Hello hello lovelies! Happy Friday!
This chapter is immensely long (I think the longest in the story lol), and I truly hope you enjoy it! I worked really hard on it :)
It's been over five years since I started posting this story, so I just wanted to thank you all for reading it. If you've been here from the beginning, whether you stumbled across it somewhere in the middle, or whether you are just finding it! Thank you so much for reading my words, and enjoying them. I am extremely grateful.
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
Monday, March 1st, 1999
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Ronald Weasley's Nineteenth Birthday
"This is the first time Hermione hasn't been around to celebrate my birthday since we were eleven," Ron mused pensively, rubbing his hands over his scalp. His ginger hair was only about an inch or so long now as he'd asked Padma to shave off all of it a week and a half ago.
"It is strange, isn't it?" Harry asked. He rolled a flat stone between his open palms before he weighed it in his right hand.
The pair were on the bank of the Black Lake, it was a mildly overcast day—the sky an even light grey colour—and the lake was a smooth, dark mirror. A light breeze whistled through the trees in the distance, and the water rippled around the edges of the lake. Several feet in front of them, Ron could just see a hint of the stones at the shore before they gave away to the dark water.
"I keep expecting her to appear when I round a corner, or wake me up in the middle of the night and tell me she's home." Ron locked his fingers behind his head, staring out at the serene scenery before them.
"I know the feeling. Sometimes I start talking aloud when I'm alone; thinking she's there." Harry pursed his lips. With a neat flick of his wrist, the stone whizzed through the air and skipped across the water's surface five times before it sank beneath its flat surface. The rippling rings it left behind reflected in Harry's glasses.
"Might sound a bit peculiar, but I feel her presence all the time. It's this warmth in my chest that tries to pull me somewhere, but I can never tell where."
"Sounds vaguely like a bond, remember when Sirius and Remus described it to us…I feel something similar around them." Harry paused, scratching his head. "It's like I always have a sense of where they are."
"Mum and Dad taught us a bit about bonds growing up, but it was never a prominent topic. Besides, the only ones they mentioned really were familial and marital bonds."
Ron's electric blue eyes sparked against their muted background. A trio of crows flew overhead; one landed in a tree adjacent to them. Its dark eyes fixed on them. Ron briefly glanced at it, and a shiver tiptoed up his spine.
"Speaking of Remus and bonds, are you going to Lupin Den tomorrow for the Full Moon?" Ron asked.
"I'm not an animagus, so I can't help much," Harry grumbled, pushing his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. He absentmindedly rolled up the sleeves of his maroon jumper just below his elbows.
"Remus told us the pack bond helps him. More pack members, the better the Full Moon goes. You just be there, would help tremendously."
"I'll…I'll go, even if simply staying in the house helps. Plus I'm sure Tonks wouldn't mind some assistance with Teddy."
The pair found a spot under the tree to sit. The two boys stayed there, with the wind whispering her secrets, and the sky's colour growing dimmer and dimmer; until all that was left was a wisp of daylight. They reminisced, and they laughed.
Ron had built a small fire with twigs and dry underbrush. The boys stared into the crackling flames.
Harry cleared his throat, unfurling his sleeves back down to his wrists; they were a bit baggier than normal after having been rolled out-of-shape. "We should head back."
Ron rested his cheek in his palm, the orange of the flames intensifying the hue of his hair and swirling through the electric blue clouds in his eyes. "I'm okay to stay out here for a bit longer if you are."
Harry smiled crookedly. "Normally I would say it's your birthday and we should do whatever you want…but then Padma would most likely strangle me."
Ronald Weasley could be oblivious sometimes, but he wasn't an obtuse chap. Ron's eyebrows rose and he asked, "a surprise party? Really?"
"Quite a big one as well. Our friends and what feels like all sundry of people have been invited."
"Blimey. I was expecting a quieter evening, but that sounds fun too." Ron looked conflicted, unsure how to feel about a large celebration.
Harry threw an arm around Ron's shoulders and rested his head against the redhead's. He discerned the true issue at hand. "I miss her too, Ron."
"I find myself wondering where—when she is. What she's doing…if she's happy. Fuck, I hope she's happy. Sirius and Remus said there were a lot of good times, but you know as well as I do that there were a lot of terrible times too." Ron sighed heavily, grasping a hold of Harry's arm on his shoulder.
"I know what you mean," Harry murmured. With a loud exhale, he clapped Ron on the shoulder and he stood up snappily. Ron lost his balance for a moment and almost fell over, but caught himself, his hand digging into the stones. Ron winced. Harry pulled an apologetic face.
"Time to head back before Padma hexes me blue," Harry announced, helping his friend up. Ron busied himself putting out their little fire. As the embers flickered into ash, the boys righted themselves.
"Do you think I am dressed for a party?"
"I guess?" Harry said. He was the wrong person to get fashion advice from. Although, Daphne's influence had added some charm and variety to his wardrobe. It wasn't all hoodies, t-shirts and jeans now.
Daphne was one of the classiest females Harry or Ron had come across, not just in the way she dressed, but in the way she held herself.
Thankfully, even though the witch was built with layers of class and proper etiquette from her upbringing, she was also quite the free spirit. Last week she'd kicked off her shoes and high socks and waded knee-deep into the Black Lake with childlike glee on her face. Daphne didn't really care what others thought of her.
"Daphne is quite taken with Luna. I see the pair together all the time now…" Harry commented absently as the pair began the trek back to the Castle.
"Don't forget Ginny is often with them. Those three together spell trouble," Ron snorted. He was inspecting his black jumper for any lint; it was fairly form fitting and accentuated his lithe figure.
Harry mentioning the trio led Ron's mind to wander. The beginning of the school year was thick with animosity and distrust amongst the houses; in particular Gryffindor and Slytherin. The house rivalry had always been bad, acidic, downright hostile. But, there was an extra layer of darkness and toxicity that hadn't been there before.
Slowly, however, the barriers were chipped away and began to melt as they found more in common than they previously thought. Plus, surviving a war together helped mend once burned bridges.
It helped that many Slytherins had helped fight against the Death Eaters in the Battle of Hogwarts.
Hermione and Draco's disappearance only lessened the gap, and now it was commonplace to see students mixed amongst the house tables. They weren't perfect, there was still some fighting, some biting comments, but it was progress.
That should be evident from the number of snakes that are bound to be in attendance at this party, Ron thought with affection.
Ron doubted he and Pansy would ever really see eye-to-eye, but Theo and Blaise were top blokes.
He still exchanged insults with most of them (they truly had a knack for cultivating witty ones), but there was no longer any malice behind the words from either party.
