The idea came to Remus after the first snowfall.
"I don't know how we'll do with the snow in this tent, even if we do have magic," he said to her over dinner that night.
Hermione set her spoon down, watching the firelight play across his face. She knew, without asking, that Remus had been worried about her ever since the frostbite incident. And even considering how it had ended—and the sex they'd had since—she couldn't entirely blame him. Since Ron left, she hadn't quite been herself.
Remus cleared his throat, pushing his chair back from the table. "I was thinking it might be a good idea to find a place to bunk down for the worst of the winter. Really focus on our research." He gestured at the pile of the books Hermione had stacked just a few feet away from the table. "If we stay someplace secret, out of the way, we wouldn't have to keep moving around, running from the Death Eaters… And then, when spring comes—"
"We begin to look for the horcruxes in earnest, which will likely mean going abroad," Hermione finished. "I think it's a good idea. If we stay in one place for a bit, we'll have more time—it won't be consumed by moving around constantly and worrying about protecting ourselves and getting new supplies. We can really stock up and settle in."
Remus nodded. "Exactly."
"But where would we go?" Hermione asked.
Remus grinned. "Well, actually, I remembered that James' parents had this cabin. Supposedly it's where James and Harry were both conceived…"
Hermione laughed, gesturing for him to continue.
"I've never been myself," Remus admitted, and Hermione thought she saw a hint of wistfulness in his eyes. "But James and Sirius went together, the last summer before our seventh year at Hogwarts, with James' parents. They told Peter and me about it after. This was after Sirius stopped living with his family, if you recall. It's in a very isolated place… a cottage in the middle of a forest. James said it was passed down through his family for generations. But since James' parents died years ago, it's likely been sitting empty ever since."
Now that they had a plan—a real plan—Hermione could hardly bear to sit still.
"Well, that's it then," she said, lurching to her feet excitedly. "We'll pack up and go tonight—"
"Tomorrow, Hermione," Remus cut in, and though she initially bristled at being told what to do, she recognized the concern that lingered in his eyes. He'd been gentle with her ever since that night, and she had to admit that she understood why; her body had been through a great ordeal, and she was still recovering.
She heaved a great, performative sigh, though there was a hint of a smile playing at her lips. Remus winked at her and leaned across the table, ostensibly to take her bowl, but stealing a kiss instead.
"Tomorrow," Hermione agreed, not yet knowing that this one word, this single choice, would change everything.
The cabin looked like something out of a fairy tale, layered as it was in snow. Like a cake gilded with white icing, Hermione thought. Remus had mentioned that it was unlikely that anyone had visited since Lily and James' honeymoon, so she marveled at its outer appearance—not decrepit and worn-down as she'd expected, but well-tended, almost exempt from the passage of time—as if by magic, she thought wryly, laughing to herself. She half expected Harry's parents to come walking through the door, as if no time had passed at all.
Indeed, there was something magical about it, Hermione thought, pausing briefly to peer at a shiny golden plaque over the door as Remus cast alohomora. Peverell, she read with a slight spark of recognition, but then Remus succeeded in opening the door and the name passed from her mind without another thought.
They found themselves in a small sunroom that doubled as an entryway, populated with a few pieces of antique wooden furniture: a bench, a chair. The air around them seemed to shimmer, smelling fresh and vaguely floral rather than stuffy and dusty, as Hermione had expected. Strange, she thought, but not unwelcome.
"This place has been in the Potter family for decades," Remus said, shrugging off his thick winter cloak as he looked around. "I'm not even sure how old it is."
"How do you know so much about it?" Hermione asked him curiously, removing her own cloak from around her neck.
"Sirius couldn't stop going on about it when we went back to school in the fall. Honestly, I think it was the best summer of his life," Remus said. "He never had a good time at home with his own family; this was a special place for him. Now I can see why."
They moved deeper into the cabin together. The next rooms consisted of a living room and a kitchen, all containing the expected furniture and utilities and looking just as oddly well-kept as any other part of the house they'd seen so far. They looked around for another minute, wands still out and held aloft. After seeing and hearing no one in their immediate vicinity, Remus approached the kitchen table while Hermione went to the mantel over the living room fireplace.
Remus slid his finger along the surface, confirming his suspicions.
"No dust," he called to Hermione.
"It's so peculiar… as if someone's been here, keeping the place in order all this time," Hermione murmured.
