Happy Monday!
I was at war with a chapter, so I decided to cut it entirely and skip it (but I really like the last scene so I'm going to use it as a flashback at some point I think). My life is still pretty hectic so I can make no guarantees for a proper update schedule, but I will try x
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
September's chapter raced to a close, and before the Marauders knew it, there was only a spattering of days left in the month.
The wix had just stepped out of the Portrait Hole and were on their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts when they overheard a couple of Gryffindor firsties excitably talking about their Charms class that they were about to have.
"Wingardium Leviosa," Sirius said wistfully. "Those were the days...when all we had to worry about was levitating a feather."
"You make it sound like it was an eon ago," Hermione snorted.
"Feels like it," Sirius shrugged.
There was some truth to Sirius's statement, a lifetime had passed since then, but simultaneously it was just yesterday when they were entering their first year; when they began following or perhaps continued pursuing the infinitely tangled threads that bound them all together.
Or had it all begun when a bushy haired girl introduced herself on the Hogwarts Express to two young boys whilst in search of a toad, or when a pale wizard with a posh upbringing—who had never wanted for naught and had almost always gotten what he wanted— spoke rudely of Muggleborns and Rubeus Hagrid in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions (even if he was rather friendly and polite to Harry Potter despite not knowing his identity).
Perhaps, it was the moment Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy found themselves in the past, or when they first walked through the doors of Potter Manor and met their new family.
There was so much history between all of them, and their lives were all so intricately woven together at this point that it was a challenge to pinpoint what constituted as their true beginning.
With those thoughts rolling around in her mind, Hermione easily hopped over the missing step at the end of the staircase, and immediately looped her arm through Remus's.
"We technically don't have class for another hour," Remus said, an indiscernible look on his face.
"Your point, Moony?" Draco asked, glancing back at them over his shoulder; he and Sirius were leading the charge, and James (he'd slept in Draco's bed last night since he was in the Gryffindor Tower into the wee hours studying, and he borrowed some of Draco's robes which were a smidge too long on him) was bringing up the rear.
"Maybe we should give Flitwick a bit of a gift, give back you know? It is our last year after all."
"We're not going to blow anything up, are we?" James asked slowly, narrowing his eyes at the back of his friend's head. "Cause I draw the line at blowing things up."
"No, but it will cause a bit of havoc I'm sure," Remus said gaily, thoroughly pleased with himself.
"I love the smell of chaos in the morning," Hermione hummed, and the rest of the Marauders made noises of assent.
"Of course you do," Remus said simply, expression neutral.
Hermione rolled her eyes, "you're one to talk. This entire expedition is your idea."
"And?"
Hermione grinned up at her werewolf and said with a purr, "and you're supposed to be setting a good example as a prefect."
"At least I'm not head prefect," Remus shrugged, he gestured absently over in James's direction, "or head boy like Prongs."
"Oi!" James exclaimed in protestation. "There's no need to point fingers here."
Laughter ensued. Thus, with an extra pep in their step, the wix decided to take a slight detour on their way to Defense and headed over to the Charms classroom.
They passed by Filch dutifully tending to one of the portrait frames, though the grimace on his face indicated that he was far from happy about the charge.
"Morning," Draco said as they passed. Filch grumbled something in reply. Most likely something foul.
Luck seemed to be on their side as when they arrived Peeves was joyously occupying Flitwick's attention (the pair of them disappeared around the corner at the end of the corridor in the other direction with Peeves high-pitched cackling trailing after them) and the classroom door was ajar.
The Marauders entered the classroom with its vast windows and elevated benches that faced inwards towards a central aisle that led directly to Flitwick's podium upon which he stood and taught.
Laid neatly in front of each station were pristine white feathers with a soft elegance to them, like a gentle breeze might whisk them away.
"I'll keep a lookout," Hermione announced, situating herself in the doorway as the boys penetrated the room further and set about their task.
Between the four wizards, they made short work of applying sticking charms to each of the feathers save for one towards the front.
"It'll cause even more confusion…" Draco said, pausing before he explained, "if the witch or wizard who is sitting there is actually successful then everyone one else will just think they're doing it wrong."
