March 1980

Central London

March was holding onto the vestiges of winter with a death grip, the temperatures hovering around freezing as the girls huddled under the shroud of a warming charm.

Although the night had been quiet, Hermione still kept touching her wand attached to her thigh. It'd been charmed to stay concealed, but she knew where it was and would brush the vine carvings from time to time, a silent reassurance.

"So were you both in the same year at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked as they rounded the block of a particularly grotty part of town.

Marley hummed and her eyes shot over to Alice. "We were. Alice used to get on with Remus actually—"

Choking out a laugh, Alice reached around Hermione to swat at the blonde witch before shaking her head. "Are you never going to let that go?"

"Why on earth would I let that go? It's by far one of my most favourite memories." Marley's lips quirked in a crooked smile. "As a first year, Alice had the dopiest crush on Remus."

"Merlin, here we go…" Alice tucked her short hair behind her ear and rolled her eyes, the apples of her cheeks pink.

"She was Alice Fortescue back then and in an attempt to win Moony's heart she asked her parents to host a—" Marley broke out into riotous laughter, clutching at her midsection as Alice groaned next to her. "An—an ice cream party in the common room. They sent gallons of ice cream, and Remus got so sick because he'd probably never had a scoop and quickly overindulged. He ended up throwing up on Alice's shoes."

"No, he did not!" Hermione choked out, finding Alice covering her face with her palms.

"He well and truly did!" Marley said with a laugh. "They were both mortified and for the next several years avoided each other at all costs."

Alice gently huffed. "I'd known Frank a bit, but he was a year ahead. We didn't take up together until I entered the Auror program after school."

The idea of Remus and Alice together made Hermione's nose wrinkle; she and Frank were so utterly perfect together that it seemed odd they wouldn't know it from the very beginning. "So when did you and Remus…"

"Ah, well that was short-lived really. I liked Remus because he wasn't like the rest of the boys in Gryffindor. He was more thoughtful, less flashy. So seventh year we dated for a bit after Christmas holiday, but he was in love with Lily Evans and the whole school knew at that point."

"Hey," Marley interrupted seriously, "Remus liked you."

Alice hummed in agreement. "I know, but it wasn't enough." She sighed, shoulders rising and falling slowly. "Which thank goodness it wasn't; as soon as I was with Frank it made sense why nothing had worked with Remus or any other boy in school. Like the universe was conspiring to bring us together and had purposely sabotaged everything else."

At that, Hermione barked out a laugh and slapped her hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry—it's not funny. It's just that I completely understand that sentiment."

The two witches on either side of Hermione shared a knowing smile. "I think James feels the same way," Alice said. "He certainly never had much serious before you and seeing him so completely enamoured is the strangest thing I've yet to witness—and that's saying something."

Heat rushed to Hermione's cheeks, and she folded her lips to keep from smiling.

"Right, so then Alice and Remus had sex in the common room late one night thinking everyone was in bed when really we had snuck out to the Black Lake—"

"Marlene McKinnon!"

Laughing, Marley wagged her eyebrows. "And so we all walked in and saw Remus' bare arse and we've never allowed either of them to live it down."

Even Hermione had to laugh, and the chastising coming from Alice seemed playful enough as she attempted to defend her actions. "It was only a handful of times, Hermione; I swear it. We both hadn't and thought we just—Oh, Marley you're impossible, you know. You better hope I don't tell her about all the time we heard things coming from the boy's dormitory when you snuck in there!"

Marley smirked. "Own it, Al. One could do a lot worse than one of the Marauders. I'll happily claim mine and every debaucherous thing we did behind those curtains."

"Ack!" Hermoine yelped, shaking her head and covering her ears. For the rest of the night, they laughed and traded secrets from Hogwarts, mindlessly wandering around London looking for trouble.

xXx

Hermione had never actually set foot in the Prophet's new building, but it was exactly as she imagined it would be. Behind the receptionist's desk memos and parchments flew through the air, the reporters shouting and chattering at each other for the hottest news.

