January 1980

Potter Cottage

The Potter family home felt much like Longbottom Hall, if not slightly smaller. It was night when they arrived but even then, she could tell that the inside would be brilliantly lit with natural light when the sun was out. James showed her around, bashfully walking her from room to room.

Hermione paused at the room at the end of the hall with the pale yellow wallpaper and its walls still intact, swallowing the knowledge of what would have happened here.

The kitchen was lovely, as was the sitting room and the den, but the library—Merlin, the library. It didn't boast the sprawling stacks and elegant furnishings of headquarters, but the books were nearly spilling from the shelves. She was giddy as she spun in a slow circle in the middle of the room, beelining for the nearest shelves.

"I'm not sure if you know, but I'm a bit of a bibliophile." As she trailed her fingers along a row of spines, James followed quietly, hands resting in his trouser pockets. "Your home is lovely; I can't imagine growing up in a place this grand."

"Thank you. I'm glad you like it." He brushed up against her back, his chest pressing against her as he wound his arms around her middle. "Tell me again what we're looking for."

Resting her head back on his chest, she sighed, long and heavy. "We are looking for a book called Masters of Death and the author was a Peverence? Percival? Pervicious?"

James laughed then rested his chin on the top of her head. "Peverell?"

With a gasp, she stilled. "Have you heard of it?"

"I don't think so. But,I do know of the Peverells. They're buried here in Godric's Hollow; they're a bit of a legend. And I don't mean to boast," he paused to grin, pressing a kiss to her cheek, "but the Potters are considered descendants of the third brother."

Fragments of an idea began to glimmer in the confines of her mind, and she dared not speak and spook them away.

"My cloak, the invisibility one, of course, is rumoured to have travelled all the way down from Ignotus Peverell himself. Supposedly, it's one of the original Deathly Hallows."

A shiver inched across her spine, and she whipped her face around to look at him. "The what?"

"The Deathly Hallows. You know, the Tale of the Three Brothers?"

Disentangling herself, she thrust her hand in her bag until she was elbow deep and then yanked her worn copy free. "From this book?"

"Yeah, that's the one. I mean, it's a children's story—so take what you will—but each of the three brothers were gifted something from Death. It was a trick and ended up leading to their demise."

Hermione knew the story; she'd read it a hundred times now, but she nodded along as though he were telling it to her for the very first time.

"The cloak was gifted to Ignotus Peverell and handed down from generation to generation. My grandad used to tell me it was the invisibility cloak—the one that came straight from Death. I don't know about all that," James laughed. "Like I said, it's a children's story. Most likely, old Ignotus had an invisibility cloak and gave it to his kid and through the years, people began to tell lies to their children to help them fall asleep. However, if that book you're looking for is by a Peverell, chances are it's here."

Hope flared to life in her chest, and she turned, steadfast determination flowing through her. "Would you help me find it?"

James smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. "Of course."

xXx

Hermione returned to the library at headquarters with James in tow; he seemed content just to be there, watching the fire as she tucked into his side and flipped through the ever-elusive Master of Death by I. Peverell III, the great descendant of the original third brother. The book was hardly anything she'd consider non-fiction, tales and hearsay of the Hallows as they travelled through generations. At any given time, the different pieces were noted to be in the possession of several people, which frustrated her to no end. In the early 1900s, the Resurrection Stone was rumoured to be in both Austria with a witch who sold visits with lost loved ones and in America with a circus travelling the East Coast. Every tale discredited another.

The forward, written by Ignotus Peverell III, was little more than his idle musings about what it would mean to hold all three Deathly Hallows at once. But he didn't know anything, and the author even went so far as to include articles opposing his theory. Ignotus believed the owner of the three Deathly Hallows became the Master of Death, able to conquer it and live forever. Another contributor believed they became Death incarnate; yet another believed one could travel beyond the veil and back again.

With a groan, she slammed another book shut and in frustration chucked it at the far side of the couch. "I give up."

"What did that book do to you? Should I burn its pages as punishment?" Laughter laced his words and with a snap of his fingers, the book floated into his lap.

