HELLO!

Gosh, I'm so sorry it's taken so long to finish up this chapter. It was fighting me a little, even though I had the first scene written since the last time I updated. Either way, this chapter is quite long, so hopefully that makes up for the how long it's been.

I deleted the little rant, but it's on my tumblr somewhere.

ANYWAYS. THANK YOU ALL SO FREAKING MUCH FOR ALL YOUR LOVELY REVIEWS AND JUST OMIGOSH. I AM SO HAPPY. JUST. JUST. NO WORDS. I tried to respond to some of them, I am terrible at responding to them, and for that I do apologise. I will try to get to them when I can though!

My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, only the story line and any OC's belong to me.

For Anna xxx I hope this chapter puts a smile on your lovely face! :D

Monday, January 11th, 1999

Lupin Den

"Fuck it all, why can't I remember?" Sirius growled, flopping backwards until he fell onto Remus and Tonk's Queen sized mattress. Bed Frames were overrated, plus they made way too much noise Tonks said, winking at Sirius. Who had only groaned, to him she would always be his little cousin who was way too clumsy, and that had caused images to flourish with his imagination that he wished he could scrub from his brain.

Remus was sitting at the foot of his bed, one leg crossed under the other, holding his face in his hands as he stared at the still sealed trunk. Neither of them had opened their trunks yet, out of fear or what, they had no idea.

Whenever Remus went close to it, he was filled with apprehension, and he immediately turned away. They hadn't gotten all of their memories back, and Remus had an inkling that told him, some answers lay within their trunks. The main question that he hadn't been able to answer was, was he ready for what lay within?

"Fuck it. I'm just going to open it," Remus said finally, standing up, filled with purpose. Only to falter mere steps away from the trunk.

Since December first, Sirius had essentially moved in, it helped them remember things better, the closer in proximity they were. Their memories however were still disjointed. It seemed the more potent ones had rushed to the surface first-some of them at least, others were still hidden away in the deep recesses of their minds.

Tonks didn't mind at all, as a matter of fact, she had made it into a game almost. She found it extremely amusing when they remembered something particularly embarrassing since it was splayed all over their faces. Her favourite so far was-"Blimey! Fuck! Shit fuck! My first kiss was with Hermione!" Sirius had exclaimed. Moments before, he had fallen asleep against his arm at the kitchen table, having been exhausted from staying up all night in the Headmistresses office, again. Tonks was constantly entertained, and she was very eager to meet the new Hermione and Draco when they returned to this time. Which she was certain they would.

"What is the last thing you can remember?" Remus asked, staring woefully at the trunk, only to narrow his eyes, glaring venomously at it. "Shouldn't be scared of a ruddy trunk," he muttered under his breath.

"I want to know why I forgot her in the first place," Sirius grumbled, the heels of his palms pressed onto his eyelids.

"It probably had to do with whatever Hermione and Draco did to make us forget them," Remus reasoned, crossing his arms over his chest, gesturing with one of his hands as he spoke.

He heard shoes scuffing the floorboards outside, a light hum and he felt the familiar pull of his bond with his wife. Her sweet smell invaded his nostrils before she even rounded the corner. So when she spoke moments later, he wasn't surprised in the slightest.

"You know," Tonks said, leaning up against the door frame, a glass of lemonade clasped in her hands, "I'm going to have to thank Hermione and Draco when they get back."

Remus narrowed his eyes at his wife, whose hair was a vibrant pink at the moment, and decided that he simply did not wish to know.

"Where's Teddy?" Remus asked absently, changing the subject.

Most of his focus was on trying to recall anything he could about Riley past their Fifth year-her fourth-but he was coming up empty.

"Mum's popped by, Teddy's with her, and it seems that she's remembered the Potters as well," Tonks grinned. "I quote: lovely girl that Hermione Potter, so much like her Mother, Dorea. Dorea was simply a remarkable witch. Would you believe, at Cissa's wedding, Hermione stunned Bellatrix since she was throwing a tantrum about my presence. Everyone was stunned into silence. There she stood, what was she? Thirteen maybe? She stood with the elegance, stature and power of a Black. It was then that I knew that Dorea was raising her right, ah, but she had the courage of a Potter. I saw her when you were little you know, so much like her Mother, definitely a snake hiding in lion's fur."