Sirius whistled slowly in appreciation at Draco's devious idea, "are you sure the hat didn't want to sort you into Slytherin, Paws?"
Draco merely chuckled.
"Oi! What's that mean then? Did it actually want to put you in Slytherin?" Sirius asked, mouth agape.
"Dunno what you're talking about, mate."
"You told us the hat wanted to put you in Ravenclaw…but what if it really wanted to put you in Slytherin!"
"It did want to put me in Ravenclaw, either way why does it matter?" Draco asked, running his finger along the edge of the desk beside him as he made his way over to Sirius. He didn't have to tell them that the sorting hat had also suggested Slytherin.
"There's a snake in our midst," Sirius said dramatically, closing his eyes and delicately placing the back of his hand against his forehead.
If only you knew how right you were, Hermione thought, he's a lion with a mane of snakes.
"Okay, we should get out of here before Flitwick comes back," James announced whilst making shooing motions towards the door, eyebrows raised and mouth pursed.
Hermione ears perked up at the sound of distant, excited chatter, and lowly she hissed, "I think the firsties are coming."
The boys all muttered some kind of acknowledgement that they'd heard her and with Hermione leading their company they all quickly slipped out of the classroom.
The dim sunlight filtered into the corridor through the large windows on their right. Peeves's boisterous mirth had faded away, and all that was left was the breathy laughter of the group of first years that had just rounded the corner on the Marauder's left.
Most of the younger wix caught themselves in time, but one teeny lioness careened into Hermione. Their laughter died. Hermione caught the girl round the shoulders and steadied her. Wide-eyed, the girl stared up at Hermione with chestnut brown, round orbs. She was trembling like a leaf in a hearty fall breeze.
"Careful there, sweetheart," Hermione said warmly. The girl swallowed audibly as she nodded her head jerkily. The trembling hadn't subsided. The sunlight bounced off of girl's short locks and glistened on her dark skin.
"Say something, Beatrice," one of the girl's friends said softly. Beatrice's hands clutched at her skirts, loosely bunching up some of the fabric.
Thinking perhaps she'd scared the girl enough for the morning and that she deserved a bit of a break, Hermione leaned down and ever so quietly whispered, "sit at the front today on the left, your feather is the only one that hasn't been charmed."
"H-how do I know you're telling the truth?" Beatrice stammered.
"Guess you'll just have to trust me," Hermione said, straightening out and patting the girl on her shoulder.
"Alright firsties, if anyone asks then you didn't see any of us, also, don't be frustrated by today's lesson. It's not you that's the problem, it's the feathers—" Sirius started
"Pardon me, Sir," one of the boys interjected.
Sirius sputtered, "Sir?! How old do I look to you?"
The boy's stance was wide, his chin jutted forward and he stared Sirius directly in the eye, in spite of his quivering lip. Hermione snorted.
"Ignore him. Just don't worry too much about today's lesson and sit back and enjoy Flitwick flitting around trying to figure out what's wrong."
James jumped in, his tone firm, "in short, you lot saw nothing, and I would expect that you all conduct yourselves in an appropriate manner and don't do anything like this…that is all."
The boys began to amble away, but Hermione lingered, Draco's words floated back to her, "yea, that's really going to stop them," Draco snorted.
"Sod off."
Hermione peered over Beatrice and her friends' heads. Draco smirked, the lines around his mouth creasing slightly as he mocked his brother, "do as I say and not as I do, kids." James playfully shoved him.
The Marauders paused at the corner bend, looking expectantly at Hermione. She gave a curt nod and focused her attention back on Beatrice. A stray raven curl fell forward into her eye but Hermione ignored it.
"Remember what I said, sit at the front on the left side. You understand?" Hermione asked.
Beatrice still looked skeptical, but nodded.
Hermione gave the girl a final tap on the shoulder and without another word swept past her to her awaiting friends. Hermione tucked herself into Sirius's side and wrapped an arm around his waist.
"Hey there, little one," Sirius said, his hand sliding around her shoulders and holding her to him as if she was a precious commodity.