"Your ancestor is an idiot. How on earth he was able to become a published author is beyond me."

James chuckled and set the book aside again. "Probably means you ought to take a break and snog me."

Gasping, her eyes rounded at the presumption, and she reeled on him. "James Potter!"

"What?" With a quiet chuckle, he rearranged them and pressed his lips to her covered shoulder, and then to her collar where her skin was partly exposed. "Snogging is quite good for the brain, I'll have you know. I did quite well in my N.E.W.T.s, and I spent the entire spring snogging in broom cupboards."

With an amused scoff, she pushed him back lightly. "You really know how to charm your way into a witch's knickers, don't you? You ought not talk about snogging anyone else in your pursuit of snogging me. It's poor manners."

"Apologies," he mumbled, lips sliding to the sensitive hollow under her jaw. Against her good sense, she craned her neck to allow him easier access, sucking in a sharp inhale as his tongue darted out to wet her skin. "I only meant to help you clear your mind."

Curling her fingers in his t-shirt, she couldn't help the way she arched into him. There'd not ever been much time for snogging wizards—well, there'd been some time—but not an abundance by any stretch of the imagination. Now that she found herself with some spare moments, she could see the merit. Especially when her partner was so sinfully skilled that she found herself purring under his touch.

He was careful not to touch anywhere deemed too inappropriate, staying resolutely to the curve of her hips and waist. Slipping her hands up his chest, she situated herself so that she could fall back on the sofa, letting James fall between her thighs and hover over her.

Their lips finally found each other, and his tongue darted out to taste her. In the limited amount of time she'd spent imagining how James would kiss, it was nothing like this. She was sure he'd be desperate and hungry, like on Christmas when she'd given in outside her flat. But he wasn't—he was slow and deliberate, learning the way she moved and the secret spaces of her body that made her squirm.

One hand curled around her hip and slid up her shirt, never approaching her breasts but delicately climbing the ridges of her ribcage. She keened—embarrassingly so—widening her legs so he could settle even farther in. His kiss slid down her jaw and back to her neck, and as he latched on with to gently suck, he rocked his hips into her. Gasping, she clung to him, dragging him down and silently begging for more—or maybe less. She wasn't really sure what she wanted, only that it felt so bloody good.

His fingers brushed the side of her breast, and her eyes shot open, a confession tumbling past her lips before she could think better of it. "I'm a virgin."

They stilled—well, except for Hermione's face, which pinched in the wake of her awkwardness. Glacially, James pulled back, and even with her eyes clenched she could feel the horror etched on his features. He continued back until he was off of her and she laid there like a wanton tart, spread out and grimacing. Withering, she turned onto her side and buried her face in the pillow.

James rushed through an apology of sorts. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… Well, regardless if you're a—well, you know—or not, I shouldn't have been so forward."

"Ack!" she cried, pushing to sit up and drawing her knees up to her chest. "No! You didn't do anything. Well, nothing I didn't want you to do—and more, really—but I just thought you should know." Hiding her face in her palms, she tried to push the embarrassing tears away and finally managed to peek up at him.

James' eyes were blown wide and round, his lips folded inward as though he were physically trying to keep words inside his mouth.

"I like snogging you," she confessed quietly. "I like it very much, and I know you're all experienced with the witches in the broom cupboards and Lily and probably a dozen more… but, well, I'm not. I didn't have much time for such things and outside of a single kiss from Viktor Krum and McLaggen's wandering tongue and touch—"

"McLaggen kissed you?" James jaw fell open, a fire igniting in his gaze. "The smarmy fucking—"

Realisation washed over her, and she quickly shook her head and unfolded her body slightly. "No, no. Not Hawthorne! Cormac McLaggen, his son or maybe nephew… I haven't really asked but regardless, I'm just saying that I don't really know how to do all this." She gestured to the space between them on the couch which felt like far, far too much.

After a few long breaths, the rigidity of the moment faded, and they both seemed to sag in relief.

"First of all, there haven't been dozens of witches," he deadpanned, a smirk fighting its way through at the end. "Second, I'm not in any rush; we can dial things back."