With James and Sirius at her side, they approached the front desk. She stopped just before it, waiting as she stared at the young witch with ruby hair piled on the top of her head.

No response.

Hermione swallowed and cleared her throat but the girl behind the desk continued smacking obnoxiously on a wad of pink bubblegum.

Again, Hermione cleared her throat, this time a little louder—still nothing. "Excuse me?"

Finally, the witch glared at them from over her cat-eye shaped glasses, pulling back her painted lips and baring her teeth in some strange semblance of a smile. "Hi."

Hermione's eyes nearly bulged out of her skull and with a scoff, she ticked her head to the side, completely ready to school this witch on proper work ethic and politeness, but Sirius interrupted, stepping in between them and leaning over the desk with an easy smile.

"Hi, love. How are you?"

The witch's gaze snapped from Hermione to the smarmy wizard now giving her attention, a wide grin spreading across her lips. James snickered from Hermione's side.

"Do I know you?" The witch, a Miss Laney Clark if her nameplate were to be trusted, rested her chin in her palm as she gaped up at the charming git.

Sirius let his gaze travel slowly over his face, going so far as to perch on the bloody edge of the desk as he loomed over her. "You could. If you wanted."

The witch swooned at Sirius' words, and Hermione groaned. "Can we hurry it up, Sirius?"

The wizard in reproach shot a dangerous glare over his shoulder before turning his smoulder back to Miss Clark. "My friends and I were wondering if your lovely periodical has public archives?"

Her brows shot up, pitching together in confusion, and she blinked a few times in thought. Maybe her brain wasn't full of gravel. "Oh. Well, of course we do but there are visiting hours so as not to interrupt our staff. You'll need to come back. I could jot down the times if you like." Her tone dripped with stomach-churning saccharine, and Sirius' lips twitched into a smirk.

"Well, you see, this is my friend Jamie. He and I are Aurors—we're on assignment the next few days and we need to look through the archives for a case we're working on." Sirius opened his worn leather jacket and showed her what Hermione assumed to be an Auror badge as James also produced his own.

"That's another matter entirely then, Auror…" Laney leaned in close, craning her neck to offer her ear. "I don't think I caught your last name."

"Black—Sirius Black."

The witch's eyes gleamed and her tongue dragged slowly along her teeth. "Well, Auror Black, you and your friend back there are welcome to enter once you sign in. But unless she," Laney jerked her chin in Hermione's direction, "produces an Auror badge, she needs to return during public hours."

"Sweetheart, please…"

It seemed his charms were fading because the receptionist clucked her tongue at him and straightened her spine. "I'm sorry, Auror Black. It's policy. Here is the sign-in parchment and the archives are on the second floor." She then eyed Hermione hard before returning her gaze to her desk and the trash magazine no doubt opened there.

"You sign us in, Sirius. I'll walk Hermione out and be right back." James' hand came down on her lower back and guided her away as Hermione sputtered and attempted to dig her heels into the cheap tile. When he finally dragged her onto the street, he tugged her into the alley and shot her a look. "Stop being so combative."

"James! I need to be in there! You and Sirius barely know what you're looking for and—" With a groan, James reached into his jacket and shook free a charmed cloak that she knew all too well. "Oh, you brilliant man. You brought the invisibility cloak?"

"Of course," he deadpanned. "I'm rarely without it, honestly. You never know when I'll need to sneak into somewhere I ought not or spy on you when you're changing." Hermione leveled him with a murderous stare, finding his smile broadening. "Stick close; stay quiet."

James fussed with his wool jacket and turned back for the business, leaving the door open a moment longer so she could sneak in behind him.

"Got rid of the bird?" Sirius grinned, grey eyes sparkling.

"Yeah. You ready?" Hermione stuck obnoxiously close to James' side, the weight of the cloak providing her a sense of security as they rushed past the receptionist. As they made their way down the hall, Hermione turned over her shoulder, her jaw falling open at the way the tart was staring at the boy's behinds.

