the year, and the gift and resulting birthday card, were they really friends? She found him the most tolerable boy of their year, and especially of the Marauders. Stupid name, really. But was that enough of a basis for a solid friendship? I mean, technically speaking, she’d started friendships with her current group with far less. Trusting girls was easier. Boys were horses of another color, as her mother would say. And Remus was… thoughtful, intelligent, and well-spoken. He was patient with her and paid attention to her enough to take notice of her interests. She loved the Donovan record and the way it made her feel – the way Remus had somehow anticipated and understood just what she would like and what she needed to hear at that moment. He’d understood that music was a language she sometimes used to communicate her more complex emotions and thoughts when they felt too large to hold in. He had somehow instinctively understood that about her and given her just what she needed.

And then there was Sirius Black and his gift. He was always teasing, always smirking, always smug, and couldn’t ever take a damned thing seriously, despite his name-centered puns which grated on her nerves each and every time she was subjected to them. He was a temperamental hothead who spouted his opinions with little to no thought for the consequences. He was a troublemaker who relished the thrill of rebellion. But she could admit he was dazzling, if only to herself. If his head got any bigger, he wouldn’t be able to fly on his stupid broom and he’d plummet out of the sky. The thought made her smile. But then Sirius surprised her during detention.

He had attempted to make conversation with her, and not for the purpose of antagonizing her, either. He had been genuinely curious – an impulse she knew well – and braved their earlier disagreement to learn more. He was courageous, sometimes stupidly so, charging into danger. Even if the only danger was her. And then he’d listened and sent her that beautiful journal for composing music, brightening her entire Christmas holiday. She still had it wrapped up in tissue paper and stored in her trunk between her stack of jumpers to keep it from getting damaged. He had piqued her interest and opened a door to a path she’d scarcely considered before. Could she write music? Could she learn how to play music? Could she perform that music for others? Would anyone care enough to listen?

The sound of the fire crackling in the grate pulled her from her tangential thoughts and when she looked down at Remus sleeping there, she began to hum an old Welsh lullaby her mother’s mother had sung to them as babies. Within moments his pinched brow had unknotted itself, and this too made her smile. What worried her most was that she wanted to create music, and she wanted more than anything for Remus to listen to and enjoy it. But she also wanted Sirius to sit in a dark audience and smile at her, through mischievous, burning eyes that compelled her to pour out her heart and soul.

She’d never had a crush before… she was aware that it might happen someday. Eventually. She’d hoped it was a far-off occurrence. And Hermione was worried that it might be coming sooner than she’d anticipated. It seemed like huge, complicated emotions for a young witch to have right now.

March 24^th, 1972 – Hospital Wing

Remus was levitated onto a bed in the Hospital Wing by Dumbledore and left in Madame Pomfrey’s tender care. This moon hadn’t been the worst since coming to school, but his wolf was restless for some reason that Remus had yet to fully comprehend and was taking it out on Remus as time went on. The loneliness during the full moon transformations was eating at him and made his bones feel cold and hollow so that they almost ached like the rest of him. Madame Pomfrey pulled some privacy curtains closer to cordon off his bed before she got to work.

He winced as Madame Pomfrey levitated his gangly frame and vanished his torn clothes so she could have better access to his injuries. And at some point, after he’d been left with a potion regimen to rest behind the curtain to rest, the sound of soft murmuring and girlish whispers followed by humming and the scratching of a quill against parchment carried to him.

“What do you think of this part here? ‘Don’t think about it—’” Was that Lily?

His guess was confirmed by the sound of her twin’s voice in reply, “Hmm. What about ‘don’t think about it, just move your body’?”

“Oooh, yes!” Lily whispered-yelled.

“Okay, okay, next line. I want something that cheers people up. That makes them smile so they get up and dance. So, they want to sing along. Something that helps the shy people get off the wall.”

“Right. ‘Don’t think about it, just move your body. Listen to the music, sing!’ Maybe some ooh oohs?” Lily suggested.

“Style choices, I like it. What else you got in that big, beautiful brain of yours, twin o’ mine?” Hermione praised.

Remus couldn’t help his lupine hearing being oversensitive this soon after the full moon, and he was relieved to have the distraction from the pain, honestly.

Lily hummed a jaunty melody that sounded a little bubbly, a bit like her and then there was more quill-scratching before she squeaked, “Oh! You said something about wanting the shy people to want to dance.”

“Right, right.”

“What about the next line: ‘Just move those left feet. Anyone can do it’?”

“That’s brilliant, Lils!” Hermione whisper-yelled back. “Oh, I just had a stroke of genius! ‘Just move those left feet, go ahead get crazy. Anyone can do it, sing oh-ee-oh.’”

“Fun. What else?” Lily hummed thoughtfully. “’Show the world you’ve got that fire”, maybe?”

“Hmm, it’s workable. Okay, we have we got so far?” Hermione asked, her voice breathless and excited.

Remus’ heart stuttered to hear it and he shut his eyes to focus his hearing on them more clearly, enjoying their back and forth and wondering what they were doing. And more importantly, what they were doing in the infirmary working on some kind of creative personal project.

“’Don't think about it,

Just move your body.

Listen to the music,

Sing, oh, ey, oh!

Just move those left feet,

Go ahead, get crazy.

Anyone can do it!

Sing, oh, ey, oh.’”

Lily’s voice was clear and high, but full as the toll of a bell as she put together the pieces they’d started to brainstorm through. “Okay, you next. What’s the next part?”

“Lemme see,” Hermione murmured. “Ooh, Lils, what about this?” She cleared her throat and began to sing in response to her twin. Her voice surprised Remus – it was grittier, deeper, and raspy for a girl her age – and so different to the clear, higher-pitched chirping of her sister. He suddenly understood Lily’s previous comment about her interesting singing voice.

“’Show the world you've got that fire!

Feel the rhythm getting louder.

Show the room what you can do;

Prove to them you got the moves.’”

“It’s missing something there at the end, though. Feels incomplete,” Hermione mumbled.

“I like it!” Lils lowered her voice once they were done. And then there was more quill-scratching.

Remus’ eyes fluttered open and he was surprised they hadn’t been run off by Madame Pomfrey yet. Why were they doing this here of all places?

“What about a hook and a chorus? Any good song needs a hook and a catchy chorus,” Hermione murmured. So, they were writing a song? He wondered if his gift had inspired this and secretly hoped it had, even if he was content to keep any and all attempts at closer friendship with either of the little witches at a distance.

“Got it. Lemme think.” Lils hummed to herself, likely going over what they’d come up with to feel out the next part. “Okay, okay, what about this?”

“’I don’t know about you,

But I feel better when I’m dancing.’”

“How’d you come up with that?” Hermione gasped.

“I remembered when you were talking with Remus at the Quidditch match when he asked what kind of music we like. You said you like music that makes you feel good – that makes you want to sing and dance. And this song kind of feels that way, no?” Lily asked.

There was a long silence where he had assumed Hermione must’ve nodded it the affirmative.

“Okay, I think that’s a good hook.”

Madame Pomfrey chose to make her entrance then and squawked at the girls. “Pain relief potions, ladies?”

“Yes, please.” Hermione said.

She sounded… embarrassed? Remus observed. He hadn’t known the girl to experience the particular emotion in the few months he’d been acquainted with her.

“One for each of you and then back to classes. And be sure to see me regularly so you can stock up and be prepared,” the matron instructed. “Welcome to womanhood, ladies.” She gave a mirthless, almost commiserating giggle and left the main room, most likely returning to her office.

Remus was left confused by the brief exchange, but he scented the dulled scent of blood lingering it the air that gave him pause. He didn’t understand the matron’s comments, but realized they were both injured… simultaneously. It had something to do with womanhood and getting older. It must be a regular thing based upon Madame Pomfrey’s comments. His wolf paced in the back of his mind, restless at the thought that Hermione was in pain. He understood pain. His life had always been a pain, as far back as he could remember. He would take on her pain for her so she wouldn’t have to suffer. That thought soothed his wolf. For some reason, his wolf was protective of the little witch and Remus couldn’t fully understand why.

A little while later, Hermione and Lily were feeling better – their first set of cramps being a rude awakening to the harsh realities of adulthood that neither had been prepared for so far from home and their mother. Iris Granger-Evans had given them the talk before, but not in much detail, assuming she had time as she’d been a late bloomer herself. But the following night, both girls had woken with extreme pain in their abdomen and lower, their pajama bottoms, knickers, and bedsheets stained with gore. Lily had been pale and shaky as Hermione helped her to the communal bathroom in their dorm after stripping their beds and hoping the house elves would discard the soiled linens with limited mortification.

They’d taken a change of clothes with them and been thankful the girls’ bathroom cupboard seemed to be stocked with sanitary napkins they could line their fresh knickers with before attempting to clean themselves up and return to sleep for however many hours they had left. But the physical discomfort had lingered, and they’d been unable to get comfortable as they each lay on their sides in the dark, no sheets left on their beds. They had curled into one another for comfort in Hermione’s four-poster, legs pretzeled, thighs pressed tightly together in an attempt to prevent any further accidents.

Mostly, they’d been silently stewing in their own thoughts since then. But as she and Lily got up to leave the infirmary for classes, her eyes lingered on the curiously cordoned off bed in the far back corner and who might be convalescing there. “Hang on a moment, Lils,” she whispered to her sister who lingered in the doorway. Something in the center of her chest, where she often felt the pull of the thread tethering her magical core to her twin’s, tugged her forward and seemed to twang as if it were being strummed by a musician.

Hermione approached, one silent step in front of the other, and stole a one-eyed peek between the curtains, coming face to face with none other than Remus Lupin. His face was soft and open, vulnerable in sleep. But his pale body was draped in a simple, cotton hospital gown beneath white blankets. He lay on his side, absolutely still except for the rise and fall of his chest and back with each rattling, wheezing breath he seemed to take. He looked sickly and her heart went out to him, this quiet, reserved, thoughtful boy she’d extended the hand of friendship to. Small, faint white scars poked out from around the neckline of the gown, and on the part of his arms and hands that were exposed as well as his neck and face.

And in a moment that she would later consider impulsive, she pulled a chocolate frog from the satchel bag draped over her left shoulder and placed it on the bed near his head before stepping away to join her sister. She hoped he felt better.

Chapter Text

March 27^th, 1972 – Gryffindor Tower

James was practically levitating in his seat at breakfast when a brand-new broom arrived wrapped in parchment paper and delivered by his father, Charlus’ owl, Artemis. The boys had all helped him unwrap it while Sirius’ eyes bugged out of his head. “Want to take it out?” James vibrated with excitement.

Sirius nodded enthusiastically, his eyes aglow with the thrill of it all. “Dibs on second!”

James laughed and shook his head. “After classes and before dinner!”

Remus and Peter exchanged smiles where they sat side-by-side across from the more outspoken of their quartet. He was the first of them to receive their own broom and they could barely contain themselves.

-----

A little further down the table, the girls were gathered around Hermione’s composition notebook where she and Lily were transcribing the lyrics they’d come up with at that morning’s brainstorming session in the infirmary. Marlene was offering constructive feedback while Mary chimed in with her musical knowledge that, so far, surprised any of the others’. Alice was already considering what dances she might do to the song when the twins hummed along to the melody they were coming up, with the aid of Dorcas.

“’I feel better when I’m dancing.’ Me too, babes.” Marlene grinned. She spun the notebook around to look over the two stanzas they’d worked through so far and the hook.

“Can’t wait until we can turn this into an actual song with music and all.” Alice beamed.

“What instruments were you thinking of learning?” Marlene asked.

After a moment, the twins responded simultaneously, “Guitar!” “Bass!” They exchanged a look before bursting into giggles. “We might learn both and see which we’re better at. Which we like better,” Hermione explained with a shrug.

Nodding along, Mary chimed in, “I’ll stick with piano, maybe keyboard, of course.”

Dorcas went next. “I still like the idea of percussion. Mostly I just need to hit something without hurting anyone.” This resulted in another round of laughter and a smile of approval from Marlene who was never far from her side.

Alice seemed to weigh her options. “What about some type of woodwinds or brass just to balance things out?” She tapped her chin in thought.

“Can I be the lead vocals?” Marlene asked, brown eyes alight with hope.

Lily and Hermione nodded in tandem. “This is going to be our band. Not just mine and ‘Tuney’s,” Lily said.

“Plus, I don’t think you want me for anything but backup,” Hermione made a joke at her own expense and rubbed at the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her thick curls. The girls’ laughter skyrocketed to ear-splitting levels, drawing the attention of those gathered around them, some of whom were still rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

-----

James took the moment to steal another peek at the Lily from the corner of his eye and caught the way she brushed her fiery hair behind her ear, the small pearl stud there catching the light pouring through the stained-glass windows behind the staff table at the far end of the Great Hall. His breath caught in his throat when she turned to face her sister and caught him glancing at her over Hermione’s shoulder. She rolled her eyes and turned away but when he saw her emerald eyes catch the same light, he felt goosebumps break over his skin. She was lovely. Now if only he could get past the guardian at the gate without the threat of hexes or physical assault.

Feeling lucky given the fact that he was now 12 years old today, and practically a man, James rose from the bench and sauntered down towards where the girls were sitting. “Lovely morning isn’t it, Evans?” He opened with a loud greeting so that the girls all pulled away from the center of the table where they’d been huddled together. He spotted Lily as she slammed her sister’s black and white muggle notebook shut forcefully and they both turned an irritated glare on him at the interruption.

Lily rolled her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you? It’s ‘Granger-Evans’. If you can’t be bothered to learn my name properly, then we don’t need to have this conversation ever again.” And then a wide smile split her face. “On second thought, that sounds wonderful. Let’s raincheck this talk for the end of the world.”

His hopeful smile faltered, and his glasses slid down his nose. “Come on, Ev—” at her glare he course-corrected, “Granger-Evans. I’ll grow on you.”

An inelegant snort came out of her twin. “Yeah, like a fungus,” she muttered under her breath as she tucked her notebook into her bag.

James felt the desire to defend himself rush to the fore but reconsidered when he realized that arguing with her sister would not endear him to his lady love, no matter how justified. “I got a new Cleansweep for my birthday. We could go flying before dinner!”

Lily eyed the broomstick clutched in his hands and her eyes widened with mild terror before she schooled her features into cool disinterest. “No, thank you.”

“I’m a great flyer. I’m going to try out for the Gryffindor house team next year! I’ll keep you safe.” James flashed what he believed to be a winning smile.

“She already said ‘no’. Just drop it,” Hermione grumbled, folding her arms across her narrow chest.

Feeling slightly put out, he growled at the little interfering swot and snapped, “No one asked you, nosy know-it-all! I was talking to Evans!”

The other girls around them straightened in their seats. Lily reared back with wide eyes as if surprised by his outburst. Her glare turned feral just as Hermione’s mouth quirked up in a daring grin. “Is that the best you can do – ‘nosy know-it-all’? You’ll have to crack an actual book and expand that pathetic vocabulary. Maybe get in some practice with your mates. You know, really commit. Then maybe when you’ve hit your growth spurt, come back when you’re tall enough to ride this ride,” she held one of her hands up just above her own head to illustrate her point, “and we’ll talk.” Finally, Hermione shooed him with a dismissive wave of her hand like he was a pestering fly.

Her friends lowered her heads, lips pressed together, trying not to laugh. A couple of them failed miserably while Lily blushed, and Hermione sat up taller in her seat basking in her latest victory.

James turned, shoulders slumped and returned to his friends. Sirius draped a consoling arm around his shoulders, and Peter pressed a plate piled high with food closer to him. Meanwhile, Remus’ lips quirked at the little firecracker who wasn’t far from his mind lately.

It was Sirius’ words that drew his attention yet again. “That girl is going to be her sister’s living, breathing chastity belt until they’re both old crones with a thousand kneazles between them.” His friend’s words made something unpleasant churn behind his sternum that he couldn’t yet put words to.

“I feel bad for the kneazles,” James added under his breath.

Peter sputtered in laughter and stole a peek in the girls’ direction, his eyes locking on the profile of Mary Macdonald before he lowered his gaze with a light blush dusting over his cheekbones. He still had much of his baby fat and was in that awkward, in-between stage of childhood into adolescence that most of them were. Remus was the tallest of the four of them, but still thin and reedy.

Remus looked around at his closest companions and took stock of their appearances –

Peter with his childlike, somewhat shy, boy-next-door appearance might clean up nice someday.

James constantly looked like he’d just rolled out of bed and neglected to comb his own hair, but his crooked grin was infectious.

Sirius had the best chance of being the most attractive of the group of them with his angular face, piercing eyes, dark, wavy hair, and that gleam of mirth and mischief in his eyes paired with that cheeky smirk. He was already the most confident of the four of them, even more so than James. Though Remus sometimes suspected that it was a cover for the insecurities Sirius must be carrying around like a stack of old books constantly threatening to crush him beneath their weight.

Remus. Well, he was pale and skinny, his hair an indeterminate shade somewhere in-between blonde and brunette, his body littered with self-inflicted scars, and he tended to fold over into himself, hunching his shoulders when he walked and trying to blend into the background. He hated drawing attention to himself. A part of him wondered about Hermione and her letter – how she’d spoken about seeing herself in Josephine March and how she felt average-looking people deserved adventures too – that they all experienced those universal milestones regardless of appearance. And Remus wondered if friendship and love were asking too much for someone like him.

She thought she was average, but the longer he knew her, and it was difficult to say he knew her well given that they only communicated as secret pen pals, the more he came to realize that her mind was beautiful. And the more he learned about her, the more he liked her. The more he liked her, the more questions he found he had. The more questions he had that went unasked, the more his wolf seemed to pace restlessly in the back of his mind and Remus faltered, fearful of the implications of his curiosity and how that might affect her. He fought constantly against the urge to befriend this smart, funny, loyal, temperamental, musical, interesting girl. He knew she’d be safer far away from him and his wolf. But his wolf didn’t seem to be taking the hint that Hermione wasn’t for him.

And then that thought gave him pause, like a cartoon with a lightbulb, it occurred to him that despite having been cursed with his affliction for the past 8 years – roughly 100 full moon transformations during that time – he knew very little about it. His father, Lyall, worked at the Ministry in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but he had always been staunchly anti-werewolf.

As Remus got older and understood the complexities of what that meant for their relationship, he feared that meant he would always only be viewed as on object of pity or disgust by his own father. His mother, Hope, was an altogether different story. Like any decent mother, she wanted to shield and safeguard her child, to soothe and protect him. Even from himself. But as a muggle, she was only able to do so much. So before coming to Hogwarts, his father would lock him up in a custom-made cage in their root cellar every full moon and ward the stairs and door against him to protect Hope. Remus and his wolf would thrash against the steel bar, raking his claws over his tender flesh, and howl against his confinement while the sounds of his mother’s muffled sobs carried to him to torment him further. Then at sunrise, Lyall would take down the wards so Hope could tend to their poor son.

Now that he was a student, Headmaster Dumbledore had come up with a safer solution – the Shrieking Shack – but it was still enforced confinement. And while Remus logically understood that it was safer for him and others that a monster, a dark creature capable of passing its affliction to others, be locked away, he still longed for freedom. Remus and his wolf longed to run beneath the light of the full moon, romp around and play, and just be. Instead, he was alone. This was his lot in life. He would be alone now and perhaps always. His wolf detested this and made his discontent known each full moon. But now the thoughts of Hermione’s letters gave him something to look forward to. If he could read them and find solace there, that would be enough. Maybe the gnawing loneliness would finally loosen its grip once and for all.

Remus stole another glance at her profile before turning away and plucking out her worn copy of Arabian Nights, content to read about Sinbad and his many adventures. But his wolf stirred when Sirius asked, “Where do these beat up old books keep coming from?” He lay his long pale fingers against the tattered cover and pushed the book closed around Remus’ hand to glance at the cover. “Ara-bian Nights”? What’s it about?”

Remus met his gaze, the limbal rings around his grey eyes almost black, and felt his wolf sit up and cant his head to one side in curiosity. Well, that was a new development. He cleared his throat, “W-Well, I found out that it’s what’s called a ‘frame’ story. One story tucked inside another like nesting dolls.”

“Dolls make nests? Is that a muggle thing?” Sirius’ eyes widened in excitement.

Remus smiled fondly. “No, nesting dolls are made to stack inside one another…” He would content himself with his friends. For the first time in his life, he had friends, and he’d made him all on his own. That would be enough. It had to be. But it couldn’t hurt to perhaps put some energy towards learning more about his affliction so he could better understand his own limitations outside of his father’s rhetoric.

Later that day – Transfiguration Classroom

Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall was one of Sirius’ favorite classes, mostly because he adored teasing the instructor by calling her ‘Minnie’, earning him his fair share of detentions. He wove his wand in an intricate pattern and successfully turned the last of the matches that had been stacked neatly between him and Remus into a needle. Transfiguration was easily his best class and seemed to come to him naturally – something about it just clicked in his brain in a way the other subjects didn’t, which forced him to make more of an effort with the others.

He looked over at Remus who seemed to be struggling a bit and placed his hand on Remus’ wrist to correct his grip. This caused the other boy to jerk as if he would pull away from the point of contact, but Sirius just held tight, not adding any pressure, but not letting go, and tried again to correct his friend’s grip. “Like this, mate.” Sirius lifted his own wand to demonstrate and after the third try, Remus successfully transfigured a match into a needle.

Remus turned a timid smile on him, and Sirius offered a smug smirk back. They heard a sharp squeak from Hermione across the aisle where she was paired with a sullen First Year Slytherin with dark, greasy hair, a slightly hooked nose, and a permanent sneer. “Maybe if you paid attention, you wouldn’t be such a klutz!” She sucked her index finger into her mouth and glared at the boy, drawing the attention of the Marauders across the aisle.  

The boy seated beside her snapped back, unwilling to take her verbal sparring lying down. “Well, perhaps if you weren’t such a teacher’s pet there would be some matchsticks left for the rest of us!”

“Maybe if you were faster, I wouldn’t have gone ahead trying to make up the difference. I was only trying to make sure we got a passing grade since this is a pair assignment,” Hermione said. “I was trying to help!”

“Maybe if you weren’t such a stuck-up, annoying, frizzy-haired, buck-toothed—” the boy began ramping up, making things personal.

But she cut him off without missing a beat, “I’ve heard better comebacks from my grandmother, and she’s been dead a year and a half.”

Sirius gaped in shock for a second before he barked out a laugh. Hermione’s head whipped around at the sound, and her amber eyes locked with his over Snape’s shoulder. One of her eyes twitched in his direction and he looked away. This girl wasn’t pulling her punches today. Not that she ever did. Sometimes his palms still twinged when he recalled that spell that sent him sprawling across the field during their first flying lesson when she turned the full force of her glare on him.

“You think you’re so much better than everyone else, when really no one would even talk to you if it weren’t for your sister.” Snivellus’ words pulled her attention away in the next moment.

The boys in the class teased him at his outburst which revealed more about him than it did about Hermione. But the girls whispered amongst themselves. Lily spun on her seat at the table in front of them where she sat beside Marlene and they both looked back at the rapidly escalating altercation.

“Severus!” Lily gaped. “Take it back.”

Snape turned a glare on her, offended that she hadn’t taken his side and convinced Hermione was firmly in the wrong. “But she—!”

Professor McGonagall stepped in then. “What is going on? Stop all this ruckus and get back to work.”

Snivellus grumbled something about favoritism under his breath. Lily and Marlene turned back to face forward, still working on their own pile of matches. Sirius and Remus exchanged a look of relief and humor. And Hermione lifted her wand once again to return to her assigned task. But it was only moments later when Snape leapt out of his seat a good meter into the air, his hand holding his backside. From the corner of his eye, Sirius spotted three perfectly sharp needles having been imbedded in his wooden stool gleam under the torchlight. Hermione had a hand clamped over her mouth and her head turned away to muffle her laughter, though she didn’t seem to be succeeding.

“That girl is going to pick a fight with the wrong person someday,” Sirius said with an amused smirk, lifting his quill to take additional notes.

Remus nodded. “And if she wins?”

Sirius paused in his note taking and set his quill back in his ink pot before he turned to face Remus. “Then Merlin help us all.” The two devolved into giggles so that Professor McGonagall turned a disappointed glare on the pair, silencing them at once.

Later that night – Gryffindor Tower

Hermione had never been as graceful and feminine as Lily just seemed to be naturally, much to their mother’s everlasting chagrin. Hermione was a tomboy and the more she grew into herself and began to think for herself, the more she felt that she was content with that. She had her moments when she gave into that little voice in the back of her mind that told her that her teeth were too large, her freckles too plentiful, her hair too bushy, and her overall frame too gangly and awkward. It wasn’t the first time she wondered if life might be easier if she and Lily had been born identical, because then at least people would compare their appearances. She knew it was silly and vain to feel this way. And Lily would never do or say anything to make her feel inferior in any way, shape, or form. They wholeheartedly loved and supported one another. But sometimes Hermione did wonder.

She stood on her tiptoes in her navy-blue, flannel pajama set and fuzzy slippers, hands braced on the sink’s edge while she turned her face this way and that. She lifted a finger to her front teeth and pushed at them until her gums ached. She pressed her hands over her bushy hair trying to flatten it down, to no avail. She even tried some of the creams that Mary and Alice kept stocked in their shared bathroom to combat her newest torment – acne. The magic lotions worked wonders on her skin, but they could do little with genetics. Lily took after their mother while Hermione took after their father. And twins or not, it mattered little when they stood side by side and stupid, immature boys turned their academic frustrations outward and attacked the appearances of others to soothe their fragile egos.

Marlene entered the bathroom carrying her shower caddy, wand, and a clean set of pajamas with her. She pulled back the shower curtain and cranked the knob until the room began to steam. But before she untied her robe and climbed in, she turned to Hermione and asked, “Mi, what are you doing?”

Hermione sunk down from her tiptoes and let her arms flail to her sides, letting out a long sigh. She spun on her heel and turned to face her friend, bracing her hip against the white, porcelain sink. “Marls, am I ugly?”

Marlene canted her head to one side, brow puckered in consideration. “Not at all. Why?” And then after a moment, she asked, “Is this about what that git Snape said?”

Hermione folded her arms across her chest like armor and hung her head so that her chin touched her chest. She didn’t want Marlene to see the tears welling up in her eyes. “No. How silly. I couldn’t care less what a boy thinks.”

“Then what?” Marlene turned the water in her shower off and opened one of the windows so the steam would escape.

Hermione shuffled her slippered feet against the tiled floor, wondering how to begin without sounding vain, foolish, and petty. “Being a twin can be the most wonderful thing sometimes. Lils can tell what I’m thinking or feeling. Sometimes we can even share magic. But sometimes it sucks.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, everyone compares us. And while I know Lily doesn’t feel that way and would never do that to me, sometimes I can’t help but do it too,” Hermione admitted in a tiny voice, feeling absolutely pathetic. “I know I’m smart. I take pride in that. We both do. We work hard so that no one can ever tell us we don’t belong here. But she’s the kind one, the soft one, the one that everyone likes. She doesn’t spit or curse, she hardly ever yells, she controls her temper. People will just come up to her from any house and make conversation… unless I’m there. Then they turn and run for the hills.”

“So what? You might be twins but you’re two different people. Isn’t that the whole point of changing your name?” Marlene sidled up beside her with a knowing smirk on her face, her shaggy blonde hair clipped up on the crown of her head and her fuzzy, mint-green robe tied tight around her waist.

Hermione’s head shot up and she turned a fearful sideways glance at her dormmate. “How long have you known?”

“Since the third week of term.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it was your choice. And you don’t look like a ‘Petunia’ to me. Lily is soft and sweet, at times. But you and I know that she’s got that Granger-Evans temper just like you do. Maybe she’s better at hiding it. And maybe that makes people let their guards down around her. But let me tell you something my mother always tells me. ‘You might not be everyone’s cup of tea. But no one is forcing them to drink. Maybe you’re coffee instead.’”

Hermione snorted. “That’s awful.”

“Pearls of wisdom straight from the horse’s mouth,” Marlene crowed.

Hermione gasped and gaped at her friend before bursting into laughter herself. “You’re terrible!”

“What? She looked like a horse. I’m glad I take after my father.” Marlene shook out her shaggy blonde hair over her shoulders and flashed a smug smirk.

Hermione’s heart sank at that and skipped like a scratched record in her chest, her laughter dying down.

“There it is. You actually think you’re ugly, don’t you?” Marlene said. “I think I know what you need. One second!” Marlene held up a finger and tromped out of the bathroom, leaving Hermione to wonder what was happening. Suddenly the gramophone in their dorm roared to life, cranked to top volume and blasting an old Jimmy Soul record they’d pilfered over the break from their parents’ collection.

“What’s going on, Marls?” Mary asked.

“Oh, no! Don’t even think about it, Marls. I still have two feet of parchment to write for the Transfiguration essay due in two days,” Alice whined.

“Hermione needs us more!” Marlene shouted over the music.

But it was Lily who began singing at top volume, the creak of her four-posted bed indicating that she must be jumping on it.

“If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life,

Never make a pretty woman your wife!

So, from my personal point of view,

Get an ugly girl to marry you.”

The girls who were hearing the song for the first time cackled, doubled over with laughter. “This is amazing!”

Hermione’s amber eyes filled with happy tears as she exited the restroom and re-entered the dorm to see them all dancing, clapping along, jumping on their beds, and singing along.

“A pretty woman makes her husband look small.

And very often causes his downfall.

As soon as he marries her,

then she starts to do the things that will break his heart.”

Lily leapt from her bed and scooped her sister up in her arms squeezing her so that the tears welling up in Hermione’s eyes bubbled over. Lily kissed her cheek and whispered, “I heard what you said. And someday you will see what I see. If no one else does, then screw them. They don’t deserve you.”

Marlene took a deep breath and began to belt, “Don’t let your friends say you have no taste! Go ahead and marry anyway. Though her face is ugly, her eyes don’t match. Take it from me, she’s a better catch.” She took hold of one of the posters of her bed and swung herself around like a fireman on a pole.  

Lily chimed in to pull Hermione into a call and respond: “Say man!”

Hermione rolled her eyes, dashing away her tears and played along: “Hey baby!”

“I saw your wife the other day.” Lily loosened her grip so she could take her twin’s hands, and they could shake and shimmy around to the music.

“Yeah?” Hermione wiggled her shoulders, letting herself get into it.

“Yeah, and she’s ug-ly!” Lily yelled so that Alice, Mary, and Marlene howled with laughter.

“Yeah, she’s ugly, but she sure can cook, baby!” Hermione volleyed back.

By that point, the girls had caught on to the chorus and carried on till the song ended. They wrapped themselves around Hermione in the center of the room, still swaying gently to the final strains of the music.

-----

The Marauders had just gotten back from testing out James’ new broom when the familiar sounds of the Granger-Evans’ muggle record collection blared to life, startling them all as well as the other Gryffindor congregating in the communal space. Some of them were working on schoolwork and seemed irritated. But before one of the Fifth Years could cast a Silencing Charm, Sirius stepped forward and held up a hand. “Wait! I want to listen.”

After some grumbles, and the more studious in their house retiring to their dorms for some quiet, the Marauders settled on the couch to listen to the music coming from the girls’ dorm while Sirius propped himself up against the wall at the base of the steps.

“If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life,

Never make a pretty woman your wife!

So, from my personal point of view,

Get an ugly girl to marry you.”

Sirius turned to face his friends with surprise clear in his wide eyes. “Guess they’re in a good mood.”

James was shocked at the boisterous squeals coming from the room. He jumped in his seat and asked at one point, “Was that Evans?”

The other three turned to nod while another verse started and captured their attention. Another voice took center stage. “Who is that?”

The boys shrugged. Remus didn’t reveal that it was none other than Hermione having heard her sing in the infirmary after the full moon.

“C-Could it be Macdonald?” Peter chimed in, trying to conceal his blush.

But Sirius spoke up with a kind of certainty that stunned the others, “It’s Granger.”

“But if you make an ugly woman your wife,

You’ll be happy for the rest of your life.

An ugly woman cooks meals on time.

She’ll always give you peace of mind.”

The girls let loose another shrill cackle and caused the boys to startle and smile in response. “What in Godric’s name are they listening to?” Another voice took over that the boys immediately fell silent to listen to.

“Don’t let your friends say you have no taste!

Go ahead and marry anyway.

Though her face is ugly, her eyes don’t match.

Take it from me, she’s a better catch.”

The boys nearly fell all over themselves listening to them. “Muggles actually make songs like this?” James asked.

“I guess so.” Remus smirked and got up from the couch to join Sirius at the foot of the stairs. He could’ve heard just fine from the couch, but he found his wolf seemed more content the closer he got.

“But, why?” Peter asked.

“Because pretty people aren’t the only ones who matter, Pete.” Sirius immediately understood, and Remus met his gaze with surprise which had the dark-haired wizard blushing and turning away. Sirius sometimes presented this façade of frivolousness that hinted at apathy, but he had those rare moments where his hidden depths and emotional intelligence peeked through.

Then the Marauders were stunned to silence when the Granger-Evans twins began to almost talk to one another, singing their conversation back and forth.

“Say man!”

“Hey baby!”

“I saw your wife the other day.”

“Yeah?” Followed by more girlish laughter.

“Yeah, and she’s ug-ly!” Lily yelled and the others howled with laughter, which sent the Marauders into fits of laughter at the refreshingly honest absurdity and dry humor of the song, unlike any that could presently be found in the wizarding world.

“Yeah, she’s ugly, but she sure can cook, baby!” Hermione volleyed back.

“Yeah, alright.” The voice conceded sheepishly in line with the musical storytelling.

Then they all seemed to join together in a raucous chorus, voices blending and contorting in melodic chaos.

When the song ended, the boys all retired to their dorm, talking amongst themselves. “How many records do you think they have in there?” Sirius asked, all lit up with a peek into a wholly new world.

“You got me.” James shrugged.

“Think about it this way. Muggles outnumber us ten to one here in Britain,” Remus informed them. “And the States has a population that is about maybe 40 times bigger. Just think about it.”

“How many different kinds of music have the muggles made?” Sirius asked, having determined that Remus was their new font of knowledge.

“I have no idea. Maybe you’ll just have to ask someone. Or crack a book,” Remus teased and jogged ahead, taking the steps two at a time.

June 30^th, 1972 – Hogwarts Express

The rest of their first year passed pretty uneventfully after that. Alice Fortescue celebrated her 12^th birthday, but she was a pretty quiet girl and preferred not to make a big deal of it. Overall, the girls seemed engrossed in whatever their music-related project was, though Remus was still electing to keep things to himself as it didn’t feel like his secret to tell. And the Marauders spent much of their time exploring the castle and learning every hidden alcove, passageway, and abandoned classroom.

Ravenclaw won the Quidditch Cup and Slytherin won the House Cup, much to the frustration of the Granger-Evans twins. And then sooner than they imagined, they found themselves on the Hogwarts Express back towards London for the summer.

Sirius seemed beside himself.

Remus was apprehensive.

Peter seemed resigned.

And James was ecstatic. He spent the majority of the ride back chatting to the other three about what he planned to do at Potter Manor over the summer. “I wish you guys could come over and we could camp outside and play Quidditch.”

Peter and Sirius beamed at him; eyes wide with hope that the offer was genuine.

“Really?” Peter asked.

James nodded. “I’ll ask my parents and owl you all if they say yes. What about it, Remus?”

Remus was taken off-guard by the invitation. “My father might not let me. I’ll ask. No promises.”

“I’m sure Walburga would probably pack my bags if I asked to go and toss me through the floo,” Sirius tried to make light of the abuses that were most likely everyday occurrences for him at home.

“I can’t wait!” James cried.

-----

The girls were gathered in their own compartment plotting to make the most of their summer to put their plans into action. “We’ll continue working on ‘Better When I’m Dancing’ and you girls try your best to get those lessons started,” Hermione decreed and pulled out her large tome on Norse mythology she’d been devouring for the past few days.

“Aye aye, Captain!” Marlene mock saluted.

“I’m so excited.” Alice bounced in her seat.

Mary smiled from her seat by the window, beside the twins, fingers tapping along on her thighs like she was tickling the ivories. “I’ll keep up with my piano.”

“I wonder how much lessons will cost.” Lily turned to face Hermione.

“We’ll figure it out, Lils.”

Then Dorcas leaned in the center so that the other girls huddled around her. “Most importantly, if we’re going to be a band, we have to have a name. So, what are we going to call ourselves?” She sat back, arms folded across her chest with a smug smirk on her face.

Marlene laid her head on Dorcas’ shoulder and murmured, “What about Rebel Yell?”

“Nah,” Alice said before being pelted with a Bertie Botts’ bean.

“Ooh! Oh, I know, I know! What about the Lion’s Roar?” Mary suggested, fanning out her hands.

Dorcas grumbled her remark, as the only non-Gryffindor present, “Feels biased.”

Marlene smirked and nudged the lone Slytherin in their group with her shoulder till they were both smiling. “Sounds more like a Quidditch team than an all-girl band.”

“Okay, back to the drawing board.” Lily tapped her chin.

Suddenly, Hermione drummed her fingers on the cover of her leatherbound book while her eyes dropped to the cover and the illustration of the winged-horse riding warrior women who escorted the souls of those fallen in battle to the hallowed halls of Valhalla. She gasped dramatically and raised her eyes to gape at them all. “I think I just had a stroke of genius!”

“Drama queen.” Alice said and unwrapped her cauldron cake.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at the brunette with her chin-length, ash-brown waves. “Here me out.”

Dorcas used her hands to slap against her thighs in an increasingly faster rhythm, creating her own raucous version of a drum roll. “Spit it out!”

“What about the Powerful Valkyries?” Lily voiced it as a question, suddenly unsure.

“I like it, but it could be better,” Marlene said. “The Swotty Valkyries?” The compartment devolved into boisterous laughter.

“Shut it!” Hermione walloped her in the arm.

“Ow, damn!” Marlene rubbed her upper arm and stuck her tongue out at her friend.

“The Tasty Valkyries!” Dorcas offered next with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows, followed by yet another round of hilarity.

“Nooooo!”

“The Lady Valkyries?” Alice suggested.

“They’re already ladies. That seems redundant.” Lily scrunched her nose.

“Oh, right.” Alice sighed.

“The Amazing Valkyries!” Lily chimed in, all warmth and sunshine.

“Nay!” Mary crowded with a thumbs down in her friend’s face which Lily playfully swatted away.

Dorcas tapped her chin before she spoke up. “I think I’ve got it. What about ‘the Mighty Valkyries’?”

The compartment finally went silent, and they all looked at her, eyes wide and gleaming, lips curved in proud smiles. Hermione was the one to finally break the silence. “It’s perfect, Cas.”

“Really?” the lone Slytherin squealed, bringing her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide with joy.

Marlene gave a firm nod. Alice and Mary were already starting up their own drum rolls as they slapped their open palms against their thighs. Lily turned to look at Hermione with a quirk of her ginger brow. Then she turned back to the rest of their friends and cleared her throat, trying to be as professional and mature as she could manage. “All of favor of naming the group ‘The Mighty Valkyries’, say aye!”

“Aye!”

“Aye!”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Yet more snorts of laughter.

“Aye!”

“Aye!”

“The ayes have it! The motion carries!” Lily announced, doing her level best to imitate the Parliament sessions she’s watched on telly with their father on occasion before nodding off.

Marlene threw her head back towards the ceiling of the compartment and howled like a wolf. “I love it! The Mighty Valkyries! Aow, ow, ooooh!”

Mary slapped her hands against the window looking out on a Scottish loch while Dorcas pumped her fists in the air. “Valkyries!”

Hermione hugged her twin tightly to her chest and whispered in her ear, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Don’t you know my sister is amazing? She can do anything,” Lily whispered back.

Just then, Hermione caught sight of Peter and Remus passing by their compartment over her sister’s shoulder. She noticed the boys pause to stare at the girls who were still cheering loudly and shouting. Remus’ eyes flashed gold momentarily as he took in Marlene’s animalistic howling, and Hermione’s breath caught in her throat at the sight. Some primordial instinct made her freeze in fear of the unknown. His brows puckered before he blinked once, slowly and his eyes returned to that natural moss green hue. He shook off the funk and mumbled something to Peter to keep walking down the corridor of the rocking train.

Hermione released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and her thoughts raced, fluttering around in her mind like birds in a cage. That wasn’t the first time she’d seen such a thing where Remus was concerned. The first time, she’d convinced herself that she’d been seeing things, or perhaps it was the reflective glow of the lit candles floating around the Great Hall during the Welcome Feast. But then he’d been looking at her then too. Could it be that… he was more than human. More than wizard? Something more or perhaps other? She wished she could just ask. There were pen pals, after all. But perhaps it was something private, personal, or even taboo. There was so much that she and Lils still didn’t know about the wizarding world and its culture. Maybe it was considered rude to ask. Or maybe he wouldn’t walk to talk about it at all. Maybe if he felt he could trust her more. Hermione made up her mind to continue their letters over the summer. She would earn his trust.

Chapter Text

-----

July 2^nd, 1972 – Lupin Cottage

‘Dear Remus,

 Hope your summer is going well! It’s so strange to be back home after spending months at Hogwarts, isn’t it? Being back in Hampstead in our family brownstone is the oddest thing. It bothers Lily when I say this, but our life before Hogwarts feels like another lifetime where something was always just… missing. And then when we became part of the wizarding world – which we have to discuss, by the way, because how sexist! –  and that missing puzzle piece suddenly appeared and things made more sense than they ever did before.

Our first bouts of accidental magic, according to our parents, were when Lily was five and I was six. Ever the late bloomer. Haha! Mum told Lily she couldn’t have any biscuits before dinner and Lily made them levitate out of the pantry and right into her hands. Mum caught them but she was stunned for the rest of the day and refused to tell Dad about it for months, thinking she was seeing things. Then I ended up knocking all of my father’s tools off of his peg board in the garage in an angry tantrum and sent them chasing after him until Mum came and calmed me down. After that, she finally fessed up to Dad about Lily’s ‘incident’ a year before so they could take us to a bunch of doctors (muggle healers) and child psychologists (mind healers) thinking there was something wrong with us. How right they were!

Enough of my rambling. It’s harder to control in writing than it is in person. I included a few new books. I’m happy to hear you liked The Secret Garden, but I knew you would love Arabian Nights more with all its adventures and magic. Which story was your favorite? Mine was about Aladdin the Wonderful Lamp, but apparently that was added later by the French translator Antoine Galland. Like one big game of telephone… How will I explain telephones? Oh, goodness.

I hope to hear back from you. Enjoy your summer! See you in the autumn. Second Year! I can’t wait for Charms and Transfiguration!

Your friend,

Hermione.’

Remus folded the letter and put it back into its muggle envelope. He’d been surprised to receive muggle post under his own name. Usually, his mother was the only one who received muggle post from her own extended family and friends back in Wales. They knew she’d married and moved away to England. That she’d had a son. But it was a novel experience to receive a stamped letter written on lined paper written in purple ballpoint pen rather than a sheaf or roll of parchment written by quill and sealed with wax like the ones he’d gotten from James and Peter. Though Sirius had been strangely silent. Remus worried, like the rest of the Marauders, that Sirius was hiding the truth of how unpleasant his home life was from them because he didn’t want their pity. Remus could understand that. But he still wished he knew more. Or that he could help. However, Remus couldn’t even improve his own situation, so how he thought he would help the heir and scion of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was beyond him.

He chuckled at the letter. “That is an excessive number of exclamation points.” She must be excited.

“What’s that, cariad?” his mother asked from the kitchen where she was presently ironing his father’s tailored work robes.

“Oh, just a letter from a friend from school,” Remus said.

Hope smiled at her son and set aside her iron. “I’m happy to hear you’re making friends.”

“I have friends.” Remus bristled.

“Of course, the boys – James, Peter, and Sirius. But this one came through the muggle post.”

She was far too observant for comfort sometimes. But then Remus had learned that from her and honed those skills to a fine edge with his enhanced lupine senses. When he sensed she was waiting for him to elaborate, he cleared his throat. “Her name is Hermione. She was sorted into the same house as me. She has a twin sister, Lily. They’re both muggleborn.”

“Oh! How nice. I like that you’re making friends on both sides.” She smiled softly and picked up the iron back to resume her task. “What’s she like?”

“Top of our class, her and her sister.” Remus took a moment to find the right balance to describe her as accurately as possible while not hinting to his mother that this new girl could mean more to him than she ought to. “Very smart. Loud. Oh, you can hear her coming from across the castle.” He smiled bashfully to himself. “Fierce. Funny. And she’s already doing spells from second year and creating her own. She likes to read and sing, though her voice is… interesting.” He chuckled just remembering the last time he’d heard it. “She likes to loan me her favorite books so we can talk about them.”

“She sounds lovely, cariad.”

He blushed and lowered his head so that his fringe would hopefully hide the bloom of color creeping up his cheeks. “She is a good friend.”

“Maybe you should write back and send her some of your books. Let her get to know you too,” his mother suggested as she finished up with her ironing and lifted the robes, trousers, and button-down shirts to drape over a hanger.

His heart raced at his mother’s words, and his wolf paced restlessly in the back of his mind. How close was too close? If she knew, would she turn away in fear or disgust? Remus didn’t want to risk it. At least he could maintain some distance if they remained pen pals.