Ron tilted his head skyward as they moved, the stars faintly twinkling. I wonder what the sky looks like for you now.
Ron peered at Harry in his peripherals and thought about his request of Sirius and Remus to see some of their memories; specifically ones involving Draco. Ron wanted to understand the vast difference they spoke of that existed between Draco Malfoy and Draco Potter.
It's not easy picturing the person they talk about, but I want to learn more about him, make judgments on how he's changed for myself, Ron mused. With the twinkling stars as his witness, he vowed to try.
She may be in a different time, and perhaps a different place, but Ron felt Hermione's approval and warmth wash over him. With a smile Ron asked Harry if he thought Seamus and Dean would finally pluck up the courage to go public with their relationship.
Harry had many thoughts on the matter.
It was an easy topic for them to discuss—even if it wasn't any of their business. A safe topic compared to Draco. Ron had tried to bring him up on a couple of occasions and Harry had instantly shut the conversation down. He didn't dare do the same to Sirius or Remus, but with Ron the topic was taboo.
Malfoy and I really never got on. Hated each other. But, Harry and Malfoy were truly enemies.
The night air was crisp as it slid across his scalp. Ron shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, and picked up the pace. Anticipation building for the festivities awaiting them.
Hopefully Hermione…and Draco will be here to celebrate my birthday with me next year, Ron thought sanguinely, tucking his elbows into his sides.
Their world was changing for the better—healing after great tragedy—and Ron was looking forward to bearing witness to the times ahead.
It wasn't the birthday he'd envisioned, but it was turning out to be a pretty great one anyway, and hopefully the rest of the night would be joyous and they would all enjoy themselves. Morgana knows they needed it with the frightening speed their NEWTs were approaching; they needed to blow off some steam.
Despite the glaring absence of a wild haired witch, the rest of the attendees made sure he had a phenomenal time. Padma had gone to great lengths: a massive three-tiered chocolate cake (she'd enlisted the help of the kitchen's house elves), elaborate red and gold decorations, and a pile of gifts.
Ron's only wish as he blew out his nineteen blue birthday candles was Hermione and Draco's swift return; he tacked on the covenant that they would return safe and sound.
They would all regret the amount of alcohol consumed the next morning, but at the time they couldn't care less. It was a night for the books, a night to remember. A few questions, however, lingered in Ron's mind. Where was Hermione now? What was she doing? Was she okay?
Merlin, he hoped she was okay.
Thursday, June 29th, 1978
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Final Day of Term
Fred and George would be proud.
Sirius had stockpiled a ridiculous amount of fireworks over the past seven to eight months. Sirius needed an entire room to store them in; his room at Potter Manor was overrun with all sorts of pyrotechnics. Enough to blow up the whole estate as Draco had pointed out, loudly. (They'd gone to retrieve them a few days earlier, and the other Marauders were flabbergasted at the sight.)
It took several hours to transport everything—carefully—even with the aid of magic. Sirius had a vision, a spark of an idea and a remarkable plan. Hermione helped with the planning stage, helping tie it all together.
Some of the Fireworks were magical, most of them muggle, but with a lot of tinkering and adjustment they were able to ply them to their will. Sirius was over the moon that his vision was going to become a reality.
The Marauders patiently waited until everyone was in the Great Hall, students and teachers alike. Remus had cast an adept notice-me-not spell over the open entrance doors so they could work in peace. James and Lily were the last to arrive as James'd been distracting his girlfriend all morning; so she could not interfere or distract them with her blatant disapproval.
"We've outdone ourselves," Draco said with a grin as the couple arrived.
James smiled toothily as Peter and Sirius put the last bits in place and with unabashed joy announced that he was no longer Head Boy. Lily's mouth was open in horror as she realised—far too late—what was going on.
Bright daylight shone in through the large glass planes of the geometrical tracery that lined the far wall of the Great Hall. Familiars were roaming freely in between the four long House tables. Some owls circled the twinkling ceiling. Laughter echoed as students boisterously discussed summer plans, promises to keep-in-touch, and how they would see each other next year.
Most of the seventh years were busily eating their meals, speaking of other matters amongst themselves. Exam results and career paths. They obstinately avoided speaking of the war.
A roaring sound boomed into the room, yet it buzzed in the occupants' ears like wool was rubbing across their eardrums. Static crackled in the room. And, out of thin air a dragon made of vividly coloured sparks and electricity burst through the Great Hall entrance.
At the Head Table, McGonagall dropped her buttered toast onto her plate, jaw slack, eyes wide.
"Right on time," Dumbledore hummed, sipping his pumpkin juice.
Sirius Black did a front tuck into the room and threw balls of pure red and gold light upwards. They exploded into a fiery display above their heads, their sparks forming spirals that curved downwards. The dragon soared through the room, the force of its powerful wings sent things flying. It breathed electric balls that burst into small firework displays.
Hermione sauntered into the room, arm-in-arm with Draco and Remus and they saddled up next to Frank and Alice (the pair was sitting at the far end of the Gryffindor table, about twelve feet into the room). James ushered in his dumbfounded girlfriend, whose eyes were alight with firework after firework as they flew through the sky after the dragon and went off one-by-one. Peter brought up the rear and made a beeline for Mary.
Aside from a few onlookers, everyone was in awe as they watched the show. Sirius somersaulted and added more fireworks as he made his way towards the Head Table. Flitwick was standing on top of the table, admiring the charmwork, eyes glistening with pride as his facial expression bore his conflicting emotions.
It was bright, and their world burst with indescribable colour. It was also deafening and they could barely hear themselves think, much less anyone else.
The dragon breathed sparks which created smaller likenesses of itself, it huffed and blew and blew until it shrank and its mini versions swarmed the ceiling. All at once, in a flash and a bang they went off. It was a sea of sparks and colours that fizzled and crackled and rained down on the students.
A wave of colour rushed over the student body as their hair all turned red or gold. Many Slytherins began to shriek. Some of the vainer students like Lysander Smith preened under the transformation. Lysander conjured a mirror, and his golden hair glittered as he turned his head this way and that; admiring his reflection.
Sirius arrived in front of Minerva McGonagall, hair gold—hers red—and transfigured her goblet into a sunflower; its large head hung off one side of the table, and its stalk jutted out past her chair.
"For you, my darling."
McGonagall raised a brow, waved her wand and returned her goblet to its original form. She grasped it delicately and took a sip. She smoothed down the front of her robes with her free hand, and carefully placed her goblet back on the table.