They were up the lift and in the archives a few minutes later, finding it quiet and unoccupied. Hermione clawed the cloak off her and fussed with her hair. "That witch was checking out your arses!"

James and Sirius shared a cocky smile and shrugged. "We have exceptionally good arses. Can't blame her," James said with a wink before slapping her behind playfully and turning for the formidable aisles of old periodicals. "Merlin, where do we start?"

After yelping and batting at his back, Hermione regained her senses. "Dorcas said that it was during the spring of her fifth year, but she couldn't remember exactly the month, only that she was busy studying for O.W.L.s."

"She's what four, maybe five, years older than us? Woulda put it about '72? Oi, why don't I remember anything about this murder?"

James snorted and turned towards the appropriate aisle. "Probably cause you were chasing skirts, mate. I believe you were courting a fourth year at the time."

Lolling his head to the side, Sirius wagged his eyebrows obnoxiously. "Oh. That's right."

"You're awful," Hermione said plainly, rolling her eyes and following after James with the cloak draped over her arm. The entire way to the aisle marked Spring 1972, Sirius cackled behind them, recounting the legs on the fourth year and how he'd almost gotten to second base.

A few minutes later they were sitting at a long table in the centre of the room with a small pile of folios around them ranging from January to June of 1972. The Prophet released two editions each day, the Daily and the Evening, which meant there were upwards of one-hundred and eighty papers to sift through. Luckily, Dorcas had mentioned specifically seeing the news of Hepzibah's murder on the front page but they would need to read up on all information they could get their hands on regarding her untimely death.

As Hermione flipped absently through the February folio, all three of them froze. The telltale clicking of heeled shoes on hard floor approached. James cursed, grabbing the cloak, tucking it around Hermione carefully and then returning hastily to the task at hand. He stared at the words in front of him bug-eyed, and Hermione thought at once that he looked rather… suspicious. He'd buried his hand in his hair, slouching his shoulders and hiding behind his fringe and hand.

Across from them, Sirius beamed, his grin bright and happy as he leaned back in his chair. "I bet five galleons I know who that is— knew I saw her out there."

"Shut it, Paddy. I will hex you under this fucking table if you so much as—"

"Well!" A shrill yet somehow sugary voice pierced the air, and James bristled, his shoulders rising up around his ears. "You know, I was interviewing Mr. Lockheart—brilliant fellow—and I could have sworn I saw my favourite boy sneak by."

The blood drained from Hermione's cheeks, her jaw falling open at the sight of Rita bleeding Skeeter approaching with a haughty smirk. She was wearing the gaudiest two-piece ensemble the colour of a tangerine and her face was painted up like she was going to a formal gala. But most importantly—she was very pretty. Her hair was near Malfoy blonde, meticulously curled with fat ringlets tumbling over her shoulders, and there was something alluring about the way her hips sashayed when she crossed the room.

Hermione gaped as the witch came up to her boyfriend and leaned her bum on the table right next to where he sat. Her gape turned to a glare as James' hand fell away and he smiled kindly up at her. "Rita, how are you?"

A pretty pout turned Rita's lips downward, her brows tugging together as she leaned into James space. "Could be better."

James flinched when Hermione jammed a finger in his ribs, but he quickly recovered. "Saw your name on the front page a few weeks ago. Congratulations." He was perfectly polite but the way that Skeeter stared at him made Hermione's blood boil.

"Hi, Rita!" Sirius said too brightly, crossing his arms across his chest. "Did you miss me?"

The tacky witch's lip curled and she glared over her shoulder at Sirius for a split second. "No." When her gaze fell back on James, her flirtatious expression had returned and she batted her eyelashes a few times for good measure. "I heard you made Auror! Let me take you to dinner on the paper's dime so we can discuss your promotion, the department's comings and goings. Maybe get dessert after." She leaned farther into James' space, her breasts now just a handful of inches from his face, and Hermione was of the mind to trap the idiot in a jar, this time for the rest of her life.