July 8^th, 1972 – Grimmauld Place

This summer had been the worst in recent memory. From the moment he’d stepped through the floo back into Grimmauld Place at the end of June, his parents – his mother in particular – had made their disapproval of him abundantly clear. They had pointed out on several occasions that his time away from their sphere of influence had done him no favors in that regard. And every meal that followed had been an endurance test. Each stilted conversation had laced with pointed remarks about his ‘shameful behavior’ and his ‘regrettable friendships’. And while his father had grown even more distant, if possible, his mother had made it her personal mission in life to ‘fix him’.

What had followed were countless hours in which he, as the heir apparent, was subjected to hours of lecturing on the importance of blood purity and his familial duty. They had confiscated his personal belongings – the records from Hermione had hurt the most. Then they’d shorn his hair as short as Reggie’s, cropped back behind his ears and slicked back like his father’s with copious amounts of pomade that smelled of beeswax and made his nose itch. They had dragged him to one stuffy social event after another, including the formal announcement of his cousin Narcissa’s engagement to the Malfoy heir, Lucius. This had all occurred after the scandalous elopement of his cousin Andromeda to a muggleborn wizard, subsequent breaking of her contract with the Malfoys, and her being blasted off the Black Family tapestry by her own mother, Druella.

When none of that had worked to curb his questions and ‘innate defiance’, as his mother called it, Orion had suggested she be firmer with him. His father had remarked that each child learned differently and perhaps Sirius required more discipline just as she had. Sirius hadn’t understood, at first, but Walburga had simply taken her husband’s instruction and applied it to her eldest child.

Sirius groaned as he lay on his side curled into a ball with his arms wrapped protectively around his aching ribs. And all Sirius could think in that moment was two things: 1) I wonder if Andi’s having a good summer, and 2) better me than Reggie.

Reggie had been the one to help him up the stairs to his room and stay with him, asking bloody Kreacher to bring pain relief potions and bruise paste. Days later, he still ached, and his hands still twitched with the residual tremors of the Cruciatus his dearest mother had lobbed at him over and over, trying to shame for his disobedience, until he’d pissed himself on the floor. He had made the mistake of saying something cheeky and then she’d tucked away her wand and gone full muggle on him, slapping and kicking until he was a wheezing heap on the floor at his father’s feet.

Orion had ordered Sirius to be confined to his room with no meals for two days and no medical attention for his insolence. Sirius hadn’t seen either of his parents since then, and he considered it the best gift they could’ve given him. But he’d also been prevented from spending any time with Reggie, and that had hurt more.

In the time he’d been away at school, Regulus had become colder, and more introverted. He’d started lobbing around terms like ‘blood traitor’ and ‘mudblood’ after a year with only Walburga and Orion and even bloody Kreacher to influence him. And at the tender age of 10, he was highly susceptible to the influence of others. But next year, Reggie would be joining him at school and maybe he had more of a chance of protecting him there when he could distance his brother from their awful parents and their narrow world.

A light knock at his door pulled Sirius from his thoughts. “Enter,” he croaked, barely lifting his head.

The door lock disengaged, and it was Reggie who entered, quickly and quietly shutting the door behind himself before he turned to face his brother. “Siri, I brought you food and more pain relief potions.”

Sirius tried to push himself up on shaky arms and when he nearly fell, Reggie came over, setting the tray down on his end table, he lifted his brother up against the mountain of pillows at the headboard before Sirius let out a pained groan. “Easy there, Reggie. It looks worse than it feels.”

“You look like day old crap,” Regulus deadpanned.

“Well, then it looks exactly how it feels.” Sirius let out a breathless huff of laughter that jostled his ribs, so he let out a sharp hiss through his teeth.

Regulus brought the tray closer and set it down in his brother’s lap. “You shouldn’t have antagonized her.”

“Take away all of life’s joys, why don’t you?”

“It’s not funny, Siri!” Regulus thrust a spoon into his brother’s hand.

Sirius dipped the spoon into the bowl of soup in front of him and brought it to his lips with a shaky hand where most of the soup dribbled back into the bowl, so he was forced to try again. “We all cope differently, Reggie.”

“Why can’t you just keep you head down and tell them what they want to hear? You don’t have to mean it or believe it, Siri. But then you—”

“How very Slytherin of you.” Sirius smirked sadly at his little brother and finally successfully brought a spoonful of the soup to his mouth. “Mother and Father will be so proud.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re the heir and I’m the spare.” Regulus scoffed and ran his hand through his short, ebony tresses.

“Not at the rate I’m going, Reg.” Sirius set down the spoon instead and picked up the entire bowl, lifting it to his lips to slurp from it noisily.

“If you just keep your mouth shut, and then in a few years we can—”

Sirius interrupted, setting the bowl down with a clatter. “What, run away? How far do you think we would get before they found us and dragged us back? Locked us both up! No, Reggie. I’m not bowing my head for them.” He took his brother by the chin to force him to meet his identical gaze. “So, don’t you buy into their rubbish, okay? If you need to keep your head down to survive, then do what you have to do. But don’t you let them suck you into their cult. Promise me, Reg.”

Regulus hesitated for a moment before giving his older brother a firm nod. “I promise, Siri.”

July 11^th, 1972 – Granger-Evans Residence

“Did you send Dorcas’ birthday gift and card?” Iris called out to her daughters.

“Yes, Mum!” Lily called out.

“As if we could forget!” Hermione followed up.

Iris smiled to herself as she listened to them sitting on the back deck in a nest of pillows practicing with their newest obsessions – an acoustic guitar and bass. She was kneeling in her garden weeding and listening to them pluck along with the sheet music they’d received from their instructor – scales so they could learn to read music and get comfortable with the hand placements.

Nearly the moment they got into the car outside of King’s Cross Station, trunks in hand, they had asked for music lessons. They had begged and pleaded, negotiating and trying to convince Iris and Harold of the benefits of learning music for the development of the brain. Iris had seen right through it, but the dental practice was going well, and they were comfortable.

She and Harold had discussed it at length and looked into tutors from the nearby music college and found one for both girls who knew how to play both guitar and bass. The girls were smart and picked it up quickly. Iris was happy to see them engaging in hobbies she could understand for once. The girls had written home about their classes and about this godawful sport Quidditch which sounded like rugby in the air. Iris and Harold had tried to understand. Truly they did. The girls seemed to be blossoming there like they’d discovered a missing part of themselves, and Iris supposed they had. But she often felt guilty that she might not be able to connect to her daughters as they got older because they were now immersed in a world that she could not be part of through no fault of hers or theirs. So, the see them so interested in playing music… brought her a secret sense of joy and relief that at least this was something universal to both worlds.

An offkey twang pulled her out of her reverie and she watched Lily lean toward Petunia – oh, Hermione – to correct her finger placement. “Try it like this, Tuney.”

“That sounds much better, sweetheart!” Iris called out with a beaming smile which her girls returned.

When Hermione had corrected Iris on the ride home and asked to be called ‘Hermione’ rather than by her given name, Iris’ heart had thumped heavily in her chest. It’s beginning already, she told herself. Her child was pulling away at only 12. Like any decent mother, she wanted her children to be happy. Of course she did. But part of her wanted to stubbornly push back and demand to know why.

Hermione had explained that she had never felt like a ‘Petunia’. But when she’d read about Queen Hermione in her father’s study, the name had ‘spoken to her’. Her precocious daughter had taken it as a sign. And then Pet- Hermione had told Iris that when they were sorted, Professor McGonagall had called her by the name too, like their roster had magically updated itself and taken her daughter’s wants and needs into account. Iris supposed that from the perspective of a child being suddenly thrust into a world where magic was real, it must’ve seemed like a sign. But Iris couldn’t deny that it felt like she was saying farewell to her daughter while this doppelganger returned to her place. Hermione was changing before her very eyes. And with them away for the majority of the year, it was like Iris and Harold were no longer the sole influences in their development.

A slate-gray barn owl fluttered to a landing beside the girls and Lily set down her guitar gingerly before reaching out towards the bird. “Hello, beauty. Who do you belong to?” she cooed, extending a crooked knuckle to stroke the bird’s head. The owl extended its leg, and Iris watched the exchange as the girls read the note together, shoulder to shoulder. “Oh, Dorcas got her gift and loves it!” Lily beamed. At least her little Lily-bean wasn’t changing quite so fast.

“Oh, I’m so relieved,” Hermione said. The girls had saved up their allowances and had just enough left over to send their friend a camera that took magic pictures that moved to Iris’ understanding. How was she meant to compete with magic?

August 1^st, 1972 – Potter Manor

Remus stumbled out of the floo into the family room of Potter Manor and froze in place, suddenly self-conscious of his homemade robes. The space was opulent in the way that only heritage homes from old money families could be – priceless heirlooms on display and magical portraits with numerous Potter ancestors on the walls greeted Remus with smiles and features reminiscent of James Potter. The sparkling eyes, crooked grins, and untamed, dark hair seemed to run strong in this line. But the room felt warm and welcoming, overall, draped in crimson and gold like a posher version of the Gryffindor common room.

Just then, James stepped into the room, bursting through the heavy double doors to greet his friend with Sirius on his heels around, hands tucked into his trouser pockets and a grin on his face. Peter came scrambling in a moment later. “Remus!” They swept him up in brief hugs and animated conversation, telling him all about their summers so far.

James and Sirius had set up an informal quidditch pitch, Peter had arrived a week ago while Remus had been indisposed. The three boys had gone swimming in the river, camped outside under the stars in a tent with a bonfire the house elves had set up for them. They had even discussed building a tree fort once Remus arrived. His heart swelled with the thought that these three boys could be his friends – best friends, perhaps. That maybe someday they could see him as more than just ‘furry, little problem’.  

Just then, James’ mother – with the same, lively eyes, though hers were a dove grey, and hidden behind spectacles like like her son – entered the room. Remus took her in, really observed her – deep, auburn hair tied up in a neat bun at the nape of her neck and long, pale, elegant hands clasped in front of her, and a kind, inquisitive smile on her face. “You must be Remus Lupin. Sirius hasn’t stopped talking about you since he got here,” she smiled fondly at the small heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

Sirius turned bashful and grumbled to himself. “No, I didn’t.”

Remus could see that the dark-haired wizard was thinner than he’d been at the start of summer – his cheeks not as full, and his skin paler if that were possible. He didn’t want to pry, but Remus guessed that things at home weren’t all peaches and cream for the pureblood heir to the House of Black.

“What have I told you about mumbling, Sirius?” Dorea Potter asked, though her tone suggested that she didn’t expect an answer so much as a correction of the behavior she seemed to disapprove of. If Remus recalled correctly, was also a distant relative of Sirius’ from an extended branch of the House of Black, and a former Slytherin. He could see the family resemblance and wondered just how intertwined Sirius’ family was with the Potters and the rest of their world.

Sirius spoke up, effectively changing the subject. “Let’s show Remus where he’ll be staying!” He nudged James and the four boys set off, only to be halted by a tiny force of nature in a royal-blue apron.

A small house elf with large bat-like ears and clear, green eyes appeared before them with a pop of apparition and a wide smile. “Welcome to Potter Manor, Little Master Remus.”

He blushed and looked at Dorea and the boys. “H-Hello.”

Dorea spoke up to make the introductions. “This is Tilly. She came with me when I was married and helped raise James. She’s been taking care of the boys too since they arrived.”

Tilly offered a beaming smile and bobbed a neat curtsy. “Tilly is happy to meet you, Little Master.”

“You can just call me Remus.” He shuffled his feet nervously. His only experience with house elves till this point was the ones at Hogwarts, and more often than not, they operated behind the scenes, conditioned to not be seen or heard.

“Master Remus, then. You are Master James’ friend too?” Tilly asked.

Remus nodded simply. “Yes. We all dorm together at Hogwarts.”

Tilly nodded happily and her bat-like ears flopped as she did. “Come. Tilly will carry your bags and show you to your room, Master Remus.” With a snap of her spindly fingers, his trunk was pulled from his grip and levitated behind the house elf in the blue pinafore while she led him and the boys to where he’d been spending the next few weeks.

Sirius threw an arm around Remus’ shoulders and jostled him. “This is going to be so much fun now that you’re here!” His exuberance seemed to be contagious as the two other boys beamed at Remus, entreating him to join in on their shared enthusiasm.

“We have to show you the river!” Peter cried, eyes wide with glee.

“D-Do I have to swim?” Remus asked warily, his main concern was that he didn’t want to disrobe in front of his roommates. He didn’t want them to see his scars and see the pity in their eyes when they looked at him. He knew that in the span of the next six years, it might become inevitable. But the longer he could delay it, the better.

“Only if you want to, Remus.” James offered him a smile of understanding.

“I can always bring a book.”

Sirius threw his head back on his neck dramatically. “Don’t be boring, Remus! You can keep your shirt on while you swim with us. No one wants to see your pasty arse anyway.”

The boys devolved into laughter before Remus took a chance to rib him back and maintain the lighthearted mood. “If anyone’s arse is pasty, it has to be yours, Sirius.”

Peter chuckled and James snorted. Sirius gasped in mock offense, his hand over his heart. “It took a lot of work to get skin this good!”

“Yeah, a lot of inbreeding,” James murmured.

“Mumbling!” Dorea called after them from the back of the pack as they ascended the stairs towards the upper floors where the family rooms were located. When the boys looked back at her, her mouth quirked in a small smile. It was clear in that Dorea Potter née Black was perhaps part of the inspiration for her son’s mischievous spirit.

August 27^th, 1972 – Lupin Cottage

Remus stared out of the small window in the subterranean cellar as the moon began to rise. He saw his mother retreat up the small flight of steps, head bowed while her husband readied to ward the doors against his own son. A monster. He was a monster. And he never felt so alone in that reality as when he transformed by himself, shackled and caged in his family cellar while glaring up at that hateful moon which only served to mock him each month.

He heard his mother’s weeping for only a moment before his father threw up a Silencing Charm and then he settled cross-legged on a blanket in the center of the cage. He shut his eyes and thought instead of the past few weeks with his friends at Potter Manor as his skin began to itch and ripple. They had slept under the stars and flown with the wind in their hair and the sun on their cheeks until Sirius and Peter had got sunburned and Tilly had to threaten them with no dessert to let her soothe their burns. They had frolicked in the woods surrounding the manor and created crude drawings of their planned tree fort. They had even been able to practice their First Year charms and transfiguration lessons with all the wards around the manor that they couldn’t be traced back to the Ministry for underage magic. They had slept in a pile of blankets and pillows in front of the fire and gorged themselves on Tilly’s desserts until their stomachs ached. They’d played exploding snap and wizard’s chess late into the night until their eyes crossed. Remus and Peter had even brought muggle comic superhero comics and introduced James and Sirius to a whole new world of entertainment. And it had been the most fun, the most normal, the freest that Remus had ever felt before in his life.

The pain of the change brought him back to the present as his back bowed. His fingers scrabbled in the dirt before he reached out to grip the bars of his enclosure, seeking something solid to ground him through the pain. He gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw, his eyes shut tight as his skin began to split parallel to his spine. He couldn’t think back far enough to the time before this pain. This pain was all he knew, and it was unrelenting. It was cruel in the fact that this was his normal.

Just before his wolf took over completely, the thought of Hermione’s most recent letter let the imagined sound of her voice soothe him. Hermione Jean Granger-Evans. He could almost see her amber eyes now if he shut his. His wolf stirred at the thought. They were almost like his in the right light. But she wasn’t like him. She was clean and pure, wholesome and good. Full of life and light. And he was a dark creature, according to Lyall Lupin and others who thought like him.

His mother had encouraged Remus to nurture the blossoming friendship between them, but he could admit – if only to himself – that he was scared to pull her into this. He was scared to trust others. What was the right decision? The safe choice? Would Hermione shun him? His wolf paced in his head, Remus’ consciousness fading faster and faster in the deep recesses of his mind.

Girl is good. She is smart.

She is not afraid. She is curious. She wants to know more.

If we show her what we are, she will choose us back.

Girl smells nice. She makes us laugh. She makes us happy.

We want to keep her.

Keep her!

Remus woke to ringing in his ears and the feel of clammy, drying sweat all over. He was in the center of his enclosure and sore all over. His ribs ached when he breathed too deeply. His wolf must’ve done a number on him. He couldn’t bring himself to sit up, only moving a hand to make sure the blanket covered him when he heard the sounds of cellar door unlocking and his mother descending to check on him.

He shut his eyes against the bright light streaming in through the small window and so he wouldn’t have to see Hope Lupin’s agonized face. He only wished he could tune out the sound of her pitiful sobs. “Fy nghath,” My baby, she blubbered, the keys to his cage jangling in her shaking hands. She loved him so much, but even she pitied him and feared him.

Sometimes Remus wished he could hate her for it.

August 31^st, 1972 – Potter Manor

“Happy birthday, Pete!” James cheered and Sirius applauded, a colorful, pointed birthday hat strapped to his head. Three of them, in fact, all bigger and brighter than the last.

Tilly had prepared a three-layer salted caramel and chocolate cake for Peter’s birthday, but all he could think of was that their group was incomplete, and his friends seemed sadder for it. Even on Peter’s birthday. Peter blew out his candles and announced what they all seemed to be thinking. “I wish Remus could be here.”

James and Sirius exchanged a look before Tilly and Dorea interjected. “His mother wrote to say he was feeling under the weather but sent his best birthday wishes, sweetheart. He also sent his gift ahead for you so you’d know how much he wished he could be here in person.” Mrs. Potter handed over the neatly wrapped gift and handwritten card in Remus’ telltale scrawl.

Peter perked up for a moment as he received them and hugged them close to his chest. Determined to keep his spirits high, his friends chimed in. “He’ll be here next time, Pete!”

“Yeah, don’t worry. It’s nothing personal. Remus is pretty sickly. He’d be here if he could.”

Peter nodded, reassured by his remaining friends’ kind words and tore into Remus’ gift happily, reading the words aloud before being served the first piece of cake by an eager house elf. “Happy birthday, Young Master Peter.”

“Th-Thank you, Tilly,” he stammered back nervously, blushing at the undivided attention.

September 1^st, 1972 – Platform 9 ¾

Sirius stood side by side with his little brother, Regulus, who was coming along to Hogwarts for his First Year. The two of them could practically predict how this would go down but still wanted to hang onto their willful ignorance for just a little longer, while they could.

Walburga and Orion walked side by side, not touching or looking at one another, behind their sons while their house elf Kreacher levitated the boys’ trunks behind them. The wrinkled house elf in his tattered pillowcase shuffled forward and flashed young Regulus what could only be perceived as a supportive smirk, though on the crotchety elf’s face it appeared more like a grimace. “Master Regulus will honor the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black and make his parents proud,” the house elf croaked. The underlying implication was clear – that Sirius had failed in this regard and so Regulus was expected to pick up the slack.

Walburga Black nodded with a grunt and placed a hand on each of her sons’ shoulders. “Sirius, don’t embarrass us more than you already have.” That was the extent of her parting words of maternal comfort for her eldest child. She turned to her youngest and her face seemed to soften just a tad as she looked down at the boy. “I expect you will make us proud, Regulus.” It seemed more a threat than words of comfort in that tone of voice.

Regulus nodded. “Y-Yes, Mother.”

Orion scoffed in disappointment at his son. “He’s no longer a boy, Walburga. Let them board the train.”

“I-I’ll wr-write after the Sorting, Father,” Regulus offered to appease the cold, distant man.

Orion Black sighed and gave one firm nod before jerking his chin towards the train so that Sirius and Regulus took their cues to bow their heads before turning to board. Once they were on board, Orion grumbled to his wife, “You’ve always been too soft on him. That’s why he is the way that he is.”

“Regulus is an obedient boy. Intelligent and cunning. He will make a good Slytherin too,” Walburga said in defense of her younger son, who was unquestionably her favorite and now her only hope to remain in her husband’s good graces.

“We shall see if your predictions come to pass. Come along, wife.” Orion turned back to the public floo fireplaces with a swish of his long, dark cloak.

Walburga lingered a moment longer while the train pulled away taking the slivers of her heart with it. Regulus would never let her down. He would elevate himself, and by extension her and their entire house.

Meanwhile – Hogwarts Express

“So, how was your summer, lads?” Sirius beamed at his friends, trying to fake his exuberance to conceal his concern for his brother.

“Spent most of it with you fools.” James chuckled when Sirius shoved him playfully.

Remus smirked behind the pages of his – well, really Hermione’s – book as he cracked the spine with care. “Never long enough.”

Peter nodded. “Spent a lot of it helping out in my mum’s apothecary. She wants me to take over and run it someday.”

“Could be interesting,” Remus offered. He had mostly tuned out their conversation to ruminate on the latest letter he’d received over the summer from one Hermione Granger-Evans. His wolf held up the memory in his mind like a highlight reel that Remus couldn’t seem to shake.

‘Remus –

It was a lovely and unexpected surprise to receive your letter. I’ll admit I was losing hope that I might get one. For a long time, there it felt like this was becoming a one-sided thing… So, I was happy to discover that it just took a bit more wooing on my part to get you to finally come around. Haha!’

He could very nearly hear her sarcastic, self-deprecating laugh carry through her written words the first time he’d read the letter and recalled the two well-loved, second-hand books he’d sent to her once he’d finished the two that she’d sent. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, which he briefly worried might be too simple for her tastes, or that she’d most likely read it dozens of times before. But then he recalled his mother’s words – that in sharing the books that meant something to him, he would grant Hermione a glimpse into the person he was by seeing the things that mattered to him. And then he'd gone back and forth before choosing to include his childhood copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard which was very nearly falling apart. He’d taken a leap of faith that as muggleborns, even if they were children’s stories, she and Lily would most likely not have read them.

‘I’m sure you agonized over whether to send fairytales and children’s stories given my past offerings, but I’m not too proud to reread old favorites. That’s what makes them meaningful, in my opinion. I loved Wonderland when I was younger. And I love it still. Sometimes I like letting my mind escape into fiction. Although learning that magic was real, and that Lily and I were actual witches sometimes feels like a fantasy in and of itself…

I can’t say I’ve ever read about this Bard, Beedle, however, and I’m thrilled to get started. I’ll give you my review in my next letter with some more books of my own.

How was your summer? Do anything interesting? I can’t wait to hear all about your own adventures…

Your friend,

Hermione.

P.S. We’ve never discussed whether we would maintain this pen pal business once we got back to school. Would you prefer to keep this secret private? Please let me know. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But I also don’t love the idea of you being embarrassed to be seen with me.

P.P.S. I would be honored to call you my friend to anyone that would listen. After all, it’s not every day a boy voluntarily reads Little Women and The Secret Garden and then is willing to write me back with a hilarious book review. A gentleman after my own heart!’

His wolf preened in his head recalling her words and the vulnerability she’d displayed in them. On the outside, and especially in school, she always gave off the outward appearance of confidence, self-assurance, and well-earned intelligence. Sure, she wasn’t as soft or polite as her twin, but through her letters he’d gotten a peek behind the curtain at the hidden depths of Hermione. And he was too timid to admit that he was beginning to like what he saw there. She was authentically herself and so full of life. And as much as he was terrified of letting anyone too close… he found he couldn’t bear to push her too far away. He’d made three friends so far. He told himself that he could stand to have another.

“Well, I’m most excited about Quidditch tryouts,” James exclaimed.

“This is our year!” Sirius crowed.

“Oh, count me out.” Peter shook his head, eyes wide with terror.

“Come on, Pete! We have to tryout together.” James pouted.

“I’m not good enough for the team,” Peter whined.

Remus chuckled. “Me neither. But I promise if you guys make it onto the team, I’ll be at every game.”

Sirius shook his head with a smirk. “Fine. It’s just you and me, Jamesie!”

“Ugh, don’t call me that. Sounds like what my mother used to call me when I was a baby.”

“Then we’ll just have to come up with better nicknames, won’t we?”

“Here we go.” The boys devolved into chuckles.

-----

The six girls crammed into a compartment together, pulling each other closer in a lingering embrace like it had been two years instead of two months since they’d last seen one another. When they pulled apart to take their seats – three to a bench facing one another – they all started talking over each other at once.

The twins shared how they’d successfully gotten their parents to get them guitar and bass lessons with a student tutor from the local music conservatory. They shared how it was coming along nicely, and they were getting pretty good at reading music. Hermione was practically vibrating with repressed excitement for the day – which she hoped was soon – when they could write their own music in the leatherbound journal from Sirius Black still preserved at the bottom of her trunk.  

Mary shared that she’d kept up with her own piano lessons and offered to teach any of the others who wanted more tips on learning to read music. She was currently saving her allowance to purchase a keyboard which would be far more portable than the grand piano in her music room at home.

Alice shared that she’d bargained with her parents to get her a music tutor for trumpet and saxophone. In return, she would have to join her mother and aunts at a ladies’ side society charity for St. Mungo’s.

Dorcas shared that her parents weren’t exactly on board with her taking a very unladylike stance on female percussionists, so she’d blackmailed one of her older brothers to say the lessons were for him. Very Slytherin of her, her girlfriends had teased good-naturedly.  

And finally, Marlene had found a local program at her local community center which was giving singing lessons for free. They were being taught by a former Broadway actress and singer who’d emigrated from the States after retiring from the stage. There were four other kids in the class ranging from ages 10 to 16, and Marlene was the newest member. She was thrilled, she told her friends.

“So, in other news, what else are we looking forward to this year, ladies?” Mary asked.

Dorcas, Marlene, and Alice all exchanged a look where they sat opposite Mary and the twins before they blurted in unison, “Quidditch!”

Hermione and Lily groaned before the former slumped down in her seat and the latter rubbed her hands down over her face. “Oh, Merlin no.” The twins spoke simultaneously. “Not you girls too.”

Marlene grumbled and folded her arms across her narrow chest. “I’ve always been athletic, and I happen to think that gaining some muscle and stamina will only help my singing and dancing.”

Dorcas nodded her agreement. “Quidditch is big in my family. Both my brothers, my father, and his brothers all played for Slytherin when they attended Hogwarts. I want to join too if I’m good enough. My parents don’t exactly approve of women playing, but that’s their problem. Not mine.”

“Wow, Cas! I’m liking this new assertive side to you.” Mary held up one of her hands to Dorcas so they could high five. “And you, Alice?” Mary asked.

Alice twiddled her thumbs. “I want to come out of my shell a bit more and I’ve played with my friends growing up. I don’t think I’m half bad. I want to give it a shot. They might not pick me, but at least I can say I faced my fears and tried my best, right?” She looked up at her friends, eyes glittering with vulnerability.

The twins exchanged a telling look before they turned to face the others and Hermione said, “Then we’ll be at every game to support you.”

“Even me?” Dorcas asked, her tone somewhat teasing, but still vulnerable.

“Especially you,” Lily replied. “Though I can’t pull off the green, so don’t even ask.” She held up her fiery orange-red hair and they all burst into joyous laughter.

“Oh, I missed you girls,” Marlene remarked, leaning up against the window.

Later that evening – The Great Hall

“Regulus Black!” Professor McGonagall called out.

The hall went silent as if it were holding its breath. All of Slytherin and all of Gryffindor seemed to be watching, barely blinking, at the Sorting of the ‘Other Black Brother’. Would his Sorting be ‘as usual’ or against the grain and all expectation like that of his older brother? The implications were far-reaching.

The lanky, dark-haired boy – that looked so much like his brother it was jarring – approached the Sorting Hat and took his seat facing his peers. For a split second, his gaze flickered over to Gryffindor table and locked with his brother’s. He could’ve sworn he saw Sirius give him a single, imperceptible nod. But it might’ve been wishful thinking.

He had been so excited to finally come to Hogwarts – to leave the sphere of their parents’ stifling, crushing influence and expectations – and see his brother again. And then the moment he’d stepped into the Great Hall and his eyes had sought out Sirius, it was only to discover that his brother had replaced him and found a new brother instead. Regulus Black found himself envious for the first time in his life – a new sensation for him as a son of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black – of James Potter for having Sirius’ full and uncomplicated affection in a way that Reg never would. Their relationship would always be fraught with harsh truths, juxtaposed wants, and colliding tempers like shooting stars. And some small, selfish part of him wished for his brother back so he could keep him all to himself.

But the Sorting Hat was placed on top of his head and the rest of his life began, laid out before him since before his birth, according to plan. “Slytherin!”

-----

Hermione watched Sirius hold his breath, his hands clenched in his lap so tight that the knuckles were turning white. She hadn’t known he had a brother, but it was interesting to see the similarities between them… in appearance, at least. She didn’t know much else about the boy who’d been her housemate and classmate for a year. But she found that she wanted to learn.

The Sorting Hat loudly called out: “Slytherin!” The polite applause from the emerald and green table at the opposite end of the hall seemed to snap Sirius Black out of his staring match like the clang of a death knell. He released his hold and rubbed his palms on his trouser legs beneath the table which she could just make out from her peripheral vision.

“Congrats, Sirius.” She turned a kind smile on him.

He turned those raincloud eyes on her, dark brows furrowed, and sneered through gritted teeth, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She was momentarily taken aback by the arctic coldness in his voice. She’d never been spoken to like this, and certainly not by him, in her life. It chilled her to the core. Perhaps because beneath it, she could see the pervading sadness in his eyes that he couldn’t quite seem to completely conceal from her. Hermione didn’t understand what she’d done to offend him, but she wanted to make it right.

Lily caught her eye and sent waves of warm reassurance down the bond between their magical cores. “It’s fine, Lils,” Hermione murmured softly as the Sorting continued.

“Bartemius Crouch Junior!” Slytherin.

This went on and on and still Hermione’s mind was swimming with conflicting thoughts and self-flagellating feelings so that she could barely tune in to the conversations taking place around her. Her twin and their friends tried to engage her and after multiple failed attempts, seemed to take the hint that she didn’t feel like speaking so they left her to her own devices.

“Evan Rosier!” Slytherin. Sirius hissed at this which earned him a sharp glare from McGonagall and Slughorn, both.

“Pandora Rosier!” Ravenclaw.

“Hmm, another set of twins. And they got split up,” Lily murmured, grateful that the Sorting Hat had seen fit to keep the Granger-Evans twins together.

“I’ve heard she’s a Seer,” Alice murmured.

“Like, with the crystal ball and the tarot cards?” Lily asked, ginger brow puckered with skepticism.

“No, a real Seer. She comes from a long line of them.”

“Interesting. I wonder if she’ll end up taking Divination.”

“I doubt she needs to.”

Hermione tuned the rest of this out until she felt that familiar sensation of being watched and let her eyes flicker to the side for just a moment to catch one Remus Lupin quickly looking away, having been caught. Although, he had her copy of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz tucked under his hand and bookmarked neatly. It made something inside her chest unclench and she sighed softly with relief.

Perhaps this day could be salvaged after all.

Early-October – Quidditch Pitch

The Granger-Evans twins sat in the stands with Mary and Dorcas to watch the Gryffindor tryouts in support of their friends, Marlene and Alice. Slytherin tryouts were later in the week, and they had all agreed to attend to support Dorcas during hers. Mary pulled a thermos from her bag and handed around cups for the others.

They were soon joined by Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew who went quiet as they took seats in the row behind the four girls. Peter went quiet whenever Mary was around, and Hermione suspected it was because the shy boy had a crush on her friend. The boys had most likely come in support of their friends as well. Though why they had to sit so close was beyond her. Though, she couldn’t deny the frisson of pleasure that came from having her newest friend sit with her.

She’d made another friend all on her own, without the intervention of her sweet sister or the assistance of any of the others who were in possession of all the social graces that seemed to elude Hermione. She had a more direct, blunt disposition and it was often off-putting to others who didn’t know her well enough to know she wasn’t trying to be rude so much as honest.

The team captain drifted into view while Madame Hooch kept her eye on them from below. The Sixth Year, Fabian Prewett was the Keeper and team captain, and his hair was nearly as red as Lily’s under the autumnal sun. He straddled his broom with the confidence that came with experience as he called out instructions to the aspiring players. Marlene and Alice were going out for Beater and Chaser respectively, and they were striving to replace some of the members who were graduating this year.

James Potter and Sirius Black were also present, and it seems Potter sought the coveted role of Seeker while Black seemed to be setting his sights a little lower for Beater alongside Marlene. Now, the two aspiring Beaters were both only 12, and still lanky. But it seemed that Sirius had grown a few inches over the summer and Marlene had been spending time on more than just singing lessons if her tanned, toned arms were any indication. Hermione sent up her most fervent wishes that her friends would at least snag reserve spots until the Seventh Years on the team graduated and the spots freed up completely.

Madame Hooch released the Golden Snitch and James was off at such top speed that he became no more than a red and black blur. Meanwhile, Sirius and Marlene were charged with dodging and beating back bludgers from all directions at the captain’s discretion while he guarded the hoops trying to stop them from scoring. They both wielded their bats admirably, but ultimately Marlene’s swing was more accurate while Sirius’ was more powerful. Working together against Fabian, they managed to actually score on him, if only once. But he seemed pleased with their performance, nonetheless. Finally, Alice was directed through an obstacle course of sorts while being timed. She had to carry the quaffle and manage to keep it while being chased by bludgers and fellow chasers who attempted to steal the ball, knock her off her broom, and just overall prevent her from scoring on the team captain. While she managed to evade and hang onto the ball, her throw wasn’t quite powerful enough to score, but Fabian narrowed his eyes and seemed to compliment her flying because when she and Marlene returned to the stands to greet their friends afterwards, Alice was all smiles.

-----

However, during these tryouts, Remus made a valiant effort to make conversation with his newest friend. He handed back her copy of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and was pleased to discover it was a series that had at least 12 more books. She offered him the name of the next few in the series and left it up to his discretion about whether he’d read the rest. And in turn he told her how he’d found it interesting, the way that muggles thought of witches and magic – the way that the story seemed to be a cautionary tale in some places, and an escapist fantasy in others. She told him there was even a film and he asked where he might be able to watch it. His parents had an old telly in the den after his mother had pleaded with Lyall to charm it to work even in a home inundated by magic.

“I couldn’t stand Oz, though,” Remus confessed.

Hermione turned to smile at him over her shoulder. “Neither can I. I thought he was so pompous and condescending with those gifts. I know Dorothy was a child and the Tin Man doesn’t have a brain but come on now!”

They laughed together. “It is a children’s book. I don’t think most children think that way.”

“I did.”

“Well –”

“Remus Lupin, are you implying that I am a strange child?” Hermione gasped.

“I-I… well, you –” His eyes widened in panic, thinking he’d somehow offended her when she burst into full belly laughter.

“You should see your face!” She slapped her knee while she cackled.

He was stunned for a moment when the sun caught the bronze and gold strands in her unruly auburn curls. And then the sound of her unrestrained laughter made his wolf pace in his head. He beamed at the thought that he was the one to pull it from her. He dug around in his satchel bag and produced for her The Hobbit and handed it over by bopping her lightly on the shoulder.

She turned to look at it, receiving it in her hands like a sacramental offering. “This is one of my father’s favorites! I’ll confess, I haven’t gotten around to reading it yet, so this is perfect! Thank you, Remus.” Hermione’s smile widened so that it was nearly ear-to-ear. She no longer hid her two front teeth which were bigger than the rest and he suspected she’d been initially self-conscious about. He, personally, found them adorable. But if he were ever asked, he would deny it till his dying day. Especially if his friends tried to take the mickey out of him about it.

They’d been trading single books more often rather than larger groups less often so they could talk about them and not neglect their other friends or schoolwork. They had collectively decided to share scary classics with Halloween approaching. Remus shared his copy of Frankenstein while Hermione offered up her copy of Dracula.

“Did you notice the references to Prometheus and Lucifer Morningstar in there?” Remus asked.

She scoffed haughtily and tossed her hair. “What do you take me for, Mr. Lupin? An amateur?”

They chuckled together. “Certainly not, Miss Granger-Evans!” He went along with her playfulness, happy to see it and happier still to be included. Though it hadn’t gone over too smoothly with his roommates and best mates.

When Remus had made the decision following his reception of Hermione’s last letter and her postscripts, his heart went out to her and his wolf nearly made him deaf with all his howling and growling at Remus for pushing the girl away.

Sirius had been the first to catch on, of course. “She’s the one who keeps sending you all those old books!”

“W-Well, yes. We started exchanging books and letters after we got back from winter break last year,” Remus confessed and ducked his head to hide the blush on his cheeks.

James sat cross-legged at the foot of his four-poster bed hugging his lumpy pillow. “But, why?”

Peter perked up at this, lying on his stomach instead, his bed beside Remus’ in the corner by the window. “Why would you want extra reading to do on top of all our classes?” The boy whined and buried his face in his pillow.

Remus chuckled and gave a shrug. “I like to read. Or haven’t you all noticed?”

The other three exchanged a look before bursting into laughter. “Oh, we noticed,” Sirius smirked teasingly.

“So, the harpy, huh?” James asked.

Remus’ wolf bristled at that, but he wasn’t about to out himself to his roommates and only friends by coming to her defense.

“And you’re writing letters to each other too? What about?” James pressed.

Sirius waggled his dark brows at his shy friend. “Can we see them?”

Remus balked. “W-Why?! They’re just about the books we’re sharing. Honest!”

“See, I would’ve believed that if you hadn’t denied it so much,” Sirius teased.

“Where are they?” James leapt up and sprinted towards Remus’ trunk at the foot of his bed.

“No! Get back!” Remus threw himself over his trunk with such force that he slid over it and crashed to the floor which caused them all to laugh even harder.

They’d eventually gotten to the letters, reading them aloud, and crowing about each postscript, while they attempted to read between the lines and tease their bookworm friend until they’d grown bored with the letters’ literary content. Remus had snatched the letters back and tucked them away in an old shoebox he had in his trunk even now.

“What did you think of Bram Stoker?” Hermione asked, her query pulling him from his reverie.

“I think it was dark… I wonder if he was hiding some feelings of his own that maybe he was too ashamed of to own up to in real life. I wonder if that’s why Count Dracula seemed to be trying to seduce Mr. Harker.”

“Oh, good. So, I wasn’t the only one thinking it.” Hermione giggled. “Some of it went over my head, I admit. And it took some doing for my father to even consider letting me read it, but I think he hoped that I wouldn’t understand most of it so he wouldn’t have to explain anything to me later. Joke’s on him. I have the power of the public library. And the librarians all love me,” she boasted with a cheeky smirk.

“Oh, and have you charmed Madame Pince yet?” Remus asked.

Hermione wilted at that. “No. She loves Lily. But she doesn’t seem to like me much.” She gave a shrug like it didn’t bother her, but Remus could smell that she was fibbing.

Later that night – Gryffindor Tower

The girls were chatting about the Quidditch tryouts earlier when Hermione went over to Mary’s gramophone and put on a new record. One of Iris Granger-Evans’ favorites, as Hermione was missing home. Their mother’s birthday had been earlier that week, and the twins had sent handwritten cards and samples from the greenhouse that they’d plucked up the courage to ask Professor Sprout for. Their herbology professor had given them something harmless and sturdy to send their mother as well as care instructions for the cuttings and Iris had loved her gift.

Missing her mother, Hermione carefully dropped the needle into one of the grooves on the record’s vinyl surface and listened to the crackling for a few seconds before the dulcet tones of Lennon and McCartney. Lily froze midsentence and turned to face her twin. “Homesick?”

Hermione nodded her head simply and turned up the volume. “Will you sing with me?”

“Anytime,” Lily said simply, her emerald eyes aglow with knowing.

“I’ve just seen a face.

I can’t forget the time or place where we just met.

She’s just the girl for me.

And I want all the world to see we’ve met.”

Marlene’s brown eyes twinkled with merriment as she began to dance in place where she was sitting in her bed, humming along and waiting for the chorus, which is the only part she knew, whispering it to Alice and Mary so they could join her when it was time.

Hermione took her turn next, never self-conscious in front of her sister and bosom buddies like she might’ve been anywhere else. She recalled the story of how this song had played on her parents’ first date in college and they’d danced all night in the pub while it blared out of a crappy jukebox in the corner until last call and they had to leave. Hermione had found the story sweet and evident of her parents’ true love. And as she’d gotten older, she’d realized that it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. But in her heart and soul – though she tended to be more practical than her sister – she was curious about romance and wondered if one day she’d have a love story like that.

Perhaps not today. Not at 12. But someday… it might be nice, she considered.

“Had it been another day,

I might have looked the other way.

And I’d have never been aware.

But as it is, I’ll dream of her tonight.

Lai-dai-dai-doo-dum-dai.”

Marlene and the others took their cue to chime in with the chorus, Marlene singing more confidently than the others, of course, since she actually knew the song and not just the words. Lily was up next and by this point, she’d crawled into bed beside her sister. Their legs dangled off the side and Lily had her arm draped around Hermione’s shoulders while they swayed steadily from side to side and let the music and memories of their mother wash over them.

“I have never known the like of this.

I’ve been alone and I have missed things

And kept out of sight.

But other girls were never quite like this.

Lai-dai-dai-doo-dum-dai.”

Marlene, Mary, and Alice joined in once again with the chorus and Hermione found herself sniffling to hold back happy tears while her mother’s voice echoed in her mind. Happy birthday, Mum. We miss you. The twins finished the last stanza strong together.

-----

Remus’ attention was pulled from the paper he was writing at the sounds of yet another Beatles record coming to life from the Granger-Evans’ dorm, if he wasn’t mistaken. He smirked to himself and nodded along while he continued to scratch away at his parchment with his quill.

Sirius who’d been splayed on the carpet trying to balance his wand on his forehead alongside James who was certain he could hold his up longer perked up at this. “Another record? Do you recognize this one, Remus?”

“More Beatles,” Remus murmured with a secret smile. “They must really like boy bands.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. What’s so good about boy bands?”

Remus looked up at his three friends and set down his quill. “They play sold out shows while people pay ridiculous prices for tickets just to get close to them. Sometimes girls even faint or cry because they’re so overwhelmed.” The werewolf rolled his eyes at this. “Sometimes the girls throw their bras and knickers onstage too.” He said this was a pink blush painting his cheeks.

Sirius and James exchanged an odd look before Peter fell off his chair laughing. “What – really?!”

Some of the upperclassmen around the Common Room looked up at this and glared at the rotund boy.

Remus shrugged. “They’re not the best-looking blokes, but they have nice voices, and they write a whole lot of sappy love songs. Girls seem to like that.”

Sirius and James exchanged another curious look before James chimed in, “Do you think Evans would like a love song?”

The three other boys looked at their bespectacled roommate with wide eyes, alarmed by his train of thought.

Oh, bugger.

Chapter Text

-----

October 15^th, 1972 – Tower Courtyard

The six girls were gathered around that mysterious muggle notebooks when Hermione pulled a ballpoint pen out of her curls. Sirius and his mates were participating in a gobstones tournament by the fountain. And Sirius had been quickly distracted by the animated chattering happening across the courtyard where the Granger-Evans twins seemed to be holding a meeting of the mind with their roommates at that little Slytherin they’d befriend First Year, Meadowes.

He'd seen her take his younger brother under her wing and somehow it softened him towards her. He supposed that if he couldn’t look out for Reggie in the snake pit, at least someone kind would go out of their way to care.

But now he had been eliminated by being distracted and smelled like some foul combination of vinegar and hot garbage. And all because of the hidden depths of Hermione Granger-Evans’ nest of curls. He had seen her pull three pens, a quill, and some kind of bright, capped marker that Remus had told him was called a ‘highlighter’ from the bird’s nest atop her head. She even seemed to store her wand there from time to time. He’d noticed it became a habit during class. How he’d taken notice, he couldn’t tell. But he’d made a mental note and was amused at how she seemed to know just where each implement was located and could fetch and store them again with no trouble.

Remus gave a rattling cough that sounded wet and altogether unhealthy, and this sound pulled Sirius’ attention to his friend whose energy seemed to be fading fast. The boy was sickly and ended up in the hospital wing for a chest cold or flu or other every month. Sirius wished he could do something to help but didn’t know what. Remus assured them it was all fine, but Sirius had never seen such an ailing wizard before in his life. Or one with perhaps such bad luck. He’d glimpsed the scars that his friend couldn’t conceal with his clothes, and when asked… Remus simply deflected or said he was clumsy.

Sirius could tell he was keeping secrets and wondered if his home life wasn’t as idyllic as Remus made it out to be. But Sirius couldn’t exactly call Remus out for keeping secrets about a potentially abusive family without sounding like the worst kind of hypocrite. So, he kept his observations to himself, understanding that Remus was an intensely private person, and decided to let his actions speak for themselves. He would show Remus he could be trusted and prove himself loyal and honest, reliable and brave. And perhaps someday Remus would confide in him. Perhaps someday Sirius might feel comfortable enough to do the same.

Remus got to his feet and said, “I’m out. I think I’ll go back to the dorm and wash up. Maybe nap before dinner.” He let out a long yawn that turned into another rattling cough before shuffling away, his shoulders slumped forward.

Sirius wished he could do something, so he didn’t feel quite so useless.

The following day – Hospital Wing

Remus woke to the sound of the heavy double doors of the Hospital Wing closing. He was immediately greeted by the sight of yet another chocolate frog on his pillow and this time it was accompanied by a roll of parchment neatly tied with a lavender ribbon. He reached out a shaky arm and took the roll of parchment to discover it was actually several days’ worth of class notes in a neat hand he would recognize anywhere. It wasn’t signed. There was no note. But the combination of her penmanship and her lingering honey and old books scent, well it could only be her.

