September, 1976.

"He's still not talking to you?"

The week was soon over and her friendship with Sirius had turned oddly fragile, especially in the eyes of others.

She turned to look at Remus, her lips pursed when she noticed a redhead's snort in the background. She didn't have time to deal with one more spitfire, so she ignored her.

Hermione gave her friend a stiff shake of her head. "Turns out even chocolate cake can't get me out of this."

"Well, it'd surely work for me," he said, an attempt at a joke that clearly failed when her lips thinned. He cleared his throat. "Right - er, perhaps he's waiting until tonight?"

Her brows furrowed and she gave him a questioning look. "Why? What's tonight?"

He looked far too smug for her liking, but so pleased with himself that she couldn't complain about it. She'd been begging him to get out of his shell for six years now.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out later. We can't have you not knowing something, can we?" he replied with a cheeky grin.

"You, my friend, are getting way too confident," she muttered, throwing him an amused, yet pleased look. "Still, I'm glad your brain cells are finally absorbing good sense from mine."

"Eh, I'd say it's more of Padfoot's work, but—" he stopped when he caught her crestfallen look, and a deep frown marred his face.

"I know, sorry. I just feel . . . uneasy," she sighed heavily, leaning back and balancing herself on the chair's back legs.

He gave her an incredulous look. "Hermione - you two fight all the time. Why are you taking this so differently?"

She paused, licking her lips as she thought of an answer. "Because—because he walked away, Remus. We don't do that, not until we get our shit fixed. That's the number one rule."

"You guys made rules for your fights?" he asked in amusement, grinning momentarily at the affronted look on her face.

"Yes," she said, giving him a tart look that should clearly indicate how stupid of a question that was. "And he broke it—meaning he's actually mad, and I don't know how to fix that without even knowing what I've even done!"

"Isn't it obvious?" he questioned, an uncomfortable look on his face—as if he were hiding something.

Her chair wobbled, before coming down on all four legs. "Remus," she hissed, a dangerous edge in her tone. "What have you been hiding this whole time, because I swear to God if—"

"Hey, now! I just just saying that, I was there—" he stopped to look at her carefully, "—and he was clearly frustrated at the backhanded compliments you give him."

There was a pause, and the silence stretched between them as she thought of what he'd just said. "But I do that just as much as he teases me. And it's not like I never give serious—no pun intended, I'm serious, fuck—compliments, because I do! I always tell him how nice he is," she ended, throwing her hands up in the air with a huff.

Remus leaned forward, scooting to the edge of the table. "You don't give him the ones he—" he started to explain, but stopped when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Both looked behind, to find Evans standing there with arms crossed and thinned lips. The girl was looking at him solely, not sparing Hermione a single look.

"Remus, would you and your friend please quiet down? I agreed to joining you in the library so that we could study together, but surely not to listen to meaningless chatter."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but Remus cut her short. "I'm so sorry, Lily. I think we were just about to leave," he stood up, giving her a quick, pointed look. "Um, see you tomorrow?"

Evans gave him a nod, walking back to the table nearby. On the other hand, Remus grabbed her stuff, shoving it down her bag and doing the same with his own, before he grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the library.

Hermione wanted to give her roommate a right piece of her mind. She'd always treated her like shite and she'd assumed it was because she was a Marauder but—

"Why does she hate me for being a Marauder, but not you?" she asked, slightly hurt, and shot an irritable look behind her, even though the library was far gone.

Remus came to a halt and turned, eyeing her carefully. "Is that why you think she hates you?" he asked, frankly baffled.

When she said nothing, he let out a frustrated groan. Frustrated! As if she'd asked him to deal with this mess.

"Hermione," he started in a gentle tone, "you're so, so gullible, oblivious, innocent—"

"Okay, I get it," she snapped, her elbow driving into his gut.

He wasn't deterred. "—And pure. She doesn't just hate you for being our friend, she also hates you because you're first in every class, that too while being a muggleborn like her."

Huh. She hadn't thought about that, but then again she'd always made sure to stay at the top by concentrating on her studies, rather than the people in class. Evans could've tried that a long time ago, instead of constantly moaning and grumbling about her.