"I am immensely glad that you lot will not be roaming the castle causing havoc next year…" She paused, lips pursed. "I suppose I should pity the rest of our society that will have you all set loose upon them, but alas, you are no longer my responsibility."
"I'll miss you too, Minnie."
A smirk graced the woman's features.
"Alright, I think you have caused enough excitement for the day, Mister Black. Go eat something and try not to get into more trouble before your Graduation tomorrow." Minerva said, cutting up her sausage.
"Trouble, Minnie? Never," Sirius grinned lopsidedly as he whirled away, his footfalls light as feathers.
Minerva smiled subtly, she was going to miss them. Truly she was.
The next morning, Hermione woke with the dawn. She dragged her sheets with her as she climbed forward, off of her bed and onto her already packed trunk. Hermione's formal graduation robes were hanging from one of her bed posts, her house colours proudly on display. She'd polished her black leather shoes and laid them out next to her trunk.
All the decorations, the posters, the perfumes, the makeup, the clothes thrust everywhere, it was all gone. Packed away in the lioness's trunks.
Soft snores from her roommates tickled Hermione's ears. She was graduating today. She'd officially concluded her Hogwarts education. Hermione had had a lot of repetition after coming to the past, but she'd also had more than her fair share of first experiences.
The last seven years washed over her skin like she'd been doused in frigid water. It was the laughter she'd shared with her friends, the tears that had fallen, the boisterous joy palpable and bursting from her memories. The pranks, the detentions, the Hogsmeade visits when Peter bought too much candy and ended up sharing most of it with them.
Midnight jumped up onto the slender space next to Hermione, eyes knowingly watching her as she nuzzled against Hermione's cotton sheets. Hermione smiled faintly.
"It certainly has been an adventure hasn't it?" Hermione asked the cat. Midnight's tail swished back and forth and her head tilted to the side.
Seven years encapsulated the purity of youth and innocence, but it also held the corruption and loss of it as death, grief and deep sorrow stripped away the white cloaks some of them held. Yet, there was blinding hope that never strayed and even in the blackest of times, it held on.
"It's never enough," Hermione said aloud. Midnight mewled as she leapt from Hermione's trunk and sleekly moved to the exit; the door was ajar.
"Don't wander too far today, and find me after the ceremony. It's our last day in this castle…" Hermione said, trailing off as Midnight glanced over her shoulder and nodded. The feline squeezed through the opening without disturbing the door, and her waving tail was the last Hermione would see of her until much later that day.
There was one bit of unfinished business Hermione had with Hogwarts itself. She wanted to find the room they arrived in all those years ago. Despite having mapped the entire castle, they hadn't found that space. Mayhaps it was uplottable space, or there was some other explanation.
Hermione found herself on the Fourth Floor, Marauders Map in hand (she'd 'borrowed' it from James's trunk this morning when all the boys were sleeping), and pacing back and forth as she thought.
Perhaps a castle as ancient and complex as this one should be allowed to keep some of its secrets, Hermione thought in resignation, throwing her hands up in the air.
"Oi! What are you up to now, girl?" Filch. Hermione heard his footsteps from behind her; the man's short, clipped strides were hastily heading in her direction. They had purpose.
An epiphany dawned on Hermione, and she only had a few moments for her given task. She closed her eyes tightly and whispered the necessary spells.
"I asked you a question, poppet!"
"Mischief Managed," Hermione murmured, the ink from the map faded and a sad smile brushed her lips. Filch's rough, calloused hand gruffly grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.
I got it from Fred and George. They said they nicked it from Filch's office. All I know is that whoever created it? They were brilliant, and it helped me get out of the castle. Harry's past words echoed in her head.
"Filch," Hermione greeted, the blank map still in her hands as she raised a brow at him.
"Up to more mischief are we? Didn't get your fill yesterday?" Filch hissed, leaning in far too close for comfort. He smelled of sour egg salad.
"Nothing of the sort," Hermione replied, flinching backwards, nose wrinkled at the smell. Filch narrowed his eyes at her, and his gaze dipped to the layers of meticulously folded parchment in her hands.
Hermione had no time to react before he snatched it from her grasp and took three large steps back.
"Hey! That's mine!"
"No, it isn't," Filch grinned, exposing rows of yellowed teeth. It wasn't a pleasant grin, and there were too many teeth involved. "I'm confiscating it, so it's mine now."
"I'm not a student anymore, so you have no right to my things!" Hermione exclaimed. She knew she had to sell it, and the more adamant she was, the less likely it was Filch would give it back.
Filch's grin grew wider, and with a modicum of suspicion he examined the blank item in his hands. Perplexed when after several moments nothing happened. "There must be something special about this for you to want it back so much. Nevertheless. You haven't graduated yet, so you are still officially a student."
Hermione fixed him with her dirtiest glare. "That may be so, but you can't just take my belongings."
"I have every right, especially since I have probably put a stop to whatever nasty plot you had cooked up. G'day Miss Potter." Filch frowned deeply then, all the haughty glee drained from him. "I do regret that you filthy children were never punished properly. Hanging you lot by your toes for a few hours would have definitely straightened you out."
With that parting sentiment, the man trotted off, the parchment held fast to his chest.
Hermione sighed heavily. She would have to break the news about the loss of their treasured creation gently.
Strange did not even begin to describe how odd it was exploring an empty Castle. When she returned to the Common Room, the emptiness of the space was striking. The absence of life was pronounced and much stronger than when everyone was merely in their dormitories.
Soft footsteps coming from the boy's staircase across the room drew her attention. Blond hair, easy smile. Frank rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he muttered 'g'morning'. The wizard's arms stretched above his head as he sleepily moved over to one of the couches and flopped down onto it.
"Morning, Frank."
Frank waved his salutations once more, crossed his arms over his chest, wriggled around on the couch trying to find a comfortable position, and with a large yawn, closed his eyes.
"Why are you down here and not upstairs?"
"Mmm. Making so much noise. They can't find something—" Frank shoddily explained as he passed out. His soft snores tickling her ear.
Fuck.
Hermione traipsed over to the stairs, hesitantly ascending them. Voices grew in magnitude as she got closer to the seventh year's dorms. By the time she reached their door—which was thrust wide open—the voices boomed and ricocheted off the stone walls of the spiral stairwell.
Hermione tiptoed into the room, only to find her male counterparts standing in a circle, clothes and what appeared to be the contents of their trunks in their entirety strewn about the floor. It was chaos. They were all speaking at an inhumanly loud volume. James's voice was high pitched and squeaky as he defended himself. (He'd slept in the Gryffindor dorms with the rest of them—as had Lily—for their last night in the Castle.)