Hermione Granger-Evans had come into his space and left him thorough and neat class notes so he wouldn’t fall behind and chocolate to help perk him up. Remus couldn’t help but smile at the thoughtful gesture. His wolf preened in his head.

The girl is kind. She is thoughtful.

She doesn’t want us to fall behind.

She takes care of us. She is sweet to us.

Friend?

Friend!

Pack? Pack!

Remus shuddered at the ferocity of his wolf’s declaration, but it seemed like his wolf was just as young as he was, and just as unknowledgeable. Remus would never have a pack because he wouldn’t run with other werewolves. He was alone in this and that was how he preferred it to remain. He was in less danger this way, and less of a danger to others. He cared for his friends and didn’t want to put them at risk simply because they chose to be near him.

Meanwhile – History of Magic

Hermione and Lily sat in the front row side by side doing their damnedest to keep up with their notetaking as Professor Binns – a ghost of all things! – went off on another tangent about the Goblin Rebellion of 1612 which actually occurred in the Three Broomsticks Inn down in Hogsmeade Village. Hermione couldn’t wait until Third Year when they’d be able to journey their on their own on the weekends!

“The goblin forces… objected to the rules… against the ownership of wands… as set down by the Wizarding community,” the spectral professor droned on as if he were performing Gregorian chant.

Lily’s quill still flew across her parchment without fail. Meanwhile, Hermione was taking detailed notes just in case Remus needed them.

The spectral professor went on, “The rebellion… was believed to be cited… due to the lack of Gobin representation… on the Wizengamot. That is, the Wizarding high court of law.”

Hermione had learned how to duplicate her notes with a spell from a Sixth Year Ravenclaw who’d admired her thirst for knowledge and her dedication to her friend. She worried about Remus. He was thoughtful and witty, playful and intelligent. He could keep pace with her on an intellectual level and she didn’t have to dumb herself down to talk with him. There were very few people in her life like that. Namely her father, Lily, and now Remus.

She liked her friend and cared about his well-being. So, when he was sick so often, it caused her great concern. But she wouldn’t be Hermione Granger-Evans if it didn’t also drive her curiosity. She’d read that magical folk were often more robust than their muggle counterparts. So, it begged the question about why Remus Lupin was so sickly. And it seemed to come on every month like clockwork. A light bulb went off in her head. She had to get to the library. She really hoped she was wrong, but – She bounced in her seat and looked at the clock mounted on the wall above Professor Binns’ head. Half an hour left to go.

Oh, blast.

October 19^th, 1972 – Hogwarts Library

She’d read through everything she could get her hands on about magical maladies and cross-referenced that will familial blood curses and even hexes and jinxes. But nothing seemed to explain all the symptoms of the issue.

Remus got sick at least once a month, every month, without fail.

It wasn’t something contagious or transmissible as far as she could tell, or his roommates would’ve caught it by now.

Neither of his parents were ill – as far as she knew – so it couldn’t be something he’d inherited.

He spent days leading up to his frequent stays in the hospital wing lethargic and irritable, preferring to sleep the day away in quiet solitude, based on her observations.

Afterwards, he recovered in the hospital wing in complete seclusion. Madame Pomfrey would even cordon off his bed from the others with privacy curtains.

Then there were the scars she’d seen – little lines crisscrossing over his arms and neck, his feet too, the one time she’d caught a glimpse of them peeking out from under his blanket where he lay curled into fetal position on his cot. They even littered his face. She winced at the recollection. He looked like he’d been mauled by something – clawed by some kind of wild animal. But how would that happen every month? Was he part of some kind of underground fight club, or something? Each symptom seemed to take her in a different direction and all further from a single, concrete answer.

And those glowing, gold eyes that she sometimes saw rather than his natural moss-green hue. She’d been convinced she was seeing things. It was so rare that the gold peeked through that she’d told herself it was a trick of the light or her mind making her hallucinate things that weren’t there. But no… That first evening at the Sorting. She’d caught him watching her as she watched the full moon peek out from behind the clouds of the enchanted ceiling.

Her mind was jumbled with more questions than answers at this point, and she wondered if perhaps the answer lay somewhere beyond the easily explainable. Maybe it wasn’t an illness, per se. She usually loved puzzles – the more impossible to solve, the better. But there was a certain frustration that came with the puzzle being a person. Someone she cared for. A dear friend.

Hermione was suddenly overwhelmed with an impotent feeling of uselessness. She wanted to know more so she could alleviate some of his symptoms, at the very least. But, in order to do that, she needed to know more. And Remus could be an intensely private person, she’d discovered over the course of their correspondence which had blossomed into full-fledged friendship since they’d returned for Second Year. She didn’t want to do anything to push him away or risk offending him, but her curiosity made her pushy and taunted her with her lack of understanding. It almost felt as if, if she couldn’t figure out the puzzle that was Remus John Lupin, she wasn’t worthy of calling him ‘friend’. She wondered if some added brain power might help and briefly considered bringing Lily into the fold. But she quickly changed her mind as she reminded herself that this was Remus’ business, and it was already risking a breach of his privacy for her – his friend – to be digging around as she was. She would get to the bottom of this and help her friend, even if that was just by being a source of comfort during his persistent bouts of illness. Hermione could do anything for her friends.

The following afternoon – Quidditch Pitch

The five Gryffindor members of the Mighty Valkyries were seated in the stands watching Dorcas tryout as a Chaser for her House team. Slytherin would be lucky to have her. Despite her trepidation during their flying lessons the previous year, she’d truly come into her own over the summer. She was beyond confident on her broom and her family could afford the best. It had been a present from her eldest brother on her 12^th birthday, and both of her brothers had tutored her in secret from their parents who still didn’t believe a pureblood lady should be flying, much less engaging in a brutal contact sport such as Quidditch. But Dorcas was so enamored of the game – its history and strategy alike – that she wouldn’t be denied. She’d been practically vibrating with nerves that morning at breakfast when she came to join them, squeezing in between Marlene and Mary as always.

Now the twins sat with their hands clasped together – having painted their nails alternating emerald and silver in support of their friend – watching Dorcas be put through the same speed and maneuverability drills that Alice had endured earlier that week. Alice and Marlene were chattering excitedly about Dorcas’ technique for evading her fellow Chasers while using them as human shields to prevent being hit by any bludgers.

The captain, whose name none of them knew at that point, eyed the slight Second Year with interest and a small amount of pride when she managed to lob the quaffle in her possession into the center hoop by faking him out so that he sped towards the left-most hoop, thinking that’s the one she was aiming for. It might’ve been easier for her to score on an outer hoop, but Dorcas was determined to make a good showing. And she was succeeding if the incredulous glare on the captain’s face was any indication.

Hermione and Lily squealed through gritted teeth, dancing in their seats and stamping their little feet.

Marlene cupped her hands around her mouth to let out a victorious whoop. Dorcas smirked at her closest friend in the group over her shoulder, sending a secret smile that seemed reserved only for the spunky, shaggy-haired Gryffindor.

Mary had been sitting behind Hermione working through her unruly auburn curls to plait the girl’s hair into something resembling a fishtail braid. She’d barely finished and tied off the end with a purple bobble before the twins had jumped out of their seats to cheer wildly when Dorcas scored for a second time.

Alice was beaming at her friend and, frankly, couldn’t wait till they received the news about whether or not each of them would make their house teams.

-----

Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter were sitting in the Gryffindor stands across the pitch watching their housemates cheer for the petite Slytherin, in confusion.

“You think the girls are here just supporting their friend, or are they trying to gather information to take back for Prewett?” James asked.

Peter shrugged. “I think it’s nice that they came out to cheer her on. I’d like to think you guys would if it were us.”

There was a long period of silence before Remus looked up from his battered copy of Dracula to steal a sideways glance at Sirius and James’ sour looks. “Oh, come on. What if I’d been placed in Ravenclaw instead, or Peter in Hufflepuff? You wouldn’t stay friends with us? You wouldn’t cheer us on if we tried out for our house teams? I find that hard to believe… Even for the two of you.”

“But they’re snakes!” Sirius folded his arms across his chest stubbornly. One thing Remus had learned over the course of his friendship with Sirius Black is that the boy was perhaps one of the most stubborn people he’d ever met. He never thought he was in the wrong. And even if it were proven that he was, he hated to be reminded of it. And he rarely came out and just apologized.

James simply shrugged. “Well, we know you two. And neither of you would ever be sorted into Slytherin, so it doesn’t matter. Any house is better than that one.”

Peter simply munched on some peanuts he’d pulled from his satchel. “I think Dorcas seems nice enough. Granted, we’d never really spoken before, but when she sits with the girls in the Great Hall, they all sound like they get along.”

“She’s taken Regulus under her wing,” Remus added.

Sirius stiffened at this and turned a warning glare on his friend which definitively stated that he did not want to discuss it further. His brother was also a touchy subject ever since the beginning of the year when he’d been sorted into the snake pit and the invisible lines of house rivalries and complicated sibling relationships had been drawn between them.

Remus knew very little because Sirius didn’t seem comfortable discussing it, but the boys knew his home life was incredibly harmful and toxic. Possibly even dangerous. Remus only hoped that over time, his friend would deem them trustworthy enough to confide in them and purge some of the poison.

October 21^st, 1972 – Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom

Professor Araminta Merrythought – the daughter of the esteemed Galatea Merrythought, who’d previously held the post up until her retirement in 1945 – seemed nothing like the stories of her mother and predecessor. Araminta Merrythought seemed to float through the room as if she were gliding on air and barely touching the floor. Her mind often wandered from the subject, and she went off on tangents during lectures. Her handwriting on the board was horrendous. And her syllabus was more of a guideline than actual hard and fast rules as to the timeline of her lessons.

Lily detested the disorder, having always thrived in structured environments or in subjects where they could always find a direct, clear-cut answer which was the same every single time. No deviations or interpretations of the material. It was why transfiguration, and DADA didn’t come as easily to her, as say potions or even herbology. She knew the steps, in theory, but sometimes she lacked the intuition that it seemed some of her classmates just had in spades.

Hermione seemed to thrive in chaos, seeking to control any unknown variable and educate herself on what she didn’t know to make up for any feelings of being out of control. Lily just felt like she was floundering. First Year, the twins and other muggleborns like them had been equally thrilled and shocked to discover that ghosts, zombies, and vampires all did, in fact, exist in the magical world.

Lily had struggled with mastering the knockback jinx, flipendo, while Hermione, Alice and Marlene seemed to get it almost immediately. When Lily had asked for pointers later in their dorm, her sister had said that it was about intention. She had to cast like she expected her will to be obeyed, not as if she were trying to coax her magic to obedience. Lily couldn’t wrap her mind around her sister’s certainty. The smokescreen spell, fumos, hadn’t gone that well for Lily either. She’d mastered lumos easily enough because she envisioned her wand to be a muggle torch. But Lily Granger-Evans often wondered if she was the unremarkable twin, if she were destined to remain that way compared to her sister.

But now in Second Year, it seemed Professor Merrythought was easing them in with a tickling charm. It seemed to lighten the overall mood in the room considerably and Lily got the hang of this one eventually, standing across from Hermione who was currently in fits on the ground, trying not to snort through her laughter. Lily bragged, “Say ‘uncle’! Say it, ‘Tuney, and I’ll make it stop!”

Hermione cackled, holding her aching ribs while tears rolled down her cheeks. “Okay, I give! Mercy! Uncle, uncle!”

Lily broke the charm and crossed to her sister to help her to her feet. Once she’d pulled her sister to her feet and Hermione had wiped away her tears, she reached inside her blouse and pulled out the necklace she’d worn the past two weeks and handed it over to her sister without further preamble. The pendant was a laminated black and gold marbled guitar pick that they’d both fallen in love with when they’d gone with their parents into London to buy their guitar and bass.

It had been the last of its kind behind the glass counter and rather than fight over it, the twins had silently agreed to put it on a simple gold chain and whenever one of them had a personal victory or achieved a goal of some kind, they would win the right to wear the pendant until the next such occurrence when it would be graciously relinquished to the other. Hermione beamed with pride as she handed it over to Lily.

Lily pulled it carefully over her head and tucked the pendant beneath her blouse, patting the space where it lay against her clavicles.

Two nights later – Gryffindor Tower

“What if we put some ooh-la-las in the chorus?” Marlene suggested.

“Okay, where? At the end?” Hermione asked.

Mary, Alice and Lily were in the center of the dorm trying to work through the dance moves that they were adamant the song needed. The newest song in progress was very much pop girl group and had caused a bit of a disagreement before they’d finally come to the collective agreement that they would be a group that was more focused on music they enjoyed rather than restricting themselves within a set genre.

“’Tuney, what do you think of this part?” Lily asked.

Hermione looked up from where she’d been bent over her composition notebook with Marlene working through the lyrics and requested, “Show me again!”

The girls got through 30 seconds of choreography, Alice just a second or so behind, while Mary giggled at the way Lily attempted to sway her narrow hips – lips pressed into a hard line to quell her laughter.

Marlene scratched her head. “Maybe if you turned away from the audience and looked back over your shoulders. Give me a little deep shoulder action.” She demonstrated by swiveling around on her bed and flashing them all a cheeky smirk before lifting her shoulders in time with Lily’s singing and Hermione’s humming. Mary and Alice went through the choreography twice more before loafing on their beds and deciding they needed a break.

Dorcas, who they’d managed to sneak into Gryffindor Tower was currently reclined on Lily’s bed while the twins cuddled in close on Hermione’s. “It’s so bright and airy up here! The dungeons are gloomy and damp,” she bemoaned the Slytherin dorms.

“We were tired of having to say goodbye at dinner.” Mary smiled brightly from across the room.

“It’s lovely and cozy here. Nothing like at home, either,” Dorcas confided.

“We should make this more of a regular thing,” Marlene suggested.

“Seconded!” Alice cried out, raising her hand high in the air which caused the other occupants of the dorm to laugh at her exuberance.

“This gathering of the Mighty Valkyries will come to order!” Lily cleared her throat and spoke with her best impression of a crisp received pronunciation accent which would be welcome on any BBC broadcast.

“Member roll call!” Hermione followed up.

“Marlene McKinnon, present!”

“Alice Fortescue, present!”

“Mary Macdonald, present!”

“Lily Granger-Evans, present!”

“Hermione Granger-Evans, present!”

“Dorcas Meadowes, finally present and accounted for!” She laughed and they all cheered.

“Next order of business is what we shall select for our nightly listening ritual,” Lily announced.

Dorcas looked around in confusion before Marlene hopped up, and with a peek out of the parted curtains of the window which overlooked the Black Lake she selected a relatively new addition to their collection – a Rolling Stones record from a few years prior.

“The wind blows rain into my face.

The sun glows at the end of the highway.

Child of the moon, rub your rainy eyes.

Oh, child of the moon.

Give me a wide-awake, crescent-shaped smile.”

The male voices singing sounded ethereal and floaty, and it seemed the perfect, peaceful tune to send them off into a serene slumber. “You all do this every night before bed?” Dorcas asked.

Marlene nodded and climbed back into her bed, pulling on a pair of warm socks before she slipped beneath her duvet. “We’re happy you can finally be part of it.”

Mary adjusted her silk bonnet and tied the bow at the front of her head just above her widow’s peak hairline. “Welcome home, Cas.”

“Eh, don’t push it.”

“She shivers, by the light she is hidden.

She flickers like a lamp lady vision.

Child of the moon, rub your rainy eyes.

Child of the moon.

Give me a wide-awake, crescent-shaped smile.”

Dorcas thought at that moment, perhaps, that home was less a place than the people. And these girls were certainly starting to feel at home.

-----

He tucked away the handwritten notes he’d received from Hermione for the night. Remus’ hearing this close after the full was still sensitive and he picked up on the lull of yet another new song. The subject matter, however, was more difficult to ignore.

“The first care on the foggy road riding.

The last start for my lady is pining.

Oh, child of the moon, bid the sun arise.

Oh, child of the moon.

Give me a misty day, pearly grey, silvery, silky faced

Wide-awake, crescent-shaped smile.”

His heart started to race almost painfully in fear, and he snuggled down deeper into his bed, pulled the covers up to his ears, and shut his eyes tight to try to tune out the haunting melody.

They couldn’t know, could they? There was no way anyone knew for sure!

He’d been so careful…

This was all just his paranoia talking.

His wolf suddenly stirred in the recesses of his mind and asked the question that had been haunting him since he’d agreed to seek Hermione out at the welcome back feast to continue their blossoming friendship. Would it be so bad if someone knew? Someone we can trust.

October 24^th, 1972 – Gryffindor Tower

Hermione shot out of bed, the song like an earworm in her mind. It was Saturday and she wouldn’t have any interruptions. She quickly and quietly crawled out of her sister’s bed, washed up for the day, twisted her riotous curls into a messy bun held in place by her wand, dressed in a simple pair of dark denims, a comfy gray jumper, and black trainers before hustling down to breakfast and then the library.

Her dreams had been filled with images of Remus being attacked by wild animals, magical or otherwise, to earn those scratches. Her mind had relayed his perceived symptoms to her over and over and nothing she’d read seemed to fit. And then that song they’d listened to before bed had penetrated her subconscious and a lightbulb had flared brightly. What if – What if he hadn’t been attacked by another animal? What if… Remus had attacked himself? What if the scratches were self-inflicted? She took the stairs two at a time, slid down the stone railings of the shifting staircases, and leapt clear over the trick step like a long jumper at the Olympics going for gold.

Hermione Granger-Evans speed walked into the Great Hall and appeared to be only the fourth student awake at this time and the first person to sit down at the Gryffindor table. The usual platters of food had yet to appear, but once she took a seat, a plate, goblet, and silverware appeared in front of her as well as a small selection of eggs, toast, breakfast meat, and oatmeal with various smaller bowls of fresh fruit. She needed her brain food, and so proceeded to load up her plate with a little of everything.

An hour later, she finished a third plate of food and washed it down with a cup of tea. It had been prepared just how she preferred: no milk or sugar, just a large dollop of honey and a twist of lemon which she set beside her cup on the saucer when she had wrung the juice out of it. More students had begun to filter into the Great Hall now and settle in around her. Unwilling to be distracted, Hermione snatched a last piece of toast, slathered it in apricot marmalade, clamped it between her teeth and clambered out of her seat to head off to research.

In her haste, and attempting to brush crumbs from her jumper, she collided with someone and mushed her sticky marmalade-smothered toast into her face on impact. She let out an oomph when a pair of hands closed around her upper arms to steady her. “Alright there, Granger?” the all-too-familiar voice asked.

She growled and stepped back to shake off their grip. When she opened her eyes, she was met with the intensely focused gaze of none other than Sirius Black who was smirking down at her with amusement. Most likely, he found her frizzy hair, bucked teeth, and the apricot marmalade smeared on her face hilarious. “Learn how to say my name right, or don’t say it at all,” Hermione snapped.

He smirked cheekily. “I can always call you ‘Kitten’, if you prefer.”

“I’d prefer to leave this conversation before it ruins my good mood.” She moved to step around him and snatched a cloth napkin from the table on her way.

He moved to follow her. “Where are you off too so bright and early?”

“I’ve been awake for hours, Black.” She tossed the napkin back onto the table where it promptly vanished.

“On a Saturday?” He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.

“Yes, I woke up with questions and I need answers,” she blurted.

“What must it be like inside that big brain of yours, I wonder,” he mused aloud, pleased to see the hint of a rosy blush creek across her freckled cheeks.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard.” Hermione chuckled and turned to leave with a wave over her shoulder. She thought for a second and called back, “If the girls ask after me, tell them I’m in the library. Bye!”

“Bye, Kitten!” Sirius raised his hand before turning back to the table to have his breakfast.

“Still didn’t say you could call me that!”

He cupped his hands around his mouth. “You didn’t say I couldn’t!”

-----

Sometimes she truly was odd. One of a kind. Sirius sat at the Gryffindor table as his mates joined him. But his mind was firmly fixed on the ginger witch who’d run into him face-first and then practically fled his presence.

“Did I just see Granger run off at top speed?” James teased as he took his seat across from Sirius and beside Peter.

Sirius shrugged. “Said something about needing answers. Whatever that means.”

Remus took a seat beside Sirius and immediately reached for the boiling kettle between them and his preferred tea blend. “That sounds pretty vague,” he said. Then he scooped a few teaspoons from the tin on the table centered between them into a metal strainer on a delicate chain and lowered it into his teacup to steep. Next, he reached for the jar of honey and the small carafe of milk. Once his tea was done steeping, he removed the strainer and set it aside on a serviette where it promptly vanished from the tabletop along with the serviette onto the reappear clean and emptied, sans serviette, moments later for the next person to use.

The entire time, Sirius was watching Remus’ hands move in the dance he did every morning while preparing his chamomile. Not a single movement was wasted, and it was strange to notice that his scarred hands were capable of such delicate motions. Sirius was pulled from his musings by Peter asking, “Have you heard back from Prewett about the tryouts?”

James and Sirius suddenly faced one another with wide, excited eyes and gleaming, toothy smiles. “We should hear back today,” James answered for them.

Remus finished stirring ‘just the right amount’ of milk and honey into his tea before raising to his lips to take a sip and test the temperature. His eyes fluttered shut and his long, golden-brown lashes brushed against his cheekbones, catching Sirius’ attention yet again. It was an odd thing for him to notice in one of his best mates and caught him off guard.

Remus was his friend. But that wasn’t quite right. It didn’t seem to encompass the… muchness of the affection he felt for the boy who’d become one of his closest friends since they met on the Hogwarts Express First Year.

He was best mates with James and Peter too, but somehow… someway, Remus was set apart from that. It wasn’t like he was excluding him. At least, it wasn’t Sirius’ intention to do so. But they were… like brothers?

Maybe not. He and Reggie were actual brothers, and he didn’t observe things in him like the length of his eyelashes, or the artful way he prepared his tea at breakfast.

Sirius wished he understood and quailed when he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Perhaps, Granger had the right idea about seeking answers… And one of the best places to do that, at least in her case, was the library. Perhaps he’d join her there and start in on his own quest for knowledge.

But, spending the day in the library on a Saturday? Ugghhhhhh. Horrific.

Meanwhile – Hogwarts Library

Hermione had skidded to a stop in the library plucking out the books she’d already scoured on magical maladies and blood curses and then veered into the section on magical creatures. She made a mental list of the list of symptoms she would use to direct her search today:

His recurring mystery illness every month.

The eyes which were sometimes green and sometimes gold.

His shy and awkward demeanor – putting a distance between himself and others.

Remus’ scars.

And then what she’d learned by asking around about the Lupins – Mr. Lyall Lupin’s outspokenness in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures with regards to werewolves. She learned much more with the exception of rumors that when Remus was very young, Mr. Lupin quit the Ministry altogether, picked up his family, and moved away to the countryside.

The evidence was staring her in the face, but she needed to be certain. The Seventh Year Ravenclaw who’d told her about one of her closest friends had revealed this in confidence and only because her mother also worked in the Beast Division of the DRCMC. Seems like gossiping ran in the family. And Hermione only wasn’t judging because it had set her on the path to better understanding and therefore helping her friend.

Hours later, Hermione was frustrated to discover that there wasn’t much in the Hogwarts Library about werewolves or indeed lycanthropy. And what little there was, was extremely biased and anti-werewolf, referring to them as mindless, feral beasts driven by baser impulses with a tendency towards unprovoked violence to further propagate their disease. It rubbed her the wrong way.

Remus – her Remus – was one of the kindest, smartest, funniest people she’d ever met. She had once seen him trap a spider in a teacup and take it outside so Peter wouldn’t squish it. Hermione had overheard James Potter teasing him about folding his socks. Remus never dogeared her book pages, never doodled or took notes in the margins, and his status as a pen pal had been unparalleled. He was thoughtful, expressive, and compassionate at all times. And even if he was a werewolf, which she was beginning to suspect he was, that didn’t change the kind of person he was. No, if her suspicions were correct… someone had done this to him when he was quite small. And he had still come out the other side caring, more empathetic, and truly good. Hermione had always liked to form her own opinions on topics and only once she was fully informed on the subject. That wasn’t about to change now. About to give up for the day and leave to seek out lunch, she came across a thin book tucked in a dusty corner of the Magical Creatures section, the Dark Creatures subsection titled Hairy Snout, Human Heart. Her fingers tingled as they brushed the spine and she plucked it carefully out of its place, carefully dusted it off, and brought it back to her table.

Later that evening – The Great Hall

Hermione finally made it back to the Great Hall for dinner, her eyes strained and dry, the lids twitching and her lips quirking as if she were fighting the urge to smile or perhaps cry. She’d taken the book out with Madame Pince’s permission after spending hours taking detailed notes and writing down as many questions as she could. She joined her friends to find that Dorcas hadn’t opted to sit with them for dinner this evening.

Lily greeted her first, “’Tuney, where have you been all day?”

Hermione found herself unable to reply and simply shrugged, her complex thoughts and feelings tugging her down like an anchor in her sternum.

The girls exchanged a look of concern before Lily moved to pile some of her sister’s favorites on the plate in front of her and pushed a goblet of pumpkin juice her way. “Here, you look like a ghost.” Sir Nicholas scoffed dramatically from where he phased through the table, tossed his head in a huff, and made off to chat with the Fat Friar. “I’m sorry!” the younger of the Granger-Evans twins called after him with her hands cupped around her mouth.

Mary made the next attempt to draw Hermione into conversation. “Are you okay, ‘Mi?”

Hermione offered another shrugged and took a sip of her juice before clearing her throat. It felt dry and scratchy after her crying jag on the way to dinner. “Just have a lot on my mind.” Her eyes sought out her friend’s profile where he sat further down the table with his roommates and friends, all engaged in lively conversation like he hadn’t a care in the world. She had so earnestly hoped she was wrong. But there would only be one way to know for sure… And Hermione was worried about the effect that confronting him on the matter might have. So, she would have to opt for a subtler strategy if she wanted to keep her friend.

Lily put her hand on her sister’s shoulder to pull her attention back to their group and asked softly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Might make you feel better,” Alice chimed in.

Marlene’s knowing eyes narrowed in her direction and she murmured, “We can chat back in the room where it’s private.”

Hermione’s lips quirked up into a grateful smile. “Thanks, Marls.”

“Anytime, babes.” Marlene winked playfully.

-----

Sirius took notice of the way Hermione’s entire demeanor seemed to have shifted in the space of a few hours. At breakfast, she’d seemed few of manic energy and determination to seek out answers to whatever questions were brewing inside the giant brain of hers. She’d made him smile when they’d verbally sparred and when he’d made her blush, he found that it pleased him to have that effect on her.

Sirius Black’s 13^th birthday was days away and he’d begun to notice the attention he was getting from the opposite sex. And, if he were completely honest with himself, he’d caught the eye of a few wizards too. He was beginning to understand the social currency that came with having good looks as well as an important family name, or a vault stacked with galleons. But with all three, it had dawned on him that he might be irresistible in certain circles, and he might as well use that to his advantage.

He’d tried his hand at some harmless flirting the other day with a Third Year Hufflepuff girl and was rewarded with a dazzling smile and a frankly irritating high-pitched giggle. Sure, he was unskilled… for now. But that would change. And he was sure he’d grow into his looks. Perhaps by this time next year or the following year, he’d have the student body eating out of the palm of his hand. But that tactic didn’t seem to have any effect on Hermione Granger-Evans.

She’d called him on his shit and dashed off on her quest, more tenacious than ever. And when she’d run into him face-first, those star-shaped scars on his palms had tingled where he touched her. He’d been paralyzed with the indecision of whether to release her immediately or tighten his grip. It had baffled him completely. Sure, he was almost 13 and he’d noticed the looks. James was obsessed with the other twin and harped on about it as often as he could, going as far as complimenting her during class, lingering in the halls to invent reasons to bump into her and strike up conversation, or proposing on the train platform. But Sirius had never had… these kinds of stirrings – he hesitated to classify them as ‘feelings’ because that felt entirely too adult for a 12-year-old – before in his life.

However, since the beginning of the year, he’d woken more than once stiff in his pajama bottoms and his sheets wet, his startlingly vibrant dreams slipping away like a gust of wind once he woke. They left him red-faced, heart racing, palms sweating, and panting for air like he’d run a footrace. Sirius had quickly discovered that he possessed the ability to remedy the issue himself. And he – along with his roommates, he was nearly certain – had begun taking increasingly longer showers multiple times a day as a result.

But as Sirius watched her shuffle into dinner looking dead on her feet, brow furrowed and eyes twitching, his heart clenched unpleasantly behind his ribs. He was hit with the urge to reach out and comfort her and then shocked at the invasive thought and pushed it to the back of his mind, set on ignoring the unwelcome stirrings. He had mischief to manage and wasn’t ready for ‘feelings’ like what he imagined he might possess for Hermione if he allowed himself to admit that he might… like the little witch. His left eye twitched at the thought and that seemed to draw the attention of Remus.

“You okay, mate?” Remus’ moss-green eyes flickered over his face with concern.

Sirius nodded and lowered his gaze to his plate. “Yeah, yeah. Tell me about this plan for Filch.”

November 3^rd, 1972 – Gryffindor Common Room

Lily and Hermione watched from the stone steps leading up to the girls’ dorms while they each nursed their bottles of smuggled-in butterbeer and listened to the music blaring out of Mary’s gramophone which had been requested by the boys for the birthday boy. It seemed that Sirius Black was holding court surrounded by his roommates while tearing into presents from nearly everyone in Gryffindor from Fourth Year and down, even from Fabian Prewett – their new team captain.

A couple of days prior, the news had broken that James Potter, Sirius Black, Marlene McKinnon, and Alice Fortescue had all made the house Quidditch team to replace the Seventh Years graduating at the end of the year. They would be reserve players in the meantime. And now the boys were especially smug.

Lily had rolled her eyes so hard at the big head James Potter was sporting, that she’d given herself a migraine and Hermione had snorted into her morning tea so that it shot out of her nose, scalding her. Sirius had thought it was the funniest thing ever when the twins had to go to the hospital wing that day. Marlene, Mary, Alice, and even Dorcas had sent tripping jinxes and stinging hexes at the boys in retaliation. The twins had been particularly proud when they heard the news at lunch that their honor had been avenged.

But still, Hermione had snuck a gift into the pile with no label and no card. Lily wondered at her sister’s odd pseudo-friendship with Sirius and Remus but knew that even with her sister’s bluster and faux confidence, Hermione struggled to make friends. So, Lily decided not to make a big deal out of it and just opted to watch her sister’s back in case either of the boys stepped out of line.

The birthday boy jumped up to retrieve something from his dorm and tromped down the stone steps back into the common room holding a familiar record in his hands. Lily’s head whipped around to face her sister, who was looking down at her nearly empty bottle of butterbeer like it was the most interesting thing she’d ever seen. Was that their mother’s copy that they’d liberated from her collection and brought with them to school? And how had Sirius Black gotten his grubby little hands on it?

He brought the record over to the gramophone and Mary had assisted him with swapping it out for the one that was currently playing so he wouldn’t scratch her record with his overexcitement. “Play this one next, please!” His grey eyes flared with anticipation as he bounced on his toes.

Mary did as requested, and soon the sounds of “Hard Day’s Night” filled the crowded room. Those that knew it began to sing along, and those that didn’t turned to listen. Lily watched from her peripheral vision as Hermione raised her eyes at the sound just as Sirius Black turned around and shot her a wink that seemed intimate and private to just the two of them. What in Merlin’s name was that about? Lily gaped at the blush climbing up from her sister’s neck towards her face.

“Is that –?” she began.

Hermione turned to meet her gaze. “Yes. And it’s just a loan. Surprised that it took him this long to finally listen to it. But now I can ask for it back.” She offered a nonchalant shrug and lifted her butterbeer back to her lips to take a long gulp.

Lily didn’t understand what the interaction between them was and she wasn’t sure she liked it. But she vowed not to make a scene in public. They would be discussing it in private.

-----

James watched his best mate listen to the muggle music and beam happily, practically vibrating in place with excitement. The muggle world seemed to represent to him all things forbidden and new, and therefore more alluring. He hadn’t gotten Sirius to talk about his family much, but he could put together enough pieces of what he knew to guess that they were quite conservative and close-minded in their view of the muggle world. They didn’t want their sons mixing with anyone less than pureblood or having anything to do with that world or its inhabitants, which they viewed as inferior. James’ upbringing hadn’t been anywhere near as harsh, though with two pureblood parents he had to admit that he knew far less than he’d prefer.

Coming to Hogwarts and being immersed in a student body made up of all sorts from so many different walks of life had opened his eyes and, like Sirius, he found himself curious. He wanted to learn more. But unlike Sirius, the consequences for seeking that knowledge – or even admitting he wanted to – weren’t as severe. And he could only speculate on what that might do to someone as free-spirited and rebellious as Sirius Orion Black. It must feel stifling!

He watched Sirius turn and give a practiced, cheeky wink to the elder – and frankly, more terrifying – of the Granger-Evans twins before returning to his seat and his mountain of presents. And then minutes later, he’d come across a flat, perfectly square package wrapped in silvery paper the exact shade of Sirius’ eyes and handed it over to the birthday boy for him to open.

“Who’s it from?” Sirius asked, turned it over twice as he searched for a card or a label of some kind.

James shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Just open it!” Remus smirked knowingly.

Maybe it was from him, James thought.

Peter was seated beside Sirius who tore into the gift and pulled back the last of the paper to reveal another record by a band none of them recognized: The Rolling Stones. The A side seemed to be titled “Satisfaction”.

“Can we listen to this one next?” Sirius called out to Mary who was still valiantly manning the gramophone, most likely in an effort to keep it from being destroyed by her housemates.

She nodded and Peter walked it over so Sirius could continue opening his presents. James guessed that Peter just wanted another opportunity to get closer to Mary Macdonald, if the pink on his cheeks was any indication. Mary smiled sweetly at the boy and turned back to the gramophone as the previous song was ending. She lifted the needle, returned the Beatles album to its sleeve, and popped the new one in its place, carefully placing the needle in the correct groove in the vinyl.

A guitar riff split the air, and the room went silent. Sirius’ ears perked up and he looked back over his shoulder like he’d been struck by lightning. His eyes went wide, and he blinked rapidly a few times before a toothy smile grew from ear to ear. Then he started to tap his foot and nod his head along with the drums.

“I can't get no satisfaction
I can't get no satisfaction
'Cause I try, and I try, and I try, and I try
I can't get no, I can't get no –”

“What is this?” Peter asked, hands over his ears as he retreated to the couch with his friends.

Remus smirked. “It’s called rock and roll.”

“When I'm drivin' in my car
And the man comes on the radio
He's tellin' me more and more
About some useless information
Supposed to fire my imagination.”

“Well, I like it,” Sirius said, his decision made then and there. James knew this was the start of something new and life-changing for his friend and he only hoped it changed him for the better.

“What’s a car?” James asked, shouting over the music. He turned to look back at the stone steps at that moment to see Lily following her sister up the stairs towards their dorms, two empty butterbeer bottles left in their wake. He wished he’d found the courage to approach her sooner and sighed out his disappointment.  

“I can't get no, I can't get no
I can't get no satisfaction
No satisfaction
No satisfaction
No satisfaction!”

Remus answered his question instead. “Muggles can’t fly or floo or apparate, so they travel with machines instead. Buses, trains, planes, bicycles, scooters, motorcycles, and yes, cars.”

“I don’t know what any of those words mean,” James said with a sheepish grin.

“Then maybe you should ask Evans. She might feel less like hitting you or hexing you if you had something more to talk about than the color of her hair or eyes, or the way her smile lights up the Charms classroom,” Remus teased.

“I’ll try anything to get that witch to give me the time of day.”

“Just don’t scare her away this time by being too—”

“Too what?” James asked, suddenly defensive.

“Too intense,” Sirius replied.

James turned to face him and then looked between all three of his friends. “I’m not intense. I’m persistent. I’m… dedicated.”

Sirius snorted. “I’m not sure Evans sees it that way, mate.”

“Hey, sometimes you have to try a new tactic. Come at the problem from a new angle, right?” Peter suggested, earning a nod of approval from Remus – undoubtedly the smartest among them, though James would never tell him that to his face.

“Okay, okay. So, what do you suggest?” James asked, defeated and desperate.

Chapter Text

-----

November 4^th, 1972 – Gryffindor Common Room

The next morning, Sirius was surprised to find a handwritten birthday card tucked in the pocket of his robes when he was dressing for the day. When he was sure his mates were either still in the shower, or had left their dorm, he pulled out the note and unfolded it to find a subtly familiar script:

“Dear Sirius,

Happiest of birthdays. I don’t think enough people actually said those words to you that night, instead choosing to enjoy the benefits of a party rather than celebrating the person whose birth we were meant to be gathered to commemorate in the first place. And I do. Despite our disagreements in the past, I think the world would truly be poorer placed if not for the existence of one Sirius whatever-the-bloody-hell-your-poncey-middle-name-is Black.”

He let out an involuntary bark of laughter as his eyes crinkled at the corners just reading over her heartfelt words. He thought back to the previous year and how lonely he’d felt thinking that no one cared. No one except maybe his uncle Alphard. And half of that was his own fault for not trusting his best mates. But this year had been spectacular, and one memory shone brighter than all the others – that of a little witch and her thoughtful gift. She’d opened a door to a whole new world for him and he couldn’t wait to kick it in and sprint through into the bright sunlight. To experience all that the world had to offer and see how it would enrich his life.

“I hope you enjoyed the record. Music has always been such a huge part of my life, thanks to our parents. It was always playing in our home, and I hope to carry that onwards someday when I have my own home and family. Honestly, I went back and forth a lot on what to get you as a gift because surely you could afford just about anything. But then I recalled that day in detention on the Quidditch Pitch when you asked me what I was singing. And once enough time had passed for me to admit how poorly I handled the whole thing, I remembered the way your eyes lit up at the prospect of learning something new.

Now I know the Beatles – who most often play what is known as ‘pop’ music, though they have dabbled in other genres from time to time – most likely aren’t your thing. Because you see, I also sensed a certain rebellious spirit in you that day. And again, during our first flying lesson. Sorry for the electrocution burns, by the way. Did they scar? I hope not… You have nice hands, and I would hate to ruin them.”

His hands twitched and he opened one of his palms to trace the star-shaped scar there which would always remind him of how she chased him down and tried to beat him senseless to avenge her sister. He could laugh about it now, though in that moment he recalled that none of his peers would ever have dared. Perhaps because of his family name, or his reputed temper. But this little muggleborn witch didn’t give a fig about any of that. Sirius smiled at the thought as a familiar warmth spread through him. She liked his hands. Hmm.

“So, I thought that in the spirit of that rebelliousness, I’d give you the gift of rock and roll. From its inception, it drew on existing genres such as blues, gospel, country, and yes, even pop and became this blend of all things anti-establishment. Rock and roll broke all the rules of what was considered popular music at the time. It was a huge risk. And it paid off because people loved it! They loved that someone was finally standing up and saying all the things they’d been thinking for ages. That someone was stepping out of line and creating music that made them happy, to hell with the rules. And that reminded me of you.

I recognized a kindred spirit in you that day once I finally got over myself. Here was someone else who was curious about the world and all its workings, consumed with that drive to learn about the ‘new’. I would never judge someone who wants to learn. And now that I’ve made the proper introductions, I hope you’ll continue in that spirit.

If you should ever wish me to fill the role of cultural attaché to the muggle world, please don’t hesitate to ask. And I hope you’ll extend me the same courtesy.”

His heart began to race at the thought of exploring Muggle London with her and all the things she could show and teach him – more than music, food, history, fashion, and about these mysterious cars that The Rolling Stones had mentioned in their song. He found himself wanting to know about it all. And she would make a perfect teacher.

“The world is definitely a richer place with people like us in it – people who want to step outside their comfort zones and learn as much about everything as possible. And I truly enjoy that aspect of getting to know you.

I hope you like the record. Didn’t want to label the gift and make a scene at your party, and risk embarrassing you in front of your friends. Didn’t want to put you on the spot and force your hand before you were ready to acknowledge that we are in fact… friends. Or perhaps friendly acquaintances would be a better word for it. I will leave the quaffle on your side of the pitch.

But it was all worth it to see the smile on your face when you heard the first strains of Keith Richards’ guitar. Welcome to Muggle Rock and Roll. We’re happy to have another devoted fan.

Hopeful of your friendship,

Hermione.”

Sirius’ heart quailed at her words. Had she observed all that in those few moments alone together? What else had she taken notice of? And she hesitated to push him on whether he would make their friendship public. Hermione didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. But she still came to his party and got him the most thoughtful gift. He found, at that moment, that he wanted her for a friend. And not to keep her as some kind of dirty, little secret from his family. But would he be a worthy friend for someone as good as her? He wished he knew the answer.

November 10^th, 1972 – Quidditch Pitch

Since his birthday, something had shifted with the twins – particularly the curly-haired, forked-tongued shrew with increasingly excellent taste in music, if her collection and his growing knowledge base were anything to go on. Sirius chuckled as he recalled the pink blush that’d painted her cheeks the night of his party when he’d played that Beatles record for the first time. It had immediately called up memories of the detention they’d served together and the way she’d sung and danced like no one was watching. Sirius found himself smiling in those secret moments and didn’t have the foggiest inclination of the cause or what to do with these irritating stirrings. He wished they’d leave him in peace.

She was a relatively plain, homely-looking girl in desperate need of an attitude adjustment. But she was so damned intelligent and talented; she and her sister were top of their class just the way they’d decreed First Year. There were plenty of witches who were prettier, sweeter, and easier to wrap around his finger. There were plenty of other witches who would be happy to go along with anything he said and thought, and not criticize his less-than-optimal qualities. They would be satisfied with merely being on the arm of the heir of the ‘Most Noble and Ancient House of Black’. He rolled his eyes at the thought. And yet, despite the fun he had with harmless flirting and snogging in alcoves or promises of dates next year when he was finally allowed to go to Hogsmeade… he found that the thought wasn’t as compelling as he’d thought it’d be.

His gaze was pulled once more to the girls gathered in the stands with their heads bent together as they worked on some schoolwork rather than watching their friends’ practice. Mary, Dorcas, and the twins would read for a bit before asking each other a question, offering suggestions, maybe joking and laughing a bit, before returning to their essays or assigned reading. The sound of her boisterous laughter – not at all what his mother would consider ladylike or refined – carried across the pitch on the wind to his ear and he found that it sent a small shiver down his spine. She did not hold back, and Sirius Black found that he enjoyed that the most about her.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the whistle of his team captain. “Black! Look alive!”

Sirius mounted his broom and pushed off to take his place in a half-circle. He had better things to think about than her damned enchanting laugh!

-----

Mary looked up at the practice and smiled to Marlene with a wave where she was stretching with her brand-new beater’s bat over her shoulders. She had already ordered some hand weights from a catalogue and had them shipped to school where she could use them before bed every night to try and build up her strength and stamina. After a particularly gruesome morning where Alice had stubbed her pinky toe on one of Marlene’s 10-pounders where it lay on the floor between their four-posters, the weights had been meticulously tucked safely beneath her bed as a dorm rule. Alice had ended up fracturing her toe and had to hop and hobble down to see Madame Pomfrey before breakfast with the aid of Mary and Marlene. Alice had nearly strangled Marlene from her cot while the school matron performed a brutal yet effective episkey and sent them on their way with instructions to stay off of it for a week.

Mary was glad to see that they’d resolved their issues and that they both seemed to be getting into the swing of being part of a team. However, she’d be keeping an eye on the boys in their year who’d also made the team – Sirius Black and James Potter. She’d seen the way the former had smiled and winked at her spunky roommate and how said roommate had flushed prettily under his gaze.

Hermione seemed – to her – not to be one to be taken in by the unpracticed charms of a boy. Her beloved pair of swots put forth this image as if they were above such things. But it occurred to Mary that perhaps Hermione was just a mere mortal like the rest of them where hormones were concerned. Now, she doubted that the curly-haired ginger witch was aware of this. But she’d observed the way her eyes had lit up at the pure, unreserved joy on Sirius’ face when he’d opened her present and promptly played it for the entire room. Hermione was the kind of person who found joy in making others happy. She could be standoffish and somewhat guarded, but once you were inside her inner circle of those she liked and trusted, she loved with her entire heart. She was endlessly loyal and protective of those she considered ‘hers’. Without question, that included her twin and had slowly come to include her friends. But did that currently extend to Sirius Black, or her once-pen pal-turned literary acquaintance, Remus Lupin? Mary couldn’t help but wonder.

Mary had watched the twins retreat from the party early and by the time the girls had joined them in their room, the girls were tucked up together in Hermione’s bed with the curtains drawn and whispering to themselves so that none of the others could hear what they were discussing. It seemed heated for a moment, and all Mary had been able to make out was their shared mantra that she often heard them use when one or the other required reassurance: ‘Never without you’. It was sweet, how close they were. And sometimes outsiders didn’t necessarily understand it. But they’d shared a womb for 9 months and then come into this new world of magic with only each other for support.

Mary wished she was that close to her little sister. But there was too much of an age gap between them and so it was hard to find things in common, for now. She was surprised by how close she’d become with her friends in so short a time but hoped it would continue this way for the rest of their lives. Perhaps someday, many years from now, they’d be standing together on Platform 9 ¾ seeing their children off to Hogwarts for their First Year. The thought made something light and hopeful swell in her chest like the beating of hummingbird’s wings.