Her lips quirked, and she scooted across the sofa until she was perched in his lap. "I don't want to go back. I just… wanted you to know."

Humming, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, his eyelashes fluttering as her bum pressed against his groin. "Why don't you just tell me when you want more?"

Taking a moment to consider that, Hermione fought against her inability to vocalise what it was she wanted and agreed. "I can do that."

James brushed her curls off her shoulder and cradled her jaw, staring at her with an amused crinkle to his eyes. They settled into each other's embrace for a few minutes longer, sharing lazy kisses and soft touches. When he pulled back, he glanced to the setting sun outside the wall of windows and groaned.

"Full moon tonight; I need to go." With a final lingering kiss, she vacated his lap, and he stood to leave. "I usually have to sleep most of the day after, but could I see you tomorrow night?"

The simple request had her biting back a smile, and she nodded eagerly. "I'd like that."

Drifting down, he caged his arms around her, bracing his hands on the back of the sofa and kissing her breathless once more. "Can't wait," he mumbled against her lips and then made for the Floo.

"Wait!" A curious thought bubbled to the front of her mind. "How does Peter keep up with you lot when you run? His legs must be so tiny."

James burst out laughing and grinned back at her. "On either my or Sirius' back—he's quite testy about it, so I wouldn't bring it up. He was rather put out when he turned out to be a rat." With a wink, he disappeared in a vibrant flash of green.

xXx

Tucked away in her potions room and idly folding fluxweed into a bubbling cauldron, Hermione lost herself in the flesh memories of James' lips on hers. He'd sent word earlier that the run had gone well and he was looking forward to seeing her tonight; still, her imagination danced with ideas and thoughts of more.

Her fingers trailed where he'd kissed the day prior, finding the delicate love bite he'd left that she'd begrudgingly glamoured. Just as her eyes fluttered shut, remembering each scintillating moment, the door burst open, and she dropped her spoon onto the table with a yelp.

Sirius Black was incapable of just entering a room; he always had to stomp and toss his hair about as though he had a slew of fans waiting to watch him brood. "I've got word from Reg."

James was hot on his heels, looking a bit sleepy but less scathed than he'd been the month prior after Remus had thrown him into a tree. He winked and smirked at her from over Sirius' shoulder.

"Regulus? I didn't realize you'd—"

"Well, I did," Sirius retorted, thrusting parchment between them. Hermione took it and read the simple missive silently.

This better be important.

Leaky Cauldron - 8 o'clock

xXx

Hermione tapped her finger along the knotted tabletop in the Leaky, unable to quiet the sheer adrenaline coursing through her veins. Sirius sat silently, tension radiating off him like cigarette smoke while James' hand was resting on her knee. She had to actively try to ignore the simple touch because the moment was too big for such silly things.

His touch slipped, fingers curling around the back of her knee and squeezing firmly. At first, she thought he was getting a bit cheeky but then he jerked his head towards the door and rose to stand.

Regulus entered, his jaw set, eyes dark and sharp. The three of them sucked in a quick breath as they noticed he wasn't alone. Sirius said he'd told him to come alone.

Lucius Malfoy sauntered in after, his chin lifted just high enough that he could peer down his sharp nose at the rest of the world along with two other cronies flanking him. Regulus scanned the room, his gaze landing on them as he made his way across the floor. The other three didn't follow; they waited near the front of the establishment, Lucius' lips curled in disdain.

"Sirius," Regulus stated quickly, "…and friends. Didn't realize we were popping in for tea. You said you needed to talk; I didn't know that required third parties."

"Funny you say that, little brother, considering the motley crew you're keeping company with these days."

"What do you want?" the younger Black deadpanned as they took their seats.

It seemed that the two Marauders at her sides were trying their best to keep the meeting casual even though they clearly felt as uncomfortable as she did. James draped his arm across her chair back, and Sirius fussed with his signet ring on his little finger.

"Well, it's really her that needs to talk."

Regulus cold eyes snapped to hers, his lip twitching. "Her?"

"Yes, her," James repeated with a huff. "And you'd do well to listen, Reggie."

