Chapter 71: Friday, May 1, 1981

"I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again."

-F. Scott Fitzgerald


Hermione sat on a slab of cold stone; the chill in the air working its way through her jumper and cloak as she kept watch from the inside of the dank cave she was holed inside of with Ginny and Ron. They had been waiting for hours for Theo's signal, but no sign of the red sparks had come.

"How much longer do you think?" Ron asked, impatience lacing his voice. "If we can't get out of here soon, I'm going to lose my mind."

"Shut up, will you?" Ginny snapped. "You aren't the only one with someone out there."

"I don't understand why we had to stay behind. Harry took Malfoy of all people! I should—"

"Ron," Hermione sighed, pinching her nose. "We've been over this. Draco knows the layout of this hideout. It's a labyrinth that we can not afford to get lost for hours in and they needed us here for backup in case they get attacked from the other side."

Ron huffed in defeat, kicking a few rocks around with his trainer clad foot and paced the mouth of the cave. "Hopefully they were able to keep the Hinkypunks away. I've heard they're all over the place out here."

"Luna is with them," Ginny reminded him.

"Don't remind me," Ron said, miserably.

"Luna has an aptitude for creatures, they listen to her." Hermione said, "They'll all be okay. No sense in worrying ourselves sick, it only prolongs the suffering."

"Hey, my boyfriend is out there too and you don't see me whinging about it." Ginny muttered.

Ron rolled his eyes and finally took a seat on a nearby boulder. "Do you remember that obstacle course we did during third year?" he asked, suddenly. "The one with Lupin?"

"I could never forget it," Hermione said. "You made fun of me for weeks because of my Boggart, remember?"

Ron laughed boisterously and shook his head, "I'd forgotten! I got so mixed up in the field because of the Hinkypunks, Lupin had to come save my arse! Bloody menaces, they are."

Hermione chuckled, thinking back fondly on the moment. "He really was the best Defence Professor we had, wasn't he?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "Be useful to have him here now, what with all the werewolf sightings during the day. Reckon he'd be able to figure something out about that, instead of sending my girlfriend and best friend into their dens."

Hermione rolled her shoulders, attempting to ease the pain that twinged at the back of her neck. "Would have been nice to have him around for more than bait," she said. "He was brilliant."

A sad tug pulled in Hermione's heart, pushing a slow breath through her lips. She got up and stretched her back out, heading to the mouth of the cave and stepped into the freezing January air. Something always turned in her stomach when she thought of her former professor and his untimely death at the Battle of Hogwarts. Of course, they had lost many people that day and many people since, but the thought that Remus Lupin had been killed in such a manner…

He had taught her much of what she knew, when she really sat to think about it. The only Defence professor they had ever had that was worth their salt. And even after he left Hogwarts, he continued to help them, to help her. More than once, she had owled him recommendations on books to help them. During their fifth year, although he swore he wanted no part in it, he had sent Hermione several different letters containing defensive theory and strategy to help with the D.A..

She sighed and sat at the edge of the cliff that overlooked the forest. Theo, Draco, Harry, and Luna were all stalking through the frozen trees right now, tracking a lead on the whereabouts of Walden MacNair and a group of low level Death Eaters that were known to be smuggling dangerous creatures into the country. Her feet dangled and small bits of rock and other debris slipped over the edge. She rolled her shoulders again, bringing her hand up to the back of her neck to massage the muscle there. As her fingers pressed into the tightened flesh, she got the sudden feeling that she was being watched. Before she could turn around, however, red sparks finally shot up into the sky and Hermione jumped up, hurrying to Ron and Ginny. As they apparated away, in a swirl of colour at the mouth of the cave, she swore she saw a pair of gold eyes staring at her from under a hooded cloak.


Hermione went in and out of consciousness, her eyes never opening, but her mind catching glimpses between moments of oblivion. Occasionally, she could hear hushed voices coming from the side of her bed, or feel a hand wrapped around her own. At one point, she vaguely remembered hearing the laughing of a baby and then a shushing sound immediately following it.