"That was bloody brilliant it was," Sirius grinned, hands not moving, a tender touch to his voice as he was clearly reminiscing about the events that Andromeda was referring to.

Remus snorted, a snake hiding in lion's fur is right, he thought to himself, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.

"Your memories seem to have taken a few years off of you both, you're looking much happier, much healthier now," Tonks mused, pushing off the door frame and heading towards her husband.

"When I was teaching Hermione, I felt it...the Pack bond, in my mind it made no sense, and I couldn't be certain that's what it actually was...and Draco? When Harry told us that Draco was the one who let the Death Eaters in, and was the reason Dumbledore died...I didn't want to believe it, part of me kept thinking it was wrong. That there had to be some reasonable explanation for it all," Remus said softly. Tonks stopped by his side and lightly squeezed his shoulder.

"They never really left us, not really...they were right in front of us, and it was like a sheet was over our eyes, shielding the truth from us," Sirius said from the bed, his hands finally falling to the side of his head. "Even now, some of it is still evading us."

"Tell me about Riley, Sirius, maybe that will help?" Tonks said, strolling over to her cousin, sitting on the edge of the bed where Remus had previously been, his warmth still seeped into the sheets.

"She's nice, but don't get her mad, she'll hex you just as well as Lilypad used to," Sirius smiled wryly. "Which only happens if you betray her trust, or hurt someone she cares about. She's aloof, has never complained about how much I curse. She's warm, and she smells like daisies and sunshine. She loves the Ocean-" Sirius stopped suddenly.

"The house, we had a small cottage, it was off the grid and she was the secret keeper…" Sirius bolted into an upright position, eyes wide.

"Brilliant! Do you think that's where she is?"

"...No. She's not there," Sirius said softly, "I remember, I remember going there and there was a note for me."

"What did it say?" Tonks urged gently.

"It was tear stained, some of the ink was a bit smudged...she said she loved me, and that we would see each other some day soon, but she had to leave for now. She didn't want to, but she had to."

"It was Hermione or Draco probably, they knew that there was a high chance that Riley wasn't going to be safe from the Death Eaters when they left...they protected her," Remus said. "It's because they hadn't heard of her before they went back in time I'd wager, they must have figured that meant that they needed to make everyone forget about her as well."

"Well the real question is...if Riley isn't at that cottage, and the only two people who know where she is are currently in the past...how are we going to find her?" Tonks asked.

"I am going to search until I find her, that's what," Sirius said determinedly, eyes hardening to steel, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

"I'll help-"

"We'll help," Tonks interjected, her hand seeking Sirius's, grasping it tightly.

"Maybe something in your trunk will help," Remus suggested.

"I can't open mine, anymore than you can open yours. You know that Moony," Sirius sighed, rubbing his forehead with his free hand.

"I know, Pads," Remus responded. I know.

Wednesday, February 26th, 1975

Shrieking Shack

Pain. He felt it so acutely in that moment, vibrating through his body, pulsing through his veins, tearing his skin as his bones broke and took a different shape.

He should have been used to it by now, having gone through it once a month since he was four.

He could feel his ligaments tearing, his teeth elongating inside of his mouth. As his body took another form, and as his muscles knitted back together all whilst others tore, and his bones continued to break, he could only think of one thing. Hermione.

He tried to picture her smile, thinking of what he was going to say once he saw her tomorrow. He had been the one who had asked to talk after all. His very pores itching and burning as the fur started to grow across him.

It got harder to keep a coherent train of thought going, so instead he decided to count backwards from twenty in Welsh.

Ugain, pedwar ar bymtheg, deunaw, dau ar bymtheg, un ar bymtheg, pymtheg. The pain came back sharply, causing him to stop counting, it was excruciating, every part of his body was on fire. As he felt his humanity slipping out of his grasp, and as he felt the his bones finally set, the fur covering his body; the last thing he saw before he fully changed, was Hermione's hazel green eyes, peering at him in the darkness.

Thursday, February 27th, 1975

Hermione had been anxiously waiting outside-in the frigid cold-a little ways away from the Whomping Willow, all morning, her Gryffindor scarf tightly wrapped around neck and partially covering her face. Her raven curls were blowing about crazily in the wind, which meant she was going to have battle with her hairbrush later.