"You were the last one with the map! So what did you do with it? How could you lose it?!" Sirius wailed, hopping over items as he threw himself onto his bed facedown.
"I put it in my trunk last night! I swear on Moony's life!"
Remus threw his arms out, "hey! Don't swear on my life when you clearly misplaced something and can't remember where!"
Draco was the first to notice her. He was frustratedly running his hands through his hair so it was sticking up crazily. His face dropped when he saw her calm expression, reading her like a book. Seriously? Draco mouthed. Hermione shrugged.
Hermione leant against the door frame, lips pursed. "Morning boys," Hermione said, her voice lost in the arguing. Peter was sitting cross-legged on his bed, opening and closing his mouth with an index finger raised, but he never interjected.
Hermione rolled her eyes, and waited. They could throw their tantrums, but she was not going to attempt to yell over them. Draco had retreated to his own bed, laid on his back, his feet hanging off the bottom as he stared at the ceiling.
"Draco, this is serious!" Sirius yelled. He was rolling around on his bed making irritating noises; groaning and moaning obnoxiously.
Only man to ever escape from Azkaban unassisted. Earned an abnormally high number of OWLs and NEWTs. Became an animagus at an extremely young age. You would never believe it, Hermione sighed internally.
Remus noticed her next. He made a similar noise of exasperation as Draco, as he too could read that somehow, the map's disappearance was directly connected to her.
The other boys followed Remus's gaze and turned to her.
"Mione?" James asked. "Why do you look so—no, wait. Fuck."
"I may have borrowed the map this morning…and run into Filch," Hermione confessed. She winced at the collective groans and protests that immediately followed.
"You're saying that Filch has got the map?" Remus asked in disbelief. Hermione sheepishly smiled, and a curl fell forward over her shoulder.
"We have to get it back right? A dungbomb and the Cloak should do just fine!" Sirius announced, vaulting off his bed with unnatural grace.
"About that…" Hermione said, trailing off.
"What?" They all asked.
Hermione pressed her lips together and shrugged half-heartedly. "What if we don't get it back?"
The resounding silence was immense.
Sirius bounded over to her, taking her hands in his. "Have you fucking lost it?" He asked, bending down to press their foreheads together. "I am not letting our masterpiece stay in that lunatic's hands!"
"Hear me out," Hermione pleaded, shifting so she bumped her nose against Sirius's.
"When you sound bloody mental? Sorry, doll. I have a map to retrieve." Sirius made to release her, but she tightened her grip on him, and his grey eyes sparked with interest.
"You have lost it, haven't you?"
"We are leaving. We are graduating, what if we…left the map to one day fall into a worthy pranksters hands?"
"You want us to leave the map in Filch's possession on the off-chance that one day some witch or wizard will break into Filch's office and steal back our map. That I assume just looks like regular bits of parchment." Sirius said at lightning speed. "Am I following your logic?"
"I kind of get where she is coming from. It's like our legacy, and one day a future prankster, worthy enough will surely snatch it back from the evildoer's grasp!" James said, pounding his right fist onto his other open palm in front of him. Eyes glittering as he evidently played out the events in his mind.
"Evildoer?" Draco drawled. He hadn't budged an inch, a look of resignation folded over his features.
"Work with me here. I'm trying."
"Trust me," Hermione said with a smile, bumping Sirius's nose again. "It'll be in good hands soon enough. There are other troublemakers one day that will find a use for it."
"How will they figure out how to use it?" Peter asked absently.
Hermione peered around Sirius at the boy, "if they are truly worthy, then I am sure the map will find a way to grant them access."
"A lot of supposition on your part…" Sirius groaned, but with a heavy sigh he relented. He retreated over to his trunk, muttering about the loss of his treasure as he bent down to grab some of his belongings to return to his trunk.
With the aid of magic and a bit of elbow grease, the boys were packed and ready to go in no time at all. Hermione ushered them all into the showers to go get ready as the ceremony would be held in a few hours. She made sure to wake Frank up when she headed back down to the Common Room, and gave him similar orders.
"I think I am going to use the Prefect's bath," Frank muttered. Hermione was going to ask how he knew the password, but recalled that Alice was a Prefect.
The seventh year girl's dormitory was in disarray when Hermione arrived. Perfumed air hit her heightened senses with a formidable punch. She twisted her nose in dissatisfaction, wading into a sea of mist as the girls went all out with their preparations. The assault on her senses was less than appreciated.
Lily spotted her, and she started barking out instructions to the other girls. Hermione was drawn into the girls' whirlwind as they readied themselves for the ceremony. She was shoved into the shower. When she got out, she'd barely wrapped a towel around her bust before Alice set about plucking any of her stray eyebrow hairs.
At a lightning pace the girls did their makeup, styled their hair, donned their fancy dresses and graduation robes, and threw on their shoes of choice.
Next thing Hermione knew, she was sitting amongst her peers in one of the middle rows of white fold out chairs. The Quidditch pitch was being used for the ceremony, and in the middle was a temporary wooden stage a few feet in front of the rows of students.
There was a gap and then rows of chairs available for family and friends to be seated.
The balls of Hermione's feet were on the ground, and her knees bounced up and down. She was regretting her choice of black strappy heels; the grass was stiff and firm underfoot, but her heel still dug into the earth a bit as she moved.
All of their teachers sat along the back of the stage, and front and centre was Albus Dumbledore behind an oak podium. He was congratulating them, wishing them well for the future, speaking of hope and brightness.
Hermione tuned him out the moment he opened his mouth. The sun was beating down on them, radiating waves of heat. Light perspiration gathered along Hermione's hairline and on her cupid's bow.
Eventually names were called, and one-by-one they went up, ascended the short staircase on the far side of the stage, crossed to shake Dumbledore's hand, onwards to accept a certificate that glowed once received from Minerva, and then descended the staircase to the left. Once finished, they returned to their seats.
Sirius was the first of them to go up, and Hermione glanced over her shoulder. It was no surprise that neither of his parents had shown up, but shockingly Regulus was quietly sitting by himself towards the back. There was a tiny smirk on his face, but otherwise the boy was as still as stone.
Evans, Longbottom, MacDonald, McKinnon, Meadowes and many of their other friends' names were called.
The Marauders, Lions and their friends made an absurd amount of noise when it was Lily's turn; in order to make up for Petunia's nonattendance. Hermione's heart went out to the redhead, who still smiled brightly despite the absence of any family being there to support her. Hermione understood better than anyone that she would give anything to have her parents here to witness such a monumental moment.