She tried to open her mouth, to say that Harry could laugh, that the sounds of delight coming from his chubby face made her heart sing with happiness. But instead, all she could do was listen.

A strange, non-scent stung her nose every few hours. It was familiar—the clean, sterile scent of antiseptic and healing elixirs that were being applied to various cuts and scrapes on her person. She tried to move her hands, to convince her heavy limbs to just move and feel over the bandages wrapping her torso, arms, and legs; to assess the damage and see what type of injuries she had taken, but her body refused to cooperate and she succumbed to her exhaustion.

For the first time in almost two years, time felt irrelevant. Had it been minutes, hours, days? Hermione didn't know how long she had been laying in her bed but she knew it was her own bed. The gentle scent of her own pillow that cut through the sterile smells and the weight of the duvet that covered her body offered her a comfort that she doubted she would have had it not been her own items that swaddled her.

Fading in and out of consciousness was a strange place to be, Hermione decided. She felt like she was out at sea on a poorly constructed raft, battling waves with a stick and hoping to get to shore. She wanted to wade through the tumultuous waters of her subconscious to reach the surface, but try as she might, she was unable to push through.

Snippets of conversation floated through the air. Arguments between Sirius and Remus that were said in fierce, hushed voices from across the room, laughter from Harry, reading from Lily, stories of their time at Hogwarts from James…

And always a light melody of music coming from the record player. John, Paul, George, and Ringo playing softly in the background all hours of the day and night. She mused, at one point in the strange half-conscious limbo she hung in, that the music was probably more for Remus than for her, but she hoped it brought him comfort.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Why were you there, Moony?" Sirius' voice came in a low, furious sounding whisper.

"Does it matter?" Remus answered, his tone just as severe. "I was there, I found her and brought her home!"

"You shouldn't have left in the first place! Nearly a month you were gone, while she was beside herself with worry for you. And for what? Because you were angry?"

"Yes! I was angry! I will not apologize for being upset when you knew and didn't tell me! You should have told me, Sirius. You should have come straight to me! I could have helped her, I could have—"

"You would have done the same had I told you," Sirius said. "It's what you do. You run away, you hide your problems and bury them deep and you can't be upset with Hermione for trying to protect you!"

"I don't need protecting!"

A snort of laughter came from Sirius, "You are your own worst enemy, Remus. She knows that the same way we always have."


"I just don't understand," James' voice came from just beside the bed. "How did you know where she was?"

"I didn't," Remus sighed. Hermione could feel the bed dip by her feet as he sat. He placed a hand over her shin, massaging it absentmindedly as he continued, "I was already in Birmingham. One of the wolves from the pack I was staying with said there was a woman wandering alone in the woods, asking for me."

"How long had she been there, did they say?"

"I don't know. By the time I got to her she was already…" He trailed off, a slow breath whistled between his lips. "Gareth, the one who spoke to her, he's known for getting involved with muggle drugs. I thought he was high—we all did. When he started describing her and then said the darkness had come so he left…"

"The darkness being the Dementors?"

Remus didn't answer, but the slight movement on the bed led Hermione to believe that he may have nodded. They stayed silent for several minutes until Remus spoke again, "I don't know why she would have gone on her own. She shouldn't have gone there, she could have… James, she almost…"

"I know," James sounded guarded, frightened even, a far cry difference from the strange version of him she had dreamt up before coming back into her mind. "We'll find out more as soon as she wakes up, we'll find out."


With effort that felt far too great for the task at hand, Hermione slowly opened her eyes. She blinked several times, clearing the fogginess that blurred at the edge of her vision, and stared up at the stucco, yellowed ceiling of her bedroom. After a few moments of adjusting her eyesight, she tried to move. Finally, her limbs seemed to cooperate and with some effort, she pulled a hand up from the bed and pushed the hair from her forehead.

She opened and closed her mouth several times, her tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth, her throat scratched like sandpaper against cheap wood. She was parched, more thirsty than she could ever remember being in her life, and the thought of a cool glass of water was enough to force her aching body to sit up.

Slowly, she pushed her back from the mattress and pulled herself into a sitting position. She looked around the room and saw Remus at the foot of the bed, nearly folded in half as he slept in the chair, his upper body nestled into his crossed arms that were pressed onto the top of the mattress near her feet.

