HAPPY FRIDAY LOVELIES!
This chapter was originally going to be a LOT shorter, but I ended up getting a bit carried away, so here we are x
It only really hit me that I am in their Seventh Year right now, and soon that'll be done as well?
Please leave a review and let me know what you think ;)
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
Again, massive thank you to Magicalalice for always being so lovely x
Monday, December 5th, 1977
Hermione and Draco's Eighteenth "Birthday"
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Room of Requirement
"I know we have to keep up appearances, but why are we celebrating your birthday…when it's not actually your birthday?" Sirius asked.
NEWTs had rightfully earned their name, and the Marauders classes for the day had worn them out. James had mustered up some energy, and dragged the lot of them (sans Peter) to the Room of Requirement. He'd insisted on blindfolding Hermione and Draco as he wanted to surprise them on their special day.
The room he'd conjured was simple and large enough to house the five of them: a black leather couch against one wall, a fluffy, rectangular, white rug spread out across most of the polished concrete floor. In the centre of the room was a dark-stained wooden coffee table that rode low to the ground and in the middle of it laid a three layered white cake. The Elves had taken great cake when piping the frosting onto the cake; it was delicate, extravagant, and shiny edible balls that glistened like pearls were situated around the edges of the rectangular cake. A small pile of gifts was in the corner of the room.
"I got the House Elves to whip it up during lunch," James had informed them proudly, partially bent at the middle as he held out hands towards the cake with wiggling fingers. Hermione gave him a loud kiss on the cheek in thanks. Draco did the same, and the wix erupted into laughter.
Hermione knelt in front of the coffee table, folded her skirt beneath her, and sat back on her haunches. She neatly laid her hands in her lap. Hermione turned her gaze to Sirius and addressed his prior question, "Padfoot. We talked about this."
"No, you talked and I listened," Sirius recounted. A few days after he and Remus were made privy to the Potter 'twins' secret, he realised their true birthdays were not on December fifth. He'd tried to pry the real dates out of Hermione, but to no avail. The look on Draco's face discouraged Sirius from broaching the topic with him.
James and Sirius were sat on the floor in front of the leather couch: James's back was against it, his legs partially bent, and spread to make room for Sirius, who was settled between them and laid back against James's chest. James was absentmindedly braiding Sirius's luscious locks.
"We can't tell you," Hermione blew out a hot exhale of air. She fiddled with the hair tie cutting into the flesh around her wrist. She removed it, tipped her head back, and combed her fingers through her hair— pausing every time her fingers got tangled in her wild curls— and expertly tied her hair back in a high ponytail.
Remus was languidly lounging on the couch, focusing on the magical camera in his hands, "Unbreakable Vow?"
"Ten points to Gryffindor," Draco said, smiling wanly as he squatted down beside Hermione. He used his index finger to turn her face to his, and quietly asked, "you feeling better?"
(The others could of course hear them due to their proximity and their heightened hearing, but it was the thought that counted.)
"Periods are vile," Hermione sighed, the pain in her lower back numbed for now by the pain potion Draco forced her to take earlier.
Draco kissed her temple, and placed a hand on her shoulder before he sat cross-legged on the ground beside her.
Sirius cleared his throat. The other Marauders gave him their undivided attention. "So, for the foreseeable future, we are going to pretend that today is you two's birthday."
"Precisely," Draco nodded, leaning over and patting Sirius's thigh.
"It's going to drive me mad not knowing," Sirius groaned, his head falling back against James's chest. James winced, his fingers still tangled in Sirius's hair.
Silence reigned. The balls of twinkly warm yellow lights bobbing about the ceiling were mesmerising, and everything else faded away as Hermione stared at them. A blurry version—directly in Hermione's line of sight—of the black banner Sirius had painted in gold paint was strung up on the far wall caught her attention, it read, 'Happy Birthday, Hermione and Draco!'. She vaguely registered Draco taking her hand in his.
Remus broke the quiet. He'd snuck off the couch whilst Hermione had zoned out, and snapped a couple pictures of James and Sirius. The shutter closing snapped her back to reality.
"How are you and Lily doing?" Remus asked, balancing his camera in one hand, the other was gingerly holding his new pictures, and his brow furrowed as he watched them develop. There was a bead of sweat at his temple, but Hermione wasn't surprised considering he was wearing an oppressive, woollen, burgundy jumper that clung to him.
Hermione smirked at the question. The pair had been practically inseparable today: Lily had wished Hermione and Draco a heartfelt happy birthday—smothering Hermione with kisses—and immediately skipped over to James, kissing him soundly at the Breakfast table. Vociferous cheers exploded around them.
