Hello my lovelies!

The response to the last chapter was overwhelming and I was filled with so many emotions. SO MANY. YOUR REVIEWS OMG. You lot are fantastic. FANTASTIC I SAY.

I also have to mention that the guesses for who the disembodied voice belonged to was amazing, and some of them were downright hilarious. I actually gave a lot more hints to who it could be in the chapter than I had intended originally, and I'm kind of glad that I did cause it helped make the whole thing more cohesive.

Please leave a review and let me know what you think ;)

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

I knew it was too good to be true, dammit. I guess I'm not going to find Ravenclaw's lost diadem tonight, the boy thought to himself in resignation, scratching behind his ear as he quietly crept down the corridor, keeping a keen ear out for anyone that was around the bend.

The wizard rounded the corner, and was surprised by what he saw, why are they out after curfew?

The boy hastily sped towards the wix that both looked downright furious—he was now thankful that he had thought to place a silencing charm on his feet, otherwise his feet slapping across the stone might have drawn unwanted attention.

"Draco!"

He watched as the raven haired boy abruptly whirled around, a raging storm trapped in his features—the dim torches along the corridor walls only seemed to emphasise the dark shadows across his face—and it struck the boy then that Draco looked exceptionally dangerous.

The witch flinched, but she stood her ground: showing no fear as she stared stubbornly upwards into the rage unfurling from the boy in front of her.

The wizard finally reached the two quarrelling wix—he was wide eyed, and contemplating revealing himself, but then self preservation kicked in, and told him that he did not want to interfere with whatever was going on with the two of them.

"Fucking really, Hermione? Piss off. I do not want to talk to you right now, much less look at you," Draco spat, and Hermione visibly recoiled at his tone.

Blimey! What in Merlin's name has got his wand in a knot? The hidden figure wondered mentally.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the girl, twisting to leave but Hermione clearly did not approve of that, since she practically leapt forward before gruffly grabbing him by the elbow and dragging him behind her.

James Potter was at war with himself about whether to follow them or not, but then a small voice in his head whispered, perhaps they might need someone to stop them from killing each other. Next thing he knows he's running after them into a small room that he'd never seen before.

Huh, this place isn't on our map, James mused, but he didn't have much time to ponder on it because then Hermione and Draco began to argue loudly.

James swiftly settled himself in one of the corners of the room—dutifully ignoring the chunks of rubble on the ground—and he attempted to make himself as small as possible, as to avoid being on the receiving end of any spells that they may throw at each other; James also did not doubt for a moment that Hermione thought herself above picking up a piece of broken stone and hurling it at Draco.

Magic prickled across James's skin as his brother and sister aired their grievances with each other, and the reason for their anger was quickly made abundantly clear, and James found himself in thick agreement with Draco. Smith? That wanker? Course you can do better, Mione.

"Maybe I don't want to see you shoving your tongue down Smith's throat, since I know for a fact, that you can do better," Draco said gruffly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

I certainly can't argue with that, James thought.

James wasn't always pleased by the fact that his best mate had dated his sister, but, regardless he had accepted it at the time: they were two of his favourite people in the world, and Remus treated Hermione right. Remus treated Hermione like she deserved to be treated, and James couldn't really find fault with that.

James subsequently turned up his nose at the thought of Hermione dating Smith: the Ravenclaw reeked of trouble, and James's primal instincts tingled whenever he was around him, telling James to put as much distance between them as possible, to get far, far away from the blond wizard. No, Lysander Smith was not good enough for his sister.

James surfaced from his inner musings, and tuned back into his siblings conversation, although he was partially distracted as he raised his cloaked hand to touch the air—the magical energy was so thick, so tangible that he could actually grasp ahold of it.

"You didn't answer my question. Why do you care? Is it because you feel some obligation to protect me like a brother wou—"

"Fuck. You think this is cause I'm pretending to be your brother?"

James froze, hand still outstretched in front of him as he was robbed of all of his air: it was brutally ripped from his chest, his throat was sewn shut, and his lungs deflated.