"Alright, if I were second, I might have disliked her a bit for that too, but certainly not for being a muggleborn," she scoffed, shaking her head in shock. "That's just Pureblood behaviour! Us, non-inbred muggleborns stand in solidarity."

"You're literally the only two in our House," he deadpanned and she scowled.

"Other Houses then," she finished flatly, rubbing her temples.


It'd been hours since any of the boys had talked to her, and she was starting to believe that perhaps, Sirius wasn't the only one mad at her. Of course, let's pick a day and all seethe at Hermione for breathing! She hadn't felt this lonely since - well, since her elementary school years.

The children there had been absolutely awful—nothing compared to the Slytherins, of course—but still. She could still hear every mocking word spouted towards her; know-it-all, bushy bookworm, freak, swot. She visioned herself at recess, sitting under a tree with only the company of her most favourite book, given as a gift from her parents.

So when the sun went down and even James only shared a few words with her, she blinked back a few tears and climbed to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Her grip had been tight on the book, considering it almost her lifelong saviour, with every intention of slumping against the parapet and reading it.

Though, as she stepped to walk to the other side, she'd all but almost dropped it, when she saw the familiar jetblack hair in front of her.

Her heart froze for a second, somehow feeling a punch to the gut to watch his arms placed against the wall, on either side of the girl's head. The bronze in her tie shone lightly under the dark; loosely hanging over her neckline and she looked eager on doing the same to her companion's.

Hermione stood frozen on her spot, her eyes fixed on the couple snogging all too near the rail, where she'd been meaning to sit and read.

She had come close to deriding herself. What was she doing there, out of all places, holding close to her heart a book? The people at her old school had been right. After all, maybe she really was just a bushy bookworm - minus the bush. Thank God for small favours, she muttered silently.

She was conflicted between clearing her throat and breaking them apart—Merlin, how did she even come to think that he liked her—or just walking away. She'd have done the latter, had the girl not met her eyes and let out a gasp.

The couple broke apart, their loud breathing echoing through the room and all too soon, Sirius turned around and for the first time in what felt like years, molten silver eyes met chocolate brown. She was struck by the look of irritation that flashed across his face, and she swallowed thickly the lump in her throat.

She bit her tongue, letting out a light, strained laugh. "Sorry, I was coming here to—er, never mind—I'll leave you to it . . ."

Two sets of eyes dropped to look at the book she was holding. She bristled at the blonde and the piteous gaze of hers that looked up again. Hermione all but vanished her previous thoughts of self-deprecation. She didn't need pity. No, she should be proud of doing what she loved and she loved reading much more than whatever fuckery they were doing.

The Ravenclaw giggled, covering her red, swollen lips with her hands. "That's alright, sweets. Ginger, was it?"

Sirius let out a snort and her nostrils flared—she could feel the angry, scathing beat thrumming in her blood. Asshole.

"Granger," she corrected stiffly.

"Ah, yes. You two are friends, aren't you?"

Before she could reply, Sirius murmured, "Jenny, let's just get back to where we were."

Without looking back at Hermione once, he turned around and started kissing his way down to her neck. Not willing to stand there a moment longer, she brushed away from them, anger burning up her throat as she marched down the flight of stairs.


She'd spent over an hour in a place she knew all too well. Moaning Myrtle could be a bizarre, but good company. Mostly when you joined her as she cried, but still, Myrtle had become quite acquainted with Hermione over the course of her years at Hogwarts.

Soon, she found herself standing in front of Fat Lady's portrait, repressing the urge to slam her head against the wall. Her emotions had continued building up and if she could, she would've hexed the lady already.

"Baubles! Why aren't you letting me go inside?" she sputtered.

The old woman tutted, "Kids these days . . . no patience at all."

Hermione scowled, almost letting out an apology for her tone before she was interrupted by the pale woman, "Alright, alright. Honestly, I don't know why I helped those boys at all."

With her cryptic muttering, she swung her picture backward and Hermione finally moved to slip inside. It was when she finally looked at the crowd in front of her that she froze.