It will be like this for the rest of our lives, Hermione thought somberly. No more birthdays, holidays. No weddings, or even the birth of any of our children.
Hermione's lip trembled. I am so sorry you will never get to meet your grandparents Harry…I am so sorry I couldn't save your parents.
Lily Evans was a beacon of light and life as she took her scroll from Minerva, practically vibrating with excitement at her achievement. A dullness rounded her edges as she looked out into the assembly, but it blew away as her gaze landed on the Marauders.
Peter went up, less meek than he had once been. A quiet confidence enveloped the boy. He's grown so much, Hermione thought. Peter and McGonagall shared warm words as she presented him with his scroll.
Draco's name echoed across the field. The sharp absence of their parents was glaring in that moment. Draco was next to her, and Hermione reached over to squeeze his hand quickly. Draco smiled weakly at her before he rose. Their Pack and friends made cheering noises, but there was still a void. A space that could never be filled.
A whoop erupted. Rumbustious cheers came from the back of the crowd, and Hermione's head whipped around to see who was causing all the racket. She found the source, and a smile so wide it hurt broke out onto her face.
Fabian, Gideon and James Thomas were standing at the back, shoulders heaving, a thin sheen of sweat on their faces, and they were cheering as loudly as they could. Clapping enthusiastically.
Draco's resulting grin was blinding, his teeth glowing in the sunshine. He briefly waved before he slid past his classmates. The boy jogged over to the stage.
And so it went. Hermione was next, and she plastered on a smile as she interacted with Dumbledore, her hands twitching to cast any number of harmless jinxes on him. She shook his hand and the bones in her hand ached when their skin came into contact.
"Miss Potter," Dumbledore said politely, the sparkle not present in his eyes. The feelings of distaste must have grown to be mutual, or perhaps she was a robust reminder of the dark times ahead. Of the wars yet to be fully waged.
"Would say it's been a pleasure, but we both know it hasn't," Hermione said through clenched teeth and her fake smile.
"Miss Potter—"
"I used to look up to you, but you just use us as you see fit. The less I see of you from now on, the happier I will be," Hermione cut him off. She didn't want to hear any of his fanciful words, or wistful wittiness. Today was a good day, and it would remain as such. The man's eyes closed and he smiled in a prim and proper manner; as if he knew many things she didn't.
On autopilot she dropped his hand and strode over to Minerva. A jocund, genuine smile gleamed on her face when she reached her former professor.
"Congratulations, Miss Potter." Minerva's demure smile morphed into one chock full of affection and pride. Fuzzy warmth rolled over her, causing the hairs on her arms to stand up. Part of her still sought, or mayhaps needed approval and validation from her favourite professor.
Some habits never die, Hermione thought with a smirk.
McGonagall handed her the roll of parchment sealed with the Hogwarts School Crest. For a moment, it emitted a faint gold light when it touched her palm.
The rest of the ceremony proceeded in a similar fashion. When one of theirs crossed the stage the roaring cheers were deafening.
Smith's bravado and arrogance wafted off of him like a pungent stench as he took the stage. He pranced across it like he owned it. Hermione snorted. Minerva did not look amused by whatever Smith said as he flashily took his scroll.
I kissed that prat, Hermione groaned. She knew there was more to the wizard, and she prayed that he matured into a better man.
She didn't have long to linger on the thought as it was Severus's turn. Severus was paler than she recalled. Not to mention his features were more angular, his face thinner. Hermione couldn't determine the rest of his physical state with his baggy robes hindering her view. She unwittingly found herself wondering if he'd been eating properly.
A millenia passed, but finally, Emmeline's name rang out clearly. She was one of the last, and her cropped lavender hair undulated like a sea anemone as she excitedly headed up onto the stage, the wind toying with her locks.
The final name was called. Dumbledore spoke once more, all sparkle and dreamy charm. Hermione slipped into a daze, head upwards as she watched fluffy white clouds drift by.
Minutes later, all the students rose, wands pointed to the sky and they released rounds of multi-coloured sparks; even the Slytherins participated.
After the ceremony concluded, students, their guests, and their professors mingled. Sparkling drinks and tasty hors d'oeuvres and petit fours floated around on silver trays available for all in attendance.
"Thank you for keeping the Quidditch Cup in our rightful hands for seven years," Gideon exclaimed merrily as he tightly wrapped his arms around James before spinning her brother in a jovial circle.
Dumbledore had apparently mentioned that little tidbit at some point; she had heard Quidditch and had thus listened for a short time.
Hermione focused on the other Prewett. With a hand on his arm, Hermione air-kissed Fabian's cheeks in greeting. "Glad to see you, Professor." The title was a tease, and her wide smile only emphasised that. Fabian chuckled softly.
"You really are a marvel, Hermione Potter."
Hermione heard a low growl in Draco's throat a few feet away, and promptly ignored it. She was not a toy he could monopolise. Granted, the warning was most likely not derived from jealousy. Fabian Prewett was an attractive bachelor, and to most people she was an eligible witch and a desirable match in many wix's eyes. Hermione's flirtatious, friendly nature could be misconstrued easily. Kingsley's dinner proposal months ago was only evidence of that.
As the Marauders caught up with the Prewetts and James Thomas, Hermione's eye travelled. She spotted a gloomy Severus Snape breaking away from the herd. Her legs moved of their own accord, and she followed him. There were a couple questions lobbed at her from her Pack, but they barely registered. She waved a hand lazily at them.
"Be back soon!" She called.
Severus headed off of the Pitch. Hermione trailed a ways back behind him. Severus's robes billowed out behind him with grace despite the summer breeze whipping hers about. Hermione briefly considered that this was a bad idea, but shoved the notion down. She had things to say.
Severus seemed to be lost in thought, or that's what she assumed as he gave no indication that he knew he was being followed. It was quite the trek in heels, and she cursed under her breath on multiple occasions.
The sweet scent that came with summer tickled her nostrils as they traversed the grounds until they reached the Black Lake. The side closest to the Entrance Hall, with its grassy banks. The sun glinted off of the water creating a sea of precious jewels. Severus halted in the shade of the same tree the Marauders had been lounging under after their Defense OWL.
Hermione stopped a few feet behind him.
"What do you want, Potter?" Severus snarled out, whirling on her—wand in hand—and settling into an offensive stance.
Hermione's languidly raised her hands. "I didn't come to fight, Severus."
"What could you possibly want then?" Snape's eyes narrowed into dark slits, his wand still raised.