James's entire world flipped on its head.

...What?

James barely managed to wrap his head around that particular grenade of information before he was once more struck down in surprise.

"I'm in love with you, you idiot!"

I beg your pardon? James's jaw dropped, and he worked his mouth silently, trying to fathom exactly what was unravelling in front of him. What the actual fuck is going on?

James had only just gotten his proverbial sea legs back: he was truly rocked to his core by what he was bearing witness to, when Hermione and Draco dealt him another devastating blow.

James's ship smashed into a cruel wave, capsizing before it was engulfed by a treacherous, perilous sea, because Draco and Hermione had just surged towards each other and began bloody kissing. James stumbled backwards, clutching his wand and the Marauders Map tightly to his chest with one hand, and barely catching himself against the wall with the other. It was a miracle he managed to not make an inordinate amount of noise—not that they would notice anyway, since they were too busy kissing. Kissing!

They were devouring each other like two starved humans desperate for any sustenance that they could get their hands on. James can't look away, he can't look away as they pull back, pure joy and happiness on their faces.

The gears in his head weren't turning properly, and the words left his mouth before he could fully comprehend that he was even speaking, "what the actual fuck?"

Draco and Hermione froze, both looking at each other with potent fear in their eyes before they slowly turn to look in his direction.

Fuck me sideways, James swore internally.

Hermione unwrapped herself from Draco, and the witch and wizard both sought out their wands—it was only in that moment that James realised the Cloak was still covering him, thus making him invisible to the naked eye.

James grabbed a handful of fabric and with a flourish he removed the Cloak.

Hermione and Draco halted abruptly, bewildered as they visibly processed who they were looking at.

"We can explain—" Hermione blurted out, but cuts herself off when James raised a finger.

James pursed his lips, deciding to go through this systematically, to try and work through this from one world altering fact to the next, "firstly, you guys aren't siblings?"

They both blink at him like stunned goldfish, eyes popping out of their heads as their mouths open and close.

Draco cleared his throat, only then lowering his wand as he nodded his head jerkily.

"Okay. Okay. Okay," James repeated like a broken record as he dropped his Invisibility Cloak and the Map, before he buried his fingers in his unruly hair.

"I need a minute. I'm trying to think but my brain hurts," James stated, striding over to the closest wall and sliding down against it.

He squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could, until spots danced wildly across the back of his eyelids, and he can distinctly hear Hermione and Draco walking towards him.

Several tense moments later James opened his eyes—spots still blooming and blurring his vision—and noted that Hermione was kneeling down beside him, whilst Draco was squatting in front of him, arms resting across his thighs and his fingers laced together.

"What does this mean?" James whispered, eyes flicking between both of them, imploring and pleading them to help him make some sense of all of this.

"I don't know," Hermione answered honestly, biting her bottom lip as she reached out, untangling one of James's hands from his tresses before slipping her hand in his.

Quiet.

James swallowed audibly, hesitating before he asked his next question, "are you both still my siblings?"

"Of course—" Draco responded instantaneously, "Hermione and I may not be siblings, but we are your siblings. You're my brother, Jamie. No matter what."

A knot in his stomach—whose existence he had not even noticed until that very moment—unfurled as relief pumped through his veins.

"Fuck, this is weird," James said.

"Trust me, I know," Hermione sighed.

Draco turned his gaze on her, shooting her with a droll look, "oh, is that so?"

"Piss off, we're still adjusting to this as well," Hermione said, rolling her eyes as she gestured between her and Draco.

Draco shrugged as he faced James once more, "I'm all good."

Hermione groaned, and from the expression on her face, James thought it best to interject, "I assume no one else can know about this. Not even Sirius or Remus?"

"No one can know about this. No one," Draco confirmed, his grey eyes boring into his brother's.

James pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, mulling over his next words before they left his mouth—what he was about to suggest was not something to be taken lightly.

"Should I make an Unbreakable Vow?"