"Remus," she croaked. His name fell from her mouth like ash, the two syllables broken and gritty as they tumbled past her lips. He didn't stir and she felt a small frown tug at her mouth.

He looked horrible. His skin was pallid, his hair an absolute wreck—nearly standing on its ends, no doubt from running his hands through it. Despite the fact he was asleep, the rings under his eyes were a deep, greyish-purple colour and his jaw was tightly clenched. His shoulders were hunched and he looked tense.

Hermione attempted to clear her throat and called his name again, "R-Remus."

Remus jolted upright as if an electric shock had torn through his body. He blinked rapidly, his bleary eyes landing on Hermione before his blank, sleep deprived face turned into a look of shock.

"You're awake!" He breathed, his tone almost disbelieving. He got up from his spot at the end of the bed and rushed to her side, cupping her face in his hands and checking her over before folding himself in half to wrap his arms around her. "Thank fuck. I didn't…Merlin, I didn't know if you would...fuck I was so worried."

Hermione smiled, her eyes still heavy as she blinked and tried her best to squeeze him back with the same gusto he had put into the embrace. "How long have I been out for?"

"Five days," Remus said. "You were unconscious for five days. How are you feeling? Are you in any pain? I can get the potions Poppy brought if you need them, she said you could—"

"Remus," Hermione interrupted, a small smile on her lips. "I'm okay. I could use some water though."

He pulled away from her and conjured a glass, filling it with water from his wand and handed it to her, immediately. Her smile broadened and she took the glass, gulping down the cool liquid in seconds. He refilled it and when she drained it a second time, she handed it back to Remus and pulled herself back against the headboard, resting her back against it as she pulled her stiff legs up. She moved closer to the wall and patted the spot next to her.

"Sit with me?"

Without hesitation, Remus climbed into the bed, wrapping his arms around her. He tucked her head beneath his chin and she could hear his heart racing inside his chest. She snaked her arms around his middle and sank into him, enjoying the warmth his body gave off.

After some time—Hermione wasn't sure how long and her brain still felt thick and syrupy from being unconscious for so long—she finally shifted and looked up at him. "What happened?"

Remus pulled back a bit, his eyes roaming her face as he spoke in a careful tone, "You don't remember?"

Hermione screwed up her face in thought, trying to bring forth her recollection of what happened. It came in bits and pieces; broken flashes of a dark thatch of trees, a low, calm voice speaking out to her, her heart pounding in her chest as she ran, the overwhelming feeling of dread and despair, the cold…

"Dementors," she said, on the end of a shaking breath. "I remember Dementors."

A look of pain flashed over Remus' features. "You...you died, Hermione. For the briefest of moments, when I picked you up from the ground, you were…" He trailed off, the breath hitched in his throat. After a few moments, he got up from the bed and began pacing around the room, pulling his hands through his hair. "It was my fault. I-I left you here, alone. And, fuck...when I found you...it was horrible. I've never seen anything like it. A glowing sphere was hovering above you, they were swarming and all I could think about was you. Not now, not now. You weren't supposed to die here."

A look stole Remus' face, faraway and pained. He stared at the corner of the bed, his nose flaring slightly as he sniffled, his mouth twisting off to the side as he tried to hold himself together.

A foggy memory of a dream sat in the forefront of her mind, of James and a lit floo connection. "I assume that will take you wherever you're meant to be, should you choose to leave."

"I died," Hermione whispered. She snapped her up, looking at Remus as he paced. "What do you mean I died?"

"I mean, you died. Your heart wasn't beating when I found you, no breath in your lungs." Remus said, miserably.

"But, a Dementor's kiss doesn't kill you…" Hermione pulled her brows together again, a frown on her face as she tried to make sense of it all. "That doesn't make sense."

"Your curse," Remus said, finally looking at her. "It's the best thing we've been able to come up with. I think...I think when they swarmed you, it sped up the effects. Your organs shut down faster than they should have because they...Hermione, they sucked your soul from your body."