"Hi, Snuffles," Hermione responded, glancing up at him. The wizard softly made a rude sound, but the smile present on his face told a different story.
For a moment a flash of an older wizard more ravaged by time and the cruel hand of cards he'd been dealt replaced her young friend. A wizard who had a been a victim of war, loss and wrongful imprisonment. A wizard who she missed but wished she could take away all of the suffering he had had to endure.
"You okay, Kitten?" Sirius asked, his brow drawn together in quiet worry. The image fled hastily and she was once more staring at young Sirius. Sirius's voice snapped Hermione out of her daze.
"Yupp, fine," Hermione hummed.
"Sure? You look like you saw a ghost."
"No, nothing like that...I was just reminiscing on the past…" Hermione trailed off. Sirius took the hint and didn't press any further.
When they reached their Defense classroom, Lily, Frank and Alice were patiently waiting outside a firmly locked door. A few of their classmates began to arrive.
"I take it Josiah hasn't woken up yet then," Draco commented errantly.
Lily numbly shook her head, "nope."
Josiah Pennyworth was a wizard in his early twenties with a dimple in his right cheek, golden brown eyes, wavy brown hair, a slightly crooked nose, a scar across the left side of his mouth, and a slight curve in his back. He had a woggy gait, as if one leg was a touch longer than the other. Josiah was a gangly lad, about six feet tall.
Hermione leant further into Sirius and soon her friends' chatter all blurred together, until, "morning, James," tugged her above the monotonous sea of conversation just enough for her to hone in on one particular exchange.
Hermione's eyes were closed and in her mind an inky black figure with crimson red hair danced in front of a starch white background.
"Do you want to go over the prefect roster for this week? I know a couple people are going to need to be switched around cause Quidditch tryouts are this weekend."
"Oh! I'd been meaning to talk to you about that. Smith told me Ravenclaw is having theirs on Friday."
"Brilliant, I reckon things will work out just fine then," James said.
"Do you have time to sort everything out at lunch then?"
"I do."
"Great."
"It's a date then," James said and Hermione could hear the warm smile in his voice. Lily's only response was bright laughter that bounced down the corridor.
Hermione smiled to herself, yes James. I reckon everything will work out just fine.
Saturday, October 1st, 1977
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Quidditch Pitch
With the turn of the month came the official turn of the seasons: crisper mornings, the orange and yellow leaves threatening to collapse from their trees at any moment, and the biting numbness that clung to one's fingers from a refusal to wear gloves. Change was afoot.
A clipboard. Starchy white parchment with names scrawled across it in black ink. A whistle in hand. A powerful tingle sparking across a lion's skin as the weight of his new position settled over him like a second skin.
It was Gryffindor's Quidditch team tryouts and Draco Potter was thoroughly enjoying himself as the newly minted Quidditch Captain. So far he had been putting everyone through their paces to show that he was being unbiased and fair; mainly he was finding great pleasure in the death glare Hermione kept shooting his way.
Shortly thereafter, tryouts were done, all of the drills were complete, and the lions were soggy and smothered from head to toe in dirt and wet grass.
Power. It coursed through his veins. Draco breathed in and out deeply and forced himself to calm down. He was only Quidditch Captain, he mustn't let himself get too carried away lest he fall into old habits.
"Good work everyone!" Draco said, congratulating the small assembly he had before him. They all made various noises of acknowledgement, some more rude than others (Hermione and Sirius).
"I've carefully evaluated everyone, but I just want to review my notes before I make any final decisions—"
"Seriously, Paws?" Sirius groaned.
"Yes, Padfoot," Draco said curtly, clearing his throat and pushing back his shoulders before he continued, "now as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I'll put the list up on the bulletin board in the Common room either tonight or tomorrow morning."
A few grumbles, some words of agreement, a particularly loud groan from Sirius. Most of the fifteen or so Gryffindors departed, but May paused for a moment to crack a joke with James before he too went about his business.
Hermione, Sirius, James and Draco were all only ones left, and just past his friends Draco could see Remus meandering his way across the pitch towards them (he'd been reading and watching from the stands).
