HULLO lovelies!
Does this count as the third day in a row I am updating? I'm inclined to think so. I have pretty much pre-written the entirety of the next chapter, so that should be up either today or tomorrow. (It is the wee hours of the morning and as soon as I post this, I am going to pass OUT.)
There was a whole scene involving James, Lily, Draco and Hermione that I cut from the original draft of this chapter, because it didn't make sense to the story anymore. Lily didn't know that Draco and Hermione were dating at all. Which of course, is not the case. I may still post the deleted scene on my tumblr. I haven't decided yet. Either way, I hope you enjoy this chapter x
Please leave a review and let me know what you think x
My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
Tuesday, September 4th, 1979
Potter Manor
"Are you sure you're okay, my sweet Moon?" Hermione asked. She was crouched on the ground beside him, and she brushed some of the hair off of his clammy forehead. It was two days before the Full Moon, and Hermione was worried that the wizard was pushing himself unnecessarily.
Elsewhere in the Manor, Draco and Lily were busy organising Hermione and Draco's potions room; drying and preserving ingredients. Hermione was surprised that none of their pack had noticed how strange the pair were acting; packing up their belongings, the meticulous cleaning, and discarding non-essentials. Although, none of them had been inside Hermione nor Draco's room as of late, and thus would not have seen the chaotic state they were both in. They were packing up almost a decade of their life.
"M'fine," Remus said, smiling tightly. He was cross-legged in front of his ornate chest she'd once gifted him with, surrounded by the last of the memorabilia, photographs and assortment of personal items that were meant to go into it.
Hermione had ulterior motives when she suggested to Sirius and Remus that they pack all of their precious belongings into their chests, but neither wizard was consciously aware of such. She'd posed her suggestion off-handedly weeks ago; planting the seeds. Her reasoning was highly justifiable. They should keep their things together, in one place—and most importantly—safe.
(She tacked on that she would get Lily and James to do something similar soon. She wasn't really, but it was an effective white lie. She briefly wondered if she should, but Draco said he would figure something out before he left. He was going to be quite busy from the sound of things.)
The main reason Hermione gave her boys was that the war was unpredictable; one never knew if you would need to flee at the drop of a hat. The attack on McKinnon Manor, and the decimation of their wards and home only served to cement the idea's validity into the boy's mind. Hermione knew that Potter Manor was safe, it would always be safe, but she could not say those words aloud.
Locking away their belongings was also one way to hide away any references of Draco and Hermione's existence. Photographs, letters, anything that could tamper with their plans and cause anyone to struggle against the memory spell woven into the blood runes. Hermione had no idea what would happen if someone actively tried to fight them if they witnessed something inexplicable; like a picture of her or Draco. She wanted to limit the chances of that happening.
Outside of their friend group, there weren't a ton of photographs or articles available pertaining to the Potter 'twins'. And Hermione was positive that Dumbledore could handle anything he saw as troublesome or that might interfere with his precious timeline. During her last visit with Peter—while he was using the loo—she had pilfered anything that could undoubtedly tie her or Draco to Peter from his flat.
It had been less than a week since Marlene and her family's passing. Fabian was a wreck, inconsolable. Gideon had owled this morning to let them know her funeral was the subsequent week. He was staying in England for the foreseeable future as his brother and his family needed him.
A deceptive lull in the fighting hung over England's wizarding society. Wix held their breath as both sides of the war lay in wait; neither having made a move in days. A solemn, unspoken truce was in place for an unknown reason. Hermione wondered briefly if it was out of respect for having spilled so much 'Pure' blood. Perhaps the Death Eaters were making a deferential show as to not ostracize the Purebloods that still remained neutral or were on the fence about joining their cause. As if they really cared about magical blood and purity.
"How exactly do I decide what is and isn't important to put into my chest again?" Sirius grumbled from the other side of the room. Hermione chuckled lowly as he gestured to the collection of vinyl records he had held up in his grasp. He looked distressed.
"What can't you live without?" Hermione asked. She was peering at Remus in concern, he looked peaky and his eyes had fluttered shut. Unlike Sirius, Remus was almost done packing away his things.
Sirius looked at the vast piles surrounding him on the opposite side of Remus's room. (They'd opted to do this in Remus's room as it was tidier and less cluttered. Sirius's currently had clothes strewn about his room, as well as errant junk he swore he was binning.) There was an explosion of vinyl records, impeccable Transfiguration notes from his first to Seventh year at Hogwarts, several first edition books pertaining to the subject, and some extravagant jewellery he'd nicked from Walburga before he was disowned. That was what Hermione could identify from across the room.
Moony groaned, and dropped his head into his hands. Hermione saw this as a golden opportunity, and whilst Sirius was occupied with his piles of items, and Moony was succumbing to his Full Moon symptoms, she reached inside of her trousers' pocket and withdrew a copper key. She hadn't a moment to waste, so she hurriedly reached round and shoved the key into Remus's chest.
Hermione flinched when her fingers collided with the hardcover spines of a few books Remus had neatly arranged in his chest. She made sure to wedge it between two of the books. Hermione's teeth sank into her bottom lip to halt her from making a peep. She withdrew her hand as swiftly as she was able, the skin was red and irritated. She clutched it to her chest, and resumed her scrutiny of Remus.
Remus's head haggardly rose, and languorously he reached out to grasp a set of photographs that he subsequently dropped unceremoniously into his chest. Sombre relief marched through her system as the pictures spread out over the book's spines; hiding the key from view.
Hermione pushed up on her knees as she stood up. She stretched her hands high above her head like a feline, and a low purr grumbled in her throat. Her elbow cracked and she winced at the sudden sound. She carefully stepped over Remus's belongings, and strolled over to Sirius. He tucked a yellow mug that Riley'd gotten him years ago in beside a collection of ticket stubs from concerts and events they'd gone to over the years—he'd tied a string around them to keep them altogether.