She tucked her hands into her robe pockets, wriggling her gloved fingers as the cold had seeped into the wool; she had been out here so long, that even her bones felt chilled, there was a tiny itch on her left nostril, but she ignored it.

Hermione watched as the sky turned from a midnight blue to a light greyish-blue, it was very overcast, and it was all she could do it pray that it didn't start raining.

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath as she watched Madame Pomfrey appear from her right, her shoes making a light squishing sound as she walked across the wet grass, a large blanket thrown over her right forearm as she hugged it tightly to her abdomen. The smell of rain still lingered and clung to the air around her from the heavy downpour they had had the night prior.

She had placed a Notice-Me-Not charm on herself, so she wasn't too surprised that Pomfrey hadn't noticed her. The witch quickly placed her wand to the knot in the tree, before ducking into the hidden entrance.

Now all that's left to do is wait, Hermione thought absently, her hot breath swirling out of her mouth as she exhaled deeply.

Minutes later Hermione watched as the older witch essentially carried Remus from the Whomping Willow, swaddled in the massive dark, chocolate brown blanket; Hermione assumed the colour was so you wouldn't really be able to tell that fresh blood was covering it.

Due to her heightened senses from her animagus training she could smell the blood that was quickly spreading across the blanket, the tangy metallic scent of iron tickling her nostrils before it invaded her nose. It was all she could smell, or maybe it was all she was focused on smelling.

Hermione quickly set off in pursuit of the two figures in front of her, she probably should have just been waiting in the Hospital Wing, but she needed to see him. Some part of her just needed to be there when he emerged from the tunnel that morning.

Madame Pomfrey was not surprised when Hermione silently entered the Infirmary. She had barely just put him in the bed, and then set about organised all the dressings, salves and potions by his bedside. She was just reaching for the short, wooden stool to sit on as she began to work when she looked up and the curly haired witch was standing right there, at the foot of his bed.

"Is there anything I can do?" Hermione asked softly.

Madame Pomfrey stared at her with a stern eye. It was a long, tense moment as she searched Hermione's face, for what the girl was unsure of, but then with a terse nod she said, "you can pass me things when I ask for them."

Hermione immediately walked around the bed to her left, turning on her heel to draw the curtains back before moving behind Pomfrey and taking a position on her left. Hermione's hazel eyes eagerly made note of everything that Pomfrey was doing, handing her the items-all neatly organised on a silver tray on his bedside table-one by one.

Already her mind was working through the ingredients and what would be necessary and what was better than other things. Monkshood is the main ingredient for the Wolfsbane potion, hence why it's called Wolfsbane potion...urgh. This is all so frustrating. Ground silver...what are we missing. It could be something terribly out of the ordinary...or something as simple as Rosemary. I know it's Draco's job to remember or figure out what he can from what he recalls from Snape, but this is driving me crazy.

Hermione abhorred not being able to figure things out, and this had been going on for years now. She knew she was meant to figure out how to save Frank and Alice, but her research had come to a dead halt. She was feeling helpless, and she loathed every second of it.

In order to figure out how to save them, she first needed to understand what happened to them or anyone that had been tortured with the Cruciatus curse. At what point did it drive one insane, or permanently damage one's brain.

She and Draco had both endured it and personally faced it before, yet as far as they could tell the curse mainly targeted your nervous system, but was it the pain, the unbearable pain that drove one mad. Or was it something else.

"Miss Potter?" Hermione quickly snapped back into her reality, she had been mindlessly following Madame Pomfrey's instructions whilst deep in thought and had not noticed that they were finished.

The older witch was frowning, concerned, as she looked up at her.

"Yes, Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione asked warmly, tucking an errant curl behind her ear, her slightly torn index finger nail catching slightly in her hair, and she carefully extracted it.

"I take it that you shall be staying with him for the morning?" Madame Pomfrey raised a knowing eyebrow.

Hermione's cheeks pinked, she couldn't possibly know about Hermione and Remus, yet, the look she was giving her seemed to imply she knew more than she could.

"Yes," Hermione squeaked out after clearing her throat.

Madame Pomfrey got up, waving her wand and levitating the tray over Hermione's head and onto her awaiting palm. Tray in her left, wand in her right, the reddish brown colour of dried blood covering her apron, she nodded curtly and then turned to leave. Flicking her wand at the curtain so it would open enough for her to pass through.

