The Potters' house becomes a different place when Lily and James leave on their mission for the Order. Only the day after James and Lily's departure, Sirius decides that he wants to go to Hogsmeade, and Peter invites himself along. The two leave late in the morning with vague promises of "We'll be back eventually."

Euphemia and Fleamont are antsy, too, glancing out the window every two seconds. They both go to bed immediately after dinner, although Hermione hears one or both of them pacing back and forth across the room well into the night.

Despite the fact that this essentially leaves Remus and Hermione with free reign over the cottage, the two of them retreat to the attic bedroom as soon as they've finished eating. They've been spending quite a bit of time up there since the full moon, to such an extent that Remus has fallen asleep beside Hermione on more than one occasion. The first time, he awoke embarrassed, but Lily was downstairs in James's room, and Hermione was quick to reassure him that she appreciated his company.

Since then, he's rather liked it.

"What do you think Sirius and Peter are up to?" Hermione asks him.

"Probably picking up girls. Peter's a pretty good wingman when he wants to be. Though they said they were going to Hogsmeade, and when you put the two of them together, they tend to prefer the Muggle villages."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "You're joking."

Remus laughs into her shoulder before kissing it softly. "I only wish I were. Sirius has always liked showing off his magic tricks."

"Maybe they've left Hogsmeade and gone to a Muggle pub."

"Since they still aren't back, I wouldn't put it past them." He turns the page of the book in Hermione's hand. "Thank Merlin you're here, or I'm sure they'd have roped me into going along with them."

Hermione shuts her book, nearly catching Remus's fingers as she looks down at him with a smirk. "Really? So you would have impressed the Muggle girls with magic, too?"

"Perhaps," he allows. "But I doubt it."

"Why?"

"I generally preferred to sit back and read while I waited for Sirius to make a fool of himself. It never took too long. So unless there was a very pretty girl there…" When Hermione scoffs, Remus gives her a toothy grin and kisses her jaw. "Only teasing."

She sets the book down on her bedside table, turning to look at him. "Does this mean that they'll probably be gone for a while longer?"

Remus's eyes light up as he takes in her playful smile, as he notes the way she's leaning into him. "I suppose so."

"Excellent."

He grabs for her waist at the same moment that she presses against him. Hermione giggles into Remus's mouth when he pulls her into his lap. As he moves to kiss her neck, she murmurs, "I get the impression you've been waiting for a chance to snog me."

"I'm always waiting for a chance to snog you," Remus breathes.

She shuts her eyes and lets out a low sigh. "Yeah?"

"Mhm."

Hermione loses her patience for Remus's slow, easy kisses across her throat; she fumbles for his jaw and tugs him into a sloppy kiss, tracing her tongue through his mouth. She feels so warm, so blissful as Remus moves his hands tenderly over her back.

When his fingers brush her bare skin where her blouse is riding up, she sighs again, relishing in the familiar feeling of goosebumps in response to his touch. But then he's fingering at the bottom button. "Can I take this off?"

"Yeah, of course." Hermione pulls back immediately, looking down and watching as he undoes each button with shaking fingers. This is not the first time he's expressed a desire to get her shirt off, but it seems as though on each occasion, they've been interrupted. Never before have they been in a position when they seem to be facing no deadline.

She shrugs her shirt off and tosses it aside as soon as Remus has undone the last button. He's frozen, casting his gaze over her in silence, and Hermione can't help but giggle when she grabs his neck and pulls him to her for another kiss. She tries to lie down on her bed, tries to pull him along with her, but he stills, holding up his hand. "Hang on."

Before Hermione can ask why, Remus sits back on his knees so that he can tug off his own tee-shirt. He tries to duck down immediately to reinitiate their kiss, but she rebuffs the advance, sitting up too. "Remus, wait. Please."

Remus swallows nervously, but he allows Hermione to stare at him. It's a few moments before she reaches out a hand and touches his skin, tracing her fingers over a wide white scar that cuts across his pectorals. "How long ago did you get this one?"

"My first full moon at Hogwarts." His voice is quiet. "It was one of the worst transformations I've ever had."

Hermione gives him a slow, careful nod before moving her eyes over the rest of his scars. She touches another one on his side, directly below his ribs. "What about this one?"

"Sixth year. Prongs gave me that one," Remus says, a hint of genuine amusement in his voice. "I don't really remember it, but apparently he ran at me head-on."

"Goodness." Hermione cringes.

When she falls silent, Remus leaves a space for her to strike up further conversation. She doesn't take it, though, so he says, "Look, Hermione, if you're trying to make a point—"

"No, that's not what I'm doing."

Remus just raises his eyebrows at her.

"I'm not!" Hermione exclaims. She continues to smooth her hand over his chest, looking down at the scars and bruises rather than meeting his eye. "I know that you don't like this part of yourself. I'm not trying to make you. But you wouldn't… you wouldn't be you without these scars, so I still want to know them."