"We made the team…didn't we?" James asked a little uncertainly, swiping his damp bangs off of his forehead. His broom was held loosely in his other hand, and he'd stuffed his gloves in the waistband of his trousers.
"Maybe," Draco said, a secret smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He fiddled with the fountain pen in his hand—tapping it against the top of his clipboard.
Hermione came to stand beside him, and brazenly peered at his clipboard with all his notes penned in loopy cursive. He let her. She hummed absently as her eyes scanned the parchment.
"Sirius didn't make the cut," Hermione deadpanned. Sirius's jaw dropped and took a large step towards Draco with a raised finger and protestation ready to spring off the tip of his tongue.
"She's just messing with you, Pads," Remus said, hands linked behind his head. A small yawn escaped his lips and he did nothing to halt it.
"Wicked witch," Sirius grumbled, all the fight gushed out of him and he slightly folded in on himself. His limbs sagged with exhaustion.
Draco's eyebrow twitched. The ease in which Moony had seen through Hermione was a touch concerning.
"How'd you know she was lying anyway?" Sirius asked absently, dropping onto the damp grass without a care.
"Your arse is going to be wet…" Remus frowned, his nose crinkling slightly as he tapped the toe of his shoe lightly against the dirt.
"Oh, and cause I can always tell when she's lying," Remus shrugged.
Without skipping a beat Hermione said, "I don't lie."
Draco groaned internally, it was as if she was willingly admitting guilt.
"Love. You just did."
"I don't—"
The outrage of a crimson haired witch was Hermione's saving grace and stopped her from saying something foolhardy. Draco glanced at her in his peripherals and there was a thread of panic in her eyes.
Thankfully, Lily swooped in and saved the day. Sort of.
Sirius flew to his feet and inadvertently took a step back as the furious witch marched toward them; she came to a halt in front of him.
"Sticking charms? Really? How juvenile can you lot get?" Lily huffed, fists clenched at her sides, sparks flying from the ends of her hair. The long ends of the thick, fluffy, dark green scarf around her neck were whipping about as the breeze picked up around them.
"It was a harmless prank, Lils," Draco said, and Lily sent a death glare his way before she whirled around on James, her index finger jabbing into his chest with every word as she spoke.
"You ought to know better. That's just cruel to learning students who might lose faith in their capabilities. I thought you'd matured, but this is just childish—"
"Lily…" Remus tried weakly, but the redhead didn't even acknowledge him.
Draco mulled over what she said, lingering on the comment about students losing faith in themselves. They'd honestly just thought it would be a good laugh. That it would be a harmless prank that was easily reversible. Although, they had tried to warn some of the students.
"You are meant to be setting a good example and I can't believe I thought you changed—"
"Really, Evans?" James asked, his tone severe but Hermione heard the traces of hurt threaded through his syllables. James was exhausted and Lily had chosen the wrong time to berate the youngest Potter.
Lily's mouth clamped shut in shock; James had never spoken to her in that tone before.
"James," Hermione tried softly. James had been unintentionally glowering down at Lily (who was rigid but holding her ground), but upon hearing Hermione's voice he tore his gaze away from the redhead and sought out his sister. His features softened immediately.
"Blimey. I'm—I'm sorry. I'm knackered. I didn't mean to…" James frowned. The wizard exhaled deeply, and rubbed his knuckles across the slightly scruff on his cheeks. "I think I'll head out first…"
Draco's gaze bounced about the group until he focused on Lily's perplexed expression—her face was twisted with a collection of emotions that he didn't know how to place.
James glanced at Lily one more time before he turned on his heel and began to walk away.
Hermione sighed heavily, "c'mon Lils, let's go back to yours and work on our Potions project." Normally Hermione paired up with Draco, but Slughorn decided to draw names from a hat this time and thus the two witches had been thrown together.
Hermione saddled up beside her friend who nodded her head dumbly, fisted her hand in the excess fabric of Hermione's flowy blouse sleeve—close to her elbow—and allowed Hermione to guide her off of the pitch (in a different direction than James).
"Well that went swimmingly," Draco said, rubbing at his nape with his free hand.