November 13^th, 1972 – Black Lake

The girls sat on a blanket beneath the shade of a large tree on the shores of the Black Lake enjoying the unseasonably warm autumn day and gathered around Hermione’s composition notebook which was starting to grow worn in some places from constant use. That and being frisbee’d across their dorm regularly when the mood struck, and they were too lazy to walk or levitate it over. Lily was surprised the binding was still holding together.

“It’s nearly full, ‘Tuney,” Lily remarked as she flipped gingerly through the pages filled with workshopped song lyrics, costume sketches, and set designs for performances they’d dreamed up together.

“Yes, and since it is and we’re all feeling much more confident in being able to read music, I thought we could transition to using this.” Hermione reached into her crossbody bag and pulled out a gorgeous leather-bound journal in Gryffindor red. Her initials were stitched into the cover, and it had clearly been an expensive gift.

“Where did that come from?” Mary asked, quirking a dark brow at her friend.

Hermione ducked her head and let her curls fall over her face a bit to conceal the blush blooming on her cheeks. “It was a Christmas gift from a friend.”

“Which friend?” Alice asked, looking around at the others for confirmation.

Marlene shrugged her shoulders and Dorcas shook her head. Mary offered a frown while Lily’s brows rose nearly to her hairline. “Yeah, which friend?” Dorcas pressed.

“Anyway, I thought we could use it to start writing our own music,” Hermione clumsily changed the subject and opened the journal to reveal hand-stitched, creamy parchment with empty staffs lining each page in perfectly uniform rows.

Mary’s eyes widened almost comically as she reached out a hand towards the parchment. “It’s quality work.” She met the gaze of her friend and remarked, “Must’ve been an eventful Christmas.”

Hermione’s mouth curled up into a wicked grin and she folded her arms across her narrow chest and teased. “Oh, it sure was! My sister received a ring from James Potter and almost gave our parents strokes.”

Lily’s face flamed red and let out an inhuman shriek before launching herself at her sister, knocking her off the blanket and into the sun-warmed grass. Their hands grappled, fingers interlocked, while they battled for dominance. “’Tuney, how could you?! You promised never to speak his name in my presence or bring up the Incident ever again!”

Hermione cackled beneath her sister, head thrown back in the grass and eyes shut tight as she valiantly fought off the banshee straddling her. “It was worth it to see the look on your face, twin o’ mine!”

“I shall have my revenge!” Lily shrieked.

“Bring it on!” Hermione met her sister’s gaze head-on before wrapping her legs around her and rolling them both over, so she was on top.

Dorcas leaned in, to whisper to Mary, “Five galleons on Mi.”

“I don’t know, Lily’s got a lot of rage.” Mary tipped her head to one side and then the other as if weighing the odds.

Alice was doubled over, slapping her knees at the sight. “Oh, it hurts!” She clutched at her aching ribs.

“A plague on both your houses!” Lily hissed at their friends from her place on the ground.

This only served to make them all laughter harder.

“Should I break this up?” Marlene asked.

“Give them a moment,” Mary said with a shrug.

“Traitor!” Lily cried and craned her neck upward as if she would bite her twin. But Hermione lunged backward to dodge giving her sister an opening to shift their position so she could knock her onto her back.

“Okay, I’ll take that bet now,” Mary taunted Dorcas.

The Slytherin winked and held Marlene back from interfering while Alice grappled for their snacks in the center of the blanket as the twins started to roll around now. Then she called out, “I’m not picking twigs and leaves out of your hair before dinner!”

Hermione stopped instantly, which caused Lily to do the same. When they were about to sit up and cease the impromptu wrestling match, Hermione reached up to lick a broad horizontal stripe across her sister’s face.

Lily squealed, released her twin’s hands, and fell over onto her back to get away. “Ugh, ‘Tuney, that’s disgusting!”

“All’s fair in love and war!” Hermione roared and pumped her fists victoriously over her head.

“Damn,” Mary grumbled and dug into her change purse to hang over five galleons into Cas’ outstretched hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” The Slytherin smirked smugly.

-----

Meanwhile, the boys were ambling down the hill towards the lake from the castle and came upon the scene of the twins wrestling and their friends clearly spectating – laughing and placing bets on the outcome, it seemed.

Peter chuckled and his blue eyes flickered over to Mary who seemed to be leaning close to their Slytherin friend Dorcas while they conspired and traded galleons. “What do you think happened this time?” he asked his friends.

Sirius chuckled. “Who knows? But someone’s going to get a peek up their skirts if they’re not more careful.” He tilted his head to one side as if to chance a glance himself.

James and Remus both thumped him on the back of the head. He straightened up instantly with an “Ow!”

“Oop, there she goes again!” Peter laughed as they watched Hermione claim victory by distracting her opponent with a well-timed lick.

The four of them burst into surprised laughter when the tiny heathen began roaring her victory and pumping her fists over her head while her twin shrieked on the ground to get away from her.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or disgusted,” James said, hazel eyes wide behind his glasses.

“Yeah, James. I wouldn’t want to be next. Would you?” Peter teased.

Sirius recalled the sight of her pink tongue just moments prior and the scars on his palms began to tingle again as he realized that he might volunteer to be her next victim. Oh, good Godric!

November 18^th, 1972 – Hospital Wing

Remus woke up the morning after the full moon aching, exhausted, and afraid to move very much. Madame Pomfrey had already been around to seal his wounds. Then she’d set up a regimen of skelegrow and pain relief potions before administering bruise paste when he wasn’t quite so tender to the touch. She had even left him a sleeping draught. But before he could reach for the vial, his eyes locked on a small, wrapped chocolate frog and his heart quavered. Had Hermione left this for him again? Luckily, it was a weekend so there were no classes he’d miss or notes to catch up on. But she’d still stopped by, not too long ago based upon the strength of her lingering, honeyed scent.

His inner wolf preened in the back of his mind and began to pace restlessly at the thought that she was taking care of them. That she cared enough to do so. She’d shown in countless little ways just how she cared for those she… loved. Would it be too much of a leap to think that he was counted among her loved ones now? Remus wished it didn’t matter so much to him, but it did. He feared what would happen if she discovered the truth. And he felt like it was bound to happen the more she caught him here. But what other choice did he have?

That afternoon – Gryffindor Common Room

Remus slumped into the common room dragging his feet and dead tired and was surprised to find it mostly empty. All except for a couple of firsties and Hermione sitting on the lumpy, red couch in front of the fireplace with her legs tucked underneath her. Her head and shoulders were bowed over a book, one of her fingers was twirling a curl absentmindedly, and she was gnawing on her bottom lip.

When he made to move past her and retreat to his dorm for a nap, his eyes took in the title of the book she had perched on her knees and his lungs stalled in his chest. Hairy Snout, Human Heart was a book he knew well – a firsthand account of a wizard’s battle with his lycanthropy. It had broken Remus’ heart when he’d found it last year tucked away on a forgotten shelf of the library.

What was she doing reading that book? He quailed at the thought that she might be closer to discovering his secret than he previously guessed. Remus was momentarily conflicted about whether to confront her about it and ask, or to retreat to his room and delay the inevitable. But in his indecision, it seemed the choice was removed from his hands altogether.

Hermione’s gaze lifted to meet his and her face broke into a heart stopping smile at the sight of him. “Remus, you’re back. I missed you,” she spoke so sweetly, his wolf was practically prancing around in his head.

Remus cleared his throat. “H-Hermione. What are you doing here? Did you skip lunch?”

Her eyes glittered with mirth, and she gestured to a platter of sandwiches on the short table beside her. “It pays to befriend the house elves of Hogwarts, my friend,” she said simply. “Join me. Are you hungry?”

He weighed his options before deciding that climbing the stairs was presently much more effort than he was willing to expend, so he shuffled over to the couch and plopped down beside her, his legs sprawling out in front of him. “Ahhh, sweet relief,” he sighed.

Hermione picked up a half-sandwich with a cloth serviette and brought it closer to his nose. He caught the delightful scent of roast beef, and his eyes flew open. “Have you eaten yet today?” she asked softly, still holding out the offering.

He lifted his hands to take it from her and when their fingers touched, she nearly dropped the sandwich into his lap before sliding her hands out from between his and the serviette. “Thank you,” Remus said sheepishly and devoured the delicacy. He was typically ravenous after a full and sick to his stomach leading up to it. It was the oddest thing. But it was the way it had always been.

Once he’d finished the sandwich, she handed over a goblet of pumpkin juice filled nearly to the brim. “I was worried you’d been sick again,” she said in a tone more careful than he’d ever heard from her before.

He nearly choked on the juice before clearing his throat, dabbing away the mess he’d made on his chin, and setting the goblet down on his knee. “I wish I had a heartier immune system, but sadly, I don’t. Must be because I’m half-blood.” He knew that was complete and utter rubbish, but perhaps as a muggleborn she wouldn’t know that.

“What rubbish!” she scoffed.

“Wh-What?” he balked and turned to look at her.

“Some foolish blood designation has nothing to do with one’s constitution,” she snipped as if annoyed.

A long, awkward silence stretched out between them before he decided to take the plunge. “What book are you reading? Have you finished the two I lent you last?”

Her face lit up momentarily. “I loved The Hobbit. I want to read the Lord of the Rings next chance I get. Thank you for that… But is it wrong that I pitied Smeagol a bit? That I wished Gollum would redeem himself somehow?”

“Gollum was a dark projection of the One Ring on Smeagol, so I don’t think he was meant to be redeemed,” Remus explained.

“Where is the line? When is someone too far gone to be pulled back from the edge?”

Remus shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess… I suppose they have to want it. And I don’t think Smeagol or Gollum wanted anything more than the Ring at the point where they meant Bilbo in the caves.”

“That’s true. Still made me sad though,” Hermione confided. “But I loved Frankenstein. Did you know that Mary Shelley wrote it when she was only 18? I believe it’s thought to be the birth of the science fiction genre by many… And to think, it was a young woman.” She beamed at him; those amber eyes alight with pride.

He nodded. “I did know that. I thought you’d appreciate that about it.”

“You know me too well.” She smiled and a light blush painted her freckled cheeks. Then after a moment, she asked, “And Dracula?”

“It was very creepy. The writer did a good job creating an eerie set for his story. You feel isolated when you’re reading it. It’s well done,” Remus explained, loving that he could discuss his one true love with her – the written word. He adored that she seemed to love literature just as much as he did and that they could talk about it for hours and not grow bored. Sure, his friends would tease him about it… but there were few things he could say truly brought him joy in life: pranking with his mates, the perfect cup of tea, chocolate desserts, and talking about books with Hermione Granger-Evans.

“I heard that it was written by Stoker because he liked men and couldn’t exactly come out and say that at the time, so he wrote Dracula with all of the pining between Jonathan Harker and the Count,” she whispered, leaning closer to him.

Remus had unconsciously leaned in too when her voice had dropped. He could’ve heard her just fine from where he was sitting, but he found he wanted to get closer to her. “I’m sure it was dangerous, if he did like men.”

“Did you know that it was illegal in the UK from 1533 until 1967,” Hermione whispered. “I can’t even imagine living a life with that big of a secret and feeling like you have to hide what you are.” Her chin dropped to her chest and his heart began to race.

He felt they’d come full circle, and he wanted to just come right out and say it. “I saw the book you were reading.”

“I know,” she murmured softly.

“Why?” He found that he simultaneously had to know her answer and was terrified to hear more.

She raised her gaze to meet his, not blinking and not looking away. “Because you shouldn’t have to hide what you are. This was done to you. And you are still a good person, Remus. The best. I wouldn’t judge you and you shouldn’t either.”

Remus was stunned to silence for a moment before he rose to his feet and made a quick getaway to his dorm. “I… have to go. I’m sorry, Hermione.”

She offered a tight, sad smile. “Get some sleep, Remus.”

Later that night – Gryffindor Tower

The strains of music from a familiar record player woke Remus from a steady slumber. It was already dark outside the windows, and it felt like he had spiraled into sleep and then stayed that way for hours. He heard the showers in his room and guessed they might be washing up before bed.

Just then, Sirius Black stepped out with a towel tucked around his narrow waist and smirked as the music carried from the girls’ dorm. “They’re at it again, huh?”

“Must be,” Remus stretched and let out a jaw-cracking yawn.

“You broke my heart
'Cause I couldn't dance
You didn't even want me around
And now I'm back to let you know
I can really shake 'em down.”

And then the girls’ cackling laughter started up. “Oh, Merlin. You’re lucky you got your sleep earlier because it doesn’t sound like they’ll be through for a while if they’re just getting started.”

“Do you love me? (I can really move)
Do you love me? (I'm in the groove)
Now do you love me (do you love me?)
Now that I can dance? (dance).”

“Where's the rock and roll when you need it?” Remus joked, knowing the way his friend had been consumed lately by his newest obsession. He often spoke of sneaking out to Muggle London to a record shop and buying his own player that he could bring back for their dorm. But the last thing Remus thought Sirius Black needed was a way to further irritate not only the girls, but the whole of Gryffindor Tower.

“Right? Oh, I can’t wait until Third Year when we can go into Hogsmeade.” Sirius sighed happily and threw himself back onto his bed with his arms at his sides. “It feels like there’s an entirely new world just beyond my reach and I cannot wait to explore it.”

“Don’t be in such a rush to grow up, Sirius.” Remus teased.

“Some things are out of our control,” his friend said softly, his once wonder-filled tone now sullen.

Remus knew there were parts of Sirius’ life that he kept to himself and purposely didn’t share with his roommates. And Remus could even connect the dots after his friend had returned after the summer for Second Year having lost almost two stone and looking like a gaunt scarecrow, the light in his eyes faded. Remus had seen the toll it had taken on Sirius to be estranged from his brother – so close and yet so far. But it seemed, at times, like the future was pressing down on Sirius Black and he thrashed against the walls of his enclosure like a cornered animal.

“I can mash potato (I can mash potato)
And do the twist (I can do the twist)
Now tell me, baby (tell me, baby)
Do you like it like this? (do you like it like this?)
Tell me (tell me)
Tell me!

Do you love me? (do you love me?)
Now do you love me? (do you love me?)
Now do you love me (do you love me?)
Now that I can dance? (dance)”

The song petered out and eventually the record was changed for something less intense, but it seemed the girls were just getting started, as Sirius had predicted. “Well, might as well have a listen.” The dark-haired wizard sprung out of his bed, his towel nearly dropping in the process and Remus had to quickly look away while a deep blush flared in his cheeks making him suddenly too warm.

-----

Sirius was surprised to find the girls’ dorm door wide open, and members of Gryffindor house engaged in an impromptu dance party. He was dressed in his pajamas, dark hair still damp from his shower and bewildered by the sight but engrossed just the same to see the usually private group of girls who’d taken to referring to themselves as ‘the Mighty Valkyries’ – eye roll – leading the charge. No wonder the music had sounded so much louder.

He perched himself on the lowest stone step and held up his head with his palm, one elbow braced on his knee as he watched the others enjoying themselves.

The twins and Marlene seemed to be attempting to teach the others how to do some muggle dance moves he’d never seen before which required a lot of swirling hips, thrusting pelvises, flailing arms, and just overall gyrating and made heat flare in his face. Pureblood dances were not like this. The stuffy balls he’d attended with his parents and their cousins were nothing like this. But he couldn’t look away.

Their legs appeared to be made of rubber as they demonstrated something called the ‘mashed potato’. And then they tucked their knees tight and their arms at their sides while they shimmied from side to side, getting first lower to the ground and then slowly rising back up again. “This is called ‘the Twist’,” Lily demonstrated in her pink and white flannel pajamas while Mary and Alice executed the move flawlessly in their cotton nightgowns and slippers.

Some of the older kids were pressed up tight together, using the sultry crooning of the artists and the lateness of the hour to be what his mother referred to as ‘lewd’. Walburga would never approve. And that made this all the more enticing. Sirius’ mouth was slightly ajar at the sight as his pulse began to race behind his ribs.

“(Work, work)
Oh, shake it, shake it, baby (work, work)
Oh, you're driving me crazy (work, work)
Oh, don't get lazy (work)”

Hermione and Lily ended up back-to-back while Hermione swayed her shoulders, eyes closed and lost to the music. Lily appeared to be tossing her long red hair back and forth while Hermione stepped away with a giggle and swatting hands to avoid getting whipped. “Cut it out, Lils!”

Lily turned to her twin, straightening up, and taking her sister by the waist and spinning her into her chest before they stood side by side, one arm thrown around each other’s waists as they swayed their hips. They used their arms – raised up over their heads – to mimic a pulsating motion from their waist to their shoulders, before one twin spun around the front of the other to end up on the other side of them and repeat the motion a few times.

They were getting attention from their housemates now and by that point, Remus, James and even Peter had come down to see what all the racket was about.

“I can mash-potato.

(I can mash-potato)

I can do the twist.

(I can do the twist)

Well now tell me baby –

(Tell me baby)

Do you like it like this?

(Do you like it like this?)

Tell me!

(Tell me)

Tell me!”

“Did you know they could dance?” Peter asked, his eyes undoubtedly locked on Mary who was swaying between Alice and Marlene, their arms clinging to one another like ambient jellyfish till they gave into their joyous laughter.

James simply shook his head, mouth agape as he watched Lily and her sister vibe.

Remus chuckled. “Close your mouth, mate, or billywigs might get in.”

Sirius laughed at this, relieved to not be the only one staring. But he was mesmerized at the comfortably way they seemed to inhabit their bodies and let the music guide them to their next move. They were twins, so of course they were comfortable with one another, but they moved like a single entity without needing to verbally communicate, reminiscent of that night last year when they’d dueled the boys together and easily overpowered them.

“(Work, work)

I'm working hard baby

(Work, work)

Well, you're driving me crazy

(Work, work)

And don't you get lazy

(Work)”

“I have never seen anything like this before, mate,” Sirius sighed, unsure what to do with himself.

“I’m sure.” Remus chuckled; his hands tucked into his dressing robe pockets.

At that point, Marlene and Mary were dancing face-to-face and while Marlene made to swing a Gryffindor scarf in a circle overhead, Mary made to shimmy down onto her knees as if she were worshipping her blonde, sporty roommate like an offering on an altar. This earned them a few wolf whistles and then some resounding laughter.

Alice had ended up with Frank Longbottom in a corner, both of them simply sitting in a window seat and chatting amongst themselves.

Lily and Hermione were now on a table in the center of the crowd, pressed together from thighs to hips, Lily with her arms thrown carelessly over her sister’s shoulders while Hermione held her twin’s hips, heads thrown back and mouthing the words to the song they must’ve heard a thousand times. They seemed to be moving together in an altogether more primal fashion than any of the purebloods in the room were comfortable with. Hermione, slightly taller than her twin sister now, grabbed Lily by the hips while Lily dipped backwards slowly with her arms thrown over her head so that her fingertips and the ends of her hair touched the floor. When she shimmied her hips as she gradually rose back upright, Hermione smirked, flushed prettily at the exertion of their dancing.

At another round of whistles, Marlene was there to catch Hermione when she leapt from the tabletop and launched herself at her roommate, wrapping her arms and legs around the blonde. They burst into laughter as Marlene swung her around. Lily pulled Mary up to continue dancing with her, where they linked hands above their heads and began to mimic what looked like someone swimming away from a shark.

Marlene kissed Hermione’s cheek and went off to join their roommates while Hermione stepped out of the fray fanning herself and trying to peel her damp curls off of the nape of her neck. She stumbled over to the boys’ staircase laughing breathlessly without noticing their audience. She stopped short upon seeing the looks on their faces, and asked, “You boys enjoying the show?”

Her tone was lighter and more playful than they’d ever heard it. But Sirius could sense this might be the voice she was using when she wrote his birthday card, and he found he enjoyed it. She was usually so tense and uptight, at least around anyone other than her sister and their friends.

“W-What kind of dancing is that?” James stammered; his eyes still locked on Lily.

She narrowed her eyes at him, stepped into his line of sight, and snapped her fingers in his face. “Pop your eyes back in your head, Potter!” She let out a little growl that made Remus blush and Sirius chuckle while Peter backed away nervously. “Anywho! Our parents like to pretend that they weren’t young, once upon a time, and that they don’t have ‘dirty dancing’ music in their vast collection. But Lily and I aren’t naïve, and we went digging. Found pictures too. It was the best thing ever!” She laughed, doubled over and slapped her knee.

“’Dirty dancing’ music?” Sirius asked with a quirk of his lips.

She met his mercurial gaze head on and nodded. “Yes, what they use to refer to anything that encourages people to dance mashed up against one another.”

James blinked down at her rapidly. “Where did you learn to dance like that?”

She gave a small shrug. “We just let the music tell us what to do. Whatever feels right.”

“I’ve never seen dancing like that,” Sirius remarked, reminiscent of his brief conversation with Remus from just minutes before.

“I can imagine.” She smirked back at him teasingly.

Remus had gone particularly silent in her presence and when her amber eyes flickered to his face, he ducked his head and mumbled something about attempting to get some sleep.

Sirius noticed her deflate at Remus’ retreat and her cheerful smile faltered. His eyes flickered from her face to his mate’s back as she shuffled listlessly back up the stone steps towards their dorm.

“What’s up with him?” James was the one to break the awkward silence.

Hermione was the one to reply, “We had a conversation earlier and I think I offended him. But he’s too much of a gentleman to say that. So, I’ll wait for him to let me apologize. I’m patient.”

“Kitten, I doubt you could say anything that bad.” Sirius tried to lighten the mood.

Her eyes lit on him, and she retorted, “Oh, Sirius Black, it’s like you don’t know me at all! Good night, boys!” And with that she spun on her heel and sashayed away towards the other side of the room to climb the steps towards her own dorm.

Winter Break – 1972

Weeks had come and gone, another full moon, Mary’s 13^th birthday was a success, and the girls had even composed their first song in Hermione’s journal. And still not a word from Remus. They passed each other in the halls and sat far apart in classes. He patently ignored her presence at mealtimes and in the common room. She didn’t want to press him or make him feel uncomfortable. But the difficult part was… she missed her friend. Hermione couldn’t imagine what he must be feeling or thinking, and perhaps she’d been too forceful. Remus was an intensely private person and shy at the best of times. She had thought she was being subtle, but perhaps it was just another social grace she was lacking – tact. They hadn’t exchanged another set of boys since they’d returned the last around early November.

But now they were home for the holidays and Hermione checked each window multiple times a day and the post box for any letters through the muggle post, hoping to hear from him. Her heart broke a little each day when there was nothing. Oh, Remus… I want to be there for you, she thought to herself.

Before him, Lily was the only other person that had ever made her feel so comfortable in her own skin. She missed talking with him and hearing all his thoughts. She missed the sound of his laugh. And – though she’d never admit it, even on pain of death – she missed the feeling of being the recipient of his undivided attention. Hermione missed being… with him. Just existing together.

So, after the fourth day of radio silence, she tromped up to her room, slammed her door behind her, and threw herself down on her bed face-first. Hermione grabbed one top edge of her plum duvet, and then rolled with it back and forth until she was tucked up tight like a Hermione burrito. She shut her eyes and breathed a heavy sigh as she let the feeling of the tightly rolled blanket comfort her like a bear hug.

Had she ruined everything with Remus after all? Had her impatience and her stupid pushiness ended up pushing him too far and now he regretted ever becoming her friend? She truly detested herself for it sometimes – the way she was impulsive and demanding. She always wanted to know more. And maybe this had been too much for the reserved young man. Hermione’s nose began to itch, and her eyes welled with fresh tears. She opened her lids to look up at the ceiling where her mother had painted a mural of the celestial bodies and constellations once when this room had been the twins’ shared nursery. She had wanted them to dream and reach higher, push farther. She had always been their biggest supporter when it came to their passion for learning. And now that mindset had potentially driven Hermione to, perhaps selfishly, hurt her friend. Her new friend. The thread between them seemed so formidable at times, and so tenuous at others.

She wanted to blame herself, and yet a small part of her – a petty part that was still childish and refused to be cowed – wanted to shift part of the blame to Remus instead. Perhaps it was obstinance or pride. It was the same part of her that had destroyed James Potter’s valentine to her sister. She wanted Remus’ attention. She craved their time together with a fierce possessiveness. He spent so much of his free time with his friends and the little time that she’d managed to carve out for just the two of them, well, she’d gone and bollocksed that right up.

She cleared her throat and murmured to herself in an accusatory tone, “You’re shite at keeping friends, Mi.”

“No, you’re not,” Lily’s voice came from her bedroom doorway.

Hermione looked up from the flat of her back and met her twin’s sympathetic gaze. “That was meant to be a private conversation and rhetorical.”

“Yeah, well… should’ve kept your inside thoughts inside then, huh?” Lily teased with a quirk of her lips. Then she gestured to her sister’s duvet burrito and asked, “Room for one more?”

Hermione weighed her options. She’d felt so alone the past few days dedicating all her mental stamina to planning out what she’d say to Remus if he made the first move – if he wrote or even called. She knew that his mother was a muggle, and they had muggle appliances in their home like a telly and a landline phone. Even a gas stove and oven. She’d been given the briefest and rarest of peeks behind the curtain for someone like him and it was her most fervent and desperate hope that she hadn’t damaged that progress in some way. So, when she met her sister’s emerald gaze, she nodded. “Let me just untuck myself. Hold on,” Hermione began to roll side to side until the duvet loosened around her before she opened it up, holding a top edge in each hand, arms wide like she was offering a hug.

Lily took the gesture quite literally and took a running start and flying leap, landing on her sister with an ‘omphf’ that knocked the air out of both of them before they devolved into a fit of hysterical laughter. Hermione wrapped her blanket around her twin, and they rocked side to side holding one another, until they were a Granger-Evans burrito once more. Lily lay her head on her sister’s shoulder and turned her face to the side so she wouldn’t be smothered by Hermione’s thick curls.

The two lay like that, comforting one another with the sounds of their steady breathing and the slow, steady thud of their heartbeats. It was moments like this when Hermione could imagine how it might’ve been when they were growing inside their mother, tucked close together and perhaps even clinging to the other as the one solid reminder that they were still there. She could feel the soothing wave of Lily’s magic caressing hers and swallowed hard against a fresh round of tears. “Lils… am I a bad friend?”

“What?” Lily balked, nearly headbutting her sister in the process of trying to pull back enough to look her twin in the eye.

“Am I selfish? Am I too wrapped up in own issues to be there for a friend?” Hermione elaborated.

“Not that I’ve seen,” Lily began. “At least never with the girls.”

“Really?” Hermione squeaked.

“Really. I was scared that when we left home, and it was just you and me against the world, that we would have a hard time connecting to other people and making friends. But you were so brave that first day on the train. You stormed right into that compartment and made the both of us new friends.”

“I was shaking on the inside,” Hermione confessed.

“But you stood tall and did it anyway.”

Hermione nodded. “And with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said I was a good friend to the girls, but what about you? Am I selfish with you, Lils?” She struggled to keep her voice from trembling because she didn’t want to guilt her sister into feeling like she had to lie to spare Hermione’s fragile feelings.

“At the start, a little. It’s true. But I think that’s just because it was just the two of us for so long. Neither of us had to compete for each other’s attention. Now that we’ve become friends with the Valkyries and branched out… you’ve gotten so much better. And I think I have too. I’m so proud of you, ‘Tuney.”

“You’re not just telling me what you think I want to hear?” Hermione asked.

“It wouldn’t do you any favors to lie to you about something that clearly matters so much to you.” Hermione sniffled and Lily pressed delicately for more information, “So, I’m guessing this isn’t about me or the girls. Is it about one of the boys?”

It took her a moment to gather her courage to speak about it but speak she did. “Yes. Remus.”

“You’ve looked so happy this year since you started talking to him. Did it start last Christmas?” Her sister guessed. “He’s the one who sent that record, isn’t he?” Lily flashed a teasing grin.

“Yes. And then as a thank you, when we got back to school, I loaned him some of my books – a favorite, and then some I hoped he would enjoy. He read them and sent them back with a letter. And we got to talking about the books and then it became more personal too. We learned more about each other. When we got back to school, for the first time, he loaned me some of his books. Something shifted like he wanted me to know him in the same way too. Like he wanted to make the same effort. And it was going fine until after Sirius’ birthday. I think I offended him. I pushed him too far too fast and made him uncomfortable.” The tears welled up again in her eyes and rolled down the sides of her face into her hair while she struggled to speak through the mounting sobs. “A-And… I… ru-ruined… every-everything, Lils!”

“Oh, ‘Tuney.” Lily shifted upwards just enough and rolled them onto their sides so she could tuck her sister against her chest and run her hand soothingly over her curls. “I’ve never seen you like this. What happened?”

Hermione’s heart clenched in her chest. “I ca-can’t tell you, Lils. It’s n-not my business to tell. But I wa-wanted to know more, like I always do, and I w-was impatient – tir-tired of waiting for him to su-suck it up and tell me the truth.”

“I see.”

“An-And now it’s b-been more than a mo-month since we last spoke. Not a wo-word. Not a si-single letter. Not a ph-phone call. No si-sign that I can sal-salvage this. I wrecked it all. It’s my fault. And Remus is su-such an amazing friend,” Hermione stammered and bawled her eyes out, soaking her sister’s green Christmas jumper.

“’Tuney, I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t fix with time. And space. Remus is shy. You know this. He keeps to himself most of the time. I’m honestly surprised he broke out of his comfort zone with his roommates and made a move to meet you halfway and become friends. I don’t think anyone who puts in that much effort would just throw it away over an uncomfy conversation. It happens. But we make up and pick up the pieces and hope that we’re stronger afterwards, right?” Lily offered, ever the optimist. When Hermione didn’t respond, Lily tightened her arms around her and gave her a shake. “I said, ‘right’?”

Hermione huffed a watery chuckle. “Right.” And then after a long silence, she asked, “Did he seem happier since last Christmas?”

Lily smiled down at her twin and said softly, “So much happier. His eyes light up whenever you walk into a room, you know?”

Hermione blushed shyly and shook her head. “We’re just friends. And maybe not even that anymore. I hope you’re right and this is fixable.”

-----

Lily looked at her twin, always so strong and outspoken with fire in her eyes, but it was these soft, vulnerable, private moments that Hermione shared with her when she let her entire guard down that Lily treasured most. Hermione trusted very few to see her this way. Lily could count the number on one hand – her, of course, their parents, and maybe Remus, Lily was beginning to understand. And perhaps that was why the potential of his loss hurt her sister so much.

After another long silence, Lily asked, “Do you… maybe like him, as more than friends?”

“What?!” Hermione squeaked, her eyes going comically wide.

“We’re 13 now… having a crush isn’t strange. And you said that you both talk a lot and have spent time getting to know each other.” Lily gave a pensive shrug. “Could it be… that you’re extra upset about this because your feelings aren’t only platonic anymore?”

Hermione’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“Platonic?”

“Yeah.”

“It means, not romantic. So, friends or family. There’s lots of different kinds of love. Like the way we love each other. But romantic love is what I’m talking about when it comes to Mr. Lupin.” Lily waggled her eyes suggestively.

“Those brows are going to haunt my dreams tonight,” Hermione deadpanned and narrowed her eyes.

“Some avoiding answering the question.” Lily poked her sister in the arm.

“Ow, Lils. Fine, fine. I guess I’ve never really thought about it that way before… Remus is my friend. He is smart and I don’t have to dumb myself down for him to understand. He is also funny and clever. He makes me laugh so hard with his letters sometimes. And the books he sends me are always so well-loved. He takes very good care of mine too.” This made Lily laugh but Hermione appeared to be working through her internal conflict now and wouldn’t be derailed. “He’s passionate about the things he cares about. Remus is loyal to his friends. He’s so good. But what kills me sometimes is how little he thinks of himself.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t say. Again, not my business to tell. But I wish that I could make him see what I see what I look at him.”

“And that is?”

“A good, smart, kind, funny, brilliant, so strong, and loveable –” The words seemed to die in her Hermione’s mouth as she flushed bright red.

“Did you mean to say that out loud?” Lily asked.

“I didn’t even know I was going to add it to the list until it was out of my mouth.”

Lily burst into bright laughter and rocked her twin in her arms. “Well, for the record, if this is fixable… you could do a lot worse than Remus Lupin. He’s right up there in the top five of our year with us, Severus Snape, and I think Damocles Belby. He’s ace at potions too. Same as Snape. Both Slytherins.” She tried to veer off course. “Shame that none of the top spots went to any Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs. It would be nice to have some variety and less tension at the top. He’s smart, sweet, very polite. He seems like a real gentleman. And he’s cute.”

“Lils?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re the best sister, you know that, right?”

“I think I have stiff competition on that front.” Hermione hugged Lily tighter, and they let out joint sighs of relief and lay side by side under the silver star-spangled duvet until their mother’s voice called them down for dinner.

A few days later – Lupin Cottage

Remus angrily balled up yet another piece of priceless parchment and tossed it across the room into the wastebasket which already seemed to be overflowing. He’d started and stopped more than a dozen letters since that last disastrous conversation with Hermione and couldn’t seem to find the right words.

At first it was because was still in shock and didn’t know what to say – didn’t know quite how he felt about being found out. He had assumed that the boys who lived with him would discover the truth first. And perhaps they had begun to suspect, but none of them had said a word. Then Hermione Jean Granger-Evans blasts his whole new normal to bits by reading a book in his presence so that now he can’t even think straight. His wolf has been pacing restlessly in his head for the last month, upset at him for pushing her away and Remus cannot fully guess why. He had asked his father for some information on his affliction but there was never anything useful that could explain why he was feeling so distraught… so hollow.

Remus wondered if his wolf would feel the same if one of his best mates were suddenly absent from his life after spending so much time together regularly. He’d grown to rely on their near-constant presence even more so than Hermione. But they’d exchanged letters and gifts and even met up a couple times over the holiday, all except for Sirius who seemed to be detained in his family home.

James and Peter had become like his brothers, and to a certain extent, so had Sirius. But it was perhaps more difficult to bond with Sirius Black because his personal defenses were like curtain walls around a medieval fortress. Every tidbit and personal factoid had been hard-earned and few and far between. He was even more hesitant to trust others than Remus, himself. If anything happened to them and their friendship deteriorated, Remus would for sure be devastated.

But losing Hermione when it was still so new and fragile… had blown a crater in the center of his life. He hadn’t expected it to be such a crushing loss. He slammed his balled-up fist into the surface of his desk and gnashed his teeth, leaving behind a splintered divot. When Remus pulled his hand back, he groaned. “Oh, bloody hell.” His jaw was aching, and his skin had that telltale itch, so he went to his window and timidly pulled back the curtains to see the sunset painting the sky a myriad of gorgeous watercolor hues. He wished he could enjoy it. But he left his room and went to join his parents before they locked him in their warded basement in a reinforced cage.

He supposed that from an outside perspective, this was messed up. Traumatic even. And it was, but Remus had been doing this every full moon since he was 4 and it was all he could remember. This was the norm for him, as screwed up as that was. And he was fortunate to have parents who had planned ahead enough to make sure he was secure and wouldn’t hurt anyone else. Now, if only he could stop hurting himself… then maybe he’d have a shot at real happiness or even just peace. His last thoughts that were his own before his wolf took over were of Hermione’s amber eyes that day in the common room and the heartrendingly beautiful words she’d said to him – words he’d dreamed of hearing all his life before he’d run away like a coward: “You shouldn’t have to hide what you are… You are still a good person… I wouldn’t judge you and you shouldn’t either.” And that sad little smile.

Some Gryffindor he was. Maybe the twins had been right last Halloween. He had to fix this. He had too few people in his life that genuinely cared for him to keep pushing them away. And for whatever reason, the universe had seen fit to put Hermione in his path and let her care. He was the luckiest boy in Britain.

The girl is good. The girl is honest. She speaks the truth.

She will not shun us. She will care for us.

Pack, pack, pack.

Tell her the truth!

So lonely. Tired of being lonely.

Pack, pack, pack!

December 21^st, 1972 – 12 Grimmauld Place

Sirius lingered on the outskirts of his family’s annual Yule Ball watching his brother interact with his cousins, Bella, Andi, and Cissa. But Andi had always been one of the few members of his family he liked; the list was short: Uncle Alphard, Cousin Andi, and his little brother, Reggie. But things had become strained with his sibling since his sorting.

Andi and Alphard, however, weren’t ones to be told what to do, and Sirius could already tell that Andromeda – who was in her final year of Hogwarts now – would be marching to the beat of her own drum. Cissa was content to go along to get along, much like Reg was becoming and it ruffled Sirius’ feathers to no end. He was sure his parents wished he could be more obedient and ‘proper’, but Sirius was already working to conceal his overly posh accent while at school. Wally had sent a mighty stinging hex at him when he’d said ‘Oi’ at the breakfast table and proceeded to put his elbows up in her presence, just two days ago. Once the swelling had gone down with the begrudging assistance of Kreacher and Reggie, he had laughed heartily to know he’d successfully gotten under his mother’s skin.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the arrival of Uncle Alphard through the floo fireplace. “Blessed Yule, sister!” He called out for Walburga, much to her irritation if her twitching left eye was an indication.

Walburga and Orion still sauntered forward to greet him while Cygnus brought up the rear. Druella stayed with her unmarried daughters.

Walburga accepted brisk kisses from her remaining brother before pulling back to chastise him. “You’re late, Alphard. We’ve put off dinner nearly an hour waiting for you.”

Alphard clapped a hand on their youngest brother’s shoulder and apologized in a very over-the-top manner, voice booming to make a show of himself. “Apologies, dearest sister. But in the spirit of the holiday, shall we go in for dinner and make merry?”

Walburga grimaced at his display and pivoted on her heel, stopping only to snatch her husband’s offered elbow and let him lead her towards the dining room.

Sirius hung back until nearly all of them had gone, except for Andi and Reggie. She sauntered over and clinked her mostly full champagne flute against the rim of his. “Blessed Yule, Siri.”

He smirked at her. “Blessed Yule, Andi.”

Reggie let himself smile, even if it was partially hidden beneath his fringe. “I’m happy you’re here. Wouldn’t be the holidays without you.”

Sirius slung an arm around his brother’s shoulders and felt the younger boy stiffen for a moment before leaning into the embrace. “Same here, little brother.” It felt like he hadn’t seen or spoken to him in ages. And now that their house was full, and Walburga would most likely be on her best behavior – at least in front of those who married into the Black family – he took advantage of being able to speak freely with his sibling. “How in the snake pit?”

Reggie stiffened again and pulled away. “Lonelier without my big brother there,” he said simply and turned to leave for the dining room.

“Oh, you’ve gone and done it now. That was Reggie’s sulky face,” Andi remarked and tipped back her champagne.

Sirius gave an inelegant snort, then sipped his champagne, and used the time to try and formulate a witty reply. But the best he came up with was a childish excuse: “He’s been a stuck-up, snooty arse since he got sorted. And I just miss my brother.”

“And teasing him about it helps how?” She arched a brow at him.

“When I feel awkward, I make stupid jokes. It’s a habit. Not a good one, but a habit nonetheless.”

“Your brother is still in there. He’s just trying to balance everything, like all of us. What we want, what we have, what we need, what’s expected of us… And you know as well as I do that none of ours paths are the same. But sometimes the only way out is through.”

“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime – sit back and watch them crush him?” Sirius turned blazing eyes on his cousin.

She met his silver gaze head on with one of her own and said simply, “All you can do is be there. When he comes to you and needs to unburden himself, you listen without judgment.”

“I’m still working on that part…”

“I can tell. But as a Slytherin myself, there’s a lot of politics when it comes to surviving in that – what did you call it? – ‘snake pit’. I’m almost through, and I’ve remained neutral. Bella is another story entirely. Cissa, well, we’ll see in time. Same goes for Reggie. But all you can do is be there.”

“I don’t want him to get caught up in something he can’t get out of.”

“He will make the choices he’s going to make, with or without you.”

“I’m not so great and standing back and letting the people I care about make mistakes when I know I can prevent it or fix it,” Sirius confided.

“You’ll have to be. You’re not a serpent. You can’t interfere with our House. But someday you will be the head of this family, and you should keep your eyes open and learn how to walk the line, just like our uncle.” She gave him a final knowing wink, set down her empty flute on an accent table near the door, and took his arm to drag him towards dinner.

Chapter Text

-----

January 3^rd, 1973 – Platform 9 ¾

James stood with his parents waiting for his friends to board the Hogwarts Express, bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement to see them all again and talk about what they’d done over the holiday break. He spotted his rotund friend Peter first, waving animatedly while pushing his trolley and nearly tripping himself in the process. His mother, Enid, chuckled at her son’s exuberance.

Remus appeared next looking well-rested but gaunt while he stepped through the floo with his parents, Hope and Lyall. When James spotted him, he called out, “Remus!” and his friend’s eyes immediately locked on him, having heard even over the chatter and the train’s horn. Remus’ parents and Mrs. Pettigrew approached the Potters and their cheerful son to make small talk.

But James was still searching for their final member. Where was Sirius?

“Has your son been this excitable all morning?” Enid joked.

James’ mother smiled that enigmatic smile. “He gets his energy from his father’s side, I assure you.”

The two pureblood women laughed together while Hope Lupin seemed to be smiling politely from her husband’s side. Remus’ father pulled out his son’s shrunken luggage and enlarged it before handing it over to one of the porters who were still loading things up before departing.

“Well, son, we’re going to go. Make sure you’re on your best behavior and keep your grades up, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” Remus mumbled and ducked his head when his mother came in for a brief kiss and embrace.

Mr. Lupin nodded to the other mothers present and shook hands briefly with James’ father before turning to leave with his wife the way they’d come.

“He is such a serious man,” Enid said softly, trying to keep her tone light so as not to offend Remus.

“I’m going to go find us a compartment before everywhere is full. Come and find me when you’re done here. It was nice to see you both again, Mrs. Potter. Mrs. Pettigrew.” Remus offered a small bow of his head and turned for the train.

James’ mood sank when Peter ran off to join him and Mrs. Pettigrew turned to leave. Where was Sirius?! And then he saw the familiar head of obsidian-dark hair of his best mate. “Sirius!” he called out for him.

His friend appeared to tense at the sound and slowly turned to face him, his eyes warily peeking back over his shoulder at his mother. She looked like a living portrait, her face stern and pale, her mouth set in a tight grimace of disapproval. And her dark hair so tightly bound at the crown of her head it seemed like it was pulling back her cheeks and eyebrows.

Sirius’ brother Regulus bowed to their mother, kissed the back of her hand, and turned with his trunk to board the train while Sirius simply bowed his head and turned on his heel to leave her. Walburga Black stood there for a long minute before turning to approach James and his parents.

-----

“Aunt Dorea,” was Walburga’s only form of greeting. Her face was like she’d smelled something vile.

“Walburga. It’s been an age,” Dorea replied, politely if not kindly. “Is this your son?” She turned her attention down to Sirius as though she were meeting him for the first time. She was unsure whether her niece – though there was a scant five-year difference between them – knew the extent of how well she knew her great-nephew. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black’s main branch had veered much closer to the side of pureblood mania than was considered acceptable in most circles these days. Dorea took in her niece’s appearance – hair pulled back and not a strand out of place, clothed in dark, shapeless, overly-modest and most likely outdated Georgian fashions. She looked like she was attending a regency funeral, and that was being kind.

“Yes, this is Sirius Orion Black III, the heir of our house.” Walburga inclined her chin so that she might attempt to look down her nose at them. Indeed, she had a few inches on Dorea, but Charlus topped them all. And their sons standing awkwardly between them seemed well on their way to following in that vein.

“I was there on your naming day, Sirius. And what a happy occasion it was.” Dorea smiled down at the boy affectionately – in both appearance and demeanor, he reminded her so much of her darling nephew, Alphard. And like her nephew, Dorea suspected Sirius would also follow in his footsteps as the family rake and hedonist if they weren’t careful.

“Ah yes. And it was the last time you showed yourself at a family function, if I recall, Aunt.”

“I had the distinct impression that I was unwelcome.” The tension between them was so tense you could pluck like a banjo. “But if you’re in the business of extending invitations…” Dorea let her words trail off, knowing that she’d most likely backed her niece into a corner when it came to social niceties and their staunch upbringing. If Walburga dared to snub her now, she would be seen as the perpetrator of whatever family feud there was between them. Dorea could’ve allowed them to go on as they had for decades – a kind of cold war of sorts where they ignored one another without badmouthing each other for the sake of their family reputations. But it was fun to stretch her wings, so to speak, and recall her Slytherin ways when the situation demanded it. And sometimes, it was just good fun to ruffle her uptight family’s feathers. Walburga Black just happened to be in the right place at the wrong time. And Dorea felt protective over her son and his little friends.

Dorea and Charlus had only one child. But as James had gone to school and grown closer to his friends and invited them home, her heart had soared – filled with all the overflowing maternal affection she’d reserved solely for James for so long – at the realization that she could have more children to care for. She had been born and raised in the House of Black. She could read the signs of an abused and neglected child as easily as a treacle tart recipe. And from the moment Sirius Black had stepped out of the floo in their receiving room into Potter Manor, Dorea had been able to tell from the first glance – the first word out of his mouth – that he needed and deserved the love of a true mother. Clearly, he wasn’t getting it at home from her niece. He was young and he would learn to do better at hiding such vulnerabilities with time, and the proper guidance – which she fully intended to give him – but as it stood, Sirius’ modus operandi was to deflect with humor and cope with sarcasm. He was much like Alphard in that regard, as well. He would have to do better to survive in the House of Black, and with this war brewing… Dorea vowed to prepare all of her children for it.