"Oh, Miss Potter," Madam Pomfrey paused, her back still facing Hermione.

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey?"

"Please encourage the young gentlemen that I'm sure will be here soon...to go to class this month. If they didn't have a pension for skipping a class here and there then I'm sure people would be more suspicious." With that she continued on her way, disappearing out of Hermione's sight, the curtains seeming to close of their own accord before Hermione could do anything else.

Hermione turned back to the bed, seeing Remus gently sleeping on his stomach, the sheets bunched up around his waist, his right hand shoved beneath his pillow, his left curled under his chin. His long, sandy blonde hair falling in his eyes.

Warmth filled her chest at how innocent he looked, how vulnerable he was. Yet a sharp pain was stabbing her heart as she thought of the pain he endured every month, the pain he would always have to endure. Not being able to help in any way was driving her mad.

A single tear rolled down her cheek, her hand shaking as she reached out and traced his unmarred skin, being careful to avoid the wounds that Madame Pomfrey had bandaged tightly.

Being alone on full moons was only going to get worse as time wore on she suspected. The self inflicted wounds were getting deeper, wider, longer, worse. Remus needed a pack, that way he wouldn't be alone. Then Moony wouldn't be alone; his wolf counterpart craved a pack, companionship. Its' how wolves worked, they needed to be in a pack, and the sooner they became animagi, the better.

Hermione knew she was getting close to transforming properly, she could feel it, her magical core hummed every time she tried these days, it felt as if there was an excess amount of magical energy buzzing around her. It had been building up, and it felt like it was going to burst at any moment. Soon, Hermione thought to herself. Soon.

Hermione had taken Madame Pomfrey's seat, her ankles linked and tucked under the stool as she watched Remus sleep, chewing on her bottom lip, her arms crossed over her chest.

The boys hadn't come in yet for the day, which made sense she supposed. It was still Breakfast time in the Great Hall, sometimes they grabbed some food first and snuck it into the Infirmary when they thought Madame Pomfrey wasn't paying attention. If her mental clock was right, then they would be here anytime now.

Sure enough, moments later, the sound of a door creaking open, shoes scuffing the squeaky ground and excited chatter reached her ears. In front of her she saw Remus's nose scrunch up in his sleep. He must be able to hear them, even when he's passed out from exhaustion.

When James threw back the curtain, she plastered a smile on her face, the only one who noticed anything was wrong was Draco. Of course she avoided meeting his eye, instead she gratefully accepted the buttery croissant lathered in blueberry jam that he brother had brought her. Sirius tugged playfully on one of her curls before pulling up a stool and sitting beside her.

It wasn't long before her smile became a genuine one, she really did love her boys. Even though she was feeling anxious and unsure about the future, her worries were washed away with their animated chatter, and carefree energy wrapped around her like a warm hug.

It's okay. It's going to be okay, she told herself as she bit into her croissant, and the jam began to leak out of the sides, a huge drop of the dark, bluish-purple preservative caught on the side of her mouth. It was all going to be just fine.

Saturday, March 1st, 1975

Ronald Weasley's Birthday

Hermione woke up that morning and two things immediately came to mind. Firstly that it was Saturday, and she really should not have been up before sunrise, and secondly that is was Ron's birthday. Well, it was almost three things.

Hermione lay there, eyes open, staring into the darkness, her body burrowed under her two thick sheets and her quilt, which came up just below her chin: and she had a thought. I need to go visit Hagrid.

The pressing urge to go see her friend was delayed by the fact that she was cocooned and enveloped by the warmth caused by her blankets, which is why her cheek was pressed into her cheek for the subsequent moments as she glared at the rest of the room. Knowing the instant she shifted her sheets, the cold air would slice through her, cutting away any of her warmth. Cursing silently under her breath as she remembered that she had forgotten to put on socks the night before.

Hermione tried not to think about the fact that despite it being his birthday, his face was blurry in her memories at best. It had been so long since she'd seen him, and a piece of her heart was in the future with Harry and Ron. She had been contemplating asking Dumbledore if she and Draco could borrow his pensieve, or at the very least figuring out a way to acquire their own. Yet she didn't see any situation where that would play out without Dorea finding it the slightest bit suspicious. What could her fifteen year old twins possibly want with a pensieve?

