Hullo lovelies!
I must admit I had way too much fun writing this chapter, it made me immensely happy and I hope it makes you smile when you read it. I'm sort of sorry (but not really) that I am so ridiculous.
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.
Saturday, March 3rd, 1979
Herefordshire, UK
It was a small piece of paradise in the rolling hills of Herefordshire. The stone cottage was old, but endlessly charming. The vines that crept along the sides of the house were maintained so they added to the house's allure, as opposed to overtaking it and suffocating the stone.
It was the sole structure as far as the eye could see in any direction. Hills, trees, a modest greenhouse out back that Mary had taken over to grow a variety of herbs, and magical fauna. Rows of dirt were beside the greenhouse, awaiting for seeds to be sown for vegetables and other crops.
There was serenity turgid in the air, carved into the earth and grass, it stained the trees and shrubs, and it was woven into the fabric of the cottage itself. An ephemeral quality took over your sensations as soon as you approached the house. Nothing bad had ever happened here; nor would it.
Peter greeted them at the door, hugging them warmly and taking their coats from them. Hanging them by the door. Hermione stamped the damp from her shoes on the mat before stepping inside. She ducked down to remove her boots, the laces taking longer than usual as her fingers were stiff with cold. It was a crisp Spring.
Hermione had worried about Peter. With him so far away, and them seeing him only on the odd weekend or randomly during the week, she'd worried he was slipping away. That darkness could tempt him.
As she drank in their homey surroundings, she realised that couldn't be further from the truth. They had made their own home here, they had become their own family.
The front sitting room had a large black sofa with yellow cushions, and Marlene was occupying half of it, everything but her head swallowed by an umber coloured, knitted blanket. There was an armchair adjacent to it, and in the middle of the room was a low, square coffee table made of teak.
Three doors lined the left wall, and in between the wall and sitting room, a narrow path led to the kitchen. Chestnut brown cabinets, white marble countertops, a large casement window with short, cornflower blue curtains over a double sink. There were yellow tea towels hung over the handle of the white, gas range.
To the right, after you passed the sitting room there was a round arch that bent sharply to the left, and led down a corridor.
The smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies was all around them, wafting from the oven. "Cookies will be ready shortly," Marlene said as she untangled herself from her blanket.
"I thought we were here for lunch? Or are pastries and sweets your only sustenance these days?" Draco teased, lips pursed as he neatly placed his shoes beside Hermione's. Marlene shot him a scathing look and Hermione elbowed him subtly.
"Cookies are for later, Dray," Peter said. The man lingered in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, the other supporting his weight on the doorframe as he peered outside. "You didn't happen to see Mary on your way in did you?"
"No, did you lose her?" Draco asked. Hermione groaned under her breath, heading over to Marlene to embrace the witch lightly. Hermione was honoured that she was on Marlene's short list of people she showed physical affection to. Marlene twirled one of Hermione's curls around her finger before she mentioned she could use some help in the kitchen.
In the middle of the kitchen was a modest wooden table, but it was large enough to seat them all comfortably; it was already set with a white tablecloth, fine china plates, sparkling glasses and cutlery that gleamed. Marlene's handiwork, Hermione thought.
The third occupant of the cottage appeared. Mary barrelled into view, arms laden with white daffodils, bluebells, yellow Ranunculus, her auburn hair was braid in two loose plaits, and they whipped out behind her. Her petticoat was undone, her powder blue jumper was two sizes too big, and dirt covered the knees of her pale jeans where she must have knelt on the ground whilst flower picking. Her black wellies splashed in a large puddle not far from the door—she barely noticed it—and soon she was panting heavily, face flush with delight, standing on the front stoop.
"Bollocks! I'm late! I wanted to get back before you arrived," Mary greeted. She handed the flowers over to Peter, who ducked to press a kiss to her temple before he turned and headed towards the kitchen. He didn't get in Hermione or Marlene's way, placing the flowers in the sink before he went in search of a vase in the kitchen cabinets.