Anxiety racketed around in her belly. She'd had a plan but the sudden Death Eater to Order member ratio left her head spinning. It wasn't safe to speak freely.

Slipping her wand into her palm, she quickly cast a Muffliato and crowded towards the centre of the table. "I don't know if we've had the chance to meet properly; I'm Hermione Granger. I—well, it's all a bit complicated—and I can't tell you all that much…"

"Merlin's tit," Reg groaned, dragging a hair through his wiry hair. "Can you get on with it? Some of us have better things to do with our time than sit here prattling on."

Hermione bristled, her eyes flickering to the dark wizards by the door. Lucius was a Legillimens—a shoddy one, but one nonetheless. She quickly reformulated her plan into one that was thin and rushed. "Something's going to happen in the next few months. Something with your house-elf, Kreacher."

Regulus' eyes darted between the three of them, and he forced his features passive. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Screwing her face up, Hermione silently admonished herself for not being more prepared. "I can't tell you how I know, but it's coming. When it happens—" she paused, gaze flickering to James then back to Regulus, "I can help."

A tense moment of quiet stretched on and was interrupted only by a sharp bark of laughter from the youngest Black. Then another. Then he was rocking back in his chair and teetering on hysterical. "You lot really ought to find better hobbies than these ridiculous pranks of yours and now getting this poor girl involved." He clucked his tongue and pushed his chair back to stand. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

Before he could rise to his feet, Sirius' hand shot out and gripped his brother's left wrist, tugging him back to his seat without loosening his hold. "She's not kidding, and I know you're in a bind. You're in too deep, brother, and I'm worried if you keep going I won't be able to get you out."

Regulus tried to jerk his arm back to no avail as Sirius dragged him closer. "Back off, Sirius. You're going fucking barmy."

"Am I?" Sirius' free hand shot to his brother's left sleeve, his fingers curling in the fabric until Regulus visibly began to falter, his breath coming in sharp pants as he tried to wrench his hand free. "And if I expose your forearm right now, what will I find?"

"Padfoot…" James warned. "We're in public, and that scum by the door is staring."

"You'll find nothing, you fucking wanker. Let me go!" Sirius' fingers loosened but he didn't blink, his teeth slightly bared as Regulus smoothed his robes and ran a hand through his hair. "You're losing it, Sirius. You ought to come home; these lot are no good for you."

"Be careful, Reggie. We just don't want anything to happen to you," James added in a low voice.

With a final disdainful sneer to James and one for Hermione as well, Regulus stood abruptly. Hermione shot to her feet as he made to leave, a final desperate attempt as she called out for him. "I mean it! You should—you should come to me. I'll be able to help."

Regulus scoffed and peered over his shoulder at her. "You can't tell me what you know, or how you know, or how you'll help. Yet you expect me to trust you? Forgive me, Mudblood, but I'm rather disinclined to acquiesce."

Flinching as though she'd been slapped, Hermione fell back into her seat even as James and Sirius rushed to defend her honour. That was not what Hermione cared about, not really. The only thought in her mind was that she might have just genuinely mucked up her one real shot at retrieving the locket once and for all.

"I wish I could say he was raised better than that, Hermione," Sirius growled, running a hand through his wavy hair. "But he wasn't."

Hermione waved it off just as Lucius turned directly to her—the prodding was there again, this time more gentle but still quite obvious. When she forbade him entrance to her mind, he smirked, tipping his chin in a mock bow. Then, they were gone and Hermione felt as though she could breathe again.

"I think your brother is in trouble, Pads," James mumbled, signalling for a round of drinks for the table.

"Yeah, no fucking shite."

xXx

A/N: Ah! My favorite day of the week! Update dayyyy! Thank you so much for reading and following along! I know WIPs are frustrating and the time travel might make your head spin but the support means the world to me.

Huge mega hugs and love to my now Brit-approved Alphabet: Farmulousa, Mcal, Ravenslight, and Nuclear Nik. PHEW! That's right, this story needs a small army apparently and luckily I have the most talented and brilliant comrades in the biz.

Back in a few days! Thank you again!