A sad smile fell upon her lips and she nodded, "I know. That's what they do. They feed off happy memories, taking every ounce of happiness and joy you've ever felt until you're left with nothing but despair and anguish. I think it's the only bit of humanity they get to indulge in, once they've been turned."

"Lily reckons it saved you," he muttered. "She went through your journal, read all your notes. She said your soul being separated from your body when the curse killed you is ultimately what saved you."

"Some souls can't be brought back, some souls never left, and some souls aren't meant to depart just yet…" Hermione whispered, James' words ringing loudly in her head.

"What?"

She shook her head, "It's not important."

Hermione moved to the edge of the bed and tried to get up, immediately feeling woozy and stumbling to the side. Remus swooped next to her, wrapping his arms around her middle and pulled her back onto the bed, and into his lap. She rested her head on his chest and smiled up at him, when he didn't return her smile, but instead frowned, she placed the pad of her thumb at the pinched skin between his eyes and smoothed the creases down.

"Why were you out there?" Remus asked.

"I was looking for you, obviously."

"Why did you go alone?"

"I think the better question is to ask why you were there in the first place?" Hermione retorted.

Remus heaved a sigh and pulled her hand from his face, pressing the tips of her fingers against his lips before holding her hand in his. "I asked Dumbledore to send me somewhere—anywhere. I just needed to clear my head, to think! I didn't...if I would have thought for one minute…"

"It's okay," Hermione whispered. "I'm not upset with you. I was worried, so I went looking. No one had heard from you, Dumbledore wouldn't answer my letters about where you were at...and then it was weeks that went by and I was afraid you had been hurt."

"How did you know where to look?" Remus asked.

Peter's face flashed in her mind and she could see him scribbling down the coordinates in her journal, could hear him telling her he knew where Remus was at. Just as she opened her mouth to tell Remus—well, everything...James' voice once again floated through her mind:

"When the time is right, you'll know what to do. You always do."

It was Peter.

It was Peter who had been feeding information to the Death Eaters and Voldemort. It was Peter who had led the Prewett twins to their deaths, Peter who had given up the location of Marlene and her family, Peter who…

Who had been working to turn Remus and Sirius against one another.

Who would betray James and Lily, leaving Harry orphaned.

Who would kill a dozen muggles and frame Sirius.

Who would return to his master, his Lord, and sacrifice his own flesh to give him a full life, once more.

Still, as she sat with the realization weighing heavy in her mind, she couldn't bring herself to speak the words. When the time is right, James had said. And try as she might to figure out why she felt that this was not the right time, she didn't have an answer. It wasn't the right time to speak the words, to out Peter for the coward, the traitor he was. Months and months of uneasiness toward the man began to make sense and she wanted nothing more than to scream from the rooftops that Peter Pettigrew was the spy, the traitor, the rat.

But something deep inside of her stopped her from saying the words.

Who would believe her?

How could she possibly prove that Peter had done anything wrong up to this point? She had no tangible proof, nothing besides a few coordinates scratched in her journal. And even then, if he had told anyone that he believed Remus or Sirius to be the spy, Dumbledore and Moody would have someone keeping tabs on them, someone who could go wholly unnoticed and sneak into small spaces to observe.

Someone who could transform into a rat and scurry through her kitchen in the middle of the night.

"Hermione?" Remus' voice broke her from her thoughts.

She blinked several times, trying to piece together a sentence that would make sense. "I-I'm sorry," she said. "I can't remember."

Remus frowned, but nodded. "It's okay. It doesn't matter. I'm just...fuck. I'm so glad you're okay. I thought…" His voice became thick and he cleared his throat. "I thought I was going to lose you. And I-I can't imagine what I would have done…"

She adjusted herself in his lap so that she was facing him. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck. She pulled him to her, holding him tightly, pressing soft kisses into the side of his face, jaw and neck.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair, his arms tightly wound around her, holding her flush against his chest. "I'm sorry for everything I said to you, Hermione. I shouldn't have...I was angry. You tried to explain and I wouldn't listen and I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize, Remus." Hermione said, pulling back a bit to look at his face. She cupped his cheeks with her hands, forcing him to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry for making you feel like my love is conditional. It isn't—I need you to know that. It isn't conditional, and you're everything to me. I love you more wholly than I've ever loved anyone, and I'm not going to leave."