Mary closed the front door, kicked off her wellies beside the entrance, shrugged off her coat and hung it up on the coat rack. She brushed a few strands of hair out of her face before she dove at Draco, hugging him fiercely. "I've missed you, Draco!"
Draco's expression softened, and he smoothed down the petite witch's hair whilst hugging her back. "I missed you too, love."
Peter carefully cut the stalks at an angle with his wand, and quietly arranged the flowers in a slim, round crystal vase. In the background, Mary brightly recounted her adventures over the past hour to Draco, who guided his friend over to the couch and they took Marlene's previous spot. Mary was careful not to get her muddy knees on anything as to avoid getting scolded by Marlene.
With a pair of mustard coloured oven mitts at her disposal, Hermione pulled the tray of cookies out of the oven, and Marlene was waiting beside her at the counter with a rack ready for them. Mary excitedly told them that soon she would be able to start sowing seeds in the backyard for her own vegetable garden; the topic was brought up after she began listing the array of roasted root vegetables accompanying their roast for lunch.
In quiet triumph, Peter placed the assorted bouquet of flowers in the middle of the kitchen table. He offered to help the girls lay out the food, but they waved him away with small smiles.
Shortly thereafter, as they ate (squeezed around the table, bumping elbows, passing about food), Hermione couldn't help but think that she'd been worried for no reason. Peter, Mary and Marlene had created a home here. She was happy to see that her friend was doing so well; that he was so happy.
And so, they passed the evening eating delicious food, chatting idly and drinking elf wine in that little slice of paradise; in that safe sanctuary far away from the cruel clutches of the war.
Saturday, March 10th, 1979
Remus Lupin's Nineteenth Birthday
Potter Manor
Hermione's eyes were closed, her hands outstretched on either side of her. A squelching noise punctured her eardrums as her fingers dug into the mud around her and squeezed fistfuls of it through the gaps in her fists.
The weather was abysmal: it had been raining atrociously for days without any sign of reprieve or easing up, the grounds were flooded (a few inches of water lingered in some of the slight depressions) and a thick blanket of clouds had hidden the sky away.
The mud was cold, a bit slimy and the backside of her was drenched with muddy water. Hermione sighed heavily through her nostrils.
"What in Salazar's name are you doing?"
"Fuck off."
"Have you lost the plot, woman?"
"I said fuck off. I want to be alone." There was more vitriol behind her words than she'd intended, but she wasn't in the mood to wittily spar with her significant other. She wished to lay in the mud and not think. She was trying to keep her mind clear, because once she started thinking, she started worrying.
"Part of me expected him to come back for his birthday too, Hermione. But, if it helps any, he may come back for James's—"
"I don't want to talk about it," Hermione insisted.
Being cooped up inside the Manor for days on end had not agreed well with her. It only made the anticipation for Remus's birthday worse; she'd foolishly expected him to return for his special day. Thankfully, helping Lily with her animagus training and playing silly games like hide and seek had kept her occupied.
Perhaps she was mental. Twenty minutes ago, she found herself hovering on the threshold of the front door, her woollen, knitted, mauve coloured cardigan wrapped tight around her body. The skirt of her white nightgown rippling about her knees. Without any provocation, she strode outside, across the porch—the wood creaking underfoot—skipped down the stairs and landed in a muddy puddle.
The water instantly soaked through her grey knit socks that were bunched around her ankles. Frustration was broiling in her gut. It was Remus's birthday, and he was nowhere to be found. Hermione ran awkwardly for a few strides, her hands tucked away into the warmth of her armpits, and halted when she reached a puddle that lapped round her ankles. It was the first birthday since they'd come to the past that she hadn't celebrated with Remus Lupin.
Hermione screamed. She screamed so loudly that a murder of crows erupted from the Orchards and soared into the sky, their dark eyes fixed on her. She screamed until all of the air in her lungs was compressed out, and she was forced to gasp in huge bouts of oxygen.