“Nothing immediately comes to mind, Aunt. But I shall have to check my social diary and owl you,” Walburga said coolly.

“That should suffice.” Dorea firmly checkmated the younger witch with a tight smile and a nod before turning her attention to the boys. “Now, you should both run along and find your friends on the train before it leaves without you.” She smiled warmly down at them before bending to peck her son on the crown of his head.

He blushed and returned her kiss on the check before accepting a brief but hearty embrace from his father. “Have a good term, son. Remember… don’t get into too much trouble. And if you do, don’t get caught!”

Dorea smacked her husband in the center of the chest with the back of her hand. “Don’t encourage him, Charlus.”

“He’s becoming a young man!” He laughed heartily before turning to his relative by marriage. “Lovely to see you again, as always, Mrs. Black.”

Walburga’s left eye twitched much as it had as a child when she couldn’t get her way. “Mr. Potter.” She then glared down at her son in what she probably thought was a menacing matter. “Not one toe out of line, Sirius, or we’ll bring you straight home.”

Sirius blanched and swallowed noisily. “Yes, ma’am.” And with a small bow, he grabbed his trunks, brought them over to the porters, and practically sprinted away from her towards the train.

Walburga turned to step back through the public floos without another word or backward glance. The Potters remained to see the train safely off, waving at their son from an open window as the whistle blew loud.

Moments later – 12 Grimmauld Place

Walburga stormed through the floo right into the sitting room and the moment she’d spelled the soot from her gown, she flew into a rage. “That- that woman is the bane of my existence!” She went stomping around the room as she paced the carpet waiting for someone – her father, a house elf, even her useless husband to appear at the sound of her voice so she could relieve some of her stress by taking it out on them.

It was, of course, Orion that appeared in the open doorway first. She could always tell by the shuffling of his feet and the thump of his walking stick on the hardwood floors. “Did you see the boys off, dear?” he asked, looking exasperated already. She loathed it when he looked at her that way.

“Yes. They’re both on the train back to school. Never mind that!” she shrieked through gritted teeth.

Her husband heaved a great sigh and shuffled into the room, taking a seat to face her, assuming the position so she could unload. “Tell me what happened.”

“My aunt was there, and she made me look like a fool!”

“How, dear?” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“If you would quit interrupting with your asinine questions, I would elaborate.” She took a moment to compose herself as much as possible before launching into her retelling. And by the end of it, she was breathless, chest heaving, hands clenched into fists at her sides, and practically foaming at the mouth.

“You act as if she challenged you to a duel on the platform.”

“She questioned my honor, my upbringing and the honor of my – our – house, Orion!”

Orion straightened in his seat and said simply, “Your passion has always run hot, dear. But in this instance, it is perhaps wiser not to taunt the lion.”

“She’s a snake just like the rest of us, and she glides around on Potter’s arm putting on airs like she’s better than everyone else. She’s from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and yet she thinks she can look down her nose at me – me! – and judge my manners, and even my parenting!” Walburga seethed, working herself up.

Her husband placed a hand on her shoulder and issued his direct command. “She is a prominent member of the Light, a close confidante of Albus Dumbledore, a master duelist, and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. You will not antagonize her. We must bide our time, serve our Master, and soon enough we will accomplish our goals and rid our world of filthy blood traitors like the Potters, my dear. We are playing the long game now and it is all about timing and choosing our battles.”

She met his gaze unwaveringly, tamped down her temper, and offered a simple nod of acquiescence. “Yes, husband.”

“Do you understand me?” he pressed, and she could feel the probing of his legilimency in her mind to further illustrate his point.

“Yes, husband.” She moderated her tone and lowered her gaze.

“Good.” He patted her on the head like a small child – or a pet – rose from his seat, and hobbled out of the room before she could utter another syllable.

When she thought he was out of earshot, she called for a house elf, “Kreacher!” and the moment the wretched thing appeared, she took out her anger on it in her husband and aunt’s place.

Welcome Feast – The Great Hall

Dumbledore spoke from his perch, “But before I begin the feast, I would like to leave you all with some final words: humdinger, flibbertigibbet, wrackspurts, and hornswoggle!” Some kids giggled – usually the younger ones who weren’t yet accustomed to their Headmaster’s shenanigans and eccentricities – while others scoffed or rolled their eyes. But the Gryffindor table mostly just applauded good-naturedly so they could get it over with.

Dorcas had chosen to sit with her housemates for the welcome back feast, having decided to befriend Sirius’ little brother and a few others – Crouch Jr., and the Rosier twins who were currently seated side by side despite the fact that the sister had been placed into Ravenclaw. She had taken them under her wing, and they looked up to the girl as a type of mentor or guide on how to navigate through the social politics of being a pureblood Slytherin.

Hermione and Lily shared a beaming smile before the feast and associated cutlery manifested on the tabletop before them. “I love magic,” Lily sighed dreamily before moving to serve herself some pumpkin juice.

“So, Mighty Valkyries, what is on the agenda for this term?” Mary asked, wiggling her fingers as if she were tickling the ivories.

“Quidditch,” Marlene and Alice replied simultaneously.

The twins laughed and Lily asked, “When you know about games or practices you want us to come watch, let us know!”

Alice beamed brightly. “I’m so excited to play!”

“Aren’t you nervous about some of the bigger players?” Mary asked.

Alice shrugged. “Most of the players are going to be bigger than me. But my advantage is that my size makes me faster, and harder to catch. Like the snitch!”

Lily smiled at her friend’s vivacity while she scooped a size of roasted potatoes onto her plate. “Well, I can wait to choose our electives – Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy, and Divination!” She squealed happily.

“I’m excited about Astronomy, but I think I want to go for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy instead,” Hermione said. “Although it might be interesting to learn about magical creatures.”

The girls chattered about what electives they might fill their schedules with now that they were Third Years. Then there was the excitement of visits to Hogsmeade Village on the weekends, and how the conversations went with their muggle parents about the magical village before they’d sign permission slips.

Hermione swallowed her mouthful and wiped at her mouth before she broached a new subject that had her trembling with fresh excitement. “I have some news too.” She looked to Lily who gave her a thumbs up in support. “We finished the song over the break. All the chords and the lyrics. We want to show you later. Maybe we can invite Cas?” Her eyes flickered between the other girls and their eyes seemed to widen almost comically.

“What is that look for?” Lily asked.

Mary leaned in, to whisper, “Our first complete song. This feels like an extraordinary event, and I wish we could celebrate it!”

Hermione blushed and shook her head. “No, it’s just the first of many. We can celebrate when we can all play along with it.” Then she turned to their lead singer. “Will you help us sing, Marls?”

Marlene nodded. “Hell yes, I will. I can’t wait to hear it. Do you have the journal with you?”

“No, it’s in my trunk upstairs. I didn’t want to risk getting it dirty when we only have one copy right now,” Hermione said.

“I’m so excited,” Alice chimed in, clapping her hands and bouncing in her seat.

Lily nodded her agreement. “Mighty Valkyries?” She held up her goblet to the others like it was a toast.

“Mighty Valkyries!” the others chimed in, startling those seated directly around them.

-----

Remus had overheard their conversation from his seat though he’d struggled not to listen in. This soon after the full, his hearing was still extra sensitive, as was his sense of smell. He was ravenous. He pulled a particularly rare cut of meat – he thought it was beef, but at this time of month he wasn’t picky – onto his plate along with some buttered rolls and a heap of starchy vegetables. He began to scarf down the food to the obvious concern of his roommates who were seated around him.

“Alright, mate?” It was James who piped up.

Remus nodded around his spoon and struggled to swallow around a particularly tough cut of meat before he could reply. “It was a long ride. I’m starving! Should’ve eaten before I left home… Won’t make that mistake again.” Surely, if there was something the others could understand it was the way that as they approached their teen years, they were all hungry all the time. There was nothing unusual about his appetite.

But when his ears caught Hermione’s voice, his wolf stirred in the recesses of his mind again, howling out its frustration at the loss of what Remus was beginning to understand must be a ‘pack’ member. Remus never thought he’d be part of a pack, and how exactly that would work with a robust werewolf and an entirely human witch was lost on him.

We must win the girl back. Make right.

The girl is good and kind. She is nice to us.

She says she will not judge us. She swears we are not a monster.

She is pack, Remus.

If we lose her, we will be alone again.

No family and no pack.

FIX IT NOW!

“Just stop!” He dropped his spoon with the clatter and put his hands over his ears – as if that would block out the sounds that were only in his head – and shut his eyes tight, clenching his jaw for good measure.

His roommates were looking at him again with those faintly curious, somewhat concerned expressions on their faces. And from the periphery, he glimpsed Hermione’s amber eyes flicker his way with a look of knowing. At least it wasn’t pity. It seemed to be… longing. Did she miss him as much as he’d missed her? But perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

“Remus?” Sirius asked, drawing his attention back to their little band of brothers.

Remus put his hands down in his lap, hunched his shoulders, and hung his head. “Just a headache. It’s nothing.” He picked up his spoon and continued clearing his plate. He didn’t see the worried looks the three other boys exchanged.

Later that night – Gryffindor Tower

Dorcas had finally joined them and opted to spend the night with the lions in their tower so that she could hear the debut of their first song. Lily and Hermione coached Marlene through the intended melody along with Mary who had a soft and lovely soprano tone to harmonize nicely with Marlene’s natural alto. When the twins felt everyone was ready, Alice and Dorcas cuddled up in Alice’s four poster, toasty under her duvet while the twins sat on their beds with their acoustic guitar and bass. Mary joined Marlene in the center of the room where they held the lyrics for the song.

“Ready, maestro?” Marlene teased.

Dorcas smiled at her and nodded excitedly with Alice in rapt attention.

“I could have my Gucci on.

I could wear my Louis Vuitton.

But even with nothing on,

Bet I made you look.

I made you look.”

The twins strummed along to the obviously upbeat pop girl which was just the right amount of risqué to be playful and age appropriate. Although she had no idea what Gucci and Louis Vuitton were but based on context clues… she supposed they were muggle fashion designers. She intended to ask after their little performance. Marlene and Mary moved onto the next verse, getting into the swing of it if their tapping toes, shimmying shoulders, snapping fingers, or swaying hips were any indication.

“I'll make you double take soon as I walk away.
Call up your chiropractor just in case your neck break.
Ooh, tell me what you, what you, what you gon' do? Ooh!
'Cause I'm 'bout to make a scene, double up that sunscreen.
I'm 'bout to turn the heat up, gonna make your glasses steam.
Ooh, tell me what you, what you, what you gon' do? Ooh!”

At this point, Dorcas and Alice were humming along, having caught on to the simple and catchy tune the twins had composed to go along with it.

“When I do my walk, walk,
I can guarantee your jaw will drop, drop.
'Cause they don't make a lot of what I got, got.
Ladies, if you feel me, this your bop, bop!
(Bop, bop, bop)!”

“Ooh, I like that!” Alice cooed.

“Keep going!” Dorcas fluttered her hand at them, earning herself a few smiles from the twins which made her heart swell with pride.

“I could have my Gucci on (Gucci on).
I could wear my Louis Vuitton.
But even with nothing on,
Bet I made you look (I made you look).
Yeah, I look good in my Versace dress (take it off).
But I'm hotter when my morning hair's a mess!
But even with my hoodie on,
Bet I made you look (I made you look)!”

They went through another verse, the hook and the chorus before the song ended and it sounded so professional. Granted, it would need some percussion and piano to round things out. Perhaps even some trumpets if Alice could find a way not to overpower the lyrics and strings, but Dorcas beamed at them. “It sounds good!”

“Really?” Lily blushed and set her guitar on a stand, by the foot of her bed.

Alice nodded. “It was like a real song on the wireless!”

“Was it supposed to sound that dirty?” Marlene asked with a suggestive wag of her eyebrows.

Mary doubled over with surprised laughter. “Okay, so I feel better knowing I’m not the only one who was thinking it.” She turned to the others who were still tucked into Alice’s bed. “Ladies?”

“It was fun.” Dorcas fluttered her hands in front of her rapidly heating face.

Marlene came over to sit at the foot of Alice’s bed and tucked her feet up under her. “I agree. It is fun. We should add some drums, keyboards, maybe some horns to really round out the sound. Then it’ll be perfect.”

Hermione nodded. “I think Lils and I wanted to write something that made us feel confident.”

“I’m proud of us,” Lily said, clambering up onto her bed. “And your singing is getting so good, Marley!”

“It only took you this long to notice.” Marlene tossed her hair over her shoulder.

Two weeks later – Hogwarts Library

Between practicing with the Valkyries, class, and schoolwork, Hermione had barely had time to think on how she would make amends with Remus. She had clearly been too forceful – too aggressive and impatient last time – and while she’d tried to wait for him to make the next move, he didn’t appear to get moving at all. So, Hermione had decided to change tactics. She would do what she and Lily always did when a problem stumped them in class. She would alter her perspective and look at things from a different angle.

If her supposition was correct, and Remus was indeed a werewolf, then during each full moon – based on the texts she had read and compared for some measure of accuracy – his mind and body would be taken over by the wolf. He would be driven by the basest of animal impulses: hunt, feed, and reproduce. She blushed at the thought of the last one. Their father had plenty of medical reference texts in his office, so even though he’d chosen to specialize in teeth, Hermione and Lily had already scoured his books and knew more about their bodies than most of their peers, she was certain. But Remus was still young, and so she doubted his wolf was thinking on that last one just yet. She hoped said baser impulses were restricted to the first two. Based on her notes, she had also inferred that werewolves were only dangerous to humans, and perhaps smaller prey animals. They might ignore larger mammals who they perceived as either a threat, or too large to be easily subdued to risk expending the effort.

And perhaps since Remus might still be in there somewhere, that rule might be somewhat flexible. But that brought Hermione to her next rabbit hole. She’d read a book in the Magical Creatures section about Animagi – an advanced form of human transfiguration in which a wixen is able to transform themselves into an animal, at will. Perhaps, if her theory was correct, Remus and his wolf might not perceive an Animagus as a threat during the full moon. If her theory was correct, and she were able to become an Animagus… Hermione might be able to spend the full moons with her friend and prevent him from hurting himself the way he always seemed to do when he spent the full moons alone.

Her heart ached at the memory of the times she’d visited him in the Hospital Wing and left him treats or handwritten class notes so he wouldn’t fall behind. She had seen the pain in his face and the scars on his small, pale body and wished she could help. But Hermione had been beside herself because she didn’t know how. And now she had an idea. It was a stupid idea. A risky plan. A dangerous theory. But if she managed it, and it helped… it would be worth all the risk she’d taken to achieve it. Now she just had to figure out how one went about becoming an Animagus. The thought was enough to make her head spin. So, she sought out the best tools in situations like this – books. Somewhere in here, in some book, she would find the answers she sought or die in the attempt!

Late March 1973 – Hospital Wing

Hermione had been patient enough, kept her distance, maintained her silence, and kept Remus’ secret as any good and loyal friend would do. But after two more full moons and no progress made in having that oh-so-important conversation that they both seemed to be tiptoeing around, she couldn’t take it anymore! Hermione Granger-Evans had never been good at standing idly by and becoming a spectator to life. And she missed her friend.

In the two months since they’d gotten back to school, she felt like she’d missed so much – his birthday just a week and a half prior, and two opportunities to have this conversation which she knew was pivotal to whether or not she could fix this thing between them. Whatever it was.

Lily’s words over Christmas continued to haunt her. Did she like Remus Lupin? Was that a contributing factor to why this distance and silence hurt so much more? Or was it just the guilt of holding herself responsible for driving this wedge between them in the first place by being pushy and nosy? Hermione didn’t know the answers for sure. But the self-loathing was at an all-time high. And yet on the rare occasions that their eyes did meet across a classroom, during mealtime, or in the common room… it felt like she could see a flicker of longing there too. Like he might miss her just as much. But yet he wasn’t stepping up to the plate to take a swing at mending this either. If only they could meet halfway!

So, she’d decided yet again – and probably unadvisedly – to brazen her way through because one of them needed to suck it up and find their Gryffindor courage! And if it wasn’t going to be Remus, then it would be her.

She sat in a hard chair at his bedside, within the privacy curtains put around his cot, waiting for him to wake. Hermione had stood up to Madame Pomfrey and forced her way in against the older witch’s scolding – something about ‘respecting the privacy of her peers’. Bollocks to that. She had sat, waited, been patient, and now it was killing her. If she had to bear this for another full moon, watching him suffer in silence and solitude, she might scream or tear her hair out!

She had placed the same notes she always prepared for him on his bedside table along with three chocolate bars from Honeydukes. Hermione had agreed to write an essay for a Fifth Year Transfiguration class since she wasn’t yet allowed to make the jaunt into Hogsmeade on her own. But it had worked out in her favor because it had gotten access to higher level textbooks. And with that she had managed to successfully sneak into the Restricted Section of the library. She had officially begun her research on the process of becoming an Animagus and was pleased with her subterfuge.

When Remus woke, it was to the sound of him delicately sniffing the air around him. She watched his nostrils flare gently and his brow pucker as he tried to make sense of the cacophony of scents co-mingling around him. He was still mostly facing away from her, and she hadn’t moved to touch him or opened her mouth to speak. She didn’t want to startle him. So, Hermione sat and waited for him to come to on his own.

She watched his eyes flutter open and take in the rolled parchment of her notes on the table beside him. He raised a shaky hand to touch them as he took notice of the stacked chocolate bars next. “Hermione,” he sighed her name like a soft benediction, chuffed a breathless laugh, and let out a soft groan of pain.

He still hadn’t turned to look at her – either that or he hadn’t noticed he wasn’t alone in his little bubble. Hermione took the opportunity to make her presence known. “I’m here.” She watched him stiffen at the sound of her voice before he tucked his trembling hand back against his chest, still not turning over to look at her. The silence hung heavily in the air around them, almost oppressive as it stretched out. “Please, won’t you look at me?” she pleaded in a pathetic and needed voice. She couldn’t care less. She missed him and she was beyond pretending otherwise, even if it made her look foolish.

He moved at that, swallowing hard and straining to roll himself over on the cot to face her. The first thing she saw was a fresh scar bisecting his left eyebrow and tracing down over his lid and ending just at the corner of his mouth. It was still fresh and pink, but at least his eye seemed fine. Thank Merlin for small favors! She worked to keep her face from showing any hint of pity. She settled on compassion instead and hoped it was convincing. “Hermione -”

“Been a while,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

“What are you doing here?” His eyes were intense: moss-green rimmed in gold.

“The same thing I always do. I’m checking on my friend and supplying much-needed snacks, so he has the brain food to keep up with my brilliant notes, thank you very much.” She smiled at him and hoped he would see the olive branch for what it was instead of becoming defensive or worse, pushing her away again. 

Remus hung his head and swallowed noisily before he spoke, as if he were choosing his words carefully. “You usually just drop them off and go. Why did you stay?”

“I know we might not be speaking at the moment, but I hoped I’d earned enough goodwill that I wouldn’t be thrown out if I wanted to stay till you woke up.”

His brow twitched like his facial expression couldn’t keep up with his racing thoughts. But finally, he seemed to have made up his mind and his eyes softened, the gold fading just a bit. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away and avoided you.”

“I was nosy and pushy, and I tried to force you to talk about this before you were ready. I should be the one apologizing, not you.” Her hands fisted in the hem of her jumper.

“But you’re my friend and I pushed you away because it got hard. Friends don’t do that.”

Her eyes searched his for a lie and when she found none, she simply said, “I miss you.”

After a beat, the corner of his mouth edged upwards. “I miss you so much.”

For a long moment, her sinuses burned like they would well up with tears any minute. “I’m so sorry, Remus. I never meant to make you uncomfortable. It seemed like you were struggling, and I only wanted to be there for you like any good friend would.”

She paused to find her next words, trying to offer a bit of her own vulnerability in return for his. “I struggle sometimes with being a good friend to others. And I want to be one to you. I… care about you.” She blushed and lowered her gaze, hoping he didn’t take this the wrong way. Lily’s words played in her mind. “For the record, you could do a lot worse than Remus Lupin… He’s smart, sweet, and very polite. He seems like a real gentleman. And he’s cute.” Hermione’s blush deepened and she wondered if he could hear her heart begin to race.

“Hermione?” he called her name and pulled her out of her anxiety spiral.

“Y-Yes?” She cursed her nervous stammering.

“I wasn’t upset. I was scared. I wish I could be brave like the rest of you. Maybe I’m not that kind of Gryffindor. But… I want to be. I want to face my fears and overcome them. But what I don’t think you understand is that what I’m most afraid of is me.” His words made her heart stutter. She ached at the pain she saw in his beautiful eyes. “I’m a monster. I’m dangerous. And I don’t want to hurt people. Especially the people I care about, like my friends and family. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever hurt you, or Sirius, or James, or Peter. My parents. I don’t think I could live with myself if –”

Hermione raised a gentle hand and pressed the pads of her fingers to his chapped lips to silence his rant before he could spiral. “Remus, you are one of the kindest, gentlest, most thoughtful people I’ve ever met. You are not a monster.” She lowered her hand to take his in hers in an attempt to soothe his tremors.

“But -”

She shook her head. “Shh, love, I’m not finished.” This earned her a small smile and a light blush on his cheeks which made his facial scars – new and old – stand out in stark comparison. This only served to show her how ‘cute’ she actually did find the boy sitting across from her. “Now, the one who did this to you is the monster.” His eyes widened at her words. “I did some digging – I hope you’re not mad. But I wanted to be in possession of as many of the facts as I could get before approaching you that day in the common room. Fat lot of good that did me.” She huffed a self-deprecating laugh.

“He was a grown man taking out what I can only guess was petty vengeance by hurting a child. And now your life will never be the same. He is the monster. You are a good person. And I would swear that in front of a jury, if compelled. I will swear to keep your secret forever if you ask because that is how much I believe in your goodness, Remus Lupin. And I would be honored to be one of the trusted few. One of your friends if you’ll have me.”

His eyes welled up with fresh tears then and he lunged for her, pulling her out of her chair and into the cot with him. Both of his arms banded around her, and he buried his face in her jumper while he bawled his eyes out. His words were muffled by the wool of her jumper, but she thought she could hear him say over and over, “Thank you. Thank you,” as if it were a chant or prayer.

She allowed him to hold her, stroking a hand tenderly between his shoulder blades and the crown of his head. She’d seen the scars parallel to his spine when he’d been brought in by Madame Pomfrey and it had made her stomach churn at the brutality of it all. Did this happen every month? And still he bore it all alone and soldiered on without complaint, trying to live as normal a life as he could. He thought he wasn’t brave. Well, she had never met a braver person in her life either. And Hermione hoped that someday he would see it too, the way she did when she looked at him. She murmured soft affirmations to him as she held him, “You are worthy of love. You are good. You are kind. You are so much more than this illness. And I will never leave your side, as long as you want me.”

Hermione didn’t know how long she sat there holding him, but soon he’d gone limp in her hold. She carefully disentangled his long, lanky arms from around her and laid him gently back down against his pillows. She brushed his sandy-blonde hair from his eyes, mindful of his newest facial scar. Then she pulled his blanket up to his throat to ward off the early-spring chill that still lingered in the air this far north. “One day you will believe my words, Remus.” Her heart raced in her chest. She resumed her seat and took his hand once more, content to maintain her vigil for as long as she was allowed.

A week later – Gryffindor Tower

He hadn’t expected it, but his roommates had discovered his secret at much the same time as Hermione but had also waited as long as they could bear before confronting him with it. It felt like toppling dominoes. But now he had answered all their questions until he was sat at the foot of his bed in his flannel pajamas with his hands fisted into his duvet, his jaw clenched till he felt like his teeth might crack, and a cold sweat breaking out on his brow. Needless to say, they had been stunned to silence. But at least they hadn’t run away screaming yet, so Remus chose to remain optimistic for once in his miserable life.

“So… let me get this straight,” James was the first to break the long silence.

Remus raised his gaze to meet the hazel eyes of James Potter and nodded for him to speak his mind.

“You have this ‘furry, little problem’ one night a month, and then you’re just our Remus again?” he asked.

The boys all went silent for about five seconds before bursting into hysterical laughter. “Furry, little problem?!” Sirius shrieked and fell over himself onto his bed, holding his stomach. “Oh, that’s gold, mate!”

Peter appeared to be laughing so hard no noise was coming out, just wheezes.

And James had removed his glasses to wipe his eyes.

Remus, on the other hand, was stunned. “Are… you serious, right now?”

Sirius immediately sat up, almost like a meerkat from its hole, and quirked an inky brow. “Oh, I’m always Sirius, mate.”

Remus scoffed at that, and the tension was momentarily broken. “Not the time for name-related puns.” He turned to snap at his dark-haired friend before he could start up again. “This is my biggest secret – the thing I’m most afraid of – and I’m telling you all willingly. I need you to understand how important this is to me, that you keep this secret.”

They sobered and sat up straighter to face their friend. “We would never tell a soul,” Peter swore.

James nodded emphatically. “We should take a Wizard’s Oath!” He leaned over to snatch his wand from his bedside table and turned back to face his roommates.

Remus’ eyes widened comically. “If you break it, you could lose your magic! What if you slip up accidentally? No, James!”

James shrugged and turned to look at the others. “Come on, men.”

Sirius gave a short sigh and fetched his rune-etched wand as well, holding it straight up in front of his face as if preparing for a duel. “I, Sirius Orion Black III, do swear on my magic that I will never reveal the true nature of Remus John Lupin’s secret to anyone without his express permission.” The tip of his wand glowed for a long moment before a small asterisk-shaped mark etched itself into the inside of his wrist on his dominant hand. “Oh, Walburga will love this one!”

James went next. “I, James Charlus Potter, do swear on my magic that I will never reveal the true nature of Remus John Lupin’s secret to anyone without his expression permission.” He looked down at his marking which matched Sirius’ with mild awe on his face before laying down his wand.

Peter went last. “I, Peter Evan Pettigrew, do swear on my magic that I will never reveal the true nature of Remus John Lupin’s secret to anyone without his expression permission.” Peter was the last to feel his mark form and as Remus looked around at his friends, he was filled with such joy and hope, relief and promise that tomorrow might actually be less awful than today.

He had the truest of friends… and he had Hermione back. Moony let out a joyous howl in his mind to have his ‘pack’ reforming around him, bonded together by magic. He felt like a lucky boy as he drifted off to sleep that night.

Chapter Text

-----

March 24^th, 1973 – Potions Classroom

Professor Slughorn had decided to switch things up in the new term since they’d returned from Winter Break, and since January Lily had been seated by the surly, greasy bat of the dungeons – Severus Snape. He was in their year, and a Slytherin. He seemed very proficient in potions and was one of Slughorn’s favorites. But Lily couldn’t seem to pin down why he was just so irritated with her. She was one of Professor Slughorn’s top students in their year and could more than hold her own, but Snape seemed angry at her mere existence.

Each time she turned up to class, she was met with a huff and an eye roll that could rival her sister’s. Maybe she should introduce them and see who’d win if she turned it into a contest, Lily thought with a smile as she worked on heating her Girding Potion until it turned a rich turquoise.

She was working to toast her dragonfly thoraxes evenly when Snape drawled, “What has you grinning like a loon?”

Lily turned to look at him, her eyes narrowing at the perceived insult. “Just thinking of something funny my sister said last night.”

“Oh, I love a good joke as much as the next person. Do tell.” His voice was sarcastic and insincere.

“It might be a little too lowbrow for someone of your discerning tastes,” came her retort.

His dark brow climbed towards his hairline, and his mouth twitched for a moment before his obsidian eyes flickered over the contents of their cauldron. “The color looks good. You should be ready for the thoraxes now.”

Maybe the key to civility with someone like Severus Snape was earning his respect rather than hoping they could be friendly right away, Lily thought to herself. She could do that.

March 27^th, 1973 – Gryffindor Common Room

The whole of Gryffindor House was once again gathered in the common room – much more likely to indulge in a party rather than to actually celebrate the birthday of a Second Year. But once again the boys had begged and pleaded with Mary to lend her gramophone to the cause, and she’d set it up on a table far from the spilling hazard that was a refreshment table.

“I wanted to start us off with something smooth and catchy,” Mary announced as she received a record from the Granger-Evans’ seemingly endless collection. But it seemed to go over well with most of the lions. Those that knew the words started to sway to the music and even sang along. This of course included Lily and Hermione who seemed to be trading off hairbrush as if it were a microphone.

“Hey, where did we go?
Days when the rains came.
Down in the hollow,
Playin' a new game.

“Laughin' and a-runnin', hey, hey!
Skippin' and a-jumpin',
In the misty mornin' fog with.
Our, our hearts a-thumpin' and you!”

Remus couldn’t help the satisfied smile that spread across his face watching the twins give themselves over to the soothing strains of pop music that seemed so intertwined with their spirits. Hermione glowed from within even when she was off-key, and Lily beamed at her sister so that her gemstone eyes shimmered. This, of course, had James staring and Sirius pretending not to stare.

“Standin' in the sunlight laughin',
Hidin' behind a rainbow's wall,
Slippin' and a-slidin’,
All along the waterfall with you!

My brown eyed girl.
You my, brown eyed girl!”

And because Sirius couldn’t help not being the center of attention for extended periods of time, he tossed his head over the back of the lumpy, red sofa and demanded, “Put on rock and roll!” He cupped his hands around his mouth to shout at Mary and the twins who only glared at him in return. Hermione even stuck out of her tongue and turned her back to him. He didn’t seem too put out as this gave Sirius an ample opportunity to watch the sway of her hips and her heart-shaped backside. Something twisted in Remus’ chest, and he wanted to growl at the dark-haired wizard for ogling her.

“Sometimes I'm overcome thinkin' 'bout
Makin' love in the green grass
Behind the stadium with you.

My brown eyed girl,
You my brown eyed girl!”

“Oh, now it’s getting interesting.” Sirius tucked his hands behind his head with a smug smirk on his face. This earned him a round of laughter until Hermione lobbed her hairbrush at the back of his side with deadly accuracy. He yelped and rubbed at his hand before calling out, “I’m keeping this now!”

Lily yelled back, “You could use it for that mop on your head!” This earned her a riotous laugh from her twin before they carried into the last chorus.

Remus had to stifle a laugh as James asked, “What’s so special about brown eyes? Lily’s are the most beautiful. He should’ve written a song about green eyes.”

“I think the point is that brown eyes are a dominant trait,” Remus explained. “People with brown eyes make up most of the world’s population. A brown-eyed girl could be any girl. So, it speaks to almost every girl. They can buy his record and imagine he’s singing this love song about them.”

“It’s smart business, if nothing else.” Peter said.

Hermione came over to retrieve the hairbrush from Sirius’ hands, having a bit of a wrestle for it and nearly toppling over the back of the couch into his lap before she snagged it away. She had snuck in a jab with her finger between his ribs to get him to loosen his grip. And he grumbled something along the lines of, “Violent, little harpy.” Still, he said it with a smile as the next record was put on, something a little more rock and roll.

After it was finished, Sirius sprung up and scampered over to the source of the musical excitement to ask about it. “What is this one called?” he asked, having to shout over the music.

Hermione called back, “Break on Through" by The Doors. Why, do you like it?”

Sirius was practically vibrating with excitement.

“I can tell by the look on your face that’s a ‘yes’.” Remus watched Hermione chuckle and her eyes glitter with satisfaction in the dimly lit common room. He watched her gaze take in each minuscule detail of, arguably, the most handsome boy of their year.

For some reason, unknown to Remus, he suddenly felt self-conscious at the thought of Hermione might be one more person that found Sirius Black handsome. Something dark and twisting spread within him, something ugly and possessive, found he didn’t like it much at all. His wolf, however, almost seemed intrigued by the thought and Remus didn’t know quite what to do with that.

“You know the day destroys the night.
Night divides the day.
Tried to run,
Tried to hide,

Break on through to the other side!
Break on through to the other side!
Break on through to the other side, yeah.”

James, however, noticed the shift in his friend’s mood and leaned in, to whisper, “You alright, mate?”

Remus turned to look at the birthday boy and pasted on a fake smile. “Of course. It’s one of my best mate’s birthdays! Thirteen. How does it feel?”

“A lot like twelve,” James joked.

“We are chasing our pleasures here.
Dug our treasures there.
But can you still recall,
Time we cried.

Break on through to the other side.
Break on through to the other side.”

But then as soon as the worry returned, Remus found he needn’t have been concerned at all because Sirius’ attention had been pulled away by a golden-haired Third Year who asked him for a dance. Although, when he looked back to Hermione where she stood beside her sister, he noticed her fiddling with her hairbrush microphone with a pinched look of annoyance on her face. And she seemed to be glaring a hole into the back of Sirius’ head.

Remus put his fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle to get her attention. When she turned to face him, her face broke into a bright smile and her two front teeth which were always a little more prominent than the others stuck out. He thought they were adorable. He waved a hand at her to beckon her over. She seemed to speak to her sister for a moment before skipping over.

She plopped herself down beside him and he put an arm up on the sofa’s back behind her head so that she could lean into his side. He warmed up at the point of contact but didn’t bring it up so that it wouldn’t become awkward. Hermione gave a little pleased sigh and asked, “How are you all enjoying the party?” Her eyes flickered from Remus over to Peter and James.

James smiled. “It’s great! Weather’s shite and we can’t really go outside the castle grounds to do anything. But this is nice. And I got some pretty cool stuff from my parents.”

“That’s great! Like what?”

James put a finger up to his lips as if it were a great secret, and then he pulled open a parchment wrapped package and stuck his hand inside so that it disappeared. “Dad says it’s a family heirloom that’s been passed down for generations.”

“What is it?”

“An invisibility cloak,” he said, his eyes aglow with mischief.

“That’s real?” Hermione scooted forward in her seat, eyes wide with curiosity. Remus could already see her mind working.

“He used it when he was at school here to get up to all kinds of fun. And now he says I’m old enough for it to be my turn.” James puffed up like a peacock.

“As long as no one gets hurt, have all the fun you like. Secret’s safe with me,” Hermione said with a firm nod and an indulgent smile. “Will you show me how it works someday?”

James chuckled. “Swot.”

“Hey!” She thumped him with a throw pillow and he and Peter laughed while Remus smiled and pulled her back against his side.

Hermione allowed herself to be snuggled and lowered her voice to ask, “And are you having a good time?”

Remus turned to look down at her, realizing how close they were presently sitting. “Y-Yeah.”

“I found an island in your arms
Country in your eyes
Arms that chain us
Eyes that lied

Break on through to the other side
Break on through to the other side
Break on through, oh, yeah!”

“I’m glad.” She laid her head against his chest, directly over his heart and let her eyes flutter closed. “Mind if I rest my eyes for a bit? It’s been a long day…”

“N-No, of course not,” Remus cursed his nervous stammer and tried to will his heart not to pound under her ear.

Just then, Sirius returned with his new ‘friend’ who he pulled down onto his knee sandwiching Hermione in between him and Remus and startling her back awake. “This looks cozy,” he remarked.

Remus turned to glare at him before his eyes flickered upwards to the girl on his lap. “It does.”

“Oh, is this becoming a members only club now?” Hermione teased and slapped her hands down on her thighs before pushing herself to her feet. “I can take a hint. Nice to meet you,” she said to the girl on Sirius’ knee and turned to James next. “Happy Birthday, Potter. Many happy returns.” At that, she departed with a faint, “Night, boys!” and a wiggle of her fingers.

“Good night!” The four boys called back.

After a moment, Remus turned to practically growl at Sirius, “What the hell was that about?”

The blonde sensed the mounting tension and rose to her feet to make her getaway next. “I think I’ll head up to bed too. Good night, Sirius!”

Sirius sighed with disappointment and turned a matching glare towards Remus. “Well, now you’ve done it. I was making solid progress with that one…”

Remus scoffed. “Oh, a snog session behind a tapestry? Class act there, mate.”

“Are you really judging me for wanting to snog pretty witches?” Sirius canted his head to one side and smirked condescendingly.

“You made Hermione feel awkward. We’ve just fixed things, she and I. It’s still fragile. And it cannot presently handle your oversized ego.” Remus sighed defeatedly, feeling like he was now making a mountain out of a mole hill and laying the blame for his own sour emotions at the feet of someone who most definitely wasn’t responsible.

“If she can’t handle a little teasing every now and then, she probably won’t be sticking around very long. She’s your friend. What does it matter what I do or say? Plus, she’s got thicker skin than that. Or did you already forget the way she chased me down on a broom last year or dueled you and I single-handedly in this very room?”

“Just… tone it down, okay? I know she seems larger than life sometimes or like nothing gets to her, but we all fake it till we make it. She puts on a show like all the rest of us.”

Sirius sobered at his words, and he nodded. “I’ll try and be more considerate.”

“That’s all I ask.”

April 4^th, 1973 – Potions Classroom

Hermione had snagged the mandrake leaf from Slughorn’s stores with assistance from the Valkyries to stage a distraction. Mary and Marlene had exploded their Girding Potion which resulted in an uncomfortable conversation on the part of the professor and several young men in the splash zone having to stagger from the room doubled over to hide the consequences of said potion gone awry. The female half of the class was either cackling hysterically or blushing at the realization that their classmates had been so severely affected. And the remaining boys who hadn’t been in the splash zone were now concentrating more than ever on their potions to avoid a similarly humiliating result.

Hermione managed to secure a small handful of mandrake leaves – in case she messed up and needed to repeat this step – and sneak back to her desk in time to finish her brewing alongside Alice. Now it was on! She had owled her mother for a silver teaspoon and liberated a crystal phial and death’s head hawk moth chrysalis from Slughorn’s personal stores as well.

She had successfully completed the required meditation to try and get in touch with her inner animal and she thought she might be something with four paws, sharp claws, and a short snout. She would sense whiskers and a strong, whip-like tail. Fur, not scales or feathers. So, she must be a four-legged mammal, and most likely a feline of some kind. If Sirius Black ever found out, he’d have a field day with all his ‘Kitten’ this and ‘Kitten’ that talk. She’d never live it down.

The next day – Quidditch Pitch

Hermione sat with her sister and Mary in the stands supporting Marlene and Alice while Gryffindor played against Slytherin. Dorcas was sitting with her housemates in support of their team.

“Those bludgers are brutal today,” Lily remarked, nervously chewing her nails as she looked at slim Alice bob and weave expertly.

“Don’t worry, Lils. Marls and Sirius will keep them away from our Chasers!” Mary reassured her.

Hermione nodded. “They’d better.” Her eyes kept following the Seekers who were hanging above the main fray looking for the Snitch.

“ANOTHER TEN POINTS FOR SLYTHERIN! PREWE TT, KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN!” the announcer crowed.

“What is James doing?” Hermione whined, shivering against the chill this high up.

Remus leaned in behind her and whispered near her ear, “He’s the Seeker. He can’t very well take over for the Chasers, can he?”

She whipped around and sat him sitting with Peter who waved at the girls in a friendly manner, his eyes settling on Mary. “Hi, Mary.”

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Hello, Peter.”

“A BRUTAL TAKEDOWN BY BLACK MAKING USE OF THAT BEATERS BAT AGAINST DOLOHOV! GRYFFINDOR LEADS 60 TO 30!”

Hermione smirked at the twin blushes painting their mutual cheeks and thought another crush was potentially brewing. She risked another glance over at Remus who seemed to be perfectly temperature regulated in his simple cable knit jumper and scarf. “Why are you so warm?” she grimaced at him.

Remus chuckled and leaned in again. “It’s part and parcel of the whole furry, little problem.”

Hermione hid her laugh behind her hand. “Who came up with that?”

“James.” He shrugged and smiled.

“Figures.” She clambered up a row to sit beside him so they could talk more without being overheard. “I take it that means that you told them. Or did they guess?”

Remus shook his head. “A bit of both. They asked, and I answered all their questions. They live with me, so they could tell something was off right away.”

“FORTESCUE RECOVERS THE QUAFFLE AND SPRINTS FOR THE HOOPS. OH, BUT MACNAIR IS ON HER TAIL! AND MCKINNON COMES TO THE RESCUE TAKING THE HIT FOR FORTESCUE. FORTESCUE SCORES! 10 MORE POINTS FOR GRYFFINDOR!”

“Surprised it took them this long to bring it up.”

“I’m surprised how well you all took the news,” Remus said.

She reached out to take his hand, entwining their fingers together. “I’m not. Decent people usually attract other decent people.” She’d meant it as a show of comfort, but now that his warm hand was wrapped around hers, Hermione found herself not wanting to let go.

Remus lifted his arm so that she could snuggle into his side. “Come here. I have enough warmth to go around.”

“Mm, you lovely space heater, you.” She teased and stuffed her hands back into her coat pockets, pulling her scarf up to her chin. “I have to keep reminding myself why we come to these games.”

“Because we show up for our friends?” he asked.

“No, because apparently, we’re gluttons for punishment.”

Remus’ chuckle rumbled in his chest and he held her tighter. “Hopefully it’ll be over soon… before those clouds open up.”

“POTTER HAS SPOTTED THE SNITCH! DOLOHOV HAS SPOTTED POTTER! BLACK AND MCKINNON RUN INTERFERENCE! DOLOHOV TAKES A BLUDGER TO THE SHOULDER COURTESY OF MCKINNON. AND POTTER CATCHES THE SNITCH! THE GAME IS OVER! GRYFFINDOR WINS!!”

Cheers went up over the pitch and even Dorcas and Regulus applauded politely. Hermione pumped her fists and let out a victorious whoop.

“You know this means he’ll be strutting around with a giant head for a week, right?” Lily groaned and dropped her face into her hands.

Hermione rose to her feet and snatched her sister by the hand as the first raindrops began to fall. “Less groaning, more running! I am not detangling this hair again in less than 48 hours!”

Mary laughed and pulled on her rain poncho, securing her hood around her hair before following the twins down, Remus and Peter bringing up the rear.

June 5^th, 1973 – Astronomy Tower

Hermione had mastered her meditations, she’d discovered her inner animal, and despite having to start over after a particularly embarrassing scene where she’d nearly swallowed a mandrake leaf in her sleep, she had completed the first parts of the spell and potion. Every day at sunrise and sunset she’d done the incantation and now she was ready with her crystal phial and had lucked out with a cloudless night and a perfectly full moon.

She knew Remus was somewhere suffering and she hoped that she was making progress on her task so that she could at least support him in this, and he wouldn’t have to go it alone for much longer. She carefully uncorked the phial, spit the mandrake leaf inside, and placed the phial in her potions rack. Next, Hermione plucked a hair from her head and added that to the phial along with the chrysalis. Finally, she stirred in a silver teaspoon of dew she’d collected in a well-sterilized glass jar from a place that hadn’t been touched by sunlight or human feet for at least seven days. That had been the trickiest ingredient to acquire, but she’d managed it at last.

Hermione corked the phial and rose on her feet to carefully expose it to the direct light of the full moon. It seemed to shimmer silver at that moment. She hurriedly packed up her other tools and tucked the phial carefully in her pocket before dashing down to her dorm and storing it in the bottom of her trunk between two jumpers she never wore. Then she placed a locking charm on her trunk and hoped it would be enough to deter any nosy roommates.

Now was the hardest part – the waiting for a lightning storm. And the first transformation itself. She could admit that now this was more an inevitability than a theory, she was a little scared. She could only hope that she’d been thorough and determined enough to master this form of magic the same way she’d taken to any other class or assignment put in front of her.

She would continue the incantation until the day she consumed the potion. Hermione had already started to feel that second heartbeat of her inner animal and was thrilled that she would finally get to meet her. She secretly hoped that Remus’ wolf liked her.

June 9^th, 1973 – Black Lake

“What new literary delights do you have for me this time, Mr. Lupin?” Hermione teased.

“Well, Miss Granger-Evans, I bring as my offering a tale of betrayal, revenge, murder, romance, piracy, blackmail, a prison break, hidden identities, and above all… justice.” The more he spoke, the wider her amber eyes grew with excitement until he finally produced the novel and placed it into her grabby hands.

She danced in her seat and gave a little excited squeal where she sat cross-legged with the other members of the Mighty Valkyries. “The Count of Monte Cristo. I can’t wait.”

“Mind if I sit with you?” Remus asked, looking from Hermione to the other girls.

They shook their heads and went about their own conversations. “Not at all,” Hermione said and patted the place on the blanket beside her.

He lowered himself down with creaky knees which made him wince and blush with embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“Oh! That reminds me. I’ve been working on something with Madame Pomfrey,” she lowered her voice to a whisper and reached into her satchel bag before pulling out a glass tub of what appeared to be a periwinkle paste. “It’s to relieve aches and pains, also heals bruises. It can’t heal the scars, but, well, you know.”

His heart did a strange little flip at her thoughtfulness and Remus tucked the jar carefully into his own bag. “Thank you, Hermione.”

“I think enough time has passed that you can have permission to call me ‘Mi’. It’s what most of the girls use. All except Lils. She’s stubborn like that.”

“Yeah, why does she insist on calling you ‘Tuney’?” Remus questioned.

Hermione tried to give a nonchalant shrug. “It’s what she’s always called me.”

“So, that’s the story you’re sticking with?” he teased.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re referring to, Mr. Lupin. I am the epitome of honesty and virtue.”

“Mhm, sure. I’ll pretend I believe you,” Remus said.

“You’ll never know.”

“Someday, you’ll have to tell me. Someday when we know everything there is to know about each other and we’ve had every conversation we’re going to have.”