There was a thick pause, but then Sirius cavalierly asked, "so did I make the team or not?"
Draco snorted and set out after his brother as he was almost positive James would need someone to talk to right now, if even just to vent.
"You'll just have to wait and find out tomorrow, Pads."
"Wanker."
Remus clapped Sirius on the shoulder and with a thin smile said, "how about the two of us go raid the kitchens for some chocolate chip cookies…" Remus's nose crinkled slightly as he caught a proper whiff of Sirius, "…maybe after you take a shower though."
Sirius scowled, jabbing Remus in the ribs, "like you don't constantly smell like wet dog too, mate."
Remus threw an arm around Sirius's shoulders, "I love you too, Padfoot."
The pair headed off of the pitch as the sun began to retire for the evening, ready to tuck himself under his thick, dark blanket of night as he dreamt of twinkling stars.
Change is rarely ever easy. Particularly when it is an abrupt, unwelcome change. Especially one that blindsides you and is such a shock to the system that you don't even know how to process it.
Hermione Potter had been plagued with thoughts that could bring about such change for months now.
It was a dreary day. Grey clouds thrown onto a grey sky, the wind was unforgiving and bitter, and Hermione's white cable knit scarf was bundled around her throat and lower half of her face to try and protect her from the elements. The warming charms she'd cast had little to no effect.
Hermione's eyes were watering as the wind battered them.
Hermione closed her eyes, the wind's razor sharp nails slicing across her forehead and the tip of her nose. She was transported back to the summer, to warmth, to the sweet smell of fauna and flora, to her Mother.
"I have one question and then I'll drop it," Dorea said with a small shrug and an absent hand gesture. Hermione saw the amused quirk of Dorea's lips, and the woman's dark, full eyelashes fluttering as she spoke.
"Yes, Mum?"
"Do you trust Remus and Sirius?"
It was a instinctual reaction, and the words fled her mouth like a dam bursting, "with my life."
"Then why can't you trust them with this?" Dorea asked in a whimsical tone. The witch stopped in her tracks, and her hair and dress floated as the wind played with them, and for a moment the witch was floating underwater, peaceful as the light shimmered down on her.
"You alright, Potter?"
The smooth, polished voice sharply drew Hermione from her memory and returned her to the cold present. Hermione peered over at her companion, who seemed quite unbothered by their frigid surroundings.
Marlene McKinnon was fiddling with her hair (she'd cropped it to just below her ears) and gazing out onto the Quidditch Pitch with a blank expression.
The witches were sat in the stands—in the top row—side-by-side with the intention of catching up away from prying ears. Marlene threw up a Muffliato the moment they sat down.
Thus far there had just been a lot of comfortable silence.
Marlene adjusted her navy blue, loose, silk scarf and exposed her collarbone. She was also wearing a short skirt, her slender legs bare.
"I'm fine, Marly," Hermione said, her voice slightly muffled.
"Bollocks. You're way too skinny and the dark circles under your eyes are abysmal," Marlene said, smoothing down the top of her skirt.
"I'm fine," Hermione insisted, her brow drawn together. She appreciated the girl's concern, but now she was beginning to wonder if she really hadn't put back on all the weight she lost after her Mother's passing.
Marlene shrugged. The witch straightened her back, cleared her throat and pivoted towards Hermione. "Is Draco seeing anyone?"
Hermione was glad Marlene couldn't see the bottom of her face as her lips were pressed together in a thin line. Hermione's eyebrows rose.
"I just…I was terrible to Draco when we broke up, and sometimes I think I was too rash…but…I just want to know if he's happy," Marlene rambled, her voice squeaking.
Instead of answering Marlene's question, Hermione asked, "why did you two break up again?"
Marlene's lips parted, and there was a tightness to her brow. Her spine stiffened and she fiddled with one of the rings on her fingers.
Hermione waited patiently, and just when she thought Marlene wasn't going to respond, the witch visibly relaxed and said simply, "I couldn't trust him."
Marlene paused. Hermione's brow twitched upwards, indicating that Marlene should continue.