Remus's absence was harder to swallow this time. It was an affronting pill that got wedged in her throat, and no matter how many times she tried to breathe or get it down, only tiny streams of air were allowed through. She was choking.
They just lost a friend. A friend who was akin to a bright star in the night sky. Dorcas was gone, and Remus up and left. Draco seemed to understand, she didn't.
Hermione's motivations were unclear, but the idea to dive into the puddle in front of her surfaced. The thought ballooned until it was the only thing filling her head. Her murky reflection was staring at her, taunting her. Hermione swallowed thickly, and launched herself forward.
She landily messily, sliding several feet as mud caked her. It was cold. She somehow managed to not get too much in her face. Clumps of it stuck to her hair, and her hands found purchase in the mud, and as they sank into it, she pushed herself up. Her vision blurred as she gazed at her reflection once more.
"What the fuck am I doing?" Hermione asked lowly, flopping onto her back and closing her eyes. She laid there, the temperature dipped drastically, and her teeth chattered as her body involuntarily shivered. She was bound to catch a cold at this rate.
Draco found her much faster than she'd predicted, and he must be questioning why he'd fallen in love with a witch who was willingly lying in a cold puddle of muddy water. She was questioning it.
Hermione's eyes fluttered open, and it took a minute for them to adjust to her surroundings. The sky was too bright. An even light grey that was almost blinding as she drank it in. Draco was perfectly framed in the middle of her gaze; his boots were planted on either side of her abdomen as he leant over her, arms folded across his chest. Concern and bewilderment were a muddled cocktail twisting his fine features.
An odd sight was Midnight propped on Draco's shoulder (considering she hadn't seen her cat in almost a week), glancing down at her Mistress in an unnervingly disapproving manner. Bloody hell even her cat thought she was loony.
"Did you slip and fall?" Draco asked worriedly. There were no more snarky comments or facetious banter.
"No."
"Hermione—"
"I launched myself into the mud. I don't know why, I don't fucking know anymore—" Hermione's voice cracked, and next thing she knew hot tears were spilling from her eyes.
"Sweetheart," Draco said. Midnight twisted and leapt from his shoulder in the opposite direction in one smooth motion. She hissed when her paws touched the wet ground, and she wove across the yard back towards the house.
Draco carefully stepped over her to the side, and sank to his knees into the mud beside her. His hands gripped her wrists and gently ushered her into an upright position before his arms wound around her. She was enveloped in his protective embrace. He stroked her muddy hair, held her chilled body, and rubbed her back.
"It's okay, sweetheart," Draco said, making soothing shushing noises and rocking her back and forth. "It's okay."
It wasn't. She was covered in thick mud, one of her feet was stuck in it and she'd somehow lost a sock. She was filthy and cold, and it was her own doing. It wasn't okay, but whilst she blubbered away in Draco's arms, it almost felt like it was.
Wednesday, March 14th, 1979
Potter Manor
James Potter had never been so nervous in his entire life. There was a real possibility of failure, and it was gnawing away at his pounding heart. He was surprised Lily couldn't smell the fear wafting off of him.
A silk black piece of cloth he'd found in his parents room was acting as a makeshift blindfold for his witch. She'd narrowed her eyes, her body wrought with dubious discomfort as she held the blindfold in her hand after he'd handed it to her.
"Potter, all my instincts are telling me this is a bad idea, but I…trust you, so I will put on this blindfold. Just please…tell me there isn't a lion in our backyard."
Several oaths later (that no harm would come to her person, as if he could ever purposefully cause her any injury), and the pair were strolling through the dark into the heart of the Orchard. James was on Lily's left side, a hand round her waist, and the other was clutching her hand to his chest as he guided her over roots and through mud. The mud wasn't ideal, but it couldn't be helped, so he improvised. Thankfully, it was a clear night, the waxing moon high in the sky (it was a full moon yesterday), illuminating their way through the gaps in the trees's branches overhead.