Hermione somehow found the willpower to throw back her sheets, instantly feeling the cold. She sat up, swinging her feet so they were hanging off the side of the bed. This is going to be cold, she thought right before she hopped off her bed. The cold from the stone automatically sent a jolt through her body, shooting icicles from the soles of her feet, past her knees and slicing cutting messily through her legs.

She silently padded about the room, stripping down and throwing her pyjamas into her hamper, standing there, bare, shivering as she hurriedly moved back to the bottom of her bed, squatting down in front of her trunk. She carefully removed the unlocked padlock so it didn't make too much noise, placing it on the ground beside her. A tiny shiver running up her spine as a cold draft blew through the room. Hermione flipped up the lock, and with a slight creaking noise she pushed open the trunk and with slightly numb fingers she quickly found a warm set of clothes. Her coat was hanging on a hook next to her bed, her scarf was lazily wrapped around her bedpost.

It didn't take long for her to shower, especially since the water wasn't particularly warm. She didn't really mind, it helped wake her up, plus, she was cold enough. What was a little frigid water?

She used drying charms on her hair, she knew that it made her hair frizz out more than usual, but she couldn't risk going out into the cold morning air with wet or even damp hair.

She made sure to wear a long-sleeved shirt, a sweater and then to pull her coat on over that, her jeans hugging her skin tightly.

Off to Hagrid's I go, Hermione thought, tucking her wand in her pocket and retrieving her scarf. She carefully opened the door, and shut it back as gently as she could before quickly descending the stairs down to the Common Room. Even though the Fireplace had been out for hours, the embers long since gone, and the only thing left was charred logs and a pile of ashes-which the house elves would clean soon she imagined-the room still had a touch of warmth to it.

Out the exit, raising a hand in farewell to the Fat Lady as she descended the stairs and the portrait swung back into place, she set out on her way.

As Hermione made her way through the castle, she found herself immersed in a memory.

"Ron?" Hermione rasped, seeing a shadow on the other side of her curtain.

"Right here, Hermione," Ron yawned as he ducked through the slight part in the white curtains.

"How are your arms?" Hermione murmured, wincing as the constant pain in her abdomen, pulsed sharply as she tried to shift to sit up.

"Hey, hey," Ron rushed forward, wincing himself since his arm slapped against his side. "Please don't move around too much, Mione," Ron pleaded gently, raising his bandaged arms.

"Always worrying about us, aren't you?" Ron added-smirking-carefully sitting on the side of her bed, his upper half twisted to face her.

"I have to, don't I?" Hermione smiled weakly, "both of you are always getting yourselves into trouble."

"Oi, you get yourself in just as much trouble," Ron reminded her playfully, his hand moving to rest on hers'. Hermione sniffed before shifting her hand so she was grasping his; her smaller hand soft and small in his rough, calloused one.

"We're never going to have a normal year, are we?" Ron shook his head with a ghost of a smile.

"Where's the fun in that?" Hermione joked, flinching when a burst of pain flared from her wound.

Hermione tucked her chin into her chest, and glared at the exposed bandages around her stomach, her shirt was pulled up to the middle of her ribcage. If Ron was embarrassed by seeing any of her bare skin, he was hiding it well. The worry in his eyes, and his knitted brow however, were on full display.

"He's really back," Hermione whispered softly. Until now part of her hadn't wanted to admit it, but now, there was no denying it.

"He's really back," Ron responded just as quietly as she, and she found distracted herself with a more current issue, glancing down at her midriff.

"Is it...Is it…" Hermione trailed off, averting her eyes away from the bandages, to stare at the ceiling, shifting her head on her pillow so her face was tipped upwards.

"Hermione, look at me."

Hermione curtly shook her head, catching her lip between her teeth, trying to prevent the tears that were threatening to fall from her eyes. Hermione knew she was a bit plain looking, she wasn't anyone's first choice, but from the size of the bandage she just knew that meant there was going to be an ugly scar left, even after it healed.

She had been in and out of consciousness for almost two weeks, but the last few days she was more aware of her surroundings. She had been asleep every time Madam Pomfrey changed her dressings, so she had yet to see what lay in wait for her underneath the dressings.

"It's really not that bad, Mione," Ron said soothingly, squeezing her hand.