The Head Boy and Girl shared most of their classes on a Monday, and thus they had been attached at the hip at every given opportunity. The pair were smitten.
"She hasn't hexed me this week, so I'd say things are going splendidly," James said, his chest puffed up with humble pride. He stopped massaging Sirius's scalp, and his hands fell back behind him onto the leather cushions.
"Don't let this go to your head, but I think the two of you are perfect for each other," Draco said sincerely, and James dropped his chin onto Sirius's head as he gazed at his brother. James looked meaningfully between Hermione and Draco. Draco grinned, and he rubbed his thumb across the back of Hermione's hand.
"Alright, I think we should cut the cake!" Remus announced, rounding the coffee table and crouching down. He rested his pictures on the ground beside him, a soft smile filled with pride tugging at his lips as he looked at them.
James and Sirius jumped up, and stood behind Hermione and Draco. Draco had untangled himself from Hermione and righted himself so they were both facing their cake. Draco combed his fingers through his rowdy hair, and it stuck up at the back.
"One problem. Where are the candles?" Draco asked, mirth chasing his words, and his left brow was artfully arched.
"Blimey! Almost forgot!" James exclaimed. He fumbled about in his jeans pockets for a moment before he withdrew a small packet of slender, short dark blue candles that glittered with silver when the light caught them.
James ripped the packet open with his teeth, and candles flew everywhere. A few landed in Hermione's lap, one rolled along the table until it plummeted off the other side and halted only when it bumped into Remus's foot, James caught some, and Sirius effortlessly plucked the rest out of the air.
"Sorry," James apologised sheepishly, and held the candles out towards his sister. "At least none of them landed on the cake."
Hermione snort laughed as she accio'd the remaining candles. They flew into her grasp; the impact stung her palm. Hermione ignored it, and pushed up onto her knees as she arranged the candles about the cake.
James used his wand to light the candles. Lethargy gripped her limbs and the pain in her abdomen was ebbing back into her system (the potions were beginning to wear off). Hermione clenched her jaw and ignored it.
James, Sirius and Remus jovially sang happy birthday to them: James held his hands to his chest, eyes closed and belted the words as if his life depended on it, Sirius giddily shared his enthusiasm and gripped Draco's shoulders as he sang. Remus's singing was disjointed as he was attempting to stifle his laughter at James and Sirius's performance.
"Time to make a wish! Okay! Blow the candles out in—three, two, one!" Sirius bellowed, his voice swelling up inside of the room, and his hair fell into his eyes. Hermione closed her eyes, and blew as hard as she could, making her wish. It was futile, she knew her wish would never come true, but she made it anyway. When Hermione opened her eyes, she turned to Draco, and from the look on his face, he'd made a similar wish.
Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but then firm hands were on her shoulders, and she was being propelled forward. She didn't have time to react other than to close her eyes once more. There was a satisfying thud when her face landed in the middle of her cake.
Shock stiffened Hermione's limbs, and she held her breath for as long as she could. Disbelief and the need for air straightened her out.
Hermione's lips parted with difficulty, the cake and buttercream frosting sticking together. She greedily gasped in air, a bit of cake flying into her mouth; she managed to swallow it, not choke. It was delicious.
Hermione used both hands to swipe the dessert away from her eyes, and she risked opening them only to find it was caked onto her eyelids, and she couldn't.
Hermione wiped her eyes once more, her fingers glued together with the thick frosting, and she pried her eyes open. She was greeted by Draco staring at her in bemused astonishment. He'd wandered over to Remus's side of the room—mostly liked avoiding being James's next target.
The laughter rolled out of Draco in waves, and he clutched his sides as he doubled over, rolling onto the floor. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, a vein was bulging in his neck, and his face was blooming into a bright pink; his soft, dark blue, cashmere jumper made him look like cotton candy.
Remus preened over the picture in his hands. He'd gotten the whole thing: Hermione and Draco blowing out their candles, sharing a secretive, wistful look, and James gleefully shoving his sister into her birthday cake.
"I couldn't resist," Hermione heard James say, but she would deal with him later, right now she had bigger fish to fry.
It was a blur. Hermione found herself straddling Draco, and rubbing her face against his, smearing cake and frosting everywhere; he was adamantly voicing his protests.
Hermione slathered the frosting across his raven hair, and for a moment it appeared as white as it once was when he went by a different name. She rubbed it in. It coated his hair follicles handsomely.
Midnight blue flecked the molten silver pools that devoured her. Draco flipped the two of them over, pinning her arms to the ground above her head.