“We could never run out of things to talk about, Remus.” She smiled that smile at him that made his stomach swoop.

“Who knows? We could live to be as old as Dumbledore.” His eyes widened in mock horror.

“Talk about rough on the joints,” Hermione remarked. “How old do you think he is now?”

“I don’t know… 200? Give or take a decade.”

They burst into laughter that pulled the attention of the Valkyries and his roommates who were just returning from taking their brooms out for a spin.

June 16^th, 1973 – The Great Hall

They were all enjoying a relatively peaceful lunch when all of a sudden, the conversation further down the table where Remus was sitting with his roommates started to escalate. This effectively pulled the attention of the Valkyries who were presently gathered around Hermione’s musical composition journal. “I think if we go high here –” Mary suggested.

Picking up on her friend’s train of thought, Marlene asked, “Oh, go up an octave?”

Hermione and Lily exchanged a look before voicing their joint agreement. “That would sound ama—”

“Are you taking the piss, Sirius Black?!” a shrill voice yelled from the center of the Gryffindor table.

Hermione had to shut her eyes and suppress a groan of irritation at his never-ending antics. Now that they were entering their teen years, it seemed the entitled, swaggering peacock of a wizard was determined to solidify his place in the annals of Hogwarts as a playboy and rake. And not even the humiliation of a disgruntled ‘ex’ making a scene by airing his dirty laundry in the middle of the Great Hall seemed able to deter him. She rolled her eyes so hard at the scene she thought they might get stuck that way.

“Does he have nothing better to do than make himself the center of attention at every turn?” Lily grumbled in commiseration, sensing her twin’s annoyance along the tether of their magical bond. She laid a hand on her sister’s shoulder and tried to return her attention to their newest song.

“We’re seeing each other – me, a Third Year giving you the time of day – and you have the bollocks to sneak around snogging other girls in broom cupboards behind my back?!” The girl’s voice just seemed to be getting higher and higher in pitch so that Hermione was briefly curious if she’d be interested in singing soprano for the Valkyries if they asked.

Sirius, for his part, seemed more bored and apathetic at the whole drama than bothered or even embarrassed. Did he enjoy this? But, then again, boys never took the same hits to their ‘reputation’ that girls did in scenarios like this, Hermione was learning. The world was inherently unfair and extremely sexist. And the Wizarding World – which by its very name seemed to disregard the existence of half the population – seemed to be a good century behind the muggle world in terms of social progress. Sirius just sat there, not moving, barely blinking, and not saying a single word which just seemed to stoke the girl’s ire.

“What do you have to say for yourself?!” The girl shrieked with her hands balled into fists at her sides.

“I think you’ve said everything that needs saying. I’m barely 13. I’m not looking to tie myself down to the first girl who asks me to dance at a common room party or snogs me in a broom cupboard between classes. I have my whole life ahead of me. We can both do better. Just move on.” He finally broke the silence.

The girl seemed stunned by his callous words for a moment before she took the pitcher of pumpkin juice and dumped it over his head, soaking him through to the skin. “Screw you, Sirius Black!” She pivoted on her heel and stormed out of the Great Hall.

-----

Sirius sputtered until Remus lifted his wand and lazily performed a drying charm. That didn’t, however, combat the leftover stickiness. Hermione was gawking with wide open eyes, still apparently in shock. She slowly pulled herself out of it before turning to look back over her shoulder at her sister, most likely to gauge her reaction. And when Hermione spotted Lily’s expression – wide eyes, mouth pulled down in the corners in a grimace, and brows puckered – Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth and turned back around in her seat trying to contain her laughter. It still squeaked out through her fingers until their friends sitting around them burst into laughter.

Remus watched her throw her head back and finally let her laughter loose, the sound like a roaring river rather than the light tinkling of a bell. When their eyes finally met, Remus smirked at her, but she was already coming down from her laughter and glaring at Sirius in what appeared to be disapproval, at first. But the longer he watched, the more he noticed the tiniest shift from disapproval to something deeper and more personal. She looked almost wounded, like she had been hurt herself.

That something strange that Remus either couldn’t comprehend or wouldn’t name unfurled in his chest like noxious slime – toxic and spreading outward. His ugly emotions threatened to consume him. Why was she so upset? Did she know the girl? She hadn’t given any indication at James’ birthday party. And why did it bother Remus so much that she cared whether or not Sirius made an ass of himself regularly?

The girl is hurt. She is bothered by the black-haired wizard.

He doesn’t care at all. It bothers her because she cares too much.

He hurts her with his disregard for others.

Our pack is at odds. You are alpha. You fix it.

Fix it, Remus.

His wolf was adamant that he was their ‘Alpha’. At the tender age of 13, Remus didn’t know what that entailed, but he felt it deep in the core which was the well of his magic. He didn’t like the feeling of being responsible for relieving the discord between his packmates, even if he was the only one aware of the distinction. Remus didn’t, however, notice another set of grey eyes lingering on the scene from across the Hall.

-----

Regulus Black was shaking his head in disappointment for his older brother’s antics. He knew all eyes were on them and Sirius was only making things worse. The walls had eyes, and Reg was certain their parents had already heard of Sirius’ indiscretions. He could only hope they wouldn’t escalate as the willful boy grew older and more reckless.

Sirius wasn’t the only one under constant observation or scrutiny in this Hogwarts bubble…

June 20^th, 1973 – The Great Hall

The relationship between the Black Brothers started to become more visibly strained as Sirius continued to act out and earn his parents’ ire. The elder Black son received yet another Howler during breakfast a few days later and the entire student body and faculty present were all treated to the eardrum-bursting sounds of Mrs. Black’s shrill shrieking. If Lily could properly recall, they were all introduced to such colorful phrases as “disappointment to our noble and ancient family”, “stain on my father’s house”, and her personal favorite, “constant regret from the moment I pushed you, screaming, into this blasted world”. After that, Hermione had once again burnt the cursed red envelope to a crisp and brushed the embers from the tabletop to the relief of everyone.

Rather than thank her, Sirius had risen from his seat, food untouched, and strode from the Great Hall without another word. His friends had obviously learned better than to follow after him. He must be one of those people who preferred to process, or stew, in silence.

Dorcas could be like that, at times, and so could Alice, depending on the situation. Lily often wondered at the correlation between purebloods and less than healthy coping mechanisms but thought better than to voice those theories and risk offending people.

-----

Barty who was seated across from Regulus and beside Evan commented, “That was your mother?”

“A delight, isn’t she?” Regulus scoffed.

“A real treat, that one,” Evan chimed in.

It was Lucius Malfoy – a Prefect and Sixth Year – who spoke up next, his tone severe. “You should be careful that his misbehavior doesn’t reflect badly on you. Your standing is still beyond reproach. His is not.”

Regulus gave a single nod.  He understood from the moment he was sorted into Slytherin House that he would be judged more harshly and expected to ‘make up the difference’ for his rowdy brother’s shortcomings. But Sirius seemed content to blaze a trail of recklessness and disobedience wherever he went the moment he would out of sight from Grimmauld Place. But Regulus knew he was being watched constantly here, others just waiting for the ‘Other Black Brother’ to mess up and prove to all the critics right that their house has lost its previous luster. If only they knew that the foundation was rotting and decaying beneath them…

June 24^th, 1973 – Forbidden Forest

Every sunrise and sunset since completing and storing her potion, Hermione had performed the spell’s incantation with her wand pointed at her heart until she felt the double heartbeat thumping strong and steady beneath her breastbone. Waiting for the next lightning storm had been agony, but then on a random Saturday the sky was filled with dark clouds heavy with rain and she crossed her fingers and hoped for a miracle. It had managed to hold out with brief yet lingering drizzle all day and Hermione almost lost all hope.

Suddenly, just after her daily sunset chant, “Amato, Animo, Animato, Animagus,” the sound of the sky being split by lightning and thunder spurred her into action. She raced into her dorm, dove into her trunk, stuffed the phial into her pocket, and ran out there into her pajamas, wellies, and waterproof poncho while her dormmates were still showering. She pulled out the invisibility cloak she’d nicked from James Potter’s trunk the day before and threw it around herself as she tore out of the castle.

When she got to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, she pulled the invisibility cloak down over her shoulders and folded it nearly, stuffing it into the pocket of her pajama pants. She pulled out her wand and the phial to raise it to the sky against the ear-splitting boom of thunder. Lightning illuminated the sky, and she began to chant: “Amato, Animo, Animato, Animagus!”

-----

The boys were startled by the sound of a thunderstorm and Sirius didn’t know what compelled him to do so, but he went to the window. He was surprised to see a small figure clad in only pajamas, wellies, and a strange waist-length cloak that seemed water-repellent. Must be an article of muggle clothing. But his attention caught on the familiar auburn curls that could only belong to one little witch while she seemed to be pointing her wand towards the sky and holding something. A crystal phial? “What is she playing at in this weather?” he growled to himself.

“What? Who?” James asked, scrambling over, and tripping over his own slippers in the process.

“That little witch is out there in this rain performing some kind of spell,” Sirius said, turning from the window to put on his boots and weatherproofed cloak.

Remus and Peter sprung to attention next. “What’s happened?” the former asked.

“Is that Hermione?” Peter asked, stealing a peek out the window at the girl.

“Well, let’s go find out what’s going on!” Sirius called out.

James laid a hand on his arm to hold him back. “We can use the Cloak.” He dove into his trunk searching for the gift from his father only to come up empty-handed. “It’s gone!”

“What?!” Peter balked. “How could it be gone? Did you lose it? I guess it is invisible…”

Remus’ mind raced and he suggested, “Maybe we should stay out of this. It might be private.”

Sirius turned to him with a furrowed brow and anger written on his face. “What if she’s doing something dangerous? She could hurt herself.”

“That’s not our business, Sirius.”

“She’s your friend. Don’t you care?” Sirius advanced on his friend and shoved at his chest, causing the boy to stumble back a step and collide with the foot of his bed.

“Of course I care!” Remus straightened to his now-superior height and shoved back at Sirius. “But she’s allowed her secrets too.”

“Oh, I know what this is about,” Sirius gasped, eyes wide and knowing. “She found out about your furry, little problem. That’s why you guys weren’t talking, isn’t it?”

“Look, she respected my privacy and gave me my space to work things out. I want to do the same for her,” Remus explained, trying to get his wolf to stop pacing in his head and urging him to sock Sirius in the face.

“Let’s just make sure she’s okay. If we can see that she is, we’ll come back to bed and not mention it again. But if she gets hurt, we can at least get her to Madame Pomfrey quickly,” Peter chimed in.

Remus’ wolf agreed emphatically, and he sighed in defeat knowing this might blow up in his face and hoping that it didn’t. He’d just gotten her back!

-----

The boys finally caught up to the little witch on the edge of the darkened forest before she tipped the crystal phial to her lips and let it fall to the sodden grass at her feet. They were about to leave when she doubled over in pain and let out a high-pitched yelp before she collapsed to the ground on all fours, panting heavily.

“Hermione!” Remus called out, taking a step forward like he would intervene somehow.

Sirius was the one to hold up a hand and prevent him from moving closer. “No, wait.”

Remus’ head snapped around to glare at his friend. “She’s hurt!”

“No, she’s—”

The girl’s yells seemed to deepen, echoing and growing raspy before they turned into a low growling roar. Her spine realigned itself, her limbs shifted so that she became quadrupedal, and her hands and feet turned to massive paws tipped by deadly claws. A tail sprouted and her hair seemed to vanish altogether. The animal turned in place and suddenly the four boys were faced with a full-grown lioness.

Her fur was a reddish hue much like her hair, and her eyes were that same amber. Her whiskers and ears twitched at the sound of their breathing. Her tail swished as she approached them, and muscular shoulder blades rolled at her approach. Her maw opened and she yawned at them loudly, tongue lolling out, before she lowered herself onto her haunches and sat up facing them.

After a long silence, she bent to pick up her wand with her teeth and nudged something towards the boys with her snout. It seemed to shift and shimmer, but it was still mostly invisible—

“Is that my cloak?” James snapped, turning his hazel eyes towards her to glare.

The lioness narrowed her eyes at him and offered a careless shift of her shoulder which might’ve been a shrug if she were still a girl and not a massive death cat.

“Her-Hermione?” Remus asked next, drawing her attention.

She raised herself up on all four legs and slowly approached with her head bowed, intending to show she meant no harm as she leaned in to nuzzle Remus’ hand.

Peter looked faint.

James bent slowly to pick up his cloak and watched the whole scene as if he were stunned.

Sirius watched in awed silence. “You – You actually became an Animagus?!”

Hermione looked towards him where he stood a mere foot away from Remus and canted her head to one side as if to say, ‘as if my brilliance were ever in doubt’.

“You’re amazing, you know,” Remus said, a smile spreading across his face. He raised a hand to run over the now-soaked fur between her ears. Her tail swished behind her happily.

“I think she likes it.” James smiled.

Sirius chimed in, “It’s going to take her a little while to turn back after her first transformation.”

“How do you know?” Remus asked.

“You’d be surprised what I can find in the family library.” Sirius shrugged.

“Well, we can’t just sit out here till the storm passes. We’ll catch our deaths.” Peter shivered.

“We can’t just leave her. What if something happens?” Remus asked.

The lion growled at him as if offended and Sirius chuckled. “We can’t just stroll into the castle with a full-grown death cat. What if Filch catches us, or Peeves?”

The lioness turned an unimpressed look on him before Remus spoke up, “I know where we can go. It’s where I hide when I transform. It should keep us safe from the rain until she can change back, at least.” He turned to lead the group of them towards the Shrieking Shack.

-----

Remus couldn’t believe he was leading them towards a place he viewed as a simultaneous prison and sanctuary. The four walls of the decrepit ruin held so much fear, pain, and misery for him. But for Hermione, he would do so much more than this. “Well, this is it. It’s not much, but it’s safe for her for now.”

“So, this is where you transform?” Peter asked, looking around with face screwed up in distaste.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like it matters much if I wreck things in here. That’s probably what Dumbledore figured, anyway,” Remus said.

Sirius nodded. “It’s out of the way and no one is going to come into a haunted ruin. Except maybe us.”

“What does that say about us?” James asked in a teasing tone.

Remus smiled as the lioness prowled around the place with wide eyes seeming to take it all in. She still had her wand gripped in her powerful jaws. Hermione was meticulous and if she’d done all this and gone this far, she must’ve planned it all down to the last detail. “Hermione?” he asked, trying to recapture her attention. She turned to face him and stalked over with a spring in her step. He wished he could talk to her about this and ask the countless questions on his mind. Instead, he decided to settle for comfort. “This is very advanced magic, Mi. Anything could’ve gone wrong.” He ran a hand over her snout and scratched behind her ears which she seemed to like if the vibration of low purring in her chest was anything to go by.

Sirius chuckled. “She had it under control, didn’t you, Kitten?” His voice was teasing, but his grey eyes were glowing with merriment.

“I wouldn’t tease her when she can still eat you,” James retorted.

Peter chuckled nervously. “It’s still Hermione in there, though, right? She won’t really eat us, will she?”

Remus shrugged. “I don’t know anything about this. I just know it’s some of the highest level of human transfiguration possible. She’s 13. This shouldn’t even be possible. But she did it all on her own.”

“Probably learned about it in a book and decided she wanted to try it.” Sirius barked a laugh and folded his arms across his chest.

“Don’t be jealous, Sirius.” Remus teased.

“Do you think she could show us how to—?” James started.

“That would be so wicked!” Peter crowed.

“I wonder what animal I might turn into. Do you get to choose?” James asked.

Hermione shook her head from side to side at this, but it was Sirius who answered for her, “It’s your inner animal. It’s why the process probably takes so long. I only skimmed the book in my family library, but it takes some people years. There’s a bunch of steps. Meditation, a potion, and a spell. And then finally the final step is the transformation. Some people get so good they can do it without a wand.”

Hermione nodded her head at this and lowered herself to the floor to curl herself around Remus’ legs. Remus blushed at this and continued to stroke her spine. “Well, strangely enough she seems more docile as a murder cat,” he remarked.

“Death cat,” Sirius corrected with a smug smirk.

Hermione snarled at that, and the three other boys all stumbled back away from her. At their reaction, she chuffed a sound that might’ve been a laugh had she been in her human form.

“I can’t believe you did this,” Remus said, his voice filled with awe. “I’m so relieved you’re not hurt, though. But I hope you can change back.”

Hermione nodded softly before finally nodding off, her head lounging in his lap. Her soft breathing deepened and eventually turned to rumbling, purr-like snores. The boys all watched in awe, lowering their voices so as not to disturb her.

“What do you think it’s like to be in the body of an animal?” James asked.

“Do you keep your human mind? Maybe it’s like when I transform and the wolf takes over,” Remus mused aloud.

“She seemed to understand us when we were talking,” Peter pointed out.

“What I want to know is ‘why’. Why did she go to all this trouble – just to prove she could? That doesn’t make sense. Like you said, it’s dangerous. If people get stuck during their transformation, they become these weird human-animal hybrids with no way to change back. No cure magical or muggle. Just stuck forever,” Sirius reminded them.

“Let’s hope she changes back,” James murmured. And then after a moment he grumbled, “Can’t believe she snuck into our room and nicked my cloak.”

The boys chuckled at that, trying not to wake the slumbering lioness.

“She’s incredible,” Remus said.

“I want to learn too,” Sirius announced.

“Me too.”

“Me three.”

The boys all turned to Remus, pleading with him to join. His moss-green eyes turned sad. “Werewolves can’t become Animagi. We already have the wolf.”

They grew disheartened before one of them asked, “What if – What if that’s the reason she did this?” James asked.

“What do you mean?” Peter replied.

James began to explain, “Think about it. Hermione and Remus are friends. You guessed that the reason for their little fight was that she found out and knowing Remus like we do, he probably took it badly and gave her the silent treatment.” James pointed at Sirius and Remus grumbled under his breath. “And then maybe she decided she wanted to be able to turn into an animal herself.”

“Maybe she thinks that the wolf won’t harm another animal,” Sirius gasped, catching onto James’ train of thought. “What if she’s right?” He met Remus’ petrified gaze.

“Wh-What?!” Remus balked and shuffled away from Hermione so that her chin dropped from his lap. Hermione blinked wide, amber eyes and yawned loudly again exposing all of her many, pointed teeth. Remus didn’t know how to phrase the question, but if his friends were right, he needed to know. “Mi, did you do this for me?”

She canted her head from one side to the other as if unsure how to answer before finally settling on a nod. Yes.

“And… did you do it because you think the wolf won’t attack another animal?” Remus placed his hand in the center of his chest to clarify that when he spoke of the wolf, he was referring to himself.

Again, she hesitated before nodding yes.

“Hermione, you cannot join me during the full! It’s still too dangerous. This is just theory. We have no proof! What if I still attack you?” Remus’ voice was pleading and filled with fear.

She reached forward to nuzzle his face as if she wanted to comfort him. And when she pulled back, she shook her head no.

“No?! What do you mean ‘no’? We aren’t discussing this! This is my choice and—” he was cut off in his rant by a severe growl from the lioness. “You’re my friend. If I hurt you – any of you – I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” He gestured to all of them.

At that, before their eyes Hermione began to shift back into her human form and sat beside him on the floor, still slightly damp in her flannel pajamas, wellies, and poncho. “I thought this would be easier if I could respond to more than yes or no questions.”

The other boys seemed to be watching the two of them as if it were a high-speed tennis match.

“Mi, I can’t believe you did this. Why?”

“Because you’re my friend. I’ve been reading everything on lycanthropy I can get my hands on, Remus, and I think the wolf is taking out its frustration on you because wolves are generally pack animals. And yours is lonely. It knows something essential is missing.” After a beat, she added, “I really think this could help, Remus.”

“I don’t want to put you in danger.” His excuses grew softer, weaker when braced against the weight of her compassion and care.

“This is my choice too, you know. And I feel in my gut that this will work.” She reached out to take both of his hands and gave them a comforting squeeze. “Will you let me try?”

Remus seemed to be weighing her words as the others watched the interaction with bated breath. Finally, seeing the earnestness in her eyes – those amber eyes he was beginning to adore – he relented. “Fine. But the moment it becomes too much, I want your word that you will get away from me and protect yourself.”

Hermione finally nodded. “Okay, agreed.”

Finally, James cleared his throat. “Are we going to talk about my stolen cloak?”

“I gave it right back.” She scoffed and pouted with a petulant little grumble.

Remus thought it was adorable and then blushed at the turn his thoughts had taken.

“So, a lioness, huh?” Sirius asked with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Go, go Gryffindor.” Hermione smiled back with a smug one in hers.

Chapter Text

-----

Summer Break 1973 – Granger-Evans Townhouse

The twins were woken up early on a Sunday while their parents forced them to dress in their ‘Sunday Best’ to go their local Anglican Church late-morning service. Now, though they’d been raised as such, the time spent away from their parents’ sphere of influence in the magical world where organized religion wasn’t very prevalent had started to manifest in what the girls were referring to as ‘doubts’.

Iris Granger-Evans wasn’t having it. Their mother laid out their clothes like they were in primary school again, woke them at some ungodly hour to make sure they were showered and had a hearty breakfast before piling into the car as a family to attend services. Never mind that Lily had fallen asleep on her shoulder, or that Hermione felt like the big breakfast had been a mistake with the way their father was currently zipping around corners to avoid being late. “Ugh, Dad, please… slow down before I lose my breakfast,” she groaned, grabbing the handle to keep herself upright, effectively jarring her sister awake. She noticed a wet spot on her shoulder where Lily had presumably been drooling.

Lily grinned sheepishly. “Sorry ‘bout that.” She let out a jaw-crackling yawn that had their mother admonishing them both broadly from the passenger seat.

“Ladies do not show their tonsils to everyone in attendance. Cover your mouth with your hand if you must yawn, or sneeze, in public. And then wash your hands,” Iris chided.

The girls shared a look of sleep-deprived exasperation. This was how summers home from Hogwarts always went – days spent at their mother’s shop helping take down orders that were called in over the phone. Sometimes they would even be tasked with manning the register while Iris was busy handling bookings and creating the arrangements. They were forced to complete their muggle schooling by correspondence at their parents’ behest because they wanted their children to have a well-rounded education. When they had free time, it was either spent reading ahead for Third Year – as they’d already badgered their parents about buying their schoolbooks in advance – or practicing on their musical instruments of choice.

Lily’s memory of chords and scales was nearly eidetic. Hermione’s fingers were becoming nimbler and faster every day – muscle memory kicking it so that she barely had to look at the strings anymore. Their collective eye for reading music improved with each song they composed, however simple. Their mother often remarked that it was always a good habit to get into, to return back to basics regularly. That was one thing that mother and daughters agreed on wholeheartedly, whether it be music, magic, schoolwork, gardening, or even learning to master a new recipe in the kitchen from one of their grandmother’s tattered cookbooks.

Hermione had even started spending more time with their father in his detached garage workshop. Harold Granger seemed to have been working to restore, or perhaps rebuild, the engine on his car from university for the entirety of his daughters’ lives. At first, she sat perfectly silently on a stool out of his way and watched everything he seemed to do from memory. Then when Mr. Granger had accepted that she wouldn’t be a hindrance, he chose to include her by asking her to hand him tools – briefly explaining what each one was and its function in detail. Hermione stored this information away like she did everything else. She found that her hands tingled, and her brain buzzed with curiosity to learn all that her father had about how this engine worked and how to take it apart, understand each component, and put it back together again better than before.

She’d once asked him why he seemed never to be finished, and his simple response had been, “Because then it’s done. There’s always something new to try or learn or do. And it gives me quiet time and my own space to think.” Hermione understood that well enough. So, she’d taken the next logical step and asked if he would teach her what he knew. It took some convincing, but finally Harold Granger had relented, and they had bonded throughout that summer which felt at the time to last an eternity and yet pass in the blink of an eye.

12 Grimmauld Place – Sirius’ Bedroom

Sirius lay on his back in bed in his room while his mother pounded her fists at his door for him to turn down ‘that muggle music racket’. Since returning home for the summer, he had written to Uncle Alphard and pleaded with him to take him to Muggle London to a record store. Always one to enjoy some mischief, particularly when it came with the additional incentive of irritating his sister, his uncle had agreed.

They Apparated together, Alphard transfigured him some clothes so that they wouldn’t stand out, and they simply walked the streets side by side while Sirius took it all in for the first time. It seemed an alien world to him, the sights and sounds – the sheer quantity of people. No wonder the Ministry and the Purebloods were terrified, based on how outnumbered they were. But the muggles seemed absorbed in their own lives, not threatened by a world operating parallel to theirs that they had no notion of.

Sirius asked his uncle countless questions about the muggle world – about their clothes, and the food he smelled on every corner, about houses of worship they passed, and even the technology that made some of their feats of modernization possible. The skyscrapers were amazing and terrifying up close and made him feel like they’d topple over on him if he stared up at them for too long. But they finally made their way to a second-hand record shop, a little hole-in-the-wall place where they wouldn’t be recognized or remembered, crowded with patrons perusing on their own.

“What are you interested in, boy?” his uncle had asked.

His first impulse was to reply ‘everything’, but after a moment’s thought, Sirius smiled and plucked out an album by a group that he recognized The Rolling Stones. And then he found another The Doors. “Rock and roll,” Sirius said with a mischievous grin as he loaded up his arms, having neither a concept of the cost nor a care.

Alphard chuckled. “Another rebel for the House of Black, eh?”

Sirius shrugged when his uncle ruffled his hair. “I heard it for the first time at school and it was the first time I’d ever been shocked to silence. The first time I felt like the musicians were speaking to me. And the first time I paid attention enough to care what they were saying.” He blushed at his passionate outpouring of emotion and lowered his gaze.

But his uncle neither admonished him nor judged him for his earnestness. The man simply nodded and said, “I understand. I felt that way the first time I stepped inside a Muggle art museum. Or a cinema. Or a playhouse. Maybe we’ll go there together next time, eh?”

Sirius’ eyes lit up at the promise that there would be another such outing. “Promise?”

“It’s a promise.”

But now Sirius lay on his bed, reaching over to turn up the music on the gramophone that he’d commandeered from the ballroom and stolen away to his bedroom to listen to his new records. It was a brave new world, and he was thrilled to be part of it. If only his parents could share that feeling.

“Sirius Orion Black, if you don’t open this door this instant, I will ward you in there and you’ll have no meals for a week!” Walburga threatened. She could’ve broken his low-level spells with no effort at all, but he thought a part of her wanted her children to want to be obedient. And it was killing her to realize that her oldest son was no longer in her thrall.

“Do it then!” he called back over the music. He’d gotten into the habit of storing non-perishables in his school trunk on his returns home because this was a common threat and punishment in his house, and he refused to be starved out again.

Perhaps they’d let him go to see James, if only to get rid of him. He wouldn’t ever say it out loud, but it stung a little every time his parents demonstrated a lack of care for his wellbeing, or indeed his presence. But what ached more was how little it was coming to matter to him as time passed…

He couldn’t wait to return to school.

Meadowes Manor – Library

“Miss Meadowes! Are you paying attention?” Her tutor must’ve been calling her name for a while for her to get that pinched, lemon-sucking look on her face.

Dorcas’ attention was drawn away from her brothers who were headed out towards the family quidditch pitch in their full kits, brooms slung over their shoulders, laughing together and jostling each other’s shoulders. She wished she could go with them. Instead, she was stuck indoors on a beautiful day doing lessons on how to run a household of elves, or plan a charity gala for 200, how to choose the perfect floral arrangement for the birth of a friend’s first son, or how to properly flatter, woo, and entrap a pureblood princeling to secure her social station and forge needed alliances. Her stomach churned at the thought. And her mind went to her friends, the Might Valkyries, and how it felt to create music with them, or simply talk to like-minded girls who shared her thoughts and feelings on how their world might be improved – for all sentient beings and creatures, for witches, and for women of color.

And then an idea popped into her head. She met her tutor’s displeased glare and asked, “Would it be prudent to start a socio-academic club at Hogwarts to put myself ahead of the pack, so to speak?”

Her tutor’s eyes narrowed, and her grimace dissipated. “That depends entirely on what kind of club.”

McKinnon Household – Family Room

“Marlene, sweet, where are you?” Her father called out as he came through the door late one night from his second shift job.

“In the family room, Dad.” She was curled up on the couch in front of the telly, not even sure what she was watching anymore – might’ve been the BBC Nightly News at this time of night. Marlene had her mother’s old throw blanket wrapped around her legs while she nursed a cup of poorly made tea. She really had to learn some housekeeping spells, if only to keep this place running with her father working late hours to keep them afloat.

Her father came over, toed off his steel-toed boots, and kicked his feet up on the coffee table before pulling her tight to his side to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “How was your day, sweet?”

“Oh, signed up for a marathon, was knighted by the Queen, stopped a meteor from destroying the moon, you know. Same old stuff.”

He chuckled at her. “You remind me of her, you know.”

She knew exactly whom he was referring to. Marlene might be the spitting image of Angus McKinnon, but in spirit she was just like her mum, he told her often. Like her mother before her, Marlene was sharp-tongued and witty, clever to a fault, and so loyal to her loved ones. She was a nurturer deep down, though she did it through tough love more than soft words and coddling. “I know, Dad.”

“I miss her every day.” His tone was sobering.

“Me too, Dad.” Marlene wished she knew what to say. Her mother had died when she was a kid, in a muggle hospital, and there had been nothing to save her. She wondered if she would ever love someone that much, and whether it was worth it… to be left a shell of the person they once were if their loved one ever left them or died. Was it worth it?

And then her mind called up the image of Dorcas in her mind and her stomach fluttered something awful. Her heart sped into a gallop. She was afraid of giving another person that much power over her. But she was equally afraid to deny herself the kind of euphoric completeness that might come with finding her match. But at only 13, maybe it was too soon to be thinking those kinds of thoughts.

Her father let out a yawn which pulled her from her thoughts. “Mrs. Robbins dropped off a steak and kidney pie earlier. I tucked it into the oven to keep it warm if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, sweet. You always take such good care of me.”

She smiled at him. “I’m going to go up to bed.”

He pushed himself upright and shuffled into the kitchen still dressed in his faded, gray coveralls. “Were you waiting up for me?” His voice was amused and bone tired.

“I can’t sleep until I know you’re home safe. You know that,” she said, rising to her feet and flicking off the telly.

“Sometimes I feel like you’re the parent and I’m the child.” He braced his arms on the kitchen island counter on either side of his plate.

“We’re family and we take care of each other,” Marlene replied.

He looked over his shoulder at her. “I know, sweet. I guess I just like to feel like you still need your old man taking care of you. Get some sleep. I’m just being silly.”

“I will always need you, Dad. Good night. Love you!” she called as she headed for the stairs to her room.

“To the moon and back, sweet! Good night.” He let out another long yawn.

Lupin Cottage – Remus’ Bedroom

Remus was still in bed recovering from the full two days prior. It was easier at school where he had access to potions and a professional healer, but at home they couldn’t afford those luxuries and with a busy father and a muggle mother… they had to make do where they could. Food was more important than pain relief potions and paying the bills to keep the lights and water on, and a roof over their heads mattered more than new clothes which Remus might only destroy.

He looked at himself in the chipped mirror from where he lay on his bed. His spine ached and his jaw throbbed. His wolf had taken it out of him, and he was beside himself trying to figure out what he’d done. It seemed that the older he got, the more impatient his wolf grew. It seemed to communicate with him in impressions and raw thoughts.

His wolf craved connection. He wanted a pack. But Remus didn’t know any other werewolves and was, admittedly, frightened at the prospect of meeting them. But his wolf had said that Hermione, Sirius, James, and Peter were pack… And it hadn’t happened just because Hermione had completed her Animagus transformation. Even before that, the wolf seemed set on gaining her trust, establishing a connection to all of them, and keeping them close.

He already lived with most of them for 9 months out of the year! How much closer could they get? And Hermione… well, she was a different story entirely. She was a girl. She had her own close-knit group of friends. It was complicated.

Whatever it was between them was more than friends, but different than what he had with the boys. It wasn’t the kind of affection he felt for, say, his parents. Family. But it was deep and intense. Whenever they were apart for an extended period of him, his skin started to itch, and he became irritable and anxious. Remus had noticed a new drive to ensure she was safe. He felt protective of her, oddly enough. And this was quickly followed by a desire to ensure she was content. Happy.

If only he could decipher what this meant before his wolf drove him completely barmy! He knew one thing for certain, though. He missed them all, and he wished he were back at school so he could see them whenever he liked.

A tapping at his window drew his attention. He recognized Lily’s owl and wondered if it was from her or Hermione. Remus struggled to pull himself from his bed and stagger over to the window on unsteady legs. The medium-sized, tawny barn owl had large black eyes, and copper-colored feathers from the top of its head to about midway down its torso where they transitioned to a soft cream hue. “Hello, Hazel.” He stroked the feathers between its eyes and above its beak with the knuckle of his index finger and indicated a small bowl of treats on the sill. Then he noticed that clutched in its paw was a brown, parchment-wrapped parcel and a letter tied to it with a moss-green ribbon.

Remus quickly tore open the letter and package. Hermione had returned his book and sent one of her own, along with a lengthy letter written on lined, muggle notebook paper in bright purple ink. Hazel seemed to have been asked to wait for a reply, so Remus devoured the letter quickly so he could write back.

‘Dear Remus,

Feels like it’s been ages since we last spoke. This summer has been booked to bursting for us. But I was so glad to finally have time to finish this masterpiece! Can’t believe I never got around to reading it before, but now I shall be on the lookout in our local library for anymore Dumas I can get my hands on. So, that you for that. Lily teased me for falling asleep with the book on my face the other night. But I simply couldn’t put it down.

I blame you. You probably knew this would happen. A long-game revenge story with a secret love child and a betrayal?! GASP! I am clutching my pearls right now, in spirit. I am in desperate need of some actual pearls to clutch. Where is that kneazle when I need him?

I adored Abbe Faria and the chapters where Edmond learns all he needs to know to achieve his revenge. That escape from the prison was purely delightful madness! I was on the edge of my seat and stayed up half the night reading it, not content to put the book down until I could be sure that Dantès made it.

Although all the baddies got their comeuppance, part of me – the hopeless romantic part – wished that Edmond and Mercedes had perhaps gotten a second chance after all that was taken from them. I thought it might’ve been a neater, happier ending if they were able to live together, maybe with their son. Albert is their son, right?

If it were me, I might’ve bought the Chateau d’If, locked up my enemies inside, and sailed off into the sunset with my treasure and my family. But I’m sure Dumas had his reasons for ending it the way he did. I thoroughly enjoyed the novel and can’t wait to see what you send me next. For my meager offering, I have something a little different this time. I hope you enjoy it, and most of all, let me know what you think. I love hearing your thoughts on everything under the sun.

Your friend,

Hermione.’

Remus turned over the book she’d sent him. The Complete Poems of John Keats. “Something a little different…” he mused aloud and set his pen to paper to write her back immediately, already bursting with excitement.

Potter Manor – Drawing Room

James was reclining on one of his mother’s chaises longues tossing a Golden Snitch into the air to catch it repeatedly – a habit he’d picked up to combat his anxious, hyperactive disposition since he’d made his house team. That is where she found him sighing for the hundredth time that summer. He was bored. He didn’t often mind being an only child, but at times – when he had grown so accustomed to being surrounded by friends and peers most of the year – it was lonely, and almost too quiet.

“I haven’t heard this much sighing since your father took me to a performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream in Muggle London during Seventh Year,” Dorea remarked as she settled on a tufted, crimson wingback opposite her son. “What is it – do you miss your friends?”

“Yes.” He pouted petulantly as if he were embarrassed to be found out.

“Then why haven’t you written them or invited them over?”

“I have. Peter and Remus couldn’t make it, and the letter I sent to Sirius was returned unopened. I think his parents must’ve found out we were writing…” his words trailed off.

“…And forbidden him from talking to you,” she finished her son’s sentence. “That niece of mine is something else, taking out her personal vendettas on innocent children. Family who should, by all accounts, be pulling together during these difficult times, not apart.” Her eyes flickered over to her son. He was a Black – through her bloodline – but he had none of the guile or cunning that came with being born into that line. He was his father’s son, through and through. Sincere, genuine, and often transparent, to their detriment. A true Gryffindor. She had hoped that a connection with her nephew might benefit both boys.

“Why do they hate us? Is it the pureblood thing? Because, surely, that wouldn’t be a problem here.”

“You’d think so, but my family does not approve of associating with those they consider inferior to themselves,” she tried to explain, simplifying things for his young ears and delicate sensibilities. It was true. Dorea and Charlus had sheltered their only child from the harshness of their world, wanting to give him the childhood they hadn’t received. But she knew this war was escalating and while it might be waged in the shadows for now, it would come out onto centerstage sooner rather than later and Dorea feared for the safety of those without some cunning or guile. Those that were too inherently good and Light to fight fire with fire. She hoped she had time to prepare her son properly to face this threat and perhaps even spare Sirius from being in the line of fire.

“Why, Mum?”

“Well, because small-minded people fear what they don’t understand. And they have never tried to understand anyone different from them.”

“That sounds so boring! Imagine only knowing other people exactly like you. You would never see or learn about anything new.” James grimaced. Then after a moment, he sat straight up and added, “In school, there’s a set of muggleborn twins – Lily and Hermione – and they’re always playing muggle music so the entire dorm can hear it. They share their gramophone during parties in the common room. And one of them exchanges muggle fiction with my roommate, Remus. I think he might fancy her, but he’s shy –” He cut himself off when he realized he was rambling.

“I’m glad you will grow up in a vastly more diverse world than my family allowed me to experience. I want you to make friends and explore, but I also want you to be safe. And the best way to do that is to understand that not everyone feels the same way we do and not everyone is a good person, James. We should try to give people the benefit of the doubt, but if someone shows you who they are… believe them.”

There was a long silence that stretched out between mother and child before he finally nodded.

“I understand, Mum. I will try not to just blindly trust in others.”

“In the goodness of others, love. I don’t want you to be afraid of trusting people and forming bonds with friends along the way. Just keep your eyes open and be observant. Trust should be earned, not freely given.”

“Yes, Mum.”

She gave a single nod and pushed herself to her feet. “Now, leave Walburga Black to me.” Dorea strutted out of the room with her chin held high with determination, already penning the letter to her niece in her head. If there was one thing growing up a Black taught her, it was that Blacks do not back down.

July 5^th, 1973 – Granger-Evans Townhouse

Their parents’ anniversary was that night, and it was determined, after much back and forth between husband and wife, that Hermione and Lily were finally old enough to stay home alone for the night. They’d left emergency contact information on the refrigerator and drilled the girls numerous times on not answering the door to anyone and making sure all the windows and doors were locked before bed.

Now the twins were alone, they’d eaten the dinner their mother had prepared in advance, and they were lounging in the family room with their acoustic guitar and bass guitar trying to play along with one of the records from their parents’ collection. They figured they would start simple with one of their mother’s favorite songs:

“Something in the way she moves,

Attracts me like no other lover.

Something in the way she woos me.

I don’t wanna leave her now.

You know I believe her and how –”

“I think I missed the note there. Let me try again.” Lily rotated the record just so, careful not to scratch it so it would return to the beginning of the song. And this time when it came around, she nailed it. Sure, it wasn’t the most conventional way to learn, but all the music their tutor was giving them had started to bore them and they’d always been hands-on learners, at heart.

“That sounds brilliant, Lils.” Hermione beamed at her sister with pride and tried to follow along as she worked to listen to the bass concealed beneath the guitar strains.

“Somewhere in her smile, she knows

That I don’t need no other lover.

Something in her style that shows me

I don’t wanna leave her now.

You know I believe and how.”

“Ever wonder why this is Mum’s favorite song. It sounds kind of sad,” Lils remarked.

“I think that’s just the tone of the music, but the lyrics are hopeful. It’s like the artists are saying that no one will convince them to give up their love. I think that’s the romantic part,” Hermione explained.

“I see what you mean. I can’t imagine what loving someone that much feels like.”

“I love you that much. And Mum and Dad.”

Lily lowered her guitar before leaning in to peck her sister on the tip of her nose. “I love you that much, wombmate.”

“Ugh, cheeseball.” Hermione blushed and continued following along with the song.

“You’re asking me, will my love grow?

I don’t know, I don’t know.

You stick around, now it may slow.

I don’t know, I don’t know.

Something in the way she knows

And all I have to do is think of her.

Something in the things she shows me.

I don’t wanna leave her now.

You know I believe and how.”

“Maybe Mum is onto something,” Lily said with a cheerful grin.

“Let’s do it one more time and see if we can get through without making any mistakes!” Hermione crowed.

“And then dance party and snacks?”

“Of course, twin o’ mine. What do you take me for?” Hermione gasped in mock offense.

Half an hour later, they’d run through the song six more times until they had the chords and lyrics memorized and could play it through with no mistakes. They’d decided amongst themselves that they would surprise their parents by playing it for them before leaving for school in the autumn.

July 12^th, 1973 – 12 Grimmauld Place

“Who does that woman think she is?!” Walburga Black shrieked at a higher octave than she’d managed since the delivery of her youngest son.

She had received a letter from her aunt – a chastisement put to parchment as if she were a child with her hand caught in the sweets jar before dinner – all but accusing her of fostering resentment between the extended branches of their family. Dorea had tried to shame her into allowing her eldest son to cavort with blood traitors, half-bloods and filthy mudbloods. It was bad enough they couldn’t prevent his exposure to such filth when he was at school! But Walburga would be damned if she allowed her aunt – a social superior only in her own mind by virtue of her elder years – to dictate how she raised her own children. Dorea had made a hash of their own son, James, after lowering herself to marry that Charlus Potter fellow. Blood traitors, both of them! It was almost worse because they should’ve known better – had been raised to know better – and still chose to diminish themselves by associating with those inferior to them.

Orion was sitting behind his desk in his study when his wife stormed in and began pacing in front of him and screaming while waving around the letter that had most likely been the cause of her current state. “Wife, whom are you referring to?” he asked, trying to soothe her irate temper.

“Who else?! Dorea Potter!” she spat the surname as if it were a vile curse.

“May I read the letter?” He extended a hand towards her, and she stopped pacing to slap it against his outstretched palm. “She simply wants Sirius to spend time with his extended family. What harm would that do?”

“What harm? He’s already being influenced by those friends of his from school! We do not need him deviating any further from his set path by associating with – with – blood traitors!” She sounded like a whistling tea kettle.

He set down the letter and flattened it with his palms. “Can the boy still be redeemed?”

“He’s young yet. He has the Black temper and obstinance. Not necessarily bad traits. But he is disobedient and rebellious. And I fear that those traits will only grow the longer he is away from our influence.”

“It isn’t so with Regulus. His brother is a perfect example of what a Black heir should be. So perhaps the fault lies with the sprout and not the seed. Their roots are the same. Sometimes the plant just withers on the vine through no fault of its cultivation. Mistakes happen and if the vine cannot be saved, it is culled.” His voice was cold and calculating, as if he weren’t discussing his own son.

“Husband.” Her gray eyes hardened with fierce determination. “There is still time to correct these flaws before it is too late.”

“Then I will leave it to you, to do so. See that it is done, or you know the consequence if you fail.” With that, he handed back the letter and dismissed her. “And let the boy see his cousin. One less child moping around here terrorizing the house elves will be good for my headaches!”

Walburga stormed from the room in what her mother would’ve referred to as a ‘strop’. She immediately corrected her stride, straightened her spine, and took several calming breaths before ascending the stairs to head into her own sitting room to compose a response to her beloved aunt.

A couple days later – Potter Manor

Sirius tumbled out of the floo with his school trunks into the Potters’ receiving room and was greeted by the sound of thundering footfalls and the collision of James Potter running into him chest first. Sirius set down his bags and met his best mate’s gaze, trying to conceal the relief he felt in being there – in being permitted to be there.

“You came!” James beamed.

“Yes, well, Mother almost tossed me through the floo, bags and all after hearing from Aunt Dorea—” he began but was cut off by the entrance of Mrs. Potter.

“’Aunt Dorea’. I like that,” she said, coming over to embrace him.

He stiffened in her embrace. Much like when he’d first started living with James, it had taken some getting used to how easily they gave physical affection or even words of affirmation. Having lived the first 11 years of his life without these things, Sirius supposed he was kind of touch-starved and starved for affection of any kind. Now he preened under their regard – soaking it up like some kind of neglected plant left too long without rain or sunshine. Soon, he returned her embrace, setting down his trunk so he could wrap his small around her slender waist. “I’ll try to remember that.”

“You are welcome here anytime, Sirius. You boys go have fun. Tea is at four,” she reminded them and waved them off.

-----

Dorea would lure him in. And someday soon, perhaps she would earn his trust and affection enough for him to call her ‘Mum’ the way that James did. If she could get him out of that house and away from those people, she would consider that a small victory. Now, if only she could get through to the younger brother too…

Meanwhile – Granger-Evans Townhouse

“Our grades are here, Mum! Look!” Lily bounced on her toes as two Hogwarts owls delivered official-looking transcripts.

“Remind me of the grading system again,” Iris said.

“From worst to best are T for troll, D for dreadful, and P for poor…” Hermione began.

“…Then comes A for acceptable, E for exceeds expectations, and O for outstanding. That’s the highest grade you can achieve,” Lily completed her sentence.