"I'm ugly now, Ronald, I'm just marked and I'm ugly," Hermione cried, the tears finally spilling over. She knew it was irrational, but that didn't change the fact that she had been hit by a dark curse-Dolohov, that was who had cursed her. From the severity of her injuries, her silencing his curse was most likely the only thing that had saved her life.

Ron made a shushing noise, getting up, and then gently shifting himself so he was now by her head, and she lifted her head and laid it on his chest, her hand clutching onto his for dear life.

"You could never be ugly, Hermione. Never. Don't say that, please."

"Well what would you call it then?" Hermione wailed, her voice shaking and trembling as she choked out her words; her vision blurred by the hot tears racing down her cheeks.

"Proof that you're strong enough to survive. A warrior's mark. You are not ugly Hermione, you are one of the best, and most beautiful people I know…" Ron trailed off, and then she heard a touch of airiness add to his tone as he finished off with, "even if you did curse Edgecombe so she has pimples spelling out 'sneak' on her forehead."

"I hate you," Hermione laughed through her tears, ignoring the pain that was coming from her abdomen with each sob and heave of her chest. Ron moved so his left arm was around her shoulders, and then took her right hand in his.

"It's going to be okay, Hermione. It is," Ron reassured her, his thumb moving soothingly up and down on her arm.

"Hermione!" A deep voice said in front of her, jolting her from her memory; her body had been on autopilot and she'd ended up right in front of Hagrid's house. The vast man was lugging a huge tree behind him, a thick rope tied around the base of the trunk.

"Morning, Hagrid!" Hermione smiled cheerfully, "what are you doing there?"

"I was abou' ter cut up this tree fer some firewood," Hagrid replied with a small smile, adjusting the rope that was over his shoulder a bit.

"I can make us both a cup of tea if you want?" Hermione offered.

"Tha'd be lovely," Hagrid responded, "thank yeh."

Hermione had a good time, she had missed visiting Hagrid, he was always good company. Being in his house, also brought back a feeling of nostalgia from the days she used to visit with Harry and Ron. The sun had risen, but it was still hidden behind the dark, grey clouds.

"Well, I think I best head back, thank you for the tea, biscuits and lovely company, Hagrid," Hermione said warmly before throwing herself against the much larger man, smiling brightly as he hugged her tightly.

"Yer always welcome, Hermione. Bes' keep those lads in check now," Hagrid winked at her when he released her.

"Of course, Hagrid," Hermione grinned brightly, "I can't let them have all the fun now though? Can I?" Hermione winked before laughing gaily.

"It looks like it's goin' ter rain. Yeh bes' hurry on up ter the castle now," Hagrid commented, peeking out of his window, whilst scratching the side of his face that was covered by his thick, wiry beard.

"Will do," Hermione exclaimed, pushing open his door, "enjoy the rest of your day, Hagrid!"

Hagrid had been right, not even a minute after she ran out of the house, the rain had started to pour. She was running through white rain, the visibility was low, and she wasn't focusing on anything other than the dark shadow in front of her where the castle was looming over her. Hermione's feet splashed through the puddles that hadn't had a chance to dry and were only now going to get bigger; she made sure not to slip and fall on the muddy ground, trails where people had walked had been imprinted into the ground, and the patches of grass were fairly spaced out.

She had been so focused on getting to the castle, she didn't notice the group of boys laughing and walking down the corridor. So much so that she crashed straight into one of them, thankfully his quick reflexes kicked in, and he steadied both of them.

He recognised her before she recognised him, and a broad grin spread across her face when she looked up into his eyes, his warm hazel eyes, that were currently flecked with amber and gold. She was soaking wet, so some of the moisture had transferred onto his jacket, but neither of them seemed to notice. Remus brushed some of her hair that was sticking to the side of her face behind her ear.

"Where have you been all day?" Remus asked lowly, his own smile growing on his face.

"I was down at Hagrid's, got caught in the rain on my way back," Hermione explained, gesturing with one hand behind her, the sound of the rain falling filling her ears.

"Oi! You're too close to my sister-" James shouted, but the rest of his protests were cut off by Draco covered his brother's mouth with his hand-Draco's facial expression was very cold and indifferent, and she made a note to ask him about it later.

Knowing that Remus fancied his sister was one thing, them fancying each other? Completely different story. James's overprotectiveness had gone into overdrive, and it was why neither of them had been alone yet.