They arrived at the clearing he had painstakingly prepared with Sirius and Draco earlier whilst Hermione distracted Lily. James's palms were sweaty, and he swallowed thickly. You can do this, James Galieus Potter. A breeze caressed his back, as if pushing him forward and James smiled faintly. Thanks Mum, Dad…I've got this.
"Why have we stopped? Can I take this thing off now?" Lily asked, clutching his hand tighter. She was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "James?"
"Not yet, Evans. Just a little further."
"Potter," Lily huffed, impatience and trepidation palpable in the two syllables.
"It's a good surprise, I promise."
In the middle of the oblong ovalur clearing was a round gazebo: the pillars were made of various sized grey stones—from pale ones with bluish hues to darker ones that bordered on black—and there were six rounded arches along its circumference. Garlands consisting of lily-of-the-valleys braided together with bluebells and lilacs wound their way up the pillars. Stout white wax candles housed in glass holders were in the middle of each arch, their flames flickering in the night. Some moonlight shone through, directly onto the gazebo's shingle roof.
The three wizards had taken longer than expected to prepare the temporary structure; it was a slow, magically draining process. There was a lot of transfiguration involved. The flowers however were all real, and Hermione had taken charge of weaving the garlands herself in the wee hours of the morning. She most likely couldn't sleep and wanted to take her mind off of the full moon and Remus's absence, and had kept herself preoccupied throughout the night.
Floating balls of white light bobbed around the clearing in a clockwise manner that was imperceptible unless you were focusing intently on them for a prolonged period of time.
Godric, I hope she says yes, James thought, his heart in his throat as he led Lily the remainder of the way. When they reached the lip of the gazebo, he gently whispered against the shell of her ear, "okay, you're going to have to step up."
"Where are we, James?" Lily asked. The pair halted in the centre of the gazebo, and James sucked in air greedily. He released his witch, turning her towards him before he took one step backwards.
"You can take the blindfold off now," James instructed. He pulled the black velvet box from his pocket, hands trembling.
"Finally!" Lily exclaimed, her hands immediately went for the knot, her fingers deftly untying the blindfold. It slipped down, and she held it in her right hand as her bright green eyes fluttered open. She blinked blankly for a few moments as her vision adjusted.
Lily was frozen, eyes bulging from her head in shock. Magic charged the air around them, taut and electric. Lily's edges were a bold gold, she was shimmering in the darkness, and James's brow puckered. Not even a breath later, the magic exploded in bubbly bursts and a doe stood in front of him.
"Evans?" James sputtered, his knees weak.
Lily Evans had completed her animagus training, transforming into a doe when he was in the middle of proposing. The shock had tipped her over the edge, and the doe's legs were shaking, ears twitching as she took a step back.
James sank to the ground, landing roughly on his arse. He caught himself in time, and was sitting upright, his arms ramrod straight as he stared at the doe before him.
Lily's animagus form was almost exactly like the tattoo she'd inked across her ribcage: reddish brown fur with a spattering of crimson and white spots across her spine, her belly a wintery white (the tufts of fur by her hooves a similar hue). Bright green eyes were blinking rapidly at him. James briefly recalled the countless times he'd admired the ink, etching it into his memory, fascinated as he made the background change colour as he toyed with its owner's mood. One of his favourites was the calm blue it turned when they were lying in bed, simply enjoying each other's company, talking about any and everything as the rain assaulted the window panes.
The absurdity of the situation hit him all at once. All of his grandiose plans for a romantic, memorable proposal where he swept Lily off of her feet went up in smoke. Of course something like this would happen. Laughter rumbled in his gut, broiling to insurmountable heights before it erupted from his mouth.
Lily was not impressed, and she gathered her bearings enough to shakily trod over to him, the hard planes of her forehead colliding with his jaw. James howled at the impact, his teeth clinked together, and he flinched backwards.
"Okay, I'm sorry for laughing. But, you have to admit this is ridiculous, Lily," James said, straightening out and stroking the side of her neck. The doe's only response was to duck her head to the side—almost knocking him over—and nudging the ring box with her nose.