But who, if James' parents were dead, and he their only child?
She picked up one of the frames from the mantel—a photograph of Lily and James, standing on the porch before this very cabin, waving cheerily. She smiled softly at the sight.
"Remus, look at this," she said, holding it out to him. He walked over and took it from her, laughing softly.
"Merlin, I remember them like this." Remus smiled and replaced the frame on the shelf.
There were still a few more rooms to check, the cabin being as spacious as it was. The pair walked cautiously into the small dining room next. The sight of the Potters' photograph had offered Hermione a temporary sense of familiarity and safety, but this didn't change the fact that the last few years had left her on edge, always preparing for the worst.
Although, she thought, what kind of squatter would keep that photo of Lily and James out?
Suddenly there was a crash behind one of the closed doors that remained.
Hermione and Remus looked at each other; Remus put a finger to his lips and pointed her to the second door with his free hand—he would take the first. She nodded, and on the count of three they opened the doors at the same time.
She let out an involuntary gasp of surprise. For there was someone sitting upright in the bed there—a lanky, dark-haired someone.
For one surreal, fleeting moment, Hermione thought Harry.
But no. Upon seeing her framed there in the doorway, the figure promptly leapt to his feet and squinted at her in confusion, pushing his unkempt hair out of his eyes.
He paused a beat, smiled and said, "Well, if isn't the brightest witch of her age. Figures you'd be the one to find me in the end."
It was Sirius Black.
Hermione was unable to speak. Remus, having heard his old friend's voice, rushed into the room after her with his wand raised.
"You too, Moony?" Sirius rubbed the residual sleep from his eyes, as if still not unconvinced he was dreaming. Hermione was not entirely sure she was awake, either.
"No. This can't be," Remus said flatly. "It's some sort of trap, Hermione." He was speaking as if Sirius wasn't even in the room.
Sirius, who was wearing only rumpled boxer shorts and looked identical to the last time Hermione had seen him, walked pointedly toward Remus as if expressly to disprove his assertion. Grinning, he threw his arms around his old friend and squeezed.
"Did that feel like a trap, Moons?" Sirius asked cheerfully, pulling back. "Give you my word I'm not an illusion. Trust me, I think I've spent enough time here by myself to know…"
"Sirius, I d-don't understand," Hermione stuttered after a glance at Remus, who seemed to have been rendered speechless, momentarily thrown by his friend's touch. "We were at the Department of Mysteries, years ago. We saw you go through the veil. You're supposed to be dead."
"Oh, right, sorry." Sirius pointed at the bedroom window, lined in snow. "Want me to leave, then?"
The laugh that followed was more of a bark, and maybe a little bitter. Clearly they weren't responding the way Sirius wanted. He continued to stand before the two of them, still naked except for the shorts, although he seemed unaware of it. He crossed his arms over his chest, apparently also unbothered by the slight chill in the room.
"I was there too, you know. At the Ministry. I remember." He looked back and forth between the two of them expectantly. "But now I'm here."
"W-well," Hermione said after another glance at Remus, who was leaning heavily against the doorframe, looking as if he was about to pass out. "If you don't mind my asking—"
"What are you?" Remus finished. He was very pale.
"Well, as you can now attest firsthand, Moony, I'm very much not a ghost," Sirius replied. "If you insist on strolling down memory lane, I fell through the veil… five? Five, I think—years ago. And for some reason I ended up here, in the Potters' old cottage. Near as I can tell, there's got to be some magical properties to the place. I've been here ever since." His eyes widened. "Hey, what's going on out there? How's my godson?"
Not knowing how to respond, Hermione uncomfortably sidestepped his questions. "Hang on, Sirius—what do you mean, 'magical properties'?"
Sirius narrowed his eyes and gave her a long, wary look, having clocked her non-response, but chose not to call her out just yet.
"Well, not only have I been unable to leave," he said slowly, "but I seem not to be aging either."
He reached out and grabbed Hermione's hand suddenly, startling her, and brought it up to his cheek.
"Feel that stubble?" he said. "That's exactly what it felt like the day I went to the Department of Mysteries. Feels as if I should have a beard like Dumbledore's by now, but no—everything about me is exactly the same. Like I've been frozen in time."
Remus turned and walked out of the room. Hermione shook her head, not understanding. "Wait. You can't… you can't leave?"