"Okay, let's go, tiger," Sirius smirked, running over to Hermione's side and placing a quick kiss on her cheek, "treat her right, Moony...or I'll hang you by your ankles and do all those things Filch threatens to do all the time," Sirius winked before running to catch up with the others; Draco was dragging a very loud James behind him, Peter trailing behind them, glancing over his shoulder uncertainly. Sirius's hair was whipping out behind him in the cold breeze.

"Hi," Hermione said shyly, blinking and feeling some of the water drops that had been caught on her eyelashes fall off.

"Hi," Remus responded softly.

"Have you had a good morning?" Hermione asked, her heart beating loudly as Remus wrapped his arms tighter around her lower back.

"Better now that you're here," a bright pink crept onto his cheeks, and a lock of sandy blonde hair fell in his eyes.

"We going to have that talk now?"

"Well the only real thing we have to talk about is…" Remus drifted off, averting his gaze from hers, scrunching up his nose a little. Godric, he is so good-looking, Hermione thought as she chewed on her lip.

"Remus Lupin," Hermione said jovially.

"Yes, Miss Potter?"

"Do you want to be my boyfriend? Because I fancy you a lot, and I think you're one of the most wonderful people I've ever met," Hermione said, ignoring the heat that was touching her cheeks, her fingers gripping his coat a bit tighter.

"Hermione Potter, I would love that," Remus responded, his cheeks practically radiating warmth.

"All that's left now is to seal the deal," Hermione said brazenly, and before he could protest, or ask her if she was sure, she tiptoed and placed her lips on his. A soft, gentle kiss. The noisy downpour surrounding them, the delightful smell of freshly mown grass, parchment and chocolate filling her senses.

When Hermione pulled back, she saw that Remus was red all the way to his ears, "c'mon, let's go for a walk," Hermione smiled.

"Sure," Remus replied, a small grin on his face now.

It wasn't how she saw the day going, but she was sure glad it had. I'll be back to spend your birthday with you again Ron...one day, one day, Hermione smiled out at the sky as they set off, their fingers intertwined and their shoulders bumping into each other.

Sunday, March 2nd, 1975

Gryffindor Tower

Fourth Year Boy's Dormitories

Draco woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of scratching at the door. It was incessant, and there was this low whine that was ringing in his ears.

What in Merlin's name? Draco groaned mentally. He knew that Remus and Sirius were being kept for observation overnight in the Infirmary, and it appeared as if his dear brother and Peter were dead to the world. If James's obnoxious snoring wasn't indication enough. Peter was worse. He was whimpering for some reason, and Draco almost convinced himself that it was just Peter making the noise-before a loud whine from their dormitory door eliminated that theory.

Draco groaned softly at the prospect of leaving his warm, cozy bed, and letting his bare feet touch the ice-cold stone floor, but moments later he was hopping out of bed, quickly snatching his wand up from his bedside table. One could never be too careful afterall.

Draco paused by the door, turning his ear towards it, closing his eyes and focusing on hearing what was on the other side.

Scratch, scratch, scratch, the sound scrawled across his skin as whatever was making that noise scraped across the wooden door. Though it sounded like they were scratching across the metal band towards the bottom of the door.

Draco took a deep breath, and inched closer to the door, feeling the smoothness of his wand in his grasp as he raised it slightly. Lumos, Draco thought, and a small light was now coming from the tip of his wand.

He was acutely aware of all of the sound around him, the rustling of his pyjama pants fabric, the sound of the bare tree branches outside rustling, James's snores, Peter's whimpering. The crinkle of James's sheets as he rolled over onto his back in his sleep.

Draco placed his hand on the painfully cold, brass doorknob, and without further ado, he twisted it, jumping back and he threw the door open.

Sitting a couple steps down, somehow looking mildly irritated, paw raised, ears flat against its' head: was a reddish, brown fox. Its' wide eyes were the most interesting part. They were a hazel green colour, with flecks of honey glistening in its' irises. Though he couldn't properly see it, due to his only light source being the bright tip of his wand. Lumos Maxima. His wand glowed brighter, and the fox hissed at having light being shone directly in its' eyes without warning.

Draco stared-dumbstruck-as the fox ducked its' head, rubbing its' closed eyes against the side of its' paw.

"Hermione?"

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Love,

Indieblue xxx