"I know we have had our fair share of fights, we weren't the nicest to you and we have never been anything close to amicable…but I need you to know that I don't blame you."
It was vague, and to the current Severus it would make no sense, but she needed to say it. To make amends for the deeds he had yet to commit.
"Blame me for what?"
Hermione cleared her throat. "What isn't important. I know you don't understand now—" the Vow constricted around her throat in warning, and she breathed in deeply through her nose before she continued. "I need you to know that I forgive you, Severus."
Severus lowered his wand, an incredulous shock punctuating his sharp features. The dark smudges under his eyes betrayed his exhaustion. Not exhaustion lingering from their brutal examinations; it was a fatigue of his soul, she could tell when their eyes met.
"It doesn't make any sense now, and you won't mean to do it…in fact I am positive you'll regret it for the rest of your days."
Another warning from the Vow. She swallowed thickly, pushing through the pain.
"Do what, Potter?" His dark eyes were wide, he clearly thought she had lost her marbles.
"You'll know. Just, I…I forgive you."
"I don't need to listen to this drivel anymore, you deranged hag." Severus spat, but there was no real malice behind it, just confusion. The boy tucked his wand back in his robes, and in doing so she caught sight of how skinny he'd truly gotten.
Severus stalked away—not looking back once—and Hermione watched him go as the breeze teased through her wild curls.
"I FORGIVE YOU, SEVERUS!" Hermione yelled after him, the wind carrying her voice easily. The boy stiffened as he continued to put as much distance between them as possible, but didn't slow.
I guess I did sound a bit crazy, but, something in my heart tells me that was the right thing to do, Hermione tried to convince herself.
Hermione sighed. She brushed her hands absently down her black robes, the maroon and red trim catching her eye. I should get back. Hermione almost toppled over as she made to walk back to the Pitch; her heels had dug into the softer earth closer to the Lake.
Back on the Pitch, Draco Potter was having an interesting interaction of his own. He had wandered off from his family and friends, he wanted a moment to breathe. Whilst it was a fantastic day, it was also a bit overwhelming. He had braced for the effect the absence of his parents would have on his mental fortitude, but he hadn't expected how heavy and harsh the emotional swing to the gut would be from the intangible hammer.
Lily was presenting a round fish bowl with an elegant goldfish swimming about inside to Slughorn. The man squealed in delight at the masterful charmwork as Lily explained how the goldfish's scales would change colour to mimic his mood.
Peter and Kettleburn were laughing to themselves, and a ghost of a smile graced Draco's features. The pair were close as Peter was one of Kettleburn's favourite students in recent memory. They were already discussing connections Kettleburn had, so Peter could further nurture his talents with magical creatures if he so desired.
The rest of his friends were frolicking and taking dozens of pictures with Remus's camera.
A tranquil presence floated towards him, enveloping him in its still yet substantial aura. She was a mysterious witch.
"Pandora," Draco addressed the witch without looking at her.
"It's nice you got to graduate this time," Pandora Ollivander said, adjusting the crown of white daisies in her fair hair as she halted beside Draco. Some of the younger years were allowed to stay an extra day to attend the seventh year's graduation; if they put in a request with their Head of House. Something both Pandora and Riley had done.
She spoke so casually she might as well have been discussing how the catering for the event was acceptable, or that the sky was a pleasing shade of bright blue.
Hermione had told him about all of her interactions with Pandora; about the witch's clairvoyance that sent chills down Hermione's spine. The witch simply knew too much. She knew things she neither could nor should.
"I suppose it is."
Magic—this world—it was all Draco had known growing up. Whilst Pandora's clairvoyance made him a touch uncomfortable—and a tingling sensation rubbed the soles of his feet—he was not afraid of it. Hermione said Divination was rubbish, and granted, the class itself was, but Seers weren't. True Seers were a rarity, and their gifts varied in strength and even in how they perceived the future. Some may see frequent fragments, others may see large sections of time, but their visions are limited to a handful in their lifetimes.
Talented, strong Seers that honed their skill were gifted with frequent pieces of the whole puzzle, whether it was names, dates, visions, or sporadic (important or mundane) information.
Draco's entire life had been surrounded by magic, so he understood exactly what kind of Seer Pandora Ollivander was.
"Though, it wouldn't have been anything like this," Pandora commented.
Draco made a noise of assent, steering his mind away from thoughts of how Death Eater Draco Malfoy's graduation would have gone. Draco Malfoy had been pardoned of his war crimes thanks to Harry Potter's testimony of the events that transpired in his ancestral home during his trial. In addition, he no longer held the blood purist ideals of his forefathers, but he was still branded a pariah in society; branded an outcast with the tattoo on his arm.
Although I am no longer Draco Malfoy, Draco thought dimly. His two lives had varied vastly, so much in fact that his previous one was blurry and oversaturated when he tried to recall some of the finer details.
"The ceremony was nice, wasn't it? Dumbledore prattled on about hope and bravery for longer than he should have. 'Dark times, we shall prevail'. Longer than he has a right to considering he already knows how this will all end," Pandora picked at some lint on her pale blue robes. Draco gazed at her in his peripherals, arms folded over his chest. A warm summer breeze passed by, kicking their robes halfway up their shins.
Pandora was not wearing shoes, in fact she had an anklet made of blue hydrangeas and forget-me-nots braided together around her right foot.
Draco frowned, but remained silent.
"He has to keep up appearances, of course. Plus, he is angling to recruit as many as he can for his coalition," Pandora said, an icy bite to her tone. Draco faced her properly, brow furrowed severely.
"Just how much can you see?"
Pandora smiled airily then, and an image of her seemingly empty-headed daughter came to mind. Although, he knew better. Luna Lovegood was no simpleton, nor was she insane. She was simply strange, even for wizarding kind.
"Fine. Don't you think people should have hope?" Draco asked, arms falling to his sides.
Biting cold nipped behind his ears, and a fierce tigress reared her head in front of him. Pandora squared her shoulders, eyes ablaze with ire and she ground out, "not false hope. They also don't deserve to be used like pawns by two powerful, great, but also terrible men."
"The war will be brutal, too many lives will be lost, too many friends, loved ones. The way he spoke earlier…it made it sound honourable, poetic even to die for the cause…" Pandora closed the distance between them, and unaware of personal boundaries and bubbles, she reached into his and placed a soft hand on his cheek. Draco stiffened under her touch.
"You don't believe in fighting until the bitter end? Fighting for your beliefs, fighting for what's right?"
There was a sarcastic edge to his questions; he hadn't been born a reckless lion. Draco's nature always had an inclination to do anything to keep the ones he loved safe. His wary disposition made him think about his decisions far more than a particular lion he had grown up. Harry Potter.