A blob of cake hurtled from the other side of the room and smashed into Draco's side. He froze. He looked crazed with his wobbly mask of cake crumbs, edible pearls and aromatic frosting. His face swivelled over to James and Sirius.
"This means war," Draco declared with an unparalleled fervour and a raspy edge to his tone.
Pandemonium ensued as the quartet lobbed cake at each other. Sirius ducked behind James on more than one occasion trying to protect his hair. Remus had gathered his pictures and camera in the chaos, ducking and dodging cake in the process, and he was now sitting with his back against the door, observing.
Intermittently a flash would go off, and Remus would be rewarded with a new picture. The werewolf was joyously watching the proceedings and documenting the whole thing.
They eventually wore themselves out (and ran out of cake). James, Hermione and Draco lay in a heap, panting heavily. Sirius was partially sprawled on the leather couch, an arm and a leg hanging off the side.
"That's expensive leather, you're ruining it with all that cake," Draco said, lying on James's back—James was attempting to clean off his glasses by hand; it was pointless, it created thin, streaky film streaks of frosting that followed a circular path.
"Sorry leather," Sirius exhaled, tracing patterns on the leather surface in the frosting beside his head.
"Heathen," Draco sneered, rolling over just enough to lick some frosting off of Hermione's cheek. She scrunched up her nose in disgust. She picked herself up, and dragged her way over to Remus. She plopped down. He smiled cheerily. She swiped frosting onto the tip of his nose.
"Hey!" Remus complained. Hermione waved a hand at him, and focused on the battlefield and pile of boys before her.
The cake really would be a bitch to get out of the carpet, well, I'm grateful I'm not responsible for cleaning it, Hermione mused.
Hermione licked her fingers as she surveyed them, savouring the sweet lemon and vanilla flavour that melted across her tongue. "It is quite delicious. Thank you, Jamie."
"My pleasure!" James called, chin buried in the carpet. His arms were outstretched in front of him, wand and glasses in hand. "Scourigfy," James said, flicking his wand. The frosting smears disappeared and his dark frames and lenses were squeaky clean once more.
"Now that all that business is over with—" Remus stood up, cradling his camera and photographs like a babe, "—it's almost curfew, so we should clean up and ship out."
The Marauders cleaned up the room and each other as best as they could: they vanished most of the cake that was splattered about, used a healthy helping of cleaning charms and gathered the unopened gifts (Draco shrank the gifts and pocketed them). The carpet wasn't salvageable, but soon it would disappear with the room so no one was too broken up about it.
As their made their way back to their tower, Draco gave Hermione a piggyback ride, and she paid him back by removing crumbs from his hair and vanishing them.
Sirius was walking beside them, and James and Remus were leading the charge—animatedly chatting about the photographs that Remus was currently showing off. Sirius cleared his throat, the sound skipped down the corridor. The warm light from the torches along the wall flickered across them as they moved.
The sound of soft, but urgent footfalls ahead of them around the looming bend to the right prickled against Hermione's eardrums.
"Severus! We need to talk about this!" A familiar voice echoed out towards them.
The Marauders froze. Sirius withdrew his wand from his back pocket. Draco lowered Hermione to the ground.
Severus Snape was shrouded in dark fury as he rounded the corner, dark greasy hair slapping out in the air behind him, his school robes billowing about him. He was out for blood. Sparks flew from the tip of his wand as he spotted them.
"Potter," Snape sneered darkly.
Things had been going so well, but Hermione could see that the situation was only to spiral downwards, and before they knew it they would be trading hexes and jinxes if they didn't tread carefully.
"Yes?" Hermione asked sweetly, storming forward, and pushing James's larger form back behind her. She pushed her skirts aside, and hastily withdrew her wand from the holster around her left thigh. She loosely held it in her hand as she stared down Snape's fury.
Severus halted a foot away, shoulders rising and falling with rage, dark, beady eyes flitting about their group. He looked more gaunt than usual, his cheeks hollowing out some. His companion made his presence known; Regulus Black.
Regulus's eyes were round with surprise, he'd clearly assumed that they wouldn't bump into anyone on Snape's war path.
Snape turned his black glower from Hermione to James, baring his teeth as he spoke, "so then, what spell have you put Lily under? What'd you slip in her Pumpkin juice to convince her to give you the time of day?"
James lurched forward, and Hermione became distinctly aware of him through their bond. She could sense his anger; their bonds grew stronger every day, their strings winding tighter around their magical cores.
Hermione held up a hand, and she felt James stiffen behind her. Snape redirected his gaze at her.