James turned his face up to hers with a grin that didn't quite touch his eyes. "I'm seeing someone, Rita."

With a puff of her lips, Rita rolled her eyes and pushed off the table. "Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me. Anything you need help finding?"

"Say, Skeeter," Sirius crowed and the mere sound of his voice made Rita's nose wrinkle in disdain. "You're a lot older than us, do you remember what month the Hepzibah Smith murder happened?"

Rita choked out a hard breath.

"It would be a huge help," James added, his tone far more charming than it had been even moments earlier.

Shimmying her shoulders, Rita peered down her nose at him and her gears began churning. "I think late March if I remember correctly."

"I've heard your memory starts to go as you get up there in age…" Sirius' lip twitched as he tried to keep a straight face, and Rita's eyes fluttered closed as she dragged a long inhale through her nose.

"It was March," Rita amended before placing her small hand on James' shoulder. "And the offer stands, Jamie—girlfriend or not."

Crimson stained the edge of Hermione's vision, and she could feel the small crescent-shaped dents in her palms as her fists closed until she was white-knuckled.

Without further adieu, Rita turned to leave, her heels clicking with each step. "Bye, Skeeter!" Sirius shouted, and to her credit, the witch didn't so much as flinch as she raised her middle finger in the air and disappeared down the aisle.

When Hermione was sure she was gone, she ripped the cloak off, her eyes cut into slits at her blushing boyfriend. "Did you have sex with Rita Skeeter?"

James had the good sense to appear appalled, his jaw falling open and eyes rounding. "Absolutely not." From across the table, Sirius snickered into his palm and when both of their gazes snapped to him, he wildly waved his hands, his cheeks pink from keeping his breath trapped in his lungs. "Sirius, this is not the time for one of your bullshit pranks. I swear if you—"

Sirius fixed a grave mask on his face and shook his head. "I would never." He then turned to Hermione. "They didn't have sex but not because Skeeter hadn't bloody well tried. She gave us lessons… you know, how to shift into our other forms when we were kids. We ran into her again when we were in, what—sixth year? Regardless, she was starry-eyed for our dear Prongs. Nearly climbed in his lap at the Three Broomsticks."

"She's just friendly," James qualified, squirming a bit in his seat. "A bit tenacious, though."

Bile climbed up the back of Hermione's throat, and she shivered from sheer disgust. "Isn't she a bit older than you?"

"Oh yeah," Sirius scoffed. "She was in her fifth or sixth year when she taught us. We'd heard rumours and although she denied her ability to shift at first, her services were easily bought. She was probably in her mid-twenties when she tried to fuck Prongs."

Stomach churning, Hermione reached for the book marked March 1972: Evening Prophet. "Just so you know, she also makes very inappropriate suggestions at your fourteen year-old-son when he was in the TriWizard Tournament. She's a menace. As recompense, I soon thereafter trapped the stupid bint in a jar as a beetle and kept her there until she'd learned her lessons about spreading salacious gossip." She puffed out a breath, a curl flying away before falling back over her face. "Lot of good it did because she was back at it the following year."

With far too much vigour, she flipped the plastic-covered pages as if they'd personally offended her, her mouth set in a scowl as she rested her cheek in her palm.

"D-did you say TriWizard?"

The question was simple enough but Hermione felt a swell of panic churn in her stomach; that bit had slipped in her ire. A blush stained her cheeks, and her anger faded into awkwardness. "Oh. Well, yes. It's a long story but, you know, Harry was always getting himself into trouble." An uncomfortable laugh slipped from her lips and when she finally glanced up at James for the first time, he seemed... interested in his hypothetical son. "Do you want me to tell you about it?"

James nodded.