"Surprise!" they cheered and she gaped at them, not as remotely embarrassed as she should've been. Banners were everywhere, addressing her as the Brightest Witch Of Their Age and wishing her a happy birthday.

A wide smile turned at her lips, feeling touched at the kind gesture. No one had ever tried so much to give her this much joy. As she blinked at unshed tears, Remus moved forward and she was swept into a bear-hug by him.

"I knew you'd forgotten that tomorrow is your birthday, Vulpy," she heard him say, his hands caressing her hair softly.

"I just—this was so nice of you. I can't . . ." she mumbled, her voice muffled against his shirt. Then, one by one, she was crushed into a group hug with James and Peter joining in.

James tugged her close, giving a smack on her forehead and ruffling her hair, curls getting frizzier as he did so. "We managed to leave Hermione Granger speechless!" he whooped, causing everyone in the room to cheer again and her cheeks to tinge red.

She buried her face as they huddled together, sighing deeply. They smelled like home; like an overpowering sense of happiness and content shooting through her. The whole group—still stuck in a hug—waddled to a corner, finally letting go of each other and breaking into laughter.

"I love you so much," she told them, an honest note bleeding into her voice.

"Hermione," James addressed her slowly, as if she were a five year old. "You can love us all you want, but I love you enough to buy you 75% of all the stars."

She arched a brow, a half-exasperated and half-fond smile on her face. "And what about the rest of 25%? Are you giving them to the boys?" she asked, moving her finger in between Remus and Peter, who looked just as curious.

"Oh no, the rest of the stars are for Lily," he corrected with a solemn expression. The duo groaned, while Hermione just shook her head in amusement.

"You know," she started, her voice all suddenly timid, "I had made up my mind that maybe, you were also mad at me - all of you."

Remus rolled his eyes dramatically, resembling a quite patronizing move. "For someone so bright, you can be really—"

"I dare you to continue that sentence," she threatened, half-rising from her seat with her wand drawn, prepared to stand in a mocking duel position.

Remus was about to do the same, when Peter abruptly asked, "Guys . . . where's Sirius?"

She sat down and stiffened, while James looked at her nervously. "I'm sure he's on his way."

"I don't think he'll come," she muttered, chuckling at the turn of events and looking down at her lap, recalling the meeting from earlier. For her, their encounter at the Black Lake had complicated things enough. For him, she wasn't sure anymore. What was going through his head?

Peter mumbled, "I think you might be wrong this time, 'Mione."

She looked up from her lap, brows furrowing slightly at the irked expressions on her friends' faces. They were all looking behind her, Hermione now craning her neck and following their gaze slowly, until she stopped and her eyes widened. Sirius had his arm around the Ravenclaw and he was whispering in her ear quietly, her cheeks continuing to redden.

The couple shuffled over to the couch and took a seat in front of her, an awkward silence settling upon them. It was ridiculous how effortlessly he was acting, like nothing had ever happened.

"You don't mind if Jenny is here, do you?" he asked her, after a couple of beats. She blinked, still wondering if he was even talking to her, his voice sounded just so - so weary. She pressed her lips together, barely holding in her temper as the words registered in. It had been five days—five bloody days of him being outright petty over a small fight—and the first thing he talked to her about was a fucking girl coming uninvited to her birthday party.

"No, it's fine." The words felt like they were stuck in her throat, but she forced them out. "She's welcome to stay."

He jerked a nod, his eyes staying on her, and she felt the urge to question him. What was the point of meeting her eyes now, when he'd previously been so keen on avoiding her? Still, she refrained herself and looked away, meeting the beautiful sight of Firewhiskey instead.

She grabbed the bottle and swung it to catch the drink in her mouth, feeling the burning liquid go down her throat. Her mind started to feel muddled, as she watched James stand up, grab Sirius's arm and excuse them away.

While they were standing much farther, she managed to catch him asking, "What the fuck are you playing at?"

And before the answer could come out, she stood as well, silently walking to the other side of the room and allowing the girls to whisk her away. Marlene looked at her, a searching gaze in her eyes before she gave a tentative smile. "Happy birthday?"

"Happy, indeed," she choked out. She still felt an odd, intense disappointment well up in her chest that she couldn't explain.