"What? Going to get your pathetic sister to fight your battles for you too?"
"Severus," Regulus said, cold warning in his voice. Outwardly, panic was radiating off of the slim, pretty boy with excellent cheekbones and kind eyes. He was staring at Sirius, pleading silently and communicating with him in a way that only they could; begging him not to escalate the situation further as he was prone to do.
"I told you there is no need for any further discussion, Regulus," Snape bowed his head and shot a glare at Regulus. "I've made up my mind."
"What? Your Dark Lord got an errand for you to run?" James taunted, and Hermione grit her teeth together. He couldn't help himself. If anyone could get a rise out of James, it was Severus Snape; they were beautifully skilled at getting under each other's skin.
"James," Draco said from behind them, icicles and a subtle threat clinging to his words.
I may not know what Severus and Regulus are talking about, but Snape is clearly begging for a fight, and James is rising to the bait. Fuck, the Lily comment got under his skin, Hermione thought, her grip tightening on her wand.
"Mate, let's just go," Sirius said softly. In her peripherals Hermione saw Sirius slowly approach them, hands raised, lips pressed together in a thin line, and there were still some cake crumbs in his eyebrows.
Snape whirled on Sirius, wand inches away from his face, "you. Now you want to be the peacemaker? Where was that attitude last year when you gleefully sent me to my near death at your mutt's paws?" Severus's gaze flicked above Hermione's head at what she could only assume was Remus.
"Nothing of the sort happened, need I remind you that you didn't see anything," James growled.
Snape faced him, wand threatening pointed at James's head. The Marauders and Regulus all instinctively moved closer. There was a wild gleam in Snape's eye as he cocked his head to the side.
"Ah yes. The brave James Potter. If nothing happened, why do I owe you a life debt?"
James remained silent; Hermione knew the life debt was a sensitive topic for James. Snape may not have been in any actual danger, but the possibility for things to go tragically wrong was there and somehow that had left Severus indebted to one James Harry Potter.
Snape scoffed, James's silence the only answer he needed. He casually shrugged his shoulders, the ire melting out of him and replaced by tempered steel. He lowered his wand and smoothly stashed it within his robes.
"You aren't worth it," Snape sneered, his lip curled in disgust as he threw James's words from many moons ago back at him.
The next words out of James's mouth were such a shock that Hermione thought she imagined them until she caught the look on Severus's face. "I'm sorry you and Lily aren't friends anymore. It killed her to end your friendship…but you know why she did. It's not too late to fix things."
"Your naivety befuddles me, Potter," Snape's face crumpled in on itself. "Keep your Mudblood." There was no malice behind the slur, only pain and regret. He barged past them, and the Marauders parted to allow him smooth passage.
The Quintet watched him go, the agony fisting in his cloak and it fluttered meekly in the air as he strode down the corridor.
Hermione turned into James, her arms sliding around his torso. She kept her gaze fixed on Regulus and Sirius.
The pair danced around each other, an ocean separating them. They both desperately wish to vault into a metaphorical boat and cross the distance, but they would end up paddling in circles, never reaching the other.
"I should make sure he gets back to the Common room alright," Regulus said quietly, brushing by his big brother. Sirius's hand shot out and caught hold of Regulus's wrist.
"Be careful…Reggie," Sirius rasped, throat thick with emotion. Regulus calmly assessed his brother, flicking his low ponytail over his shoulder—held in place by a stiff white ribbon—and curtly nodded.
"Don't worry about me, brother. I'll be fine."
This time when he moved to leave, Sirius let him. Regulus Black was a mystery to Hermione and she wondered if she should have tried to nurture Sirius's relationship with him more. The souls of the estranged brothers wailed out to each other.
Hermione shut her eyes, squeezed them tight. Regulus wouldn't be fine: shortly he would defect, steal Voldemort's horcrux, and perish for his valiant efforts.
Hermione clung to her brother, her hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt. James rubbed circles across her back, resting his chin on top of her head.
"Sorry your birthday had to end like that," James whispered. Bright, oppressive spots began to dance in front of her eyes.
"Don't be. It's not your fault."
"Let's go. We shouldn't linger before a prefect finds us and deduct points," Draco deadpanned. He sounded exhausted, as if he had been trudging through a swamp for days and he wanted to lie down and let the humid environs claim him.
"You are with the Head Boy and a Senior Prefect," James pointed out. "They probably won't crack down on us if we're out a few minutes after curfew."
"Our reputation precedes us, they will most likely assume that we are up to no good," Draco countered tiredly. He rubbed at the back of his neck, his shoe scuffing across the ground as he starting striding away from his pack.