James reached around, gliding his fingertips over her pelt, the abundant warmth radiating off of her wrapping his appendages in its grip. He met her wide eyes, and gently murmured, "I can't propose to a doe."
Lily Evans was a spectacular, brilliant witch. She closed her eyes, and several pregnant moments followed before she morphed back into her original form. She knelt before him, her hands hovering over his outstretched legs on either side of her, her face a violent red. "Well, what are you waiting for?"
Lily hastily picked up the black box and shoved it into his chest; he took it from her. James smiled tenderly, looking at her as if she'd personally hung all the stars in the sky. Fingers steady and sure now, he opened the box and Lily gasped as she drank in the ring. Lily's hands flew to her mouth, speechless.
It was his Grandmother's—Genevieve Potter—ring: the silver band was simple, thin and in the middle it housed an oval-shaped natural ruby—longer than it was wide—accented by an array of little, round, white diamonds on its circumference. It was a sunflower of gems. An elegantly beautiful ring made through exquisite workmanship.
James inhaled deeply before speaking. "One of the reasons why I love you so much is that I am about to propose, only for you to finally complete your animagus training, and change into a ruddy deer out of shock. You have impeccable timing."
"Toerag," Lily breathed. "I was shocked. I wasn't expecting this at all."
"I know we're young, and this might be all too fast…but I've loved you for years, Lily Evans, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. I know what I want, and if you're not ready yet then that's fine." With his free hand he reached out to cup her cheek, and with a slanted smirk tacked on, "I also know that sometimes I leave my dishes in the sink instead of immediately washing them, and that drives you nuts, but do you think we can move past that?"
"Ask the question, Potter," Lily pleaded gently, scotching closer to him, and tears were brimming in her eyes.
"Lily Evans. Love of my life, the doe to my dashingly handsome stag, will you marry me?"
Lily dove into his arms, and not even a second after the question had been posed she exuberantly shouted, "yes. A million times. Yes. I will marry you, you arrogant toerag." The tears were falling freely now. In a wobbly voice she said, "I can't think of anything I want more than to have you be the one irritating and loving me for the rest of my life, James."
A shadowy figure burst from his hiding place on the outskirts of the clearing behind a proud tree, bellowing his approval and cheering at the top of his lungs. "She said YES!" Sirius yelled enthusiastically.
(Sirius, Hermione and Draco had hidden where James directed, and used Remus's camera to capture several pictures of the momentous moment.)
James barely managed to slip the ring onto Lily's finger—muttering about how it was a little big and he could resize the band with magic—when Sirius tackled the pair. Lily laughed jovially; the merry sound danced about the clearing. Hermione and Draco languidly strolled over to the trio rolling about on the stone floor of the gazebo.
"Mission accomplished," Draco whispered in Hermione's ear, enveloping her from behind as they halted at the edge of the gazebo.
The moment was almost perfect, the only thing that would have made it so was if Remus was there. His absence tainted the edges of all their happier moments since he'd left. In an inescapable way, Hermione's thoughts always drifted to her werewolf. She considered Draco's prior statement that perhaps he would return for James's birthday.
Lily escaped Sirius and James's grasp, and nimbly hopped to her feet. Her long crimson hair was tied back in a high ponytail and like a sharp whip is cracked through the air as she leapt towards the Potters. Hermione and Draco braced for impact, and somehow they all didn't careen into the mud.
Lily gripped Hermione's hands in hers, bright green eyes sparkling. Hermione took up handfuls of Lily's oversized white jumper around her lower back. Draco's hand came around to stroke Lily's cheek affectionately.
"You said yes," Draco stated warmly, and Hermione could hear him smiling.
"You're bloody right I did! I said yes!" Lily practically shrieked, jumping up and down. In a flash, Lily left them and returned to her fiancé's side. She hauled James to his feet, burrowing into his embrace. James picked the witch up and swung her around in a half-circle; her leather boots almost clipped Sirius in the head. He made a soft protestation, but recovered instantly. Sirius jumped to his feet, and slung an arm around both of his mates.