Sirius nodded, a little maniacally. "I went through phases, see, in the past few years. At first I spent hours out there walking in the snow—walking and walking and walking—but I never got anywhere. It was the strangest thing; I always seemed to end up right back at the cabin. But now… now I have company!"
He dashed out of the room after Remus, still only in his shorts.
"I think James' mum left her apron," he called. "Shall I cook us something?"
Hermione stumbled after him, still utterly at a loss.
"Wait—yes—Sirius—how have you managed to keep from running out of food? If you can't leave?"
She followed him into the kitchen. If she glanced to her left, through the rooms that she and Remus had passed through only moments ago, she could see that the front door was cracked open. Remus was likely testing Sirius' claim… or maybe just getting some air.
Before her Sirius threw open every cupboard, all filled to the brim with familiar wizarding brands.
"James' mum kept it fully stocked to begin with, but every day it replenishes, as if I've never taken anything."
Carelessly Sirius plucked an apple from the bowl on the counter and bit into it, juice dribbling down his chin.
"You'll see—tomorrow, there'll be an apple there again. But it won't be any apple. It'll be this exact apple." He held it out and showed it to her. "The one I'm eating right now."
"I've never heard of anything like this," Hermione said in disbelief. "How are you here? How is this possible?"
He regarded her seriously. "Take it from someone who spent twelve years in prison, Granger: You get used to just about any reality given enough time."
Remus was gone for at least an hour, though Hermione no longer had much of a sense of time.
To Sirius' credit, he cheerfully made a pot of tea and didn't overwhelm Hermione with questions; he seemed to understand that she was having trouble processing, that the reality he'd come to terms with a long time ago was something to which his new houseguests still had to adapt.
When Remus trudged back in and collapsed, heaving, against the front door, his cloak now weighted down with fresh snow, Sirius casually poured a third cup and waited for Remus to approach their table.
A moment passed, and then Remus got to his feet again, kicking off his boots and unfastening the cloak from around his neck with a great sigh.
"I don't understand how any of this is real," he said weakly. He joined them in the kitchen and promptly leaned against a row of cabinets, as if to steady himself, like he didn't trust his ability to stand upright without it.
Sirius spread his arms, the manic energy from their initial reunion long since evaporated. He looked weary now.
"I'll tell you what I told Granger, Remus: It's like the Potters had some kind of post-apocalyptic shelter passed down through the generations. Which is good, because now you two can't bloody leave either. So I guess we're all trapped here, forever, until the end of time." He flashed them both a winning smile.
"I don't know what this means. I don't know what any of this means," Remus said, looking dazed.
Hermione reached out and tapped the glossy table, startling both men out of their reverie.
"Wait. Look," she said, as calmly as she could. "Remus. We came here to wait out the worst part of the winter, right?"
Remus nodded.
"So we planned on staying here for a bit anyway. There are loads of things worse than being stuck in a cabin with a self-replenishing pantry, after all."
"Azkaban," Sirius offered conversationally, swirling the remaining tea in his cup.
Hermione gave him a look and pressed on.
"We can sort out why Sirius is here and figure out the magic of this place in time. I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation for everything."
No one said anything for a minute. Then, finally, Remus took a seat at the table with the two of them, reaching weakly for the third cup of tea.
"You look the same as ever, Sirius," he said quietly, nursing his cup. "I think that's what's most unnerving. I feel as if I dreamed you."
"Well, I'm real, old friend," Sirius chuckled, clapping Remus on the shoulder. "I'm real all right."
Remus gave him a long look, as if only now seeing him clearly.
"It's good to see you again, Padfoot."
"You too, Moony."
Hermione looked between the two of them, watching each sip his tea. The drink seemed to calm Remus, steel his nerves a bit.
"You're right, Hermione," he said after a moment. "We'll read more about the veil, about its magic. I'm sure there's more information somewhere in one of those thousand books you brought. I'll venture out again soon and try to see what sort of magic we're working with along the property's boundaries." He rubbed his forehead. "We'll work it all out."
"Yes, we will," she said, her muscles loosening for the first time since they'd entered the cabin door. Sirius looked hopefully at the two of them, his eyes bright.
"All the bizarreness of current circumstances aside," Sirius said. "I am bloody thrilled to see the both of you. Truly."
He stood and the three of them embraced, one arm around each of the others' shoulders, their heads bent in close together.
It was strange to Hermione at first, but then, in the next breath, as she sank into their shared warmth and presence, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