"Which we often are," Remus said, barely audible. He clutched his belongings to his chest and trailed after Draco, his sandy blond hair falling in his eyes.
The levity that had permeated the air beforehand was sucked away and all that left was loud thoughts and frustration.
"Did you mean that?" Hermione asked. She untangled herself from her brother, fingers curling against his chest and she played with one of the small, clear buttons by her hand.
James avoided her gaze, and his jaw was wired with tension, but he managed to get out, "I did. Even though he hurt her terribly, she's always going to love him. He was one of her best friends—her first magical friend. The first person who exposed her to our world."
Hermione slid her arm around James's lower back, and the pair strolled lazily down the corridor; Draco and Remus had long since disappeared from sight. Sirius was uncharacteristically mute.
Not a word passed between them as they wove their way back to their Tower. Only pausing when they had to wait for a moving staircase to slot back into position so they could ascend it. They came to a halt in front of the Fat Lady's portrait; she looked rumpled, and her beauty sleep had just been disturbed, so she was glaring heavily at them.
Sirius sniffed loudly, wringing his hands in front of him. "Snape will always be a wanker…an absolute arsehole, but I do regret what happened…and I wish I could take it back."
Torment had contorted Sirius's features. He twisted his hands in the front of his Sex Pistols band tee, the graphic letters morphing into sad, unrecognisable shapes.
"I know, Pads," James reached over and squeezed Sirius's shoulder. He tugged Sirius towards him by the collar, and the trio ended up sandwiched together. Sirius was shaking, silent sobs rippling through him.
"I'm sorry."
Hermione drew in long, careful breaths through her nostrils. She felt her mood dip drastically, and she groaned internally; her symptoms were in full effect, all of her regulatory potions wearing off.
"C'mon babes. Let's get you up to bed," Hermione said against the hollow of Sirius's neck. Hermione addressed the Fat Lady and gave her this week's password.
The Fat Lady bowed her head respectfully, and didn't offer up any snide comments. She swung open and they all stepped through the Portrait Hole.
The festive mood had plummeted to the point of no return, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to crawl into a bed with all of her boys.
Draco and Remus must have had a similar idea, as when the trio finally reached the Seventh Year dorms, they had pushed their beds together and were laid across them whispering to each other; the curtains were parted on one side. They'd already readied for bed and had donned their pyjamas.
Hermione didn't bother following suit, instead she stripped off her outer layers—leaving her in a lacy bra and her pants—she threw them by Draco's bedside table and headed over to James's chest of drawers.
The middle drawer creaked when she opened it, and she rifled through it until she found one of James's Quidditch jerseys. She slipped it on and padded over to the beds.
Hermione flung herself onto it, slipped between her boys, claimed two pillows, burrowed under the sheets, muttered, 'good night', and promptly passed out.
(Hermione would regret it in the morning when the cake remnants clung to her curls, and she spent the better part of half hour dealing with the aftermath.)
Their altercation with Snape and Regulus wore out the rest of her energy stores, and that night she dreamt of the pair. Hermione dreamt of Regulus falling through the darkness, hands reaching for her, only for him to crash into a black, glossy lake, the water rippling across its glassy surface.
Hermione dove in after him, but he was always out of reach: their fingers brushed, and an army of pale, bony hands materialised, ripping at Regulus's impeccable emerald robes, tearing into him and dragging him into the water's depths.
Regulus's hair had been ripped free from that stiff white ribbon—it floated up to her—his hair fanned about him. Air bubbles erupted from his mouth as he screamed.
Hermione's lungs burned, her limbs were ablaze, she kicked harder. She was so close.
The last thing she saw before the swarm of hands swallowed him was his kind grey eyes. Hermione woke up screaming. She screamed and cried, and she woke up all of her boys. Thankfully, the curtains had silencing and locking charms on them, or she would have woken up the entire Tower.
Their arms were around her, smothering her, and she couldn't breathe. Everything was dark, and she couldn't see.
Hands cupped her face. Warm hands. Mint. The mint twirled around and soothed her. Draco was worryingly pale, paler than usual, like all the blood had drained out of his face. He tugged her into his chest. She listened to his frantic heartbeat.
Someone was stroking her hair. Air shuddered in and out of her, her breathing uneven. Hermione trembled, so shaken that she couldn't move her limbs.
"Don't worry about me, brother. I'll be fine." Regulus's words haunted her. Everything was out of focus. No, you won't be Regulus, and I am so sorry I can't save you, Hermione thought morosely. A single tear rolled down her cheek. I'm so sorry.