Draco was still not convinced Harry didn't have a hero complex, or perhaps it was a powerful sense of duty that had led him to make a series of reckless choices that were cushioned by an insurmountable amount of luck.
Pandora sighed. She spoke then as if he was a toddler being scolded, and her reprimanding needed to be properly understood. The syllables were slow and firm. "I don't believe in glamourising something like war: the reality is war is miserable, grim, ugly and cruel. He's dressing it up in lace and pretty perfume to hide the rot and the sickening truth. Both sides are going to do terrible, unforgivable things, and the pain is going to be unbearable."
"Something like that."
It occurred to Draco that the Vow shouldn't be allowing him to have this conversation, but with a twisted smile he realised it was because anything he said wouldn't change the future. Pandora knew enough on her own, and she wasn't going to trifle with the future events; he was certain of it.
"Why are we talking about all this?"
"Cause you need someone to talk to. I may not be Hermione, but having someone who knows the truth—even if it is just pieces of it—who doesn't have any agendas and is somewhat impartial, is important. If either of you ever needs to talk to someone…you know where to find me."
Pandora smiled flippantly and strolled away, hands behind her back, her robes floating around her and exposing her bare feet.
Draco was alone for a brief period, rocking back and forth on his heels. Some of his bangs fell forward onto his forehead, a few drops of perspiration clung to his hairline.
Sirius chose that exact minute to saunter over to him, his luscious raven hair blowing in the wind. "What was all that about?"
"A bit of small talk, congratulating me on graduating, nothing really," Draco replied. Sirius arched a brow, but shrugged. He was used to Pandora's peculiarity; she and Riley were a bit of a package deal.
"Everyone wants to take pictures with you, so get your pretty arse over there," Sirius commanded with a toothy grin. He loosely grabbed hold of Draco's wrist and dragged him over to the others who were eagerly awaiting him.
Emmeline took a few pictures of Marlene and Draco alone: they stood primly next to each other for the first couple, but then Draco laughed, threw Marlene over his shoulder and spun in a circle. The pictures caught the whole thing. Marlene banged on his back and called him a 'sodding prick'.
Riley volunteered to capture most of the pictures, so she ended up not being in many of them. A fact Sirius would later grumble about, as it meant he was unable to nab any with his secret girlfriend. Though to anyone paying attention, the softening around his eyes whenever he gazed upon the witch made it abundantly clear how much he loved her. Which was beyond dangerous.
Draco snorted when he caught sight of Sirius and Dorcas posing for theirs together. Dorcas pretended to punch Sirius, but at the last second her fist unfurled and she blew a kiss in his direction. Sirius was grinning broadly.
James, Mary and Marlene took some together. Consequently, the Hufflepuff hopped onto James's back, ruffling his hair as the pair posed for their solo pictures.
Hermione reappeared when Draco wasn't paying attention, and was immediately drawn into the picture taking chaos. Sandwiched in between Sirius and Remus to start.
Lily and James were sickeningly adorable as they got their photographs taken. So in love and happy that they glowed.
Draco, Remus, and Sirius took far too many together, to the point where James got jealous, jumped in and exclaimed that they were excluding him.
The friend group mixed and matched how they took their pictures. Alice, Hermione and Lily. Frank and Alice. Kira and Nancy waltzed in theirs. Sirius dramatically took Frank for a spin in an intense tango. The Marauders all together (even Peter). Peter and Mary. Emmeline hugged Marlene from behind, taking the Slytherin by surprise, and her astounded expression was immortalised.
They'd forgotten that war was afoot, and the moment they left Hogwarts' safety net they'd be thrust into it. It was a purely good moment with everyone present.
Smith interrupted their fun by diving into frame as James captured a picture of Lily and Hermione hugging. He embraced the girls from behind, wriggling his head in between them with a dazzling white smile.
"Fuck off, Smith!" Draco yelled irritably. Smith peeked over his shoulder to stick his tongue out at Draco. Draco snarled, baring his teeth, his aura dark and sinister. Smith's eyes widened, he cleared his throat, slowly let go of the girls and backed away, sprinting back over to his own friend group.
Hermione and Lily shared a glance, giggling.
An unresolved issue popped into Hermione's mind as she stared into the bright green eyes of her best mate.
"Where are you going to live?"
Lily's expression darkened, she feebly lifted her shoulders before they heavily dropped. "I haven't quite figured that out yet."
"Okay. That settles it, you're moving in with us," Hermione insisted. Hermione tightened her grip on Lily, her fingers fisting in the midnight blue fabric of her graduation robes.
"I wouldn't want to impose." Lily's bottom lip pushed out as she protested. Hermione groaned audibly, her head falling to the side.
The rest of their group had moved in closer, and Draco was the first to rebut Lily's statement. "Nonsense. You're family, Lilypad."
James slid past the rest of their friends, and stopped beside his two girls. He placed a hand on the small of Lily's back and his other in between Hermione's shoulder blades. "We can't turn you out onto the streets just because your sister is a twat," James agreed.
Lily's lip trembled, and she held Hermione closer. "You can't call her that," Lily sniffed, peering up at her boyfriend.
"I can, and I did. It isn't the first time, and it won't be the last."
"He has a point. She is," Hermione concurred, a blasé smile on her face.
Back and forth they argued about Lily's living arrangements, until they wore the crimson haired girl down, and she accepted the proffered invitation. She was teary eyed and practically crushing Hermione in a hug. She didn't wish pity nor did she want to be a burden.
"We have more than enough room. You could go for days without seeing any of us if you wished. Although, that 's highly unlikely given how charming we are…and the fact that James needs lots of affection, so he would hunt you down." Hermione stated. She was pleased that they'd resolved that little issue, and Potter Manor would be even more lively with the six of them; Hermione, Draco, James, Sirius, Remus and Lily.
The subsequent few hours of the day—whilst the sun lowered in the sky—the Seventh years engaged in idle chatter amongst their teachers and fellow students while enjoying the catering. The setting sun glinted in golden rays across their heads.
The graduates eventually had to return to the Castle to grab their belongings, hand them off to Filch and Hagrid just outside the Entrance Hall (who loaded them onto carriages). Then, in a symbolic gesture, they traversed down the winding path to the Boat house, and clambered into the boats awaiting them (two to three in a boat now since they'd all grown significantly in seven years).