"You're such a sap," he mutters, but when Hermione looks at his face, he's smiling slightly.

She smiles too. "We can stop talking about them now; I'd like you to snog me some more."

He doesn't need to be told twice—now when Hermione lies on her back, Remus allows her to pull him down too. Their breathing grows shallower as Remus moves from her mouth, pressing sloppy, wet kisses all along her neck. He sucks experimentally at a spot along her clavicle, relishing in the way she gasps and arches up against him.

As Remus reaches Hermione's bra, he fumbles to push it aside and she rolls her eyes. "Hopeless. Let me." She sits up again for just long enough to illustrate how to get her bra off, and it joins the pile of clothes on the floor.

There's a comfortable, giddy sort of heat steadily building in their guts. When Remus kisses Hermione's stomach, she giggles eagerly, swatting at his head to get him away from a particularly ticklish spot. Occasionally he'll stop kissing her so that he can look her over again, at which point he'll lick his lips and peck her on the nose, cheek, eyelids before returning his attention to her neck or breasts.

For once in their lives, time seems to be of no consequence: it could easily be days later that Hermione rests her hands at his waist and breathes, "Let's get these trousers off."

"You sure?" Remus's eyes are wide. "I haven't—"

"Nor have I, but I expect between the two of us, we can probably work it out." Her tone is teasing, and when he blushes, she laughs aloud.

Even after they've discarded the last of their clothes, it's some time before Hermione straddles Remus; they fuck slowly, Remus clutching her hips to hold her steady as she moves over him. She wears an expression of such intense determination, and the sight is so amusing that Remus bursts out laughing.

"You don't have to excel at everything right away," he teases before grabbing her neck so that he can kiss her frown away. "Just have fun."

That said, when he climaxes before her, Remus lays Hermione down and settles himself between her legs and with her guidance – so specific at first, gradually devolving to gasped exclamations of, "There," and, "Yes," – he makes sure that he leaves her trembling and weak with her own orgasm. As she comes undone beneath him, Remus cannot imagine how any woman could possibly be more stunning than she is right then.

When Remus wakes up the next morning, it's not immediately possible for him to tell what time it is. The sky above them is dark and overcast, so that it could easily be just after dawn or nearly noon. Hermione is still asleep beside him—she's mumbling in her sleep, something unintelligible about hippogriffs. Rolling onto his stomach and resting his head on his arms, he contents himself with watching her still form.

Since he was bitten, Remus has assumed that he will never have a chance at the same sort of happiness that James and Lily have, that he has no doubt Sirius and Peter will find some day. There are any of number of reasons that he's got on his mind to prove that he can never have that life.

Hermione makes him wonder whether he's always been wrong. Not that he'll ever tell her so: even as he feels his heart pouring out to her and embracing her, he falls asleep every night wondering whether the next day will be their last day together.

It's not enough that she wants to stay with him… that perhaps (he sometimes allows himself to hope) she wants a future with him just as much as he wants one with her. Her uncertainty with their relationship tells him that whatever his future holds, she is not a part of it.

And still, he allows himself to daydream about growing old with her. Imagine that, a werewolf growing old at anyone's side.

Footsteps echo up the stairway from the floor below, followed by a muffled voice that he processes as belonging to Sirius. So they did get home last night, although it certainly wasn't before Remus and Hermione showered and fell asleep.

Remus squeezes his eyes shut and tries very hard to tune out the noise. If anything, it gets louder—he can hear Fleamont speaking now, too. When he opens his eyes again, Hermione is blinking at him sleepily.

She opens her mouth to speak, but Remus holds up a hand to stop her. He presses a quick kiss to her lips. "Sorry, I've been wanting to do that since I woke up."

Hermione blushes. "Does it sound to you as though Sirius and Fleamont are arguing?" she whispers.

Remus nearly denies it, but he can't ignore the fact that they both seem to be raising their voices. He sits up on his elbows, trying to listen more closely. "I think you're right," he agrees at last. "But I can't… I can't hear them."

It takes only a few moments of Hermione blinking at him expectantly before he mutters, "I'll see if I can get a better sense of it."

He withdraws from under the covers, feeling very disgruntled, although he smirks to himself when Hermione makes a low noise of approval. To her, he only makes a face as he tugs on his pants and tee-shirt.

The voices become clear at the top of the stairs, and he sits on the top step to eavesdrop, arriving just in time to hear Sirius say, "—could've put them in more danger than they were without you checking in."

"Dumbledore said he'd be checking in on them too," Fleamont exclaims. "What's the harm if I just ask my son to keep me updated?"

"No problem at all, but asking him to check in every five hours is overkill. He's out of Hogwarts, Monty, and if Dumbledore thinks he's ready for this mission, then you should trust him. It's not like he's alone—he's got Lily there, and Kingsley and the Longbottoms. They're all incredible with a wand, don't you agree?"