Iris was used to what they called twin-speak by now. She nodded her head and opened their letters with them standing on either side of her. “Do you want your father here for this?”

Lily and Hermione exchanged a look before asking, “When will he get home?”

“Just before dinner.”

“We can’t wait that long!” Hermione whined.

“We’ll just put them on the refrigerator, and he can see when he gets home,” Lily suggested.

Iris smiled at their impatience and tore open each letter before unfolding them and laying them side by side. She didn’t see how Hermione’s eye twitched. “Let’s see here… Four E’s and two O’s for Lily. Three E’s and three O’s for Hermione. That’s excellent, girls! I’m so proud.” She turned to give them each a hug before putting them on the fridge with magnets for Harold to see.

Hermione let out a whoop of victory and Lily removed the guitar pick pendant they shared from around her neck and handed it over gracefully. “Congrats, ‘Tuney! Top of the class.”

“You’ll probably get it next year. It was that potions incident that pushed me ahead, I bet. The one the boys ruined to get to Snape.”

Lily shook her head sadly. “I wish they’d stop picking on him. He’s grumpy and sometimes rude. But I think a lot of it is because he’s defensive. He expects to be bullied and so he always has his guard up. Like he expects to be mistreated.”

“Who are we speaking about?” Iris asked, having overheard her daughters in the midst of championing yet another underdog.

“A classmate – Severus Snape. He doesn’t come from the most well-off family and he’s kind of a loner at school. But I wish people would be nicer to him. It might help him learn to trust other people and maybe make some friends,” Lily said.

“You have a big heart, Lily. Maybe the friend he needs is you,” Iris suggested.

Her daughters exchanged a look for a moment before sharing a widening grin. “That sounds like a great idea, Mum.”

Chapter Text

-----

September 8^th, 1973 – Hogwarts Library

The Granger-Evans twins had taken their mother’s advice and upon seeing Severus Snape in Potions class, Lily had broached the topic of a study group with her and her twin. As the top of their classes, Severus agreed… with no small amount of hesitation.

“We’re turning over a new leaf this year. Okay?” Lily urged her sister as they approached the library.

Hermione grumbled something along the lines of ‘I’ll behave if he does’ and harumphed as her twin grabbed her by the elbow and tugged her forwards.

She tried to take their mother’s words to heart.

She tried to be the bigger person and have a big heart like her sister.

But it was hard to forget what he’d said and the impact his words had had on her. It was difficult to be the bigger person when sometimes that slithering, unkind voice in the back of her head that told her she wasn’t smart enough, talented enough, good enough, or even pretty enough… sounds just like Severus Snape.

But she wasn’t about to let some boy know just how much power his words had over her!

-----

“Granger-Evans.” He greeted Lily stoically, rising from his seat at their chosen library table in a quiet corner near the Astronomy section where they wouldn’t be seen, overheard, and most importantly, disturbed.

“Snape.” Lily flashed him a shy smile and stepped aside to reveal her twin.

His eyes widened at the sight of the curly-haired witch he’d set a tongue-lashing on during one of their first Transfiguration lessons when they’d been paired together and ended up seated beside one another the entire term. He hadn’t been expecting Hermione Granger-Evans, though he shouldn’t have been surprised. The two seemed to be a package deal. But still, he felt awkward to be face to face with her after what he’d said. The strange, inky feeling taking root in his chest – was it guilt? No. He’d meant it at the time. Hadn’t he? Perhaps remorse.

Lily had shown him just a glimpse of her acceptance and inner light. And if he wanted a friend in her, he would have to at least establish civility with the other. He could do that. Severus was becoming an adult. That would be the mature thing to do, wouldn’t it? And it would ultimately benefit him and his grades. That’s what any wise Slytherin would do.

Severus shook his head to clear his thoughts and extended a hand in greeting to the sister. “Granger-Evans.” He held it there between them as she sashayed closer, her arms folded across her chest, while she stared him down. She was unblinking and those amber – almost feline – eyes pierced his soul so that he wanted to look away.

Finally, she heaved a heavy sigh and moved to set down her bag in front of the seat she seemed to be claiming for her own. Before she took her seat, she braced her hands on the back of the chair and turned to look back at him over her shoulder. “It’s going to get really old, really fast if you call the both of us Granger-Evans. Why not just start over? My name is Hermione. It’s good to meet you. Would you like to be in our study group?” She finally turned to him and took his hand in a firm grip to give it a tight shake before releasing her hold and letting her hand fall gracefully to her side.

He noticed that she didn’t shy away from maintaining eye contact. She didn’t sneer or grimace at him. She didn’t insult him. She didn’t wipe her hand on her robes like touching him was disgusting. As some of the more staunchly blood purists in his own House sometimes did to his face. She didn’t seem like she was forgiving his past actions, per se. But she did seem to have come to some kind of personal decision that for the benefit of her sister – whom he could see even now she cared for deeply – she would keep the peace. “I can agree to that, Hermione.” He tested out the name on his tongue as if he were getting the taste for learning a new incantation. “You may call me Severus.”

“And I’m Lily!” The chipper twin crowed, earning a snippy shush from Madame Pince in the process. “Now that we all know one another, let’s get down to business.”

September 19^th, 1973 – Gryffindor Common Room

The day of the Granger-Evans twins’ birthday had – fortunately – fallen on a weekend this year, and so they got to sleep in. Dorcas had even joined them the night before so she would be there with the rest of their roommates to surprise them (read: give them joint heart attacks!) in the morning. The girls had convinced the house elves to allow them to have a brunch pajama party in their room with all the best muggle breakfast foods the girls missed from home. There was French toast with fresh whipped cream and berry compote, toad in the hole, eggy bread, and even a full English fry up. The Mighty Valkyries had to nearly roll themselves down the stone steps to the common room after they’d finished up, showered, and dressed for the day.

“Oh, I think I sprained my fat roll,” Hermione groaned, filter-less the morning of her 14^th birthday. She hadn’t expected to be overheard by the boys who were just returning from an early lunch.

Of course, their eyes – all four sets of them – flickered down to her stomach and then back up to her eyes before she flamed red in the face and ducked out, shoving her way through them in mortification. Marlene and the girls couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up out of them as they chased after her, but Lily was delayed when James Potter stepped into her path.

-----

“Happy birthday, Evans.” He beamed that crooked smile at her that he’d been practicing in the mirror. The one he’d tried emulating from watching his father woo his mother all his life. It had worked for Charlus, so why not James? But it seemed Lily Granger-Evans was not so easily won as Dorea Black had been.

She tried to step around him, but when he foiled her various attempts, Lily huffed and folded her arms across her chest. “You know very well that’s not my name, and I’m tired of repeating myself to you. So, if you’d like to make this an even better birthday, you’ll make yourself scarce so I can enjoy my day.”

“Come on, Evans. Don’t be like that,” he whined. There was no other adjective to describe it. But he was so desperate for her attention – for her to take notice. “I-I have a present for you!” James tried another tactic.

Lily just waved him away. “I can’t be bothered right now, Potter. My sister needs me! Out of my way.” At that, she bodily shoved him into his friends and bolted through the portrait hole after her twin.

James was left gaping after her. “Was it something I said?”

Sirius just laughed and shook his head. “Maybe if you talked less, you’d get farther. I don’t think talking is your strong suit, Jamesie.” This drew laughter from the boys and James just blushed.

“What was up with her sister?” Remus chimed in.

Sirius and James exchanged a look and a shrug. “Who knows what goes on in that nutter’s head.”

Remus turned a glare at him and snapped. “Don’t talk about her like that, mate.”

Peter backed away with wide eyes, and James was shocked for the second time that morning at the unexpected impact of his own words.

Sirius just looked at his furry friend with a narrowing, knowing look in his eye, and asked, “May I have a word in private, Remus?”

Remus blanched, swallowed hard, and then nodded his head. “S-Sure.”

-----

Sirius pulled him back through the portrait hole towards a broom closet he was intimately familiar with. He’d taken more than a few witches to this broom closet since the previous year, and he was well on his way to breaking a school record. His first kiss, Second Year, had been with that blond, Third Year, Lina, something or other. And he’d been terrible. He could admit it now. But she’d still trailed after him like a lovesick puppy for weeks before she’d finally taken the hint and shoved off. But with some much-needed practice, and some letters he’d written to his uncle for advice with the fairer sex – letters he’d burned immediately so they never saw the light of day, because he would’ve died of mortification – he’d gained a bit of a fledgling reputation.

Walburga was incensed.

Orion was disgusted.

Alphard was amused.

Regulus was apathetic.

And Sirius was thrilled.

He didn’t know why he thought of that now – perhaps just because he’d brought Remus alone here – but he couldn’t help the blush that crept up his cheeks being in such close proximity in his kissing cupboard with one of his best mates to discuss “You have a crush on Granger.” He hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but there it was. Sirius tended to be impulsive at the best of times and reckless at the worst.

Remus’ scarred face flamed red. “Granger-Evans, you mean? And you’ll have to be more specific.”

Sirius knew that voice – what he liked to think of as Remus’ ‘professor voice’. He also knew his friend was deflecting. “You know bloody well who I mean. Hermione. You fancy the little swot, don’t you?”

Remus shook his head. “N-No,” he stammered nervously, which only further supporting Sirius’ theory, “It’s not like that. She’s my friend. That’s all. We like to share books and talk about classes.”

Sirius hadn’t been able to help himself. He was nosy to a fault and Remus kept much too much to himself. Sirius had found the letters hidden in Remus’ trunk and seen the book he was currently carrying around – a book of poetry by some muggle writer named Keats. The boy was smitten. Sirius had enough to deal with, with all of James’ lovesick antics. And now Remus too? Remus was meant to be the sensible one! Where had Sirius gone wrong?!

“Yeah, and what else? We know you write to each other when school is out. It can’t only be about bloody books,” Sirius pressed for more information.

“Sirius, it’s not like that. I – she – we don’t think about each other that way. It’s all academic.”

“She has plenty of other friends she could talk to about books if that’s all it was, Remus. Her own sister is top of the class with her. There’s gotta be a reason she wants to talk to you.” Sirius poked his friend in the sternum. The boy was much too shy for his own good. He supposed that if Remus started to come out of his shell and started snogging witches in broom cupboards too, that might not be the worst thing. But when Sirius tried to imagine the introverted werewolf kissing a witch in a broom cupboard, or behind the Quidditch stands, or even in a dark alcove in the library… a slimy, ugly feeling began to grow and swirl in his chest that made him feel ill. “Listen, mate, it’s bad enough that we have to put up with James and all his failed attempts to woo Lily. We can’t have you making a move on the other twin, okay? That would just end up with them burning Gryffindor Tower to the ground. We have plenty of time for that stuff, right?”

Remus lowered his gaze, the look flashing through his eyes equal parts relief and disappointment.

Sirius didn’t quite know what to make of that… But with the stirrings in his chest, he found those wholly unpleasant and wished he could vanish them with a spell as easily as he could rubbish in their dorm.

Meanwhile – Black Lake

“Where is she?” Lily finally caught up with the Valkyries who stood at the foot of one of the tallest trees bordering the Black Lake.

Mary sighed and pointed upwards. “She climbs like a damned acrobat.”

“Language,” Lily admonished.

Mary just rolled her eyes and Alice asked, “Well, are you going up after her, or are we going to have to get our brooms?”

“No, don’t.” Lily sighed heavily. “I’ll get her down. Might take a while though.”

“What happened? One moment everything was fine; we were all laughing and having a good time, and then –” Marlene let her words trail off.

“I think she was embarrassed about blurting out about ‘spraining her fat roll’ in front of the boys, and, well –” Lily gave a helpless shrug.

“Who cares? They’re just boys. We’ve known them since before their voices started to crack,” Dorcas spoke a little louder in the hopes her words reach Hermione and cheer her up enough to come down.

“I think she’s just getting to that age – we all are – where we care about what other people think. She comes off tough like nothing gets to her, but it’s all just a mask. A fragile one,” Lily whispered.

“I can hear you!” Hermione snapped from her perch.

“Then come down and talk to us like a normal person, and stop being barmy, you witch!” Mary snapped. There was no heat behind her words, but the emphasis was there just the same.

A repressed snort of laughter was followed by the sound of throat clearing. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“And why not?” Marlene pressed.

“Maybe I’d like to spend my birthday up in this tree watching the Giant Squid dance and then the sunset.”

“And when it gets too dark to see and you can’t find your way down, like at the park at home?” Lily teased.

This was met with the sound of an indignant screech. “You promised never to mention that again!”

“Well, that was before you ran off and made a scene, leaving me to fend for myself with James Potter of all people! On my birthday, no less, Tuney!” Lily called back.

This was met with silence before Hermione began to swiftly clamber back down from the evergreen’s boughs. When she hung from the lowest branch and dropped gracefully to her toes to cushion the impact from her knees, Mary remarked, “Impressive. You’ll have to show me how you did that one day.”

Hermione just shrugged one shoulder before meeting her twin’s gaze. “I’m sorry for ruining our birthday breakfast, Lils.”

Lily just smiled at her. “You didn’t ruin anything. You were embarrassed.” It was a statement rather than a question because she knew her sister’s tells – the blush on her cheeks, her hanging head and lowered gaze, and her twitching lips.

Hermione’s eyes flickered around the other girls who just watched on in intent, observant silence. She found no judgment there and no laughter, only patience and understanding. “Yes,” she murmured softly, fisting her hands in the hem of her blouse.

“Was it the boys?” Alice asked.

Hermione shook her head. “None of them said anything. I just – I already feel like an ugly duckling around all of you. You’re all so beautiful. And no matter what I try or do, I feel like – like less.”

The girls all exchanged a look of hurt and sadness on her behalf. But it was Marlene who spoke up, “The moment I joined the Quidditch team and started working out and bulking up, I got dirty looks from the boys, and other girls too, but I’m an even better Beater than Sirius Black. And I intend to keep it that way. I don’t care what anyone else thinks I should look like. This makes me happy. Being strong makes me feel good about myself.”

“The girls in Slytherin think I’m ruining my reputation by choosing to associate with people who aren’t purebloods,” Dorcas began – and this earned her at least one annoyed scoff and a hurt gasp, “But I think that we all bring new ways of seeing the world to the table and why would I only want to befriend people exactly the same as me?”

“Before I started First Year, I cut off my hair and threw away all my old clothes – the ones my mother, grandmother, and aunts had chosen for me to shape me into their little princess so I could catch a pureblood suitor. I want to be myself. I’m a tomboy. I like trousers and short hair. I bought my first pair of muggle trainers with my pocket money from my father, and they’re the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever owned. And I like Quidditch. I want someone to like me for me, whatever I become.” Alice’s chest was heaving by the end of her confession.

Mary spoke up next. “My parents are mixed – one muggle, one magical, one black and one white. All my life, I’ve felt like I was straddling a fence, and someday I would be forced to choose. But I don’t want to choose. I want to be all parts of myself. I want to embrace me. I love music and I love you girls, and I want to be your sisters. That’s what makes me happy.”

Hermione let out a wet laugh at this. She was filled to the brim with joy as her eyes finally fell on her beloved twin – her wombmate. Lily took a deep breath. “I know you feel like people compare us – and maybe they do. It’s a hazard of being a twin, I’m starting to think. Mum and Dad do it, and they don’t even realize it. The professors do it. Our classmates do it. The only people who don’t is you girls.” She gestured to the other Valkyries with a sweep of her arm.

“But I want you to hear me when I say this, Hermione Granger-Evans: you are your own person. You are determined and brilliant, stubborn and driven, funny and warm. You are kind, even when you’re not nice. And I happen to think kindness matters more. Yes, sometimes you just say whatever pops into your head and sometimes it comes across as rude. But you are honest, and caring, and a genuinely good friend and sister. To me and all of us. So, sometimes you might say the wrong thing in front of the wrong person…” Her green eyes shone knowingly, and Hermione was reminded of their discussion about Remus. “But it’s nothing you can’t come back from. I guarantee they’ll have forgotten in a day. It was funny. You make people laugh in ways that I never could. I’m nowhere near confident enough to say just what I’m thinking the way you are. Laughter makes people feel good. That’s never a bad thing.”

Hermione sniffled. “I’m sorry I’m such a wreck. I don’t… people well. I’m good at studying and school. But I struggle with socializing. I never know what to say or do, and I have no filter. I worry that I’m offending people every time I open my mouth. I constantly worry that I’m going to end up pushing away my friends just by being myself, and that I’ll end up alone. I –”

“Every witch must have her flaws,” Marlene said simply. “If you were brilliant at everything, Mi, we might have to worry about you staging a coup and take over Wizarding Britain.”

The girls shared a laugh at that. For as long as Hermione could remember, she had known what it was to be a twin and more importantly a sister. She had understood, at her core, what it meant to love and support Lily like only a sister could. And yet, it took her till just that moment fully appreciate that the Wizarding World had given her the gift of sisterhood many times over and it felt good to bask in the joy that was simply being surrounded by the love of her sisters – enveloped in their care. She hoped Lily could feel it too. They folded her up into the very center of one of their world-class group hugs – the kind that always seemed to cure any ill that she happened to be feeling. She hoped this never changed.

One week later – The Shrieking Shack

The lioness stepped into the dilapidated ruin and lowered herself head onto her front paws until the sounds of her friend’s whimpers turned to screams and finally into lupine howls. Minutes later, the sound of heavy footfalls and the clack of claws on the creaky wooden steps alerted her to the wolf’s presence. Hermione briefly wondered if the natural opposition between cats and dogs – to simplify things to the point of hyperbole – would prevent Remus’ wolf and her Animagus forms from coexisting peacefully in this space. She’d wanted to help him so badly that she hadn’t thought that far ahead. Would Remus still be present enough to recognize her in this form? She tried to recall what she’d read about pack hierarchies over the summer in the public library near her family home. If Remus was the Alpha, then he would have to accept her into his ‘pack’ and to do so, she would have to submit herself to him. She would have to prove she did not present a threat to that hierarchy; however tenuous it might presently be.

Hermione waited until the wolf reached the foot of the stairs and halted in his tracks, scenting the air and taking in the new presence – the interloper to its territory. She swallowed hard past the lump of trepidation forming in her throat. This would be the ultimate test, wouldn’t it? Either she proved her theory, and the boys could begin their process of becoming Animagi too so they could join this little pack, or she might die here in this shack. She had left a note for Lily tucked inside her music composition journal, just in case. Hermione only hoped her sister wouldn’t have to learn of her twin’s grisly death via werewolf. Hermione carefully – ever so slowly – rolled onto her back, tucking her tail and paws, making sure to retract her claws, and exposed her neck to the wolf in the ultimate show of submission. And then she shut her eyes and waited for what seemed like an eternity.

-----

Remus felt his skin begin to tingle, and then to itch, and finally to prick like he was being stuck with thousands of tiny, fiery needles all over. The full moon taunted him through the boarded-up slats of the broken windows – boarded up and warded to prevent him from escaping and hurting anyone, Dumbledore had explained First Year. It was safe. Or rather, the rest of the school would be safe from him – the monster hiding right under their noses. He huffed and began to disrobe, laying aside his clothes in the crooked, doorless wardrobe. The four-poster bed lacked a canopy and no longer had its curtains. The last of them hung on by claw-shredded threads he had destroyed many moons ago. The floors and walls bore evidence of his violence and lashing out at himself. Why the wolf sought to make him suffer when they had to share this vessel, Remus had no earthly idea. But it was a fact of his very existence. His life was a pain.

And then the transformation began in earnest. He collapsed under the weight of its brutality – his bones shifting and breaking, realigning themselves, limbs and face elongating, fur sprouting, and the spectrum of colors he could see in narrowing down to grayscale. Then ‘Remus’ was gone – a backseat spectator drifting in the subconsciousness of his mind while the wolf took the reins.

-----

A scent hangs heavy in the air. We know this scent.

He sees her there – but given her scent, it is not who he expects to see.

Not the curly-haired, little witch with the amber eyes, the quick mind, and sharp tongue. But her scent still lingers there. Is she – Is she the lioness?

He wants to turn her away first. To refuse a feline entrance into his pack. His pack should be mighty and pure. Shouldn’t it? Filled with the strength of fellow wolves.

But then her scent – that enticing scent that his human is always harping on about – triggers something familiar in him, almost like a memory. There are notes of the sweet earthiness of honey that remind him of the way she takes her tea each morning. This transitions into the coziness of old books that she sends to him paired with letters so they can share their hearts and minds. And finally, what he could never distinguish before, the musky nectar-like smell that is just her. Hermione.

The wolf approaches, his mind set and focused. She is mighty and stubborn, willful and kind, loving and intelligent. She will make the pack powerful and diverse. She will help it grow someday too, if his guess is correct. And he never doubts his nose.

He leans in over her and notices her eyes are shut. He hears her heart thundering in her chest and notices the way she exposes her belly and throat to him in a display of submission. She is submitting to him – this ferocious lioness who might lead her own pride – by choice and proclaiming him her Alpha. In doing this, she is helping to establish his pack. She will be its first member. His beta, the wolf decides on the spot. And he leans over her and opens his jaws around her throat. Experimentally he closes them just enough to let the lioness know he could kill her outright if he desired, but he holds back because he accepts her offering. He accepts her.

Instead, he licks a stripe up her throat and the side of her face all the way to her snout. Her eyes flash open at this to meet his, and they are wide and shocked. The vertical slit of her pupil is so different to the sight of the little witch that his human cares for. But the shade, the hue, and the look in them – the knowledge and care he sees there – is all Hermione. She and the lioness are one and the same. If only Remus would connect with him in this way. Perhaps when the boy is older and has had a chance to come to terms with having a wolf, he will not be so frightened.

But one thing is clear as he hovers over that lioness. Her eyes soften, and she slowly raises her paw to stroke his muzzle before her tongue comes out to lick him too.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

He will make the boy see. He will do whatever it takes. The little witch is his mate, and the lioness belongs to the wolf and the pack.

My mate.

Mine.

They spend the night rough housing until they tire themselves out and finally collapse from exhaustion on the dust-covered, decrepit bed in the upstairs bedroom where Remus had transformed earlier. When the lioness and wolf fall asleep curled around one another, the wolf is for the first time… content.

Early October 1973 – Hogwarts Library

Hermione sat at a table with Severus and her sister with the intention of studying for their upcoming Transfiguration test. But, no matter how she tried to put the memory from her mind, she couldn’t forget that morning after their first full moon together.

She woke first and the brightness of the dawn peeking through the slats of the boarded-up windows made her wince. Only after she blinked the sleep from her eyes and they’d adjusted to the light, did Hermione notice the weight of something thrown across her torso and her legs as well. She quickly realized that it was a long, pale, lanky arm covered in small, light, crisscrossing scars, and a matching leg draped across both of hers – effectively pinning her to the mattress. She chanced a glance to her left and was met with the sleeping face of Remus Lupin.

She’d never seen him this way – expression entirely open, lips slightly parted while soft puffs of breath made her hair flutter, long, bronze lashes resting against his cheekbones, and his brow furrowed as if he were in deep thought. Or perhaps pain. Of course he was in pain! She briefly considered shaking him but thought against it because it might only hurt him more.

Hermione tried to carefully dislodge his hold on her, but when she made to slither from the bed, she finally noticed that he was completely nude and then his hold on her only tightened. Her face flamed and she let out a little squeak when he pushed his face into her sleep-tangled curls. He took a deep breath inwards as if to inhale the scent of her hair and Hermione felt her heart speed into a gallop against her breastbone. She briefly glanced down at herself as if to ensure she was also not naked, even though she hadn’t disrobed when she’d transformed. But just then, her mind was scattered. She shut her eyes and tried to think of what to do next with her thoughts racing.

She could feel something heavy and warm pressed against her outer thigh and stilled instantly as Remus began to stir in his sleep. Oh, Merlin! It was his – His! “R-Remus,” she yelped.

At this, his eyes flew open – momentarily ringed in gold before returning to their normal moss-green hue – and beheld her in silence before he shuffled away from her on the bed as if he’d been burnt. Her eyes remained steadfast on his face, hers still magenta in her mortification before it occurred to him that he was lying next to her completely starkers. He lowered his hands to cover himself, blushing intensely and stammered, “Y-You… I didn’t – Are you okay?”

Hermione shut her eyes tight, covering them with her hands, and nodded frantically. “Just a little surprised.”

“Of course! I’ll just –” She felt the bed jostle and heard it creak as he climbed out, most likely to find his clothes from the night before.

She was so relieved that her transformation didn’t involve stripping down or this might’ve been twice as awkward. Once he was fully dressed, he approached slowly, being sure to shuffle his feet so she would hear him. Remus pulled her hands from her face, still blushing, and asked, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Hermione was warm now for an entirely different reason. His care for others shown through his words. “I’m fine. Just tired. You?”

“Only a little sore and banged up. Mostly my back,” he explained.

“Do you need some help getting to the Hospital Wing?” she asked.

After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. “Yes, please.”

They had waited together for Professor Dumbledore to come and take down the wards – funny that they hadn’t been able to keep out an Animagus, but were created expressly to keep in a werewolf, she thought to herself – so she could escort him to see Madame Pomfrey. Dumbledore had simply regarded with twinkling eyes and said not a word at their joint departure.

They sat together while Hermione shadowed the Matron, paying close attention and asking questions about her diagnostic charms and healing methodology every now and then. Finally, Hermione had pulled out a muggle chocolate bar for him to nibble at before he took his Dreamless Sleep. She sat vigil at his bedside until his friends came to relieve her around lunchtime.

They had looks of relief and shock at her presence. They had the look of wanting to ask questions, but she simply held up a hand to stall them, shook her head, put a finger up to her lips, and jerked a thumb towards Remus’ sleeping form over her shoulder.

She was pulled from her reveries by Lily’s throat clearing. “Are you done with that page because I could really use that book if you’re going to keep staring off into space?”

Hermione smiled sheepishly and pushed it towards her sister. “Sorry about that. Lots on my mind.”

“Stressed about the test?” Severus asked, not bothering to look up from his parchment. She was surprised at how thoughtful he’d become since the beginning of the year. But in his own quiet way, he showed his care. He often brought snacks from the house elves for them if they’d be studying late or draped his outer robes over Lily if she fell asleep on her textbook.

Hermione sighed heavily. “Not really. I think I’m as prepared as I’m going to get. I feel ready.”

“Then what’s wrong? That’s your dozenth time sighing since we started studying,” Lily remarked.

“I don’t know.”

At this, both of her study companions looked up at her. “Has Hell frozen over?” Lily teased.

“Oh, hardy har har.” Hermione scoffed.

“Are you mooning over Lupin again?” Severus teased, a light look in his obsidian eyes. Even if his teasing words chafed, it was nice to see him starting to loosen up and joke with them the way he couldn’t with many others.

“Lily!” Hermione whisper-yelled at her sister and narrowed her eyes in accusation.

Lily put up her hands in surrender. “Don’t bite my head off. I didn’t say a word.”

“You just can’t keep secrets to save your life,” Severus retorted. If only he knew.

Hermione smirked and balled up a piece of notebook paper to throw at his head. It struck the center of his forehead, and he gasped in mock-indignation.  

“Okay, enough goofing off. Get back to work,” Lily chided her sister and pushed the textbook back in front of her.

“Aye, aye!” Hermione saluted her twin.

-----

What the trio didn’t notice, however, was the group of boys watching from behind the stacks as Severus Snape leaned in closer to read over Hermione’s shoulder and then Lily’s, each of them asking questions and taking notes in turn.

“What is that greasy dungeon bat doing throwing himself all over Evans?” James snarled, teenage jealousy beginning to rear its ugly head.

Peter rolled his eyes. “He just looks like he’s sharing a textbook. We do that all the time in class.”

“Yeah, but not with girls,” James argued.

Remus scoffed and murmured. “Sirius does.”

Sirius elbowed Remus in the ribs. “Jealous much?”

“As if.” Remus replied, but his eyes were tracking the movement of Snape each time he leaned a bit too close into Hermione’s side, or extended an arm behind her, draped casually across the back of her chair while she explained something to him from the texts they were referring to. Remus could even imagine her swotty little professorial tone if he shut his eyes – the same tone of voice she sometimes got when they studied in the Hospital Wing together while he recovered from the full moon. He smiled at the thought and had to force himself to school his features into a look of default curiosity so that his friends would not take the mickey out of him. They had begun to suspect that he might feel a little bit more than simple, uncomplicated friendship for Hermione, but Remus himself wasn’t quite ready to fess up to such complex, adult emotions.

Sirius caught on anyway, of course. “Come off it, mate.” Remus didn’t appreciate how observant his friend was. As they stood close, huddled together in the stacks, his nose caught the distinct scent of Sirius Black, and his wolf stirred unconsciously in his mind – ears perked up and nostrils flaring as if seeking something out. Broom polish, his sandalwood and citrus cologne – very poncey and pureblood of him, Remus had teased when he had received it as a gift from his uncle – and something else he could put his finger on. It recalled echoes of the way his wolf had sought out the specific scent of Hermione and Remus shivered at the thought.

He and his wolf had had conversations – if one could call them that – about the little, curly-haired witch since their first full moon together. His wolf seemed to be steering him in the direction of her whenever they were in a room at the same time. But Remus pushed back obstinately, somehow knowing and not wanting to hear confirmed, his worst fears. The lioness – Hermione – had been a rare and amazing comfort during what was the most challenging time of his life, and if he were lucky, she might continue to be… at least while they were at school together. But Remus could not afford to become dependent on her generosity. He knew she had given her word, as had his friends, but part of him always feared the worst and preferred to be mentally, and emotionally, prepared for the other shoe to drop.

Snape leaned closer to Hermione again to whisper in her ear this time and she covered her hand to stifle a giggle in the quiet room. Lily joined in and even the dungeon bat himself was chuckling, his shoulders shaking with it. His wolf paced feverishly in the back of his mind, and his annoyance flared as a result till Remus snapped. “What the bloody hell is so funny?!”

This drew his friends’ attention to their normally quiet, even-keeled roommate and friend. “You alright, mate?” Peter asked while Sirius’ eyes flashed with merriment at the predicament his two friends found themselves in, at present.

James huffed. “He’s finally coming around and seeing the light. We have to get that big-nosed git away from girls! He’s a slimy snake and he can’t be trusted.”

Sirius flinched at that, no doubt thinking of his younger brother. But he shook it off physically before turning his gaze back to the trio at the table while Hermione demonstrated the Felifors spell on her familiar. Remus didn’t quite get along with the half-kneazle, but the thing seemed to like Sirius well enough – making its way into the boys’ dorm some nights to snuggle with the dark-haired wizard.

Her cat-to-cauldron transfiguration was flawless, of course, and Remus couldn’t help the smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. She was brilliant and it filled him with a sense of pride that his friend was top of their class. His wolf howled loudly at that. He appeared to like the possessive tense which Remus used to claim her – his friend. His good friend, he amended.

A good friend. A close friend.

We should keep the little witch close. She is good for us.

Brave and strong. She is pack now.

She will make the pack more powerful.

Grow the number of the pack.

Remus blushed at this. His parents had sat him down and given him the ‘birds and the bees’ talk over the last school break, to his everlasting horror. And the way his wolf sometimes thought of or spoke about Hermione made his skin prickle. He didn’t think of her that way. They were only friends! However, Remus couldn’t deny that when they’d woken up, side by side that first full moon and he’d been pressed up beside her with her scent wrapped around him like a comforting blanket, he was the most relaxed and content he’d ever been in his life. And at other times when he read one of her books or reread her letters, he would take an extra moment to run his fingers over her signature and imagine her sitting at her desk writing to him – putting thought to each turn of phrase or crossed out line.

Sirius’ words jarred him out of his pleasant reverie. “What did you have in mind, Jamesie?”

James folded his arms across his narrow chest and smiled that smug smile of his that spelled trouble.

“I know that look,” Peter remarked. “We’re going to get so much detention, aren’t we?”

“Only if we get caught.” James shrugged, always so self-assured.

“I’m in,” Sirius said.

Remus looked back at Hermione who was reversing the transfiguration now so that she could stroke Crookshanks’ spine. He saw how Snape reached out a hesitant hand to pet the half-kneazle and earned himself a hiss of displeasure from the feline. “Me too.”

“Fine, me three,” Peter vowed.

A few days later – Astronomy Tower

“Are you bloody kidding me?” Hermione snapped. “What have you gotten done, Pettigrew?”

“I – I – I did the meditation for a while, but I keep falling asleep,” the chubby boy with the large front teeth and the watery eyes plead and whined.

She growled at him, her eyes flaring gold for just a moment before the snarl subsided in her chest. She took a moment to shut her eyes and soothe her frayed temper. When she opened her eyes, they had returned to their usual amber hue once more. Sirius was relieved to see it, still remembering the massive paws, killer claws, and endless sharp teeth in the lioness’ mouth from that night they had stumbled upon her first transformation.

“This is not a joke. Like you boys so often remind me, there is a lot that can go wrong if you don’t take this seriously –” she began.

“But I’m always Sirius,” he interjected, but this earned him a harsh glare.

“I’m going to bring a spray bottle back to Hogwarts with me,” she grumbled under her breath.

Only Remus seemed to hear or understand the correlation between their misbehavior and the desire for a spray bottle as a disciplinary tool, as shown by his snort of laughter.

“Now as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Hermione began again, “You must focus on each part. This is a long process, and I will try to coach you through it to make it as simple and painless as I can. But I cannot do it for you. I expect you all to take this seriously –” She turned to face Sirius and narrowed her eyes at him, wagging a finger in his direction. “Shut up.”

He mock-saluted her and couldn’t fight the grin tugging at his lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Ugh, gross.” She grimaced at him. “The first step, and some might say the most difficult – I know it was for me – is focusing your mind during your meditations and getting to know your inner animal, whatever it might be. For me, I struggled with understanding that the lioness and I are not two separate beings. We are the same. We share a soul. We share magic. She is me and I am her. Each of you might have different mental hurdles to get there. Such as not being able to focus.” She looked pointedly at Peter who flushed and lowered his gaze.

James raised his hand as if he were in class. “How did it feel when you made contact with the lioness for the first time?”

Her brows puckered as she seemed to struggle to find the words to describe the experience. “Well, I felt nervous. I knew this was going to be difficult and if I couldn’t get through this first step, I wouldn’t accomplish any of the others. But like I said, I struggled the most with letting go. If it somehow escaped your notice, I am a bit of a control freak.”

The boys chuckled at this, and she blushed prettily. Did he just admit to finding Hermione Granger-Evans pretty? Sirius balked at the idea and tried to refocus on her words.

“But once the lioness made me feel comfortable with her presence, once I acknowledged that we were together in this, it was much easier to meld together, if that makes sense. I didn’t have to challenge her, or overcome her, or endure her. She wasn’t an obstacle but rather a gift.”

James nodded and narrowed his eyes. He pushed his spectacles further up his nose and they all followed her lead as she sank into a seated position, legs crisscrossed in front of her and her hands on each of her knees. She straightened her spine and shut her eyes to tune out distractions. Hermione spoke in a flat, soothing tone while the boys shut their eyes and mimicked her posture.

“Try to focus on what feels right. You shouldn’t need to force it. You should open your mind and let them come to you. Envision what animal might best represent you in spirit. And let it wash over you.”

Peter started off quietly enough, but then he hunched over, his fingers digging into his knees in frustration, face contorted, while he started grumbling to himself. “Bloody… pigeon!”

Hermione scoffed and moved closer to try and help him, talking him through it until he settled down again. James seemed like he was having a bit easier of a time. Sirius felt soothed and calm – calmer than he had ever felt before like this. Almost as if someone had cast a silencing charm around him, he tuned everyone and everything out. But on the inside, he was exhilarated, and he could not wait to do what she’d done.

Mid-October 1973 – Ancient Runes Classroom

As Remus sank into a seat between Sirius and Hermione, he let out a long groan and pulled out his book.

Sirius chuckled when Lily came to sit beside her twin on the other side.

“What happened to you two?” Hermione whispered.

“Care of Magical Creatures,” was all Lily mumbled, her face flushed and her hair in tangles.

Sirius looked around them jokingly and teased, “You didn’t bring any little friends back with you, right?”

Lily leaned back to glare at him before huffing and turning to pull out her parchment and quill.

Hermione whispered to Remus, “Care to tell me what really happened?”

He blushed and his brow puckered. “The pygmy puffs were all terrified of me, crowded into the far corner of their pen to get away from me.”

Her eyes softened and she asked, “You think they can tell –?” She let her words trail off knowing that he would understand her meaning.

He shrugged one defeated shoulder. “Most likely. Takes a creature to know one.”

She spotted Sirius rolling his eyes in what she could only guess was exasperation at their shared friend who had a tendency towards self-loathing and self-pity alike. But Hermione chose to take the tough-love approach and laid a hand on his. “Remus John Lupin, you stop talking like that this instant. If I ever hear you refer to yourself with anything other than kindness again, I will rain down on you the most horrific hexing of your life. Are we clear?” She squeezed his wrist to get him to look at her.

His mouth simply quirked upward in the corner even as his eyes flashed gold momentarily. Was it fear or pain or something else? she wondered. “Clear,” he said simply and threaded his fingers through hers for just a moment to return her squeeze before pulling his hand back to give their professor his attention.

Lily chose this moment to lean closer to her sister to dig around in her bag for a spare hair bobble and Hermione pinched her nose. “Phew. Lils, you smell like a farm.”

Lily grimaced and sniffed at herself. “Sorry. There was no time after class to freshen up.”

Hermione gasped, fanning the air in front of her face. She found herself equally disturbed and intrigued. Perhaps she could convince McGonagall to let her make some last-minute additions to her timetable after all.

Halloween 1973 – The Great Hall

The school had chosen to forgo the ball this year and replace it with a Halloween feast that evening for dinner. Some had still chosen to get dressed up, and some of the muggleborns had opted for costumes. Three of the four houses were having parties in their common rooms after dinner, and the staff were turning a blind eye as long as no one was roaming the halls or grounds after curfew. Some of the older kids were sneaking in snacks and alcohol, and the girls planned to lend their extensive record collection and gramophone to the cause in Gryffindor Tower later.

When the Granger-Evans twins entered the Great Hall for dinner arm-in-arm, the room seemed to stop. Lily was dressed in a white, velvet gown with short, capped sleeves, a sweet-heart neckline, and an empire waist defined by a cream-colored bow. Her fiery locks were braided around her head like a crown and topped with a shimmering halo. She wore classic white pearls in her ears, a matching necklace and bracelet. And on her feet, a dainty pair of cream-colored ballerina slippers so that she fairly glided across the flagstones towards Gryffindor table. Her ginger lashes were darkened with a natural, brown mascara and her lips painted a soft, barely-there rose hue, her freckled cheeks lightly dusted with a coral blush. She smiled and cast a sideways glance at her twin before giving a bright, bubbly, girlish giggle at the reactions they were receiving already.

From his table across the hall, Severus Snape swallowed hard around the lump forming in his throat at the sight, lowering his gaze after a long moment to conceal his rising blush.

By comparison, Hermione was dressed as a devil – her dress shorter, more form-fitting, and a deep, lush crimson red which faded to black at the hem of her skirt and sleeves. Her sleeves were longer and cinched at her elbows and wrists as in the Renaissance style. The neckline hung carelessly, but not plunging and her clavicles were dusted with golden sparkles that caught the flickering candlelight of the hovering jack-o-lanterns and gave her an otherworldly glow. Her amber eyes were lined in a dark, smoky kohl liner and her lips painted wine red that she had allowed Mary to apply on her earlier. She wore dark, nude tights tucked into black, leather, spiked combat boots that came up to mid-calf. Over her shoulder she carried a complementary, black, leather jacket hooked on one of her index fingers, and her curls fell loose and wild around her shoulders, sleeked and shining with some hair potion. Nested in her curls were a pair of gently curved, red-tipped, pointed horns and poking out from the back of her dress near the base of her spine was a long, red, pointed tail that had been charmed to flicker in a way that was almost reminiscent of the lioness to those that had borne witness to her transformation.

The staff were in shock at the display, the student body was buzzing with the gossip mill in full vigor, and at Gryffindor table… a certain trio of boys were staring as if to blink would mean that they had missed out on a once-in-a-lifetime performance. The Granger-Evans twins certainly knew how to make an entrance.

-----

“Merlin’s knob, did you see what she was wearing?” Peter whispered to his friends to get their attention.

“Which one?” Remus asked.

Sirius threw his head back on his shoulders with a barking laugh and James blushed crimson. “Maybe the one with the spikes on her shoes daring anyone to look at her funny!”

Remus elbowed Sirius in his ribs. “Quiet down! You want her to kick you with those things?”

Sirius blanched. “Nope.”

James just swooned. “Lily is gorgeous.”

“Oh, good Godric, here we go.” Remus just rolled his eyes and continued picking at his plate while he stole glances every so often at Hermione in profile where she sat with her sister and their friends.

-----

Lily was caught up in the conversation taking place around her, sipping at her goblet of pumpkin juice, and trying not to laugh till it shot out of her nose at the story Marlene and Alice were telling about their recent Quidditch practice. But she could not help the sensation of feeling watched – as if eyes were boring into the side of her face. When hers flickered to the side quickly to try and catch a glimpse of whoever it was, all she saw were other Gryffindors similarly involved in their own conversations with their housemates. But still the feeling did not recede. Finally, she glanced over at the Slytherin table across the hall and caught the tail end of a shy smile on the face of Severus Snape before he turned to chat with someone beside him.

There was a funny little flip of her stomach, and her face felt hot at the attention. When she risked another peek, Severus had just lifted his dark eyes to meet hers again and this time when he caught her glancing back, his gaze held hers. She swallowed hard at his confidence before lowering her gaze, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. He’d never looked at her like that before, she realized. And then she wondered what it meant.

Did he disapprove of her choice of costume?

Did he want to talk to her but couldn’t in the middle of the Great Hall?

Did he have a question about the Transfiguration test?

Should she approach him after dinner?

“Lils?” Hermione’s voice and the touch of her hand on Lily’s wrist startled her so that she nearly jumped out of her skin at the contact. Hermione shrank back, her eyes alit with concern and her brows furrowed. “Is something wrong?”

Lily shook her head. “N-No, nothing. I’m fine. Why would you think something is wrong? Nothing is wrong.”

Hermione smirked knowingly. “Well, first, that was the longer over-answer to a simple yes or no question in the history of the English language. And second, if there was really nothing wrong, you would’ve just said ‘no’.”

Marlene, Mary, and Alice all burst into unbridled laughter at the exchange and Lily’s face grew hotter. At her sister’s embarrassment, Hermione sent waves of reassurance and comfort down the tether of the magical bond between them which instantly worked to soothe Lily’s nerves. Lily looked at her twin with affection in her gemstone eyes, straightened back up in her seat, and resumed eating her dinner.

Later that night – Gryffindor Tower

The girls were swaying to the rhythmic strains of the bluesy, funky guitar, percussive accompaniment, combined with the crooning voice of Jimi Hendrix as their most recent acquisition blared from the gramophone in the common room.

“"There must be some kind of way out of here,’"
Said the joker to the thief.
"There's too much confusion.
I can't get no relief.’"

Across the room, Sirius was dancing sandwiched between two girls, one arm around each of their waists as they gyrated against one another just to feel the friction that all the young adults in the room appeared to be chasing.

Mary had asked Peter to dance with her and the boy was nervously stumbling over his own feet while she smiled at him good-naturedly, even when he kept looking down at said feet to make sure he did not trample on her toes. She finally had to throw her arms around his neck and coo to him soothingly, “Just stop trying so hard, sweetness, and sway with me.”

“Businessmen, they, they drink my wine.
Plowmen dig my earth.
None will level on the line.
Nobody of it is worth, hey, hey!”

He nodded frantically, put his shaky hands around her waist, linking his fingertips together, and locked gazes with her, the two of them making small talk and getting to know one another at last. Hermione watched from her place by the gramophone where she had relieved Mary so she could seek out the object of her affections, finally. The two had been dancing around each other since First Year and it was high time the cat was out of the bag, to Hermione’s mind. Part of her believed that eleven was perhaps too young to know who you liked, but for some, she supposed, age was just a number and when you knew, you knew.

Peter, though sometimes whiny and lazy, was a good boy. And his attentions were wholly devoted to Mary. She loved Mary dearly and wanted only the best for her. Perhaps as Peter grew older, he would find something of a career dedicating his time and attention to in that way and make something of himself. She hoped for both their sakes that turned out to be true and wished them the best. But they were still young. And they still had time to explore where this was going.

"No reason to get excited,"
The thief, he kindly spoke.
"There are many here among us,
Who feel that life is but a joke, but, uh.”

Hermione’s eyes fell on James next, where he was at the snack table nursing a bottle of butterbeer and ogling her sister who was dancing with Marlene and Alice. Alice, however, was deeply distracted, and watching Frank Longbottom longingly. She wished the two would talk to one another. Hermione had observed a few occasions where Frank watched her spunky friend on the Quidditch field, eyes locked on her small frame as she tore across the field like she had been launched from a cannon.

Remus was sitting on the red, overstuffed couch by the crackling fire and pointedly ignoring the attentions of a small, petite brunette a year below them who seemed to be blushing just trying to make small talk. He seemed to be wholly uncomfortable with the attention and twirling his own empty bottle of butterbeer between his thumb and index fingers atop his knee while he waited for the girl to take the hint of his silence and give up.