Deep frowns, lips pressed together in thin, grave lines, and simultaneously they both said, "no."

"Are you sure—"

"James, I trust you with my life. I'm almost positive I can trust you with this," Draco smirked, unlacing his fingers and placing a hand on one of James's knees.

"I feel the exact same way," Hermione smiled softly, squeezing James's hand.

"Why do I feel like a lot of responsibility has just been thrust upon my shoulders?"

"Nah, you'll be fine," Draco winked, standing up and holding out a hand to help James up, "brothers?"

James paused before a smile grew across his face, "always." James accepted the help, and jumped up.

Hermione gathered the things James had dropped in his panicked daze and primly stood up as well.

The three Potters consequently stared at each other in silence for a few moments, before they began discussing the logistics of getting back to the Common Room unnoticed: eventually settling on all of them squishing together under the Cloak—despite the fact that James and Draco were much taller now, if they all stooped down then they should all be able to fit.

None of them said anything as they made their way through the empty, quiet corridors back to Gryffindor Tower.

Upon arrival, The Fat Lady glared at them through bleary eyes, but the portrait still swung open with a soft creaking sound, and they hurriedly all stepped through the Portrait hole. The Fat Lady didn't spare them another thought as she resumed her beauty sleep.

An eerie quietness had settled across the Common Room—now devoid of the ruckus and life it had held mere hours before.

They all silently made their way across the Common Room: making their way over to their respective staircases, but Draco suddenly veered from his path to follow after Hermione.

Hermione heard him coming and halted abruptly in her tracks, her right foot already on the first step to the girls' dormitories.

"May I help you?" Hermione asked reticently, hair whipping around as she turned to face him.

Draco stopped just short of the steps, and simply replied, "make sure to scrub Smith's smell off of you."

"Bloody hell, really?" James groaned softly, letting his head fall back in frustration.

Hermione rolled her eyes at both of them, her tongue darting out of her mouth to swipe across her bottom lip before she leant into Draco—who bent partially at the middle so her mouth was closer to his ear—and whispered rather brazenly, "then I'd be washing you off too."

Draco choked back a laugh, ducking his head around so that he could lazily drawl in her ear, "Princess, I'm sure I can fix that later."

"I don't know what's going on over there, but it's time to go to bed," James whinged, strutting over to them to firmly grab ahold of Draco's wrist, wasting no time as he promptly began to drag his brother after him.

"Goodnight, Mione," James called over his shoulder, not pausing or looking back as he strode forth with purpose.

"Night, Jamie," a low chuckle passed through Hermione's lips as she shook her head fondly and began to ascend her own staircase.

Thoughts twirled around her noggin as she fully processed everything that had just transpired: her heart was still racing, her magic was purring inside of her, and she couldn't stop smiling. She paused halfway up the stairs to her dorm, just below the third year's entrance and placed her hands on her red cheeks—waves of warmth were radiating off of her skin.

One of her hands slipped onto her slightly swollen lips and she was pulled back into the moment when Draco's lips had first touched hers, the charged air had exploded around her, it was unlike anything she'd ever experienced; however it wasn't just explosive and all consuming, it was a subtle, comforting feeling—akin to a steadily flowing river.

Hermione completely forgot all about 'scrubbing Smith off of her' when she reached her dorm, instead she distractedly readied herself for bed—airily going through the motions before she fell into bed, curling up on her side, concurrently shutting her curtains wandlessly.

She laid there for a few moments before she let out a piercing squeal (immediately glad that she embedded silencing charms into her curtains at the beginning of every year).

Hermione flailed about in excitement: physically releasing all of her overwhelming emotions, allowing another giddy noise to escape her lips.

Hermione shifted onto her back, stretching her arms high over her head until they hit her headboard, simply staring at the ceiling; inhaling and exhaling slowly as she tried to quiet her galloping heartbeat.

She wondered then, in the darkness, if when she woke up it would all have been but a dream—a wondrous dream, but a dream nonetheless.