"Yes, of course I do. I don't like it, though, Sirius. I should have heard from him almost an hour ago, I—"

Remus's eyes widen and he glances back to Hermione, who's sitting up in bed now, watching him with great interest. He hesitates for a moment, but he figures that he's gotten the gist of the disagreement, so he rushes back into bed.

"Sirius seems worried that Fleamont's being overprotective of James and the others, but Fleamont seems to think it's justified because James hasn't been in touch with him for a while…"

Hermione furrows her brow. "Normally I'd agree with Sirius, I don't like that Fleamont's drawing extra attention to them… but that is a bit worrying."

"I don't like the sound of it either," Remus sighs. "Maybe we should…" He gestures vaguely toward the stairs, and Hermione nods, albeit with great reluctance.

She dresses quickly. By the time they make to go downstairs, Sirius and Fleamont have moved their argument to the sitting room on the first floor, where Hermione and Remus find everyone waiting around in an anxious silence. Every once in a while, Sirius or Fleamont will snap at each other, but as time stretches on and they continue to hear nothing from James, they seem to get too nervous to bicker.

Then they hear a 'pop' outside, followed by James's voice shouting, "Mum, Dad, a little help out here!"

Everyone rushes outside immediately. James is the only one on his feet; looking around, Remus sees Lily and Kingsley on the ground, both of them wearing agonized expressions. James seems to be stooped over Lily's leg, and Kingsley is clutching his side.

They all rush forward at once: Euphemia and Hermione move to join James at Lily's side, and Remus, Sirius, Peter, and Fleamont rush to examine Kingsley.

"What the hell happened, Prongs?" Sirius asks.

Kingsley's the one who answers. "Alastor's intelligence was incorrect. We believed that we might encounter a few death eaters, but the mission that we went to interrupt was being led by Voldemort himself. He had some of his strongest followers at his side."

A chorus of gasps and exclamations of, "What?" and, "Voldemort?" and, "No!" fill the air, but Fleamont shushes everyone. "Let's get them inside, and then you can explain. Now, are their wounds magical or non-magical? I should have some potions at home—"

While Fleamont fusses over the injured Lily and Kingsley, everyone else helps them inside. Fleamont apparates home to retrieve the necessary remedies for Lily and Kingsley's injuries, and he returns only moments after they've gotten situated on the beds in Remus and Peter's room. As soon as Lily and Kingsley have been seen to, they retreat back downstairs so that a rather shaken James can explain what happened.

"I don't think they knew that we were there," he says carefully, as though aware of the question on everyone's minds. "We were under the impression that Voldemort wanted some of his death eaters to kidnap Dorcas Meadowes, and our hope was that by lying in wait, we'd be able to subdue them and Kingsley would be able to make an arrest. Bring down his numbers a bit, you know."

"But Voldemort came?" Euphemia breathes.

James nods. "I didn't recognize any of the people he had with him, but Kingsley identified them to us and said by the looks of it, Voldemort wanted Dorcas a lot more than he was letting on. And he… he didn't know we were there, like I said, but we… we couldn't just sit back and do nothing. Frank and Alice knocked out the blokes that were guarding the house, but once we got inside… Well, by then he'd figured out that we were there, and he was waiting for us. He must have already gotten his information out of Dorcas, too, because she was—"

When James falters, swallowing hard, Fleamont gasps. "He didn't."

"She was dead," James confirms. "He only had two death eaters with him inside, but even five on three, it's a wonder we made it out as well as we did. Frank only had a bloody nose."

A hush falls over the sitting room. Euphemia is the first to speak. "I can't believe Kingsley didn't abort the plan or call for reinforcements."

James stares at her. "Mum, are you mad? He couldn't risk drawing extra attention to us. We're probably still here because Voldemort was genuinely surprised. Kingsley made the right choice. It was our best chance, and Dorcas's, too."

"Did Dumbledore and Alastor know there was a chance that you would be in that much danger?" Fleamont asks. "They shouldn't have sent you if they thought there was even a chance… you're too young, James, you and Lily and even the Longbottoms—"

Sirius, Peter, Remus, and Hermione all share a look before getting up in unison and retreating outside onto the beach. There's a stain of blood in the sand where Kingsley appeared, and Remus clears it away silently while everyone else tries to tune out James and his parents' shouting.

It's nearly an hour later that James comes out to join them where they're sitting in the sand. "My parents are mental. I tell them that we successfully took on Voldemort, and their first reaction is to say that Dumbledore shouldn't send any of us on missions."

"They're just worried about you," Remus murmurs.

James scowls at the ground, but considering the fact that he doesn't argue, it seems that he's at least aware of this.

"Were you scared?" Peter asks.

"Of course we were!" James exclaims. The shock of Peter's question actually makes him laugh. "We were terrified, we were saying all of these things—" He frowns slightly as something occurs to him. "Padfoot, how would you fancy being best man at my wedding?"