Hermione dearly wished she could go over and comfort him or at least give the girl a clue that she might be barking up the wrong tree. Something thick and inky, viscous, and hot flared in the center of her chest when she saw the girl scoot closer with her hand on the cushion between them, angling to take his hand in hers.

“But you and I, we've been through that.
And this is not our fate.
So let us not talk falsely, now
The hour's getting late."

Hey, hey!”

Alice bounded over to Hermione where she was stationed by the gramophone and pulled her from her dark thoughts by asking, “Hey, Mi. Want a break?”

Hermione blinked away her confusion. “What? Sorry, I was miles away.”

“What some relief?” Alice rephrased.

“Sure. Thanks, Allie.” Hermione beamed at her.

“Anytime,” Alice said with a smile. “Oh! Any requests for the next song?”

Hermione stole another peek at Remus, then thought of Mary and Peter, and then suggested, “How about something romantic?”

Alice’s brows crept up towards her hairline before she smirked. “I know just the thing.”

“All along the watchtower,
Princess kept the view.
While all the women came and went
Barefoot servants, too, but, uh.”

Hermione strutted over to where Remus was sitting and just when the girl reached for his hand to take it in hers, Hermione extended a hand to Remus from where she stood in front of him. “Want to dance with me?”

His eyes met hers and she could have sworn they almost glowed in the firelight. Remus stole a sideways glance at the distraught Second Year beside him who was now looking between him and Hermione with wide, shocked eyes, and he practically leapt from his seat to take Hermione’s hand. “Would I.”

Hermione chuckled and offered him her arm like she had seen her father doing for her mother on countless occasions. Remus gave a bashful smile and played along, good sport that he was, and tucked his hand into the crook of her elbow. She led them onto the floor where Remus found them a spot where they had the space not to collide with anyone else.

Alice switched on the next record and the opening strains of Jagger’s guitar set the mood for the next song. A bunch of couples joined in for the slow dance. Sirius was forced to choose between his many dance partners that night, which made Remus and Hermione chuckle at the argument that ensued between the ones that were not chosen. It seemed like Sirius just chose the most well-endowed girl to press himself up against. He did not seem to have exceedingly exacting standards. She wanted to laugh, but then that ugly feeling spiraled in her chest again and she had to shake it away before focusing back on Remus who was chuckling at his friend’s antics.

“If you need me, why don't you call me?
Said if you need me, why don't you call me?
Don't wait too long when things go wrong.
I'll be there, yeah, where I belong.”

Hermione raised her hands to his shoulders and looked up into his familiar, comforting eyes. She couldn’t help the smile that grew across her face. When had he grown taller than her?

“Thanks for the save back there,” Remus joked and put his hands very politely on each of her hips, clamped down and not roaming. He was such a gentleman to his core. The thought warmed her heart and made those strange butterflies flutter in her stomach.

“Looked like you needed a rescue,” she volleyed back, intent on keeping things light. She’d frightened Remus away before by moving too fast and being too pushy. She might be coming around to the idea that she might have a fledgling crush on the fellow bibliophile, but she knew he was reserved and introverted, and it would take time and patience to win him over if he even reciprocated said feelings.

“Said if you want me, why don't you send for me?
Said if you want, want, want –
All you got to do is send for me.
Don't wait too long, just pick up your phone.
I'll be there.
Right there, where I belong.”

The lyrics penetrated the hormone-driven fog of her brain, and she gave a shiver at the heat of his palms on her hips. She’d noticed lately when they were dressing for the day that she had wider hips than her roommates, and a smaller chest. Hermione felt self-conscious of her changing shape. She’d been beyond humiliated when their mother had taken Lily and her shopping for training bras during their last school break.

The two girls had to be measured at by a seamstress on a raised podium in front of a trifold mirror in the ladies department of a store in little but their socks, knickers, and undershirts, given a robe to drape over themselves. Hermione had just regarded her reflection with distrust and distaste, eyes taking in all her perceived imperfections. It started with her knobby knees and her pale gangly limbs, and soon it moved to her unkempt hair, her bucked teeth, and her overly freckled face with those large, owlish eyes. Finally, her sights settled on her widening hips, her too-narrow waist, and her non-existence bustline. The seamstress had ensured her that she had a pear-shaped body, and it was perfectly mundane and nothing to be shy about.

By comparison, Lily seemed to be blossoming much like their lovely mother – all tall, glowing, ethereal beauty, and perfect hourglass proportions that left Hermione feeling green with envy and wholly inadequate.

“Where did you go, Mi?” Remus’ soft voice pulled her back to the present.

“Somewhere silly. But I would rather be right here than anywhere else.” She beamed up at him, unaware of the effect her words were having on the pubescent werewolf.

“R-Really?”

She nodded. “Mhm.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again, grip tightening on her hips in a way that made her heart begin to pound.

“I’m positive.”

“Only fools are positive,” he teased.

“Are you sure?” Hermione teased back.

Without thinking, it seemed, he blurted, “I’m positive!” and then immediately realized he’d fallen for her verbal pitfall. His head fell back on his neck with a smile, and she was certain that if it weren’t for the music, he would hear the stuttering beat of her heart in her chest.

“People always told me, darling,
That you didn't mean me no good.
But I know deep down in my heart, I done the best I could.
And one of these days, darling, it won't be long.
You're going to come walking through that door.
And I know in my mind these are the very words
You're going to say to me…”

Impulsively, Hermione had the strange desire to press her ear to his chest and listen to his heartbeat. And she was rewarded when he stiffened against her before ultimately choosing to relax into the sensation and enfold her in his arms. He lowered his cheek to the top of her head and murmured to her so that she could feel the rumble of his words in his chest, “Thank you for being my friend, Mi.”

“Being with you makes me happy,” she said softly, and wondered if he could hear her.

Remus swayed with her to the music and whispered back, “Being with you makes me happy too.”

“I’ll be here as long as you want me,” she vowed, her cheeks warming while he held her.

“I still love you, always thinking of you.
I still love, love, love, always thinking of you.
Don't wait too long when things go wrong.
I'll be there, right there
Where I belong.”

She snuggled up beside him back on the red, overstuffed couch in front of the fire while they nibbled on pumpkin pasties and passed a butterbeer back and forth. At first, Remus had been staunchly opposed to sharing something that he might have contaminated, but Hermione had forcefully taken his bottle, taken a large swig, and glared at him daring him to say something. “Remus Lupin, I swear!” she shrieked, drawing unwanted attention their way. Hermione lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned in closer so that only he could hear her. “Unless you plan to snog someone during the full moon, all of this is perfectly safe.” She took his hand to further illustrate her point and laced their fingers together. When had his hands gotten so much larger than hers?

“I’ve had this… affliction for as long as I can remember. And getting over old fears is going to take time, okay?” Remus replied, sheepish and yet more defensive. “I’ve gotten into the habit of pushing people away because in my mind, it was safer. You and the boys are the first real friends I’ve ever had. And I’m not embarrassed to admit that I’m scared I’ll bugger it up.” His eyes locked with hers.

“You don’t think I feel that way with my friends?” She took a chance and laid her head on his shoulder. “I always worry I’ll say the wrong thing and end up doing damage I can’t fix. In the beginning, I worried they were only staying around for Lily, and I was just a packaged deal with her.

“We all have our baggage, Remus. You just have to surround yourself with people whose baggage complements yours.” She shrugged at him. “At least, that’s what my dad always says.” They laughed about that, bright and bubbly and the night couldn’t have gotten any better.

-----

Sirius staggered over on sore feet to the couch to find it already taken up by Remus and the Granger half of the Granger-Evans twins – the scarier half, if he was being completely honest. Not that he’d ever tell her that! He’d been yanked this way and that by nearly a dozen girls, half of which he’d snogged in broom cupboards and behind the Quidditch pitch already this year, and he was knackered. He was starting to create a reputation for himself if his mother’s howlers were to be believed. But he’d learned to incendio his own letters, so he rarely got past the – lack of – greetings these days.

He sauntered over to the couch and slid himself in on Hermione’s other side, surprising the little witch. Sirius let out a long, dramatic groan and pivoted to the side, lifting his legs to throw them over the arm of the couch and lay his head down on her open lap. “Mind if I rest my eyes for a minute?” He didn’t wait for a response before he got comfy, snuggling into her plush thighs and shutting his eyes. “Thanks, love.” He froze and half-expected her to scoff, yell at him, or simply shove him onto the floor. But she just huffed a breathless laugh and lifted a hand to run her fingers through his hair.

“Did you have a good night?” she asked, her voice soft and floaty as if she too were growing tired.

“Of course.” He smiled to himself and preened under her touch, trying to refrain from nuzzling her palm as she raked her nails gently over his scalp and through to the ends of his hair. He had decided to start growing it out, so now it nearly reached his chin. He wouldn’t admit this aloud either, but he did it because it resembled Keith Richards, and he thought he was the coolest bloke he’d ever seen – muggle or otherwise. It was just a perk that it seemed to royally piss off Walburga. Sirius folded his arms across his chest, fingers laced together over his ribs. “I danced till I dropped and made every girl’s night. My civic duty is done.”

“I see.” He could hear the eye roll in her voice, if at all possible. “Well, it’s good to know you’re aiming to become a model citizen.” He overheard Remus chuckle at her sarcasm. “How is the meditation coming along?”

He smirked at that. “I can almost see the animal.”

“Good start. But can you feel it?”

His brow furrowed, yet his eyes remained shut. “What do you mean?”

“When I was meditating, I could sense the animal as if I were slipping into her skin. I felt paws, then claws. I felt the strength of her limbs and her bite. The whip of her tail,” Hermione explained. “Any of that for you yet?”

He shook his head. “No, not yet.”

“It’ll come if you put in the time and work.”

“I hope it’s something useful. And not a fish,” he joked.

She laughed at that, and the sound was melodic and full. At this, he opened his eyes to see her teeth showing, her head thrown back, and her curls gleaming copper, red, brown, and gold in the firelight. “That would be a shame. Wonder how we’d get a fishtank in the Shack,” she mused aloud, carefully wiping away the tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes without ruining her makeup.

Then Sirius’ eyes flickered to Remus and the way one of his best mates was watching the girl, and Sirius’ heart stuttered in his chest at the intensity of emotion that he saw reflected there. Sirius wished he knew, in that moment, how Hermione felt for Remus because it was obvious to him that Remus was utterly besotted with the feisty little witch. And it made his heart soar for his friend, but something tangled and pulsated in his chest – something he didn’t wish to acknowledge or put words to. But he was loath to admit it was there.

Was Sirius Black… jealous? No. Couldn’t be.

Sirius Black did not get jealous. And certainly not of shy, bookworm Remus Lupin.

Sirius Black could have any little witch he set his sights on. Even the harpy-in-the-making, Hermione Granger-Evans, if he wanted. And he most assuredly did not want. Remus fancied the girl. And he was a good friend. Remus had so little joy in his life, so little to look forward to, that if Remus truly fancied the witch, he would step aside and allow them to ride off into the sunset together.

But first, he wanted to know if Hermione returned his mate’s feelings. He could do that much for Remus, surely. It wasn’t like the boy would do it for himself anytime soon. It had taken them more than a year to dance together and hold hands, for Merlin’s sake!

Sirius could be an amazing wing-wizard. That’s what good mates did, right?

Then why did the thought of them together make something pinch uncomfortably in his chest? Why did it make his gut churn to imagine being left out? Left behind?

Sirius sat bolt upright in his seat, nearly head-butting Hermione in the chin in the process, and announced, “I’m knackered. I think I’ll turn in for the night.”

Hermione blinked at him with those large, doe eyes. “Good night, Sirius.”

For some reason, his name on her lips made him give an involuntary shiver.

Remus lifted his hand to wave. “Night, mate.”

“G’night,” Sirius murmured and practically launched himself towards the stone steps that led up to the boys’ dormitories.

Chapter Text

-----

November 3^rd, 1973 – Astronomy Tower

Sirius stood at the railing thinking about the day and night he’d had. He was 14 today. He’d been praised and lauded and showered with gifts and attention, but the hole it left in his heart, however unexpectedly, to receive nary a card or even acknowledgement from his birth parents and only brother… it stung. Uncle Alphard had written and sent a gift with his owl. Cousin Andromeda had eloped with a muggleborn, Ted Tonks, a year prior and been blasted off the Black Family Tapestry as a result. Now that she was free, she wrote to him often and filled him in on how the other half lived.

Andi was a mother now! And she sounded so happy in her new life. She’d learned so much about the muggle world from her new husband and Sirius probed her for information constantly. She’d sent him another Rolling Stones album as a birthday present. Alphard had gifted him with concert tickets for the two of them to see a band named Queen in London when Sirius was home during the winter holidays, and Sirius was beyond thrilled. He hadn’t heard of the band, but excitement skittered down his spine and along his palms reminding him of the feeling he’d gotten following that shock he’d gotten the first time he’d heard “Satisfaction” or when Hermione had fried him during their first flying lesson.

His mind drifted back to the little witch, and he pulled the new, black, conditioned leather jacket she’d gifted him earlier tonight around himself. She’d enchanted it with impermeable charms to protect it from damage and the elements, and warming charms because, and he quoted, “he refused to bundle himself up properly against the Scottish winter” which was just around the corner in this part of the world. He laughed as he recalled the eyeroll and the look on her face when she’d handed over the gift bag.

Sirius was sitting on the overstuffed, red couch in the common room in front of the fire surrounded by his fellow Marauders, and strangely enough the Mighty Valkyries – still thinking it was a silly name – up to his kneecaps in wrapping paper, gift bags, and tissue paper alike. He thought he’d gotten through all his gifts, but then the little witch herself had leapt up from her seat squished between Lily and Remus and sprinted for their dorm. “Wait! I have one last thing!”

The group of them were left awkwardly making small talk, having realized in that moment that the curly-haired witch was really the bridge that linked the two groups together. Sure, Sirius and James saw Marlene and Alice for Quidditch practices, but they weren’t close by any stretch of the imagination.

James took his shot, “So, Evans –”

“Nope.”

…and failed spectacularly. The others had to hold in their laughter and cringes of second-hand embarrassment before Hermione came running back, taking the stairs three at a time and nearly injuring herself on the landing. “Ow, motherfucking Merlin’s saggy testicle!”

Remus spat out the swallow of butterbeer he’d been taking in that moment all over Peter who shrieked like a girl. Mary cleaned him off with a wave of her wand, her hand clasped over her mouth to keep from laughing at the boy. Remus was beating his fist against his chest to clear his airway.

Meanwhile, James gaped at the girl’s outburst and Sirius doubled over with surprised laughter, slapping his knee. “The timing was bloody impeccable!”

Lily chastised her, “Tuney! Language!”

Hermione waved her off as she rose to her feet and rolled her ankle to make sure nothing was broken. “I get dispensation for special occasions.”

Marlene and Alice just chuckled at this, already used to the antics and the arguments between sisters concerning profanity.

“Anything broken?” Mary called out to her.

“Not yet, but the night is young and so are we!” Hermione crowed, holding her gift above her head as she gracelessly clambered over the back of the couch rather than walking the long way around.

Sirius laughed at this and extended a hand to her to steady her on her dismount. “My lady.” He bowed over her hand and attempted to press a chaste kiss on her knuckles.

Hermione yanked her hand away and made a gagging sound. “Enough of that. You don’t have to butter me up. I’ve already bought you the gift.” She laughed and hefted it into his lap. “Here. Open, open!” She bounced in her seat excitedly and clapped to spur him on.

He chuckled and tested the package’s weight. It was heavy, but flexible. He tore open the wrapping paper and flung the bow at Lily. She was currently working on making a ridiculously over-the-top hat with all the ribbons and bows from his gifts that she intended to stick to his head once complete. But when he lifted the lid off the box and parted the tissue paper, Sirius’ hands came into contact with the buttery smooth texture of a brand-new, jet-black, leather jacket and he nearly swooned on the spot. He raised his eyes to Hermione’s and was surprised by the vulnerability he saw there. “How did you know?”

“Do you like it?” she asked in a quiet, unsure voice, her hands fisted in the hem of her plum-colored jumper.

He leapt up, dropping the box and pulling out the jacket to put it on immediately. He sniffed the new leather and sighed happily. “Amazing.” Without thinking, he hauled the little witch into his arms and whispered in her ear, “It’s perfect, Kitten. Thank you. I really love it.” He felt her shiver in his arms and a zing of pleasure raced through him, making his palms tingle in that familiar way that he had come to look forward to.

When he pulled away, he saw the curly-haired witch blushing fiercely and trying to avert her gaze. “I’m glad. Happy birthday, Sirius.”

When they took their seat, he asked, “You still didn’t answer my question. How did you know I wanted one?”

She shrugged playfully and flashed an impish grin. “Oh, that was the easy part – I remember you ogling mine from Halloween.” This made the whole group laugh. “The harder part was figuring out your size. I had to guesstimate, and it looks like I did a pretty decent job. It’s a little big for now, but that just means you’ll grow into it and be able to keep it for a long time. But you have to take care of leather. There’s conditioner and a brush in that box you dropped on the floor.” She pointed at the heap near his feet.

Sirius sniffed the new leather smell he was finally familiar with and cozied up with his Gryffindor scarf and his jacket and sent a letter of thanks off to Uncle Alphard and Andi explaining all about his best birthday to date. He hoped there would be many, many more.

November 10^th, 1973 – Hogsmeade Village

“Are you almost done with your shopping?” Alice asked the twins.

Hermione pulled out a handwritten list on lined notebook paper in pink glitter pen. “I’ve already gotten for you girls, and our parents. I just have Lils, and a couple others left… The hardest to shop for, essentially.” She folded her list back up and tucked it into the back pocket of her denims with a rueful smile. She remained purposefully vague about the fact that she had Lils, and the boys left. Severus and the Marauders, to be exact.

When she’d begun to think of them that way, she had no idea. And when she’d grown close enough to them all to warrant making her holiday gift list was another surprise. But she could admit, if only to herself, that she enjoyed the feeling of finding the perfect thing for each person in her orbit. Hermione loved the feeling of watching someone enjoy something she’d given them in much the same way she loved the feeling of someone enjoying her cooking, not that she got much time for that at school.

Thanks, in part to their muggle heritage, Lily and Hermione were both pretty talented cooks and bakers, given the time they’d spent with their mother in her kitchen growing up. No one could dispute that each and every meal prepared by the Hogwarts house elves was a veritable feast for the senses. But there was something to be said for food prepared the muggle way, as the wizarding world referred to it. Hermione and Lily had discussed with the other Valkyries at length how magically prepared cuisine seemed to carry an interesting aftertaste that food prepared by hand, without the aid of magic, just didn’t, to them at least. Perhaps it’s because it’s what the twins were accustomed to.

But Hermione found that she missed it, especially with the holidays swiftly approaching. She couldn’t wait to be home with their mother where they could help prepare Christmas Eve dinner, snuggle up between their parents in the family room, and watch their favorite holidays movies. It was tradition. And though Hermione had started to push against tradition, she was still a sentimentalist at heart. She valued family and friends above much else.

“What about you, Allie?” Lily asked.

“I have only you and Hermione and… F-Frank left on my list,” Alice confessed, a nervous stammer catching her out.

Lily and Hermione shared a brief look and a smirk. But it was Mary who offered her assistance, “Well, I’ve barely started. How about we split up for a couple hours, and then meet up in the Three Broomsticks for lunch?”

Marlene and Dorcas nodded at that, linked arms and went their own way. Dorcas offered a friendly wave and announced, “Three o’clock at the Three Broomsticks!”

“Three o'clock!” the twins called back.

Mary and Alice split off together, leaving Lily and Hermione behind. Hermione supposed she wouldn’t be able to cross her sister off her list today. “Who have you got left?” she asked her twin.

Lily murmured, “Just Mum and Dad.”

“Easy enough. Anyone else?”

“Severus.” Lily mumbled so that Hermione mightn’t have heard, if not for her enhanced hearing since completing her Animagus training.

“Pardon?”

Lily’s face flamed red, and she cleared her throat nervously before meeting her sister’s gaze. “I said I have to find something for Severus.”

Choosing to relent in her teasing, Hermione looped her arm through Lily’s and replied in a chipper tone, “Perfect, because I have to find something for Sev too!” Then she pulled her twin towards Scrivenshaft’s first. Their study-companion-turned-friend was the studious sort, much like them, and so they would begin there and work their way outwards until inspiration struck.

After an hour or so, they’d found something for their mother – a holiday cookbook geared towards baked desserts – and something for their father – a book on the Goblin Rebellions, which their father the history buff would hopefully enjoy knowing nothing about magical history. Lily had placed an order with Tomes and Scrolls for a custom, black dragonhide bound journal for Sev to continue to craft his own spells in. He’d expressed a desire to eventually gain an apprenticeship with Professor Slughorn and pursue a Potions Mastery after graduating. The girls were thrilled for him, that he knew what he wanted to do and was working tirelessly towards achieving that goal.

Hermione had gone with a similar theme and gotten him his own potioneer’s kit complete with stirrers of different metals and lengths, a set of a dozen phials, a mincing blade, a small mortar and pestle, and a scale. Together, these had cost them a pretty penny, but they’d been saving since their allowances since their birthday. Now, Hermione just had to broach the subject of getting gifts for the other boys in her life… She wondered how Lily would take it.

“What time is it?” Hermione asked.

“About half one, why?” Lily replied, checking her muggle wristwatch.

“I have a few people left. No rush, but I figured since we don’t have to meet up for lunch yet, it might not hurt to take a look around for them and see if I get any ideas.”

“Sure. Who were you thinking of?”

“Remus.”

“I expected as much,” Lily said with a knowing smile.

“And Sirius.”

“Oh boy,” her sister’s voice began to grow alarmed.

“And Peter. And James.” The words rushed out of her, and she shut her eyes tight to avoid any odd looks her sister might throw her way.

“Oh.” Lily sounded breathless and she couldn’t tell if that was good or bad.

Hermione cracked one eye open to peek hesitantly at her twin. “Oh?”

“I’m… a little surprised.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” Hermione shifted from one foot to the other nervously.

“I suppose I just didn’t know you were that close to the lot of them. I know we spent Sirius’ birthday together, but we were in the common room surrounded by everyone else.”

“Yes, I see what you mean.”

“But I still remember the way Sirius gave you that beautiful music journal First Year,” Lily said, and she seemed to be thinking aloud.

“What are you getting at?” Hermione asked, nervous to hear her sister’s reasoning.

“I thought you liked Remus.”

“I… do,” Hermione’s voice lowered to a whisper.

“Does he know?”

Hermione shook her head frantically. “I don’t think either of us are ready for that talk.”

“Got it. And Sirius?” Lily seemed to be pressing for more information, circumnavigating to a point that Hermione couldn’t quite make heads or tails of yet.

“What about him?” Hermione huffed, folding her arms across her barely-there chest and tapping her foot against the ice-slicked cobblestones.

“Is there… something there?” Lily asked, her words carefully chosen and purposefully vague.

“Friendship, I hope. Same with Peter, James, and even Sev.”

“Okay.” Lily let out a breath Hermione hadn’t known she’d been holding, as if she were relieved. “Good.”

Something tweaked in the center of the curly-haired witch’s chest. Something very much like disappointment. But she tucked that away for closer examination later and asked, “So, will you help me look around for them?”

“I don’t know. You already got Sirius that nice leather jacket. Do Mum and Dad know how much of your pocket money you spent on that thing?” Lily asked, focused again on the dark-haired wizard with the mercury eyes.

Hermione shook her head. “No. And they don’t have to know. I bought a birthday gift for a friend. They give us our allowance to use it. And that’s what I did.”

“It’s also meant for emergencies. How much have you got left?”

“Enough.”

“Alright then, I say we start with Remus and work our way towards Potter,” Lily said, her decision made. Though, Hermione found it telling that she referred to Remus by his given name but still called James by his family name.

-----

By the time the girls met up for lunch, they were carrying so many bags between them, they’d been forced to use shrinking charms to tuck them all into Marlene’s crossbody bag. Hermione had finished almost all of her shopping – she just had to write to her parents to request their assistance with some items from home for a certain couple of boys that were near and dear to her heart. Though, she’d never say that aloud.

“Any luck, ladies?” Alice asked.

Mary nodded. “Yup! Almost all finished. Allie is a marvel. Helped get the old noodle working. Only a few people left. But I have all you girls done.”

Marlene applauded and Dorcas smiled. “I have my parents and brothers left. I never know what to get them because they can just buy themselves whatever they want,” Cas sighed in frustration.

Marlene patted her shoulder in support. “Not many people to shop for. Just you girls and then my old man at home. Wish I could send him on a vacation. He works so hard for us. To send me here.” She braced her elbows on the table and propped up her head in her hands.

Lily smiled kindly. “I think I know what you mean. I used to feel guilty about how much trouble we cause for our parents because we can’t go to regular muggle schools like they did or live at home. They have to pay for us to come to Hogwarts and they don’t get to see us most of the year… Seems like a poor return for such a high investment.”

Marlene nodded her agreement. “Exactly. And you girls are all more well-off than me and my old man. He works till he drops. I wish I was graduated already so I could get a job too and help with the bills.”

It was Cas’ turn to rub consoling circles against Marlene’s back. “Don’t be in a rush. Someday we’ll look back at these school years and wish we were this age again. Wish we were kids again without adult responsibilities…”

Alice was the next to break the silence when she asked, “Have your parents started hinting at arranging matches for you yet, Cas?”

Dorcas blushed and gave a rue shrug. “They’ve been planning since I was born, to be honest. Nothing concrete yet. No contracts or meetings. But they have their ideas about what my life will look like, just like my brothers. At least as boys they have more choice. But I just get dragged along and moved around their chessboard like another pawn.”

At this, Mary blinked wide, horror-filled eyes but kept her mouth closed. Hermione didn’t know what to say either, but her stomach roiled at the thought that the mothers of two 14-year-olds were already planning for their arranged marriages.

Lily was the one to ask, “Will they be strangers, or will you at least have the right to pick?”

Dorcas shook her head. “Most likely, they’ll be schoolmates of ours, because I think my parents would like me to stay in England. Wouldn’t be guaranteed if I married a foreigner.” She looked to Alice.

“I’ve been trying to hint at a match with Frank Longbottom, but he’s one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and therefore out of my league… at least socially. Plus, we barely speak to one another, so there’s that working against us too.” Alice blushed prettily. “I think I’d be happy with Frank.”

“Mrs. Alice Longbottom,” Hermione said aloud, trying to lighten the mood. “Has a nice ring to it, I think.”

The others looked up at her and Alice’s face split into a blinding, ear-to-ear grin. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“I’ve seen the way he watches you in the Great Hall, or during class. And on the Quidditch pitch, sweet Circe! I don’t think he even blinks when he sees you on a broom,” Marlene gushed.

“Really?” Alice squeaked, holding her clasped hands up to her face, bouncing in her seat.

“If anyone is going to land the boy of her dreams, it’ll be you, Allie.” Mary smiled at her fellow Valkyrie in full support.

Much later that night – Gryffindor Common Room

The Marauders had stayed back from dinner to wait for Hermione. She’d given an excuse to her roommates and friends that she wasn’t feeling well and wanted to pay a visit to the Hospital Wing. When Hermione descended the stone steps to the common room, she was dressed in dark-wash denims, a comfortable, stretchy jumper, and her coat. She tucked her wand into her belt and carried a duffle bag with her.

The three boys stood at her arrival and Peter asked. “What’s the bag for?”

“I brought snacks, a warm blanket and pillow for Remus, and some healing potions in case of emergencies,” she said. This made the boys wince.

“It sucks that you’re there for him when we can’t be.” James frowned. “He’s our friend.”

“He’s my friend too,” Hermione growled before schooling her features and tone. “And it’s only until you guys master your training. Then you can be there for him. He won’t need me anymore.” She tried to keep the sadness from her eyes, but Sirius caught it of course.

He stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder in a show of support. “Hey, Kitten, you were there for him when he needed you. When we couldn’t be. Remus isn’t just going to kick you to the kerb once we join you guys.”

“You guys are his brothers, the way I am with the Valkyries. It won’t be the same. And that’s okay,” Hermione confessed, though her heart felt like it was splintering. “He’ll have you guys and all that he needs. I’ll be onto my next adventure. My next impossible task.” She was deflecting, and she hoped that Sirius would at least pretend to buy into it.

There was a long, protracted silence where his eyes glimmered and his hand slid down the length of her arm to give her hand a squeeze before letting her go. “Take care of him for us.”

“As long as he needs me, I’ll be there.” She smiled at the three of them. When had they gotten taller than her? When had they begun to change from boys into men?

“Take care of yourself too,” Peter added on with a quirk of his lips.

“Keep studying. Meditating. Come see us in the Hospital Wing in the morning. I’ll need someone to relieve me of duty so I can make a run for it back here before my sister wakes up.” At that, she hefted her bag higher on her shoulder and jogged out of the room.

-----

“Why did you say that?” Sirius turned on James immediately once the little witch was out of earshot.

“Say what?” James balked, his hazel eyes wide.

“Implying that we were his friends, like she wasn’t.” Sirius folded his arms across his chest, shrugging one of his shoulders for emphasis.

Peter watched the two of them closely, keeping his mouth wisely shut.

“I didn’t mean it that way. I just –” James let his words trail off. “He was our friend first and then all of a sudden, she swoops in and monopolizes all of his attention and all he can think or talk about is Hermione this and Hermione that. I’m sick of it! We’re the Marauders and we’re supposed to be brothers.”

Sirius scoffed and rolled his eyes. “First, you are just as bad when it comes to Lily. Second, Remus is such a sad sod most of the time, that if spending time thinking about Hermione Granger-Evans cheers him up, I say let him! And third – and I can’t believe I have to spell this out for you – we are brothers. Nothing is going to change that. You were the first one to fall for Evans. If he has a crush, you have no moral high ground to be judging him from, mate.”

James was gaping at his friend at this. “Well, that’s just – that’s beside the point.”

“Is it, mate? I know you’re an only child and not used to sharing your toys, but this is Remus. This is Hermione. She’s a good sort.”

“You’re just saying that because she spoils you too!” James turned the tables on him.

Peter’s eyes settled on Sirius’ rapidly warming face while his swaggering friend spluttered. “Wh-What do you mean?”

“The records, the letters, and now the leather jacket?” James counted them off on his fingers. “She’s never done anything like that for Pete or me.”

“Maybe because Remus and I have put in the effort and become friends with the girl,” Sirius grumbled.

“Friends, he says.” James scoffed in disbelief.

“Yes, friends. And until Remus and Hermione speak to each other about moving past ‘friends’, that’s all any of us will ever be,” Sirius said the words even as his heart clenched painfully in his chest with something bitter and heavy.

“Sirius Black, can you even be friends with a girl?” James volleyed back.

“That’s uncalled for, mate. I’m going down to the kitchens to see if I can scrounge up some food. Coming, Pete?”

“Yeah, sure,” Peter mumbled and ducked out first to leave them alone.

“I don’t know what your deal with her is, but all she’s ever done is be kind to us once we pulled our heads out of our arses. She risked her life to help Remus with this. And now she’s helping us do the same. So, what is it, James?” Sirius pressed.

“She’s nice enough. But she’s always in the way!” James fumed. “She’s in the way with Remus, and you, and Lily. She’s blocking me out from all the people I care about!” His friend was fuming at this, and Sirius was appalled.

“Get your priorities in order. You’re my brother, but I’ve already cut one off, and I won’t hesitate to do the same to you if you can’t sort yourself out, mate.” He stormed out of the portrait hole door to catch up with Peter.

Meanwhile – The Shrieking Shack

Hermione crested the grassy hill which hosted the Whomping Willow where it swayed in the moonlight. She waved her wand at the sentient tree to cast a Freezing Charm. Remus must’ve already transformed and so she hurried to do the same, draping her bag around her neck as she shifted from two legs to four. She picked up her wand in her mouth and tucked it into her bag before entering the tunnel that led into the Shack.

When she entered, she could hear thrashing around abovestairs and dropped her bag to the side, tucking it out of the way so as to avoid it being damaged in whatever tantrum Remus’ wolf was presently in the midst of. She moved to the center of the room, rolled her shoulders, and let out a rasping growl loud enough to be heard. Then he sat back on her haunches and waited.

The commotion upstairs immediately stopped, and the sounds of scratching and heavy footfalls thudded on the steps at the wolf’s approach. The lioness lowered her head in submission and waited. When the wolf spotted her, it leaned in to nuzzle her with its snout and licked a path along the side of her face. She wondered if Remus knew what a big softie this wolf was, at least with her.

She purred at the attention and nuzzled him back affectionately before rising into all fours and circling the wolf. She rubbed up against his larger frame and caressed him with her tail so that he chuffed curiously deep in his chest. The wolf’s golden eyes tracked her as she circled him, its front paw catching at her tail before it lunged to take a playful nip at her. The wolf gave chase, and the two ran through the Shack, chasing each other, wrestling and pinning one another, and eventually collapsing from exhaustion curled up together.

Before she was too far gone, Hermione had the clarity of mind to pad downstairs and retrieve her bag. When she returned upstairs, she tugged her wand and the extra blanket for Remus out and dragged it across his furry frame with her teeth before settling back down beside him to wait for sunrise. She nuzzled his chest and let her eyes fall shut to the sound of his steady, beating heart. His limbs draped over her in his sleep, and it seemed even the wolf – like Remus – enjoyed a good cuddle when he felt safe and content enough to let down his guard.

Her mind wandered back to the conversation with the boys and a part of her wondered if they would eventually force her out once they were able to take her place during the full moons. Would this become strictly a boy’s club again with no space for a muggleborn witch once she’d outlived her usefulness and outstayed her welcome? Her old insecurities about not belonging reared their ugly head and she whimpered in her sleep.

The wolf whined and shuffled closer, tucking her more securely against his lanky frame as if to comfort her. She was surprised and pleased to discover that the wolf part of Remus still understood and cared.

The following morning – The Shrieking Shack

Remus woke at the feeling of his transformation and his cries and lupine whining eventually turned into human yells of pain. Hermione woke at this and sat back to wait until it was safe to return to her human form. Once she did, she tucked Remus more carefully into the bed beneath the spare blanket and scrambled to retrieve her bag and the potions she’d brewed with the help of Madame Pomfrey – healing potions and pepper-up potions, and she even pulled out a tub of bruise paste.

She approached the bed slowly and knelt beside him to ask, “May I take a look?” Amongst all her other responsibilities, Hermione had been reading up and spending time shadowing Madame Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing. She’d learned to cast a diagnostic charm efficiently and how to safely brew and administer potions, how to document her progress, and while Hermione wouldn’t consider herself anywhere near the same level, she wanted to care for her friend. She handed him a pain relief potion. “Sip it slowly. But take the whole thing.”

Remus whimpered and nodded his head, shutting his eyes tight. “M-My back. Please.”

She climbed off the bed and scrambled around to the other side to see to him while the diagnostic hovered in the air above his prone form, certain areas lit up in red and orange needing the most attention. She saw breaks and fractures in his ribs and limbs, long, angry open wounds parallel to his spine like someone had attempted to unzip him. “Try and hold still. This might sting a little.”

He nodded again and trembled when she began to siphon off the drying blood from his body. Once that was done, she summoned a fresh cloth with a soft Accio and then wet and warmed it with a dual Aguamenti and warming charm. She ever-so-gently dabbed at the area instead of wiping before muttering spells to seal the wounds that the Matron had painstakingly demonstrated over and over again on a training mannequin.

Then Hermione worked on healing any broken bones that popped up on the diagnostic. Finally, she’d applied bruise paste and dittany to her first patient and let out a sigh of relief. “Still with me, Remus?” she asked softly.

“I’m okay.”

“Do you think you can walk to the castle so we can get you looked over by Madame Pomfrey?”

He struggled to push himself into an upright, seated position and nodded. “Can you pass me my clothes?”

“Of course.” Hermione went to the closet where he’d folded and stored them in a neat little pile. She even scourgified the grime off of them before handing them over. Then she grabbed her bag and ducked out of the room to give him some privacy.

Later that morning – Hospital Wing

“All looks pretty good, my girl,” Madame Pomfrey praised her work. “How did casting the wound healing spells go? You were worried about those last time we practiced together.”

Hermione nodded. “Worked a treat. Just hope it’s neat work. I would hate to leave behind more damage than I was there to treat.”

“You are doing spectacularly for so young a witch. But I suppose that at top of your class, and with the proper motivation, anything is possible,” the Matron said, and turned a knowing eye on her newest apprentice.

“Thank you, Madame.”

“Do you require any medical attention?”

“No, just food and sleep.”

If the Matron suspected that Hermione had somehow circumvented the rules or jeopardized her own safety to spend the full moons with Hogwarts’ resident lycanthrope, well she didn’t say a word. She simply smiled down at the little witch and remarked, “If you should ever be interested in becoming a healer, just let me know. I would be happy to give my recommendation on your behalf to any training program you were interested in applying for.”

“Maybe someday. Thank you, Madame Pomfrey.” Hermione smiled and went back to the cordoned off area round Remus’ cot to wait for her relief in the form of the Marauders.

They made themselves known shortly thereafter by coming into the normally quiet space speaking far too loudly. Thankfully, the only ones there in the Hospital Wing to be disturbed were Remus and Hermione. The former was dead to the world, having been dosed with Dreamless Sleep and yet more pain relief potion. The latter was seated beside him in a chair reading over her Charms textbook and waving her wand in small circles to practice the movements while she had the alone time.

“Knock, knock. Everyone decent in there?” Sirius teased before poking his head inside the curtained partitions, a hand covering his eyes.

Hermione looked up and saw his teasing smirk. “The only thing indecent here is you, Black.”

He uncovered his eyes, and they brightened with mirth. “Well, I see you still have all your limbs along with your sense of humor.”

“Oh, rich, popular, handsome, and funny? A quadruple threat. However, will I go on?” Hermione faux-swooned, and it was as if she’d become a different person – a more confident Hermione capable of bantering with Sirius Black, the school heartthrob.

He seemed momentarily stunned by this shift in her and his eyes flashed with something she couldn’t make out. His smile grew sincere and somehow still flirtatious. She suddenly understood how so many witches had been taken in by his charms, and his boyish good looks. That rebellious, roguish air about him could be intoxicating, if one wasn’t constantly on one’s guard, she surmised. “Oh ho, Kitten has claws.”

“Don’t forget it.” She arched a brow at him and stowed away her things in her bag. Then she took a final look down at Remus’ sleeping form.

“How was he?” Peter asked as he stepped behind the curtain next.

“Playful.” She smiled at him. “I think having someone there comforts him. Calms him. He doesn’t hurt himself as much.”

James entered last and his head was hung, his eyes downcast. “Hermione, can we talk?”

Hermione blinked at him in surprise and glanced at the other boys for any hint as to the topic of conversation. “Okay. Sure, James.” She hefted her bag over her shoulder and followed him out of the curtained off area and then all the way out of the Hospital Wing.

-----

James had spent all night thinking about how Sirius had called him out on his stance on Hermione and his petty jealousy about her “hogging Remus’ attention”. He still felt what he felt, and it would be hard to make a complete about-face, but James did understand Sirius’ perspective and wanted to be better. His mates – his brothers and the only ones he’d ever have – were worth that.

“Hermione,” he began with her name.

“Yes, James? What did you want to talk about?” she pressed. “I really should get back to our dorm, so Lily doesn’t get suspicious.”

“You weren’t there last night. I’m sure she’s already suspicious.”

“Well, I cast a charm on my bed so that it looked like I was sleeping in it if anyone peeked behind the curtains, so… Most likely, my secret is still safe. But charms don’t last forever.”

He nodded, still impressed by how confident and competent the little witch proved herself to be over and over again. With two such brilliant daughters, their parents must be intimidating, he thought to himself. “Understood. I won’t take up too much of your time. I just wanted to apologize.”

“For what, James?” she asked.

He met her gaze head on. “For the way I spoke to you last night.”

“I see.”

“It was rude and uncalled for.” He was unnerved by the deadpan tone of her voice, and it made him nervous.

“It was.”

“And I wanted to apologize.”

“Yes, you’ve said that. Go on, then.” She waved a hand, gesturing for him to proceed.

“I… just did?”

“I think you were present when I told Sirius in First Year that I don’t accept insincere apologies. They just waste my time and yours. Come back when you either mean it, you’ve learnt something from your bad behavior, or you’ve improved on said behavior and changed as a person. If not, I’d rather not entertain any non-apologies.” At that, she moved to step around him and approached the main stairs. “Don’t forget your meditations!” she called back over her shoulder as if nothing was amiss.

James Charlus Potter stood there blinking rapidly, unsure of what had just transpired and how control of the situation had slipped so far beyond his grasp. Where on Merlin’s green earth did this witch get the gall? The stones on her!

Sirius sauntered up behind him, hands in his pockets, and a smug smirk on his face. “I know that look! That’s the ‘I-just-received-a-tongue-lashing-from-one-of-the-Granger-Evans-twins’ look. Branching out, huh, Jamesie? Usually, it’s just Lily you’re on the bad side of. Now you’ve pissed of her sister too.” He let out a low whistle and pat his friend on the shoulder. “Wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, mate. Best of luck.”

November 17^th, 1973 – Astronomy Tower  

“I want you all to take notice of the lunar phases around Jupiter,” Professor Shah instructed as she cast a warming charm over the gathering.

Hermione and Lily groaned simultaneously at the teamwork they’d have to pull off to chart all ninety-five.

“You will have the remainder of the week to make time to come up here with a partner and do this,” the professor elaborated.

Hermione peeked over at James and Sirius gathered around their own telescope, the latter of the two scribbling madly on his piece of parchment against James’ back, using him as a desk. “What on earth is going on over there?” she heard her sister gasp.

“Looks like we finally found a class Black enjoys,” Hermione teased.

“Wait a tic! He’s named after a star, isn’t he?” Lily murmured as Hermione adjusted the focus on their telescope.

“Yes, same as his brother and their uncle too, now that I think about it.”

“And didn’t they have an older cousin who graduated a few years back – name of Andromeda Black?”

“I think that was her name,” Hermione said. “Why?”

“Maybe his family has a thing for astronomy,” Lily elaborated.

“Could be a tradition of theirs. Kind of pompous, though, naming your kids after the stars.”

“Imagine him naming his son something stupid like Polaris,” Lily chortled and slapped a hand over her mouth.

Hermione swatted at her sister’s shoulder. “He’ll hear you!”

“And so, what if he does?”

“I think some traditions can be nice.”

“Something tells me he is anything but traditional,” Lily remarked.

“You’ve got that right.” The twins gave up their side conversation and got to work on cataloguing nearly 100 moons around the King of the Gods.

Just then, Sirius Black shouted out to get Professor Shah’s attention, “We’re done over here!”

“Mr. Black? Mr. Potter?” the ancient professor shuffled over, her sari dragging along the floor.

Bollocks…

November 25^th, 1973 – Hogwarts Library

The twins had decided to meet up with Severus at their usual table in the library to exchange Christmas gifts before they went home for the holidays. They handed them over in tandem after explaining there was a theme. Severus stiffened and his eyes flickered from one to the other, face reddened in surprise. “But I didn’t – And you –” He hung his head. “I couldn’t afford to get you both anything.”

Lily dismissed his excuses with a wave of his hand. “You don’t give gifts because you expect to get them back. You give them because it’s the time of year for spoiling those you care about to let them know you’re thinking of them.” She beamed at him as he opened the customized journal with his name engraved into the leather cover. His long, elegant fingers stroked the cover lovingly and when he looked back up at her, his eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

Hermione had never seen such unfettered emotion from him and worked to hide her smile when the two embraced, however hesitantly on the stoic Slytherin’s part. “Mine next,” she chirped, vibrating in her seat with excitement.

Sev’s lips quirked upward at that, and he pulled her gift out a gift bag where the potioneer’s set was wrapped in a black, brushed suede carrying case. He undid the ties and unfurled it on the tabletop before him. He let out an involuntary gasp and looked up at him. “You mentioned that you wanted to be a Potions Master, and now with both of these you can work on creating your own, you see? We just wanted –” Her words were cut off when he hauled her into his arms and squeezed her tightly. “Oof!” Her arms froze at her side before she brought them up to wrap tightly around the tall, gangly boy and rub comforting circles between his shoulder blades.

“I am so sorry I ever treated you that way or said those awful things. I –” he began, but she pulled back enough to glare at him witheringly before he could really get going.

“I’m sure my sister can tell you I don’t accept non-apologies. We’ve moved past that, Sev. You’ve shown us through your actions how you’ve changed. And we’re both proud to be your friend.” She beamed up at him and reached up to brush away the tears rolling down his cheeks with her thumbs. “Just promise you’ll put them to use and become an amazing potioneer someday so we can brag to everyone we know that we knew Severus Snape before he was famous.”

He let out a wet laugh at that, clearly surprised by her tenderness. “I promise.” He released his hold on Hermione and turned to flash Lily a shy smile. She’d seen the growing attachment between them and hoped to see it flourish. The boy could be shy, dour, and sometimes emotionally constipated, but he seemed to bring Lily out of her shell.

Hermione quickly scribbled down their home address on a corner of parchment and handed it over to him. “Just promise to write. That’ll be your Christmas present to us.”

He smiled down at the piece of parchment. “I think I can manage that.”

“Good. Because if you go radio silent on us, I’ll come after you for making my sister sad,” Hermione teased just to lighten the mood and see them both look away from one another with matching blushes. Almost too easy.