"You have to," Remus whispered, "I know that. You have to go and—"

"No, Remus, you aren't…" She chuckled, "You don't understand."

The thought hit Hermione as the words tumbled from her mouth. She had died. She. Had. Died.

"What are you talking about?"

She bit into her bottom lip, holding back a smile, praying that she was right. "Ask me something about the future."

Remus looked perplexed for a moment. "Er...okay...um…"

"Um… ask me something about Harry! Something you want to know but I haven't been able to tell you!"

"Okay...erm...In your time, what is he doing? Is he happy? Does he-does he have a girlfriend?"

Hermione smiled, a wide beaming grin as she opened her mouth to answer, her wrist without ache as she spoke. "He's head of the Order, makes all the big decisions, all the moves. He's brilliant at it, a natural leader, even when he doesn't want to be. I think he's happy, he seems to be anyway, as happy as you can be in the middle of a war. And no, no girlfriend but—"

"That's a shame," Remus whispered. "James will be devastated that his son didn't fall in love at twelve and—"

"You didn't let me finish," Hermione said, chuckling. "No girlfriend, because he's gay. He has a boyfriend named Blaise, and he's brilliant, too. I've never seen someone who can transfigure anything with the efficiency of Blaise, he's our top dueller because of it. And he and Harry are very much in love. Not from the age of twelve, unfortunately. But from nineteen on, it's been Harry and Blaise, and they're perfect together."

"A boyfriend?" Remus said, his eyes wide. He smiled, a genuine, bright smile. "That's lovely. They're happy and...wait. Wait. Why..?"

"I died, Remus. You said so, yourself. I died, so I fulfilled the vow."

His smile faltered and he stared at her, his eyes wide with disbelief before he wrapped his arms tighter around her, jumping up from the bed and hugging her tightly as he spun around. Hermione squealed, clutching tightly to him and burying her face into the crook of his neck.

"You don't have to leave?"

"No," Hermione said. "No, I don't."

Finally, he stopped spinning and Hermione's legs dropped from around his waist. She stood, carefully on her weakened legs and stared up at him, basking in the happiness that exuded from him. Until suddenly, a flash of realization crossed his features and his eyes swirled with gold.

"And the curse?" Remus asked.

"I...I don't know."

He took a step back and seemed to be pondering something. He began to mutter to himself, talking to Moony in quick, half sentences she had learned to tune out. After a few minutes, he looked at her again, his face set, determined.

"You're my mate," he declared.

"I know."

"If I…" he seemed to struggle with the words he wanted to say, and every so slowly, he pulled them forth. "If I were to...to mark you...would that…?"

Hermione shrugged, "I don't know."

"You're mine," Remus said, more aggressively than Hermione had been expecting. "You're mine and I chose you. And I will always choose you, Hermione. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. Remus I don't—"

"You brought it up before, to have me mark you. To do the ritual and claim you...and I want to. If it could...fuck...it could save you, couldn't it? Keep you from turning into one of them?"

"I-I don't know."

"We have to try, don't we? If you...if you want to. If you still want to do the ritual, Hermione. I'll do it. I want to be tied to you always, until the end of time. Dementor or not, you're mine and if this could stop it…"

Hermione was taken aback. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that. Remus had been so vehemently against it, hadn't even entertained the thought of the discussion. And now…

Now he was offering to mark her. To claim her as his mate for life, to let Moony lay his claim and keep this part of her, forever. Tethered together by the binds of werewolf mate magic in a ritual that would bind their lives, magic, and soul.

He was trying to save her.

"Okay," she said. "Only if you're sure."

"I have never been more sure of anything in my life," he whispered. "I knew it was you from the second I saw you. It's always been you, it's always going to be you. I love you, and I said I would do anything for you… I meant it."

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a/n: Sorry the update came so late today my loves! I hada busy busy couple of days! But I hope you liked it!

xo