Lily boldly gripped the front of James's veridian jumper and pulled him down for a swift kiss. Sirius cheered boisterously.
Hermione and Draco swayed back and forth, some imaginary tune playing in their heads. Lily had said yes.
Tuesday, March 27th, 1979
Potter Manor
James Potter's Nineteenth birthday
Remus had not in fact returned in time for James's birthday. Hermione was sullen, but she made the best effort to hide it by dragging Lily into the kitchen an hour ago so they could bake James's cake. Draco was reclining on the back porch's steps as he observed his brother and Sirius attempting to fix Sirius's motorcycle; it was making a strange, clanking noise.
"Tell me again, how I got roped into fixing your bike on my birthday?" James huffed out. He swept the back of his hand across his forehead, and pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. It was hot, sweaty work and his t-shirt was clinging to his skin uncomfortably.
"Cause you love me," Sirius grinned.
"I may have to revisit my feelings after this," James mumbled under his breath, passing Sirius tools as he requested them. James was merely assisting, he didn't understand the bike's inner workings anywhere near as well as Sirius did.
"You know Hermione's bicycle?"
"Yea what about it?" James peered at Sirius, instantly recognising the impish expression lighting up his features. James took a step back from the bike between them, hands raised to the heavens. "No. I am not touching it."
"Nothing big, just a bit of harmless charm work."
"Your harmless charm work will get both of us killed."
"It's your birthday, I think it'll be okay."
Draco snorted from the steps, head tipped to the sky as he watched the grey clouds drifting by. It hadn't rained in days, nor was a thick fog covering the grounds on mornings as of late. A chill lingered in the air, but it didn't cut into one's skin as cruelly as its wintery predecessors had. "She really loves that bicycle."
"You're both overreacting. It'll be fine."
"She'll murder us, and you know she can hide our bodies so we'll never be found," James said, wagging a finger at Sirius. The wizard was undeterred, his grin only grew broader, the sides of his eyes crinkling happily.
They charmed her bicycle to fly. Something she hadn't been expecting when she went to use it a couple days later. She'd lost control and went flying into the damp grass and mostly dried mud. She was not impressed.
Hermione hexed the pair's faces neon blue for a week (Draco as well since he hadn't warned her), and Moody had erupted into raucous laughter when they showed up for work the following day. James weakly tried to explain, whilst Sirius laced his hands behind his head, nonplussed. "I'm still more attractive than you, Moody."
Moody shook his head. "Constant vigilance boys! Maybe I should hire that sister of yours instead. She sounds like she has the makings of a good Auror."
"Not even you could handle her, Moody." Sirius said wistfully, and right before he meandered away, he said, "for the record, it was absolutely worth it."
Thus, another month passed, and the Marauders hadn't heard from Remus Lupin once. Hermione was desperate enough to ask Dumbledore for a hint on where in the United Kingdom he was. Dumbledore wasn't much help, revealing they'd been somewhere in Dorset, but that was mid-February and the pack was constantly on the move. There was no trace of him, Remus was officially missing, nowhere to be found; like a ghost.
Hermione's baby brother was engaged to one of her best mates, Peter was living humbly yet happily with Marlene and Mary, they'd hosted a party for all of their friends on the fifteenth to celebrate James and Lily's engagement. A myriad of big things were happening in their lives, and Remus was missing all of them.
Hermione foolishly held hope close—letting it rattle about her diaphragm and squeeze her heart—that Remus would return shortly. That he would return, and this time, she wasn't going to let him leave. Even if she had to put a collar on him and chain him up in his bedroom. (She also knew she wasn't capable of following through with that threat, she wouldn't be able to bring herself to do that to Remus.)
Come home, Remus, Hermione thought at the end of March, wishing on stars in the night sky. Just fucking come home.