"There were things he couldn't tell me, and it…it got to be too much. I couldn't handle it. I know he couldn't be more honest with me, but that didn't make it hurt any less."
An unknown force gripped Hermione, and the words tumbled out of her mouth like rocks in an avalanche, "would you ever want to get back together?"
Marlene's mouth twisted to the side, "what? No. I love Draco, I always will, but we had our time. Now we're just friends, and I want it to stay that way."
A knot uncoiled itself in Hermione's chest. She didn't doubt Draco's love for her. She trusts him. She knows he doesn't have any romantic inclinations towards Marly anymore, but those words falling from Marlene's lips were more than a little comforting.
"No offense to your brother of course, he's a lovely bloke who will make some witch ridiculously happy one day," Marlene said, waving her hand in a dismissive fashion.
"No offense taken," Hermione replied. He already does make a very lucky witch extraordinarily happy, Hermione added mentally as she played with the ends of her scarf.
"I just want him to be happy," Marlene whispered, her wish carried away with the brisk wind that whipped her hair in front of her face. Marlene tucked her cropped hair behind her ears, but it was a futile venture as the wind untucked it moments later. She didn't bother trying again. She simply let it be free to move as the elements wished.
"What about you, Potter? Are you happy?"
"Yeah, aside from a big decision I have to make," Hermione answered cryptically, and Marlene hummed in acknowledgement but didn't push further. Hermione turned away from Marlene to stare out at the pitch. A raindrop hit her cheek.
Hermione looked skyward and closed her eyes. It wasn't long before the grey clouds opened and frigid rain poured from the heavens.
Marlene began to laugh maniacally: it bubbled out of her with jubilant exuberance and the wooden bench under her feet creaked slightly as she stood up, her head tipped back and her arms spread wide on either side.
Hermione had never seen Marlene so unguarded before, to the point where the girl's smile was so bright it illuminated their surroundings and the corners of her eyes creased from happiness. Marlene giddily grabbed hold of Hermione's hand and tugged her up.
No words were exchanged. The pair fled the stands, bolting down the closest stairway that led out onto the pitch (it was narrow and they had to descend the stairs single-file). They giggled as they tumbled out onto the pitch only to end up twirling around in circles. Their clothes stuck to their bodies and their hair plastered onto their faces—which they fiercely swiped away—as they allowed the rain to drench them to the bone.
Later, when Hermione was taking a hot bath—slowing thawing—in the deep, clawfoot bathtub in the sixth year Gryffindor girl's shared bathroom, she contemplated her dilemma. Hermione's arms were wrapped around her knees and her entire body was covered save for her cupid's bow and above. She stared blankly at the white wall in front of her. She needed to talk to Draco; this was as much his decision as it was hers.
Hermione rested her chin on her knees. She could feel her hair floating all around her, every now and then it would caress her skin and send a shudder up her spine. Her eyes fluttered shut. "I hope they don't hate us."
Draco stared at Hermione with blatant shock smacked across his face. His tongue was heavy as he asked, "what did you just say?"
Hermione's face was partially obscured by her raven locks. The witch looked otherworldly with her pale skin delicately wrapped in sheer, black night robes and the half full moon bathing her body through the large Gothic styled window beside her; the witch was perched on the window ledge.
"We have to tell Remus and Sirius about us," Hermione whispered and the night hurriedly scurried off with the words as if they were cursed. Unbeknownst to Draco, this particular conundrum had been plaguing Hermione for a while (even though she never breathed a word of it to him), and she'd finally settled on a decision.
"Why in Salazar's name would we do that?" Draco hissed, fingers dragging back through his unruly hair. Draco knew something was bothering Hermione lately, but he'd never thought it would be this. Earlier, brow furrowed, she quietly asked him to meet her in the Room of Requirement after supper.
"Do you trust them?" Hermione asked softly, raising her gaze to meet his for the first time since they'd entered the modest room.
Draco leaned against the wall beside the window, arms crossed over his chest and even though his heart was roaring, "yes,", his brain was anxiously listing all the ways this could go spectacularly wrong.
"Does that matter? Is it wise to tell them the truth? Besides, can we even tell them without breaking our vow?" Draco asked.