Swallowing, she sat tall and gnawed on the inside of her cheek. "Well, I'll leave out the nefarious bits for now but the TriWizard Tournament occurred during our fourth year. Only seventeen-year-olds were allowed to compete but Harry—" A smile fought its way onto her lips as she remembered the dopey look he'd worn when Dumbledore called his name. "He was the first ever fourth champion—and at only fourteen. He out flew a dragon, saved two people from the mer-kingdom, and…" Visions of Cedric Diggory's lifeless body and a hysterical Harry after just barely escaping Voldemort flooded her mind, and she shook her head free of the thoughts. She settled for, "He won. He was brilliant."

When she looked at James again, she couldn't name the emotion etched into his features, but she could feel it billowing off him. Something like confusion, grief, and awe all rolled into one.

"He sounds like a Potter," Sirius said, breaking the trance.

James blinked a few times and remembered himself, chuckling quietly before turning back for the files. "Yeah, that he does."

xXx

Hermione stared at the copied sketch of the cup of Helga Hufflepuff, illuminated only by the light of the moon streaming through her window. It seemed small and was clearly an artist rendition, but it was something. She'd already made several copies and posted it around headquarters and sent them to each safe house with a note to contact Hermione Granger if anyone came across it.

They'd spent several hours scouring the papers from March, duplicating each article with the Geminio charm so that she could pour over them again and again. During her cursory read through she'd not discovered anything new but she was sure more clues were hidden amongst the stacks of parchment they'd brought home. She couldn't help but feel stilted. Everything was anti-climatic, like she'd been swimming for the surface, desperate for a lungful of air but instead barely managed a breath before being dragged under into the unknown. They were inches closer to their goal but it wasn't enough to find a Horcrux. Not enough to bloody destroy them.

Next to her, a soft snore lilted through the air, and she laughed at the Potter in her bed, hair all a mess and his limbs tangled around her. A soft smile bent her lips as she thought about the afternoon they'd shared.

It'd been beyond strange to tell him such intimate details about Harry today. But it didn't hurt like she thought it would, not until she remembered the dark bits surrounding the war. She felt almost happy to think about Harry like that—cheering while lofting a golden egg proudly over his head, stumbling through his first dance with Pavarti, and the goofy embrace he and Ron had shared when they made up.

She pulled open the drawer of her end table and lifted The Tales of Beedle the Bard from its resting place, flipping right for the photo of her and the boys. An ache settled in then, one that stole her breath as a few tears stained the surface of the image.

As she shoved it back in the pages and tossed it back in, she heard the rattle of glass and remembered the box she'd stowed in there. Summoning her courage, she disentangled herself from James and found a space on the floor bathed in silver light with her wand and a box of empty vials.

She started first year, ignoring the nasty early memories, then onto second and third. Pulling her favourite memories from her mind was like tugging free a tangled thread, except that thread was attached to a hundred other carefully woven memories. A slight headache formed and the final memory was the one from the Quidditch World Cup.

She still had a dozen empty vials to fill but for now, this was enough. After stowing them back in her table, she climbed into bed, burying herself in James' arms. With careful precision, she thought back on the memories she'd pulled; they were still there. A bit hazy, but there.

Sleep didn't take her for a long while as she sat there memorising them for herself again and again.

xXx

Thanks for following for another update! I hope you enjoyed it and I can't thank you enough for all your support and feedback as I undertake this behemoth. I still find myself a bit shocked that I'm writing this lol I swore I'd never get a story longer than Unchained and yet here we are! I am, as ever, rubbish at responding to reviews! I try to snag a few as I can but my kids don't like me on my phone all that much haha if you want to chat or checkout my fanart, head over to my tumblr! (same penname) I'd love to see you there.

Forever thanks to my BritishAlphabet: Farmulousa, Ravenslight, and NuclearNik for all their love and support when I feel like RIPPING MY HAIR FROM MY SKULL WITH THESE NAUGHTY MARAUDERS AND JKR WRITING IMPOSSIBLE CANON. Lol, okay drama done.

Until next week—

LK