They sailed across a sea of fire as the Black Lake reflected the vivid colours of the sky; the robust mixture of red, orange and gold. Hermione had taken off her graduation robes, shoved them into her trunk and her strappy, short black dress was on full display. Draco and James insisted on being on her boat, shoving away a couple of Ravenclaws that had been eyeing her creamy thighs.
Hand outstretched, Hermione leant out of her boat, firmly holding onto the side as her hand brushed the surface of the water; it was cold. The boat tipped with her. Hermione's fingers left rippling streaks in the watery sky.
Just as they had arrived all those years ago, they departed. Hermione risked a glance back at the Castle. She was going to miss it.
Hagrid was waiting for them, just as he had been there to guide them on the beginning of their journey. Hagrid was sobbing, his tears the size of grapes as they flew down his face, his small handkerchief didn't help much.
Hagrid made sure to give each of the Marauders a bone crushing hug brimming with his love and affection. None of them complained as they held back their own tears.
The Half-Giant was another reason Hermione would miss Hogwarts, and she was immensely grateful that he'd been present in both of her lives. He was another link to both her past and future.
The Seventh years sought out their luggage from the massive pile that's been left on the train's platform. Carefully balanced a ways away was a mountain of cages where familiars awaited them.
Where is…? Hermione thought, just as a warm, furry body rubbed against her left calf. Midnight. Just in time too.
Hermione crouched down, hands on her knees, face-to-face with the black cat and said, "you're late, Missy."
Midnight mewled in protest, head turning to the Hogwarts Express. Hermione scrunched up her nose, a tiny smile in place as she scooped up the cat. Draco had already found Storm and their trunks.
"Thank you," Hermione smiled warmly, falling in step with him.
"Course," Draco smirked, his gaze falling on Midnight. "You're late."
Midnight made a heavy noise, settling onto Hermione, her paws crossed on Hermione's shoulder, her head resting on top of them. Hermione had one hand on her back, the other under her rump to keep her in place. Hermione artfully avoided Midnight's tail; the cat hated it when you touched it.
Upon boarding the train, they came across compartments already filled by the families and loved ones of those who had attended the graduation.
Eventually they found a compartment, and the Marauders all squished into it; all of them except Peter who opted to sit with Mary and Marlene for the trip. The train ride wasn't eventful. It was peaceful, and quiet as they all nodded off, entangled in each other.
Hermione was in the middle of James and Draco, lying across both of them. Sirius and Remus were on the other side, heads together as they slumbered. The comforting rattle of the train as it sped down the tracks helped aid their serene sleep.
The sun had set, the stars twinkled in the sky, and they slept—undisturbed—through the night.
Hours later, Peter was restless, and had decided to wander down the train to where his friends were, hoping to join them for a bit. He finally stumbled across their compartment, but he was stuck outside, peering through the pane, his hand hovering over the glass. They looked so innocent, so comfortable. They looked like they were in their own little world. The barrier between them was so thin, yet impenetrable.
Peter's hand shakily returned to his chest. Once upon a time, he would have been in there, sleeping alongside them. When did the chasm between them grow so vast? When did he stop being one of them?
Maybe it's because I am not Pack, Peter thought soberly, clutching his hands to his chest as he backed away. He scurred back to his own compartment, where a yawning Mary was curled up on one side, and Marlene was lounging on the other reading a compact novel with diminutive print.
Mary held her arms out to him with a drowsy smile. Peter meekly responded in kind, closing the compartment door behind him with a click. There was a bit of shuffling and adjustment, but Mary sat up long enough for Peter to sit down. Mary instantly snuggled up to him, her head in his lap. Peter stroked her hair and hummed a lullaby he knew she liked. The girl sighed contentedly.
"That was fast," Marlene commented lowly, her eyes never straying from her book. She turned a page, the paper crisp under her fingertips.
"They were asleep," Peter replied simply, gazing down at Mary; she was already snoring softly, paying a visit to the Land of Dreams.
Marlene hummed in acknowledgement, her focus now solely on the words in front of her. One of her legs was crossed over the other, and the foot in the air tapped to some uneven imaginary rhythm.
Peter sagged against the side of the train, eyes trained outside at the twinkling stars, the vibrations of the train's movement both pleasant and disagreeable against his temple. Regardless, he fell asleep, too tired from a long day to stay awake a wink longer.
In the late morning when they arrived at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Peter and Marlene had a hard time rousing Mary. The girl was adamant on sleeping for as long as she could. It was why they were one of the last groups off of the train. An unsettling sight met them once they stepped off of the train.
White, warm steam blew off of the train tracks, drifting onto the platform, curling around their ankles. Several feet away, the Marauders, Lily, Frank and Alice stood. The gap had never felt as wide as it did in that single, excruciatingly long moment.
Sirius was on his knees, crumpled in on himself, sobbing uncontrollably, pointing in the vague direction of the platform's entrance.
Draco was knelt in front of him, hands on Sirius's face, mouth moving as he pleaded with his friend. Tears silently streaming down his own face.
"I will catch up with you, I have to…I have to—" Peter tried to speak, but he wasn't sure what he was saying. He trudged over to them like a lost child, his trunk clutched tightly in hand. The leather strap creaked under his forceful grip. There was a hole in his chest that got bigger and bigger with every heavy step. He was vaguely aware of the girls trailing after him.
James was the first to notice his approach. James held out an arm, and wrapped it around Peter's shoulders, bringing him into the fold.
"What happened?" Peter dared to ask, his throat narrow.
"Dad. He wasn't—Sirius is finally allowing himself to feel Dad's death…"
Peter had liked Charlus, he was nice. However, Peter did not have the same connection to the man that the rest of them did. He hadn't spent an inordinate amount of time with him. On the other hand, having lost his own Father, he understood what the Potter children, Sirius and even to some extent Remus were going through.
Somehow, the distance between them, despite that commonality had only grown larger. Perhaps, they'd forgotten he was also an orphan, or maybe, it was simply that he hadn't been present. That was the familiar red thread that plagued his relationship with his supposed best friends. Distance, him not being there.
Was it his fault or theirs?
Mary slipped her hand in his, and Peter was brought back to reality. Sirius's wails beating against his eardrums.
Sirius is either rash and reacts immediately, or he bottles it all up and lets it get to a boiling point before it explodes. Both reactions are volatile.Peter felt deep sympathy for his friend. He let go of Mary's hand, placed his trunk down on the ground, wordlessly crouched down behind Sirius and reached out to rub the ailing boy's back. Sirius was hiccoughing, his body trembling.
Their journey at Hogwarts had concluded. The air tasted of an ending, yet was spiced with the promise of a beginning; their future cloudy and uncertain. None of them ready for what awaited them.