September, 1976.

"Hermione?"

She ignored his confused look and let him wrap an arm around her shoulders. After what happened earlier that afternoon, Hermione needed the presence of a boy she knew wouldn't break her heart. She was with the boy who always made sure she slept peacefully in the comfort of her bed, instead of the frigid chair at the library. She was with the same boy who threatened to hex any git that dared to make her cry.

She felt him tug his glasses up his nose and hid a smile at how much younger he looked when he did so.

"Wanna go to the kitchens?" he asked.

She gave him a nod and turned to face him, a wide smile breaking out. He would always understand her need of treacle tarts.

.

"So," he started, as they sat in a oh-so familiar room. She watched house elves prepare the feast for the evening, then meeting the gaze of her best friend. "What's up with you?" he asked.

Hermione gave him a silent shrug and picked on the dessert she'd once promised to die for. Realizing that he wasn't going to let her get away without a proper answer, she drew a breath.

"Alright. Say you have two really close friends. Said friends might like you, but you are absolutely sure you don't like at least one of them."

"What about the other one?" he butted in.

She gave him a glare for interrupting and he raised his arms in surrender. "Like I was saying . . . You're sure you don't like one of them, but the other one—You're not so sure. It's like you've always known they were attractive, but suddenly you're acutely aware of how attractive - attractive they actually are."

The thought of him brought the memories of the event rushing forward like a flowing stream and her face reddened. She rushed to continue, hoping James didn't notice the change in her expression. "Now, what do you do to make sure you're not going crazy and that their proximity isn't absolutely unnerving?"

He gave her thoughtful look, his mouth pressing into a straight line as he pondered on the question. At least that's what she thought until he opened his bloody mouth. "Who is it?"

"Wh—I wasn't talking about myself."

"Ah. Yes, that's why it's so detailed and drool is pooling out of your mouth," he deadpanned.

She bit her lip but didn't argue. He was right, minus the drool part, of course. "Fine, yes. James Potter knows me so well," she grunted.

"It's not me, is it?" he asked, with wide eyes full of fake concern.

He snickered as a look of disgust took over her face. A short but comfortable silence descended upon them and she paused, liking her lips as she wondered if she should confess. Mentally agreeing with her conclusion that this was her brother in any sense other than blood, she sighed and said, "It's Sirius and Peter."

"You don't like Sirius and possibly like Peter?" he questioned, his brows arching high on his forehead in disbelief.

She slapped the back of his head and he let out a high pitched yelp. Hermione covered her face with her hands before murmuring, "It's the opposite."

"Ah."

"Yes, ah. I've become just like the rest of the girls," she told him, frustration laced in her voice.

James pulled her hands away and she blinked at him, surprised to see the unusually, serious look he was sporting. He shook his head and she arched a brow at him.

"You shouldn't be embarrassed for liking Padfoot. He's a handsome guy," he explained.

"That's the problem though," she moaned as she ran a finger through her curls. "He's handsome and I'm . . . okay."

He sighed. "You're not just okay. You're a beautiful girl, Hermione. Do you not see the amount of guys I have to threaten because of you?"

His eyes softened and he ruffled her hair, grinning when her eyes narrowed at him. "Trust me when I say that even if you do end up liking Sirius one day, it will be once he chases after you, because I bet a billion galleons that by now he has realized you're one of a kind."

"Well, we did almost kiss . . ."

James pulled a face. "Okay. I didn't need to know that."

Her lips curled into a wry smile before they thinned again. He caught the change and asked, "What is it?"

"What about Peter?"

"He'll understand. There's plenty of fish in the sea."

"But no one like Lily?"

"But no one like Lily," he confirmed.


Hermione was not prepared for this. James had called her through her two-way mirror and asked for her graceful presence because they had a surprise for her. She thought all was well when she strolled from across the common room to her friends' dorm.

All was not well once she sat in between Peter and Sirius. The latter refused to wear a bloody shirt no matter how many times she told him to do so. He obviously did not know how hard it was for her not to lean in the warmth that radiated from his body. He had an arm wrapped around her shoulder and he talked as if nothing had happened earlier. As if they hadn't almost kissed!

Hermione refused to act any different, if he wasn't going to do so as well. She squared her shoulders and swallowed yet another shot of Firewhiskey down her throat. She didn't know what they were celebrating but she let them.

". . . so I told Evans that if she really wanted to be the one running her soft, delicate fingers through my hair, she should've just said so. Then she looked at me with those beautiful green eyes of hers and . . ."

James' voice blurred out and Hermione nearly spilled her glass, when Sirius inched closer to her ear and his breath fanned across a couple of stray curls. He tucked them in behind her ear and commented, "You're drinking a lot."

She turned to meet his gaze and was struck by the heat swimming in the depths of his eyes. She tried valiantly to fight back the urge to look at his lips and lost miserably. Hermione watched his tongue slip out between his plump lips and mentally complimented him for keeping them soft and not chapped like most boys. She wondered if they felt just as soft.

Her eyes flickered back to his own to give him a glare when she saw the corners of his lips tug into a knowing smirk. Realizing she still hadn't given him an answer, she swallowed audibly and dragged her eyes away.

"Pot calling the kettle black," she snipped.

"Oh, but I am a Black."

She felt him slowly drag his hand from her shoulders to her arm. He began to rub in an up and down motion, the friction of her long sleeve shirt long forgotten.

"Oi!" James' voice pulled both of their attention away from each other and they watched as their friend attempted to turn into Prongs.

Horrified, she jolted on her feet and ran to get his attention. She exhaled a breath before she convinced him that he would not be able to turn back into himself, as he would be a drunk stag. Hermione didn't want to deal explaining what the animal was doing in the room, especially not to the Head of Gryffindor.

She forced him to get his arse to sleep and he complied much easier than she had expected. Remus and Peter soon followed, feeling exhausted over the ruckus they'd created.

Her head snapped back over her shoulders to see Sirius staring at her, his feet crossed in front of him and hands placed in the pockets of his jeans. Heat pooled in from head to toe when he gave her a charming smile and she muttered something along the lines of 'transferring to Beauxbatons' as she strolled past him and back to the safe walls of her own dorm.