"We told James," Hermione started, but faltered, doubt creeping onto her features. They hadn't exactly set out to tell James, he had stumbled across them.
"Hermione…"
Hermione's voice was clear, precise and the conviction behind her words made it hard to argue, "they are our family. Pack. We have to tell them."
"Why do you want to tell them all of a sudden? They won't be happy to find out we've been lying to them for six years," Draco said, his voice haggard and harsh.
A moment of clarity sprung upon the two lions, like a fresh spring was spraying across their faces and waking them from a long slumber.
"If…when we get back to the future they'll remember everything, and they'll hate us for not changing a thing," Hermione murmured.
"Hate is a strong word…they'll be angry, but they won't hate us," Draco protested weakly; he didn't sound convinced even to his ears.
"Regardless," Hermione cleared her throat, "we have to tell them…Mum thought we should…"
Draco's gaze lowered to his bare feet—his blue veins were weaving an intricate pattern, and somehow following the paths they created helped to order his thoughts. "Mum—she thought we should tell them?"
"Yes," Hermione answered.
"That doesn't mean it's a good idea," Draco said, his brow drawn together in thought.
"It will be one less thing we'll have to lie about," Hermione supplied, her shoulders lifting an infinitesimal amount in a somewhat defeated shrug.
"Fair…" Draco said hesitantly, hands falling to his sides as he slowly walked over to Hermione.
Draco came to a halt in front of the witch. Hermione leaned forward, wrapped her arms around Draco's waist, and rested her head against his abdomen.
"If we can't tell them about everything else, we should at least tell them about us," Hermione said softly.
"It's a terrible idea," Draco responded.
"When have we ever shied away from terrible ideas?"
"I think you're mixing me up with your two golden boys," Draco teased, the thick tension melting away with the warm timbre of his tone.
Hermione made a loud noise of annoyance. Draco's shoulders slumped and he loosely linked his arms around Hermione.
"You know everything will change once we tell them."
"I know."
"It may not change in a good way."
"I'm aware," Hermione said.
"Yet you still wish to tell them?"
"Yes."
"Well, if we must perish, at least let it be our own swords that will runneth through us."
"You're so dramatic," Hermione said, tightening her grip on him.
"Perhaps, but I am right."
"So we're telling them then?" Hermione asked, breathing in deeply the comforting, fresh scent of mint. She rubbed her cheek against the soft material of his shirt, and closed her eyes and listened to his heart beat.
"I suppose," Draco sighed. A shiver ran down Hermione's spine, out of fear or anticipation she wasn't sure.
Change may not be easy or comfortable, but it was almost always necessary. Hopefully this bout of change would not be met with ire and resistance, but rather understanding and reason.
They will understand, Hermione told herself whilst bathed in moonlight and wrapped in the arms of the wizard that she loved. They have to.
Saturday, October 8th, 1977
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Seventh Floor
Once Hermione Potter made up her mind, her resolve was ironclad and nigh impossible to break; after all she was a stubborn witch.
At that exact moment however, she was regretting her decision; she wished that she could melt into the stone walls around them and disappear.
Hermione and Draco were on the seventh floor outside of the Room of Requirement; waiting. It was a dreary, rainy day and the raindrops were angrily attacking the vast window at the end of the corridor.
"Dammit," Hermione said under her breath.
"This was your idea," Draco drawled, languidly leaning against the wall a few feet away from her, hands in his pockets, and his ankles crossed.
"How are you so calm?" Hermione hissed, taking a step towards him as she rubbed at her temples. Her stomach was twisted into tight knots whilst a tornado wreaked havoc on her insides. "I'm going to fucking vomit," Hermione said shakily.
Draco frowned at that, and with a soft exhalation of breath he pushed off of the wall and paused right in front of her. "It's going to be fine, you'll see. You said that Mum thought we should tell them."
They both heard the three wizards approach, but they didn't properly register their presence until the one leading them asked, "tell who what?"
Hermione turned to face Sirius, Remus and James like a deer caught in the headlights. Draco swore under his breath.
I am not ready for this, Hermione thought.