"May you please help me, Hermione?" Sirius peered up at her, his arm was buried up to his shoulder into the chest and an imploring, desperate look had taken over his features.
"Of course, Padfoot," Hermione smiled. She hid her hand behind her back and wandlessly and wordlessly cast a light healing charm. "You're lucky there is an undetectable extension charm on these chests."
"As an Auror, I think it is my duty to inform you that the illegal use of an undetectable extension charm is an arrestable offence. It could put a smear on your upstanding reputation," Sirius teased, removing his arm from his chest, and he folded his hands in his lap. Defeat stained his smile as he swivelled his head to look at the mess surrounding him.
"Do you want my help or not?"
"Don't worry, I won't report you. Your secret is safe with me. I am in desperate need of your assistance, and shall be forever indebted to you as a result."
Sirius's flair for the dramatics had not dulled over the years, nor had his penchant for flattery to aid him in his endeavours. She'd been immune to his charms for years, but he had asked ever so nicely.
Hermione cleared a big enough space to sit beside him, and carefully lowered herself to the ground. The moment her rear touched the hardwoods, Sirius's head dropped to her shoulder. He sulked and whinged that this was far too much work.
A few hours later, the floor was spotless, and the trunks packed with years worth of items. Remus had included some of his plushies and toys from his childhood at Hermione's insistence.
"For your future children."
"I am not having children, Hermione."
"You wanna bet?" Hermione asked with a quirked brow, and that silenced the wizard. Entering a wager with Hermione was dangerous territory, she almost always won.
Remus relented, and placed the toys on top of several generations of the Lupin's family albums. Lyall had bequeathed them to him at James and Lily's wedding. He wished for his son to have them. He'd kept a sole picture from Remus's first birthday of Lyall and Hope helping their son blow out the single blue candle on his cake.
"Okay, give me your keys," Hermione instructed after the boys finished locking their chests. Eyebrows rose.
"Why?" Sirius asked.
"Just give them to me."
"Gimme gimme never gets," Sirius said obnoxiously. It was petulant, and she didn't have time for it.
"Stop being a child, and give me your key before I hex your bollocks off." There was no room for argument in Hermione's tone, and a bolt of fear at the perilous situation in which Sirius'd found himself, directly pierced his heart. For such a petite witch, she was terrifying when ready.
Both wizards shared a glance before handing the witch the keys to their chests. Hermione withdrew her wand from behind her ear, and waved them at the keys. They shrank until they were a fraction of their original size and smartly nestled in the middle of her palm.
Hermione took a step forward, and ended up inches away from Remus. Her head was tilted back so she could look up at him. She beckoned him closer, and he obeyed. Moments later, she was face-to-face with Remus. She spotted the silver chain that disappeared beneath his jumper's collar. He should be sweltering considering the summer's warmth had yet to leave, however, he was experiencing an unusual symptom today; vicious cold sweats.
Hermione used the tip of her wand to draw Remus's locket from beneath his collar. Remus's brow knitted together. "What are you doing?"
"I am going to put the keys in your lockets and place notice-me-not and disillusionment charms on them," Hermione answered simply.
"Wouldn't our knowing that make the point moot," Sirius spoke in a hurried fashion, as if the words came out before his brain had a chance to register them.
Hermione groaned while rolling her eyes. "It's not for you, you toerag. It's so no one else sees them." Sirius appeared affronted at the insult yet bemused at her odd choice.
"That does align with us packing away all our things for safekeeping, Pads. You need our blood and the keys to open the chests." Remus angled his head at Sirius with a tiny, teasing smirk.
Hermione diligently worked in utter silence, tucking Remus's key into his locket before firmly affixing the spells to it. It disappeared before her eyes, and she nodded approvingly at her work. She repeated the process with Sirius.
"I know it's there, and if I think about it…I can feel it against my chest, but otherwise it's like it doesn't exist," Sirius marvelled, his hand rubbing the skin where his neck and shoulder met—presumably over the temporarily invisible chain.
"That is the point," Hermione said, patting Sirius's cheek affectionately. Sirius adjusted the low, jagged collar of his Pink Floyd band tee as he straightened out; the arm holes were large and showed most of his sides. Sirius tucked his thumbs into the front pockets of his leather trousers, he wiggled his bare toes on the floor.
"Well, I'm starving. How about we go get some food?" Sirius suggested. The wizard was staying at the Manor for a few days whilst Riley was in Northern Ireland. He claimed he was clingy and couldn't sleep properly on his lonesome. Draco promised to cuddle him every night with a crooked smirk. The Marauders had made plans to all share Remus's bed tonight. He'd offered considering Sirius's room was a mess.
Despite the war, life went on. Riley's trip was to accompany Majoribanks and a former Ravenclaw from her year—Matilda—to find some rare Irish plant that only bloomed on the cusp of summer and Fall once a decade. Riley mentioned that Majoribanks was a recluse who preferred the company of plants to people, but he did find great joy in teaching others.
Consequently, Sirius led the charge out of Remus's room. Hermione threw an arm around Remus's waist and partially supported his weight as they made their way down the corridor towards the grand staircase.
"Remus?"
"Yes, love?"
"If at any point in the future—if things become unclear…I think you should find McGonagall and talk to her."
Remus halted abruptly, jerking Hermione towards him with a sharp, snapping motion. "Is there something you aren't telling us? Some reason you've suddenly asked us to pack up all our belongings?"
Hermione's downcast eyes bored into the floorboards, and her vision blurred. The Vow crept along her throat, its razor sharp nails trailing across her flesh, reminding her of her place. "No, I'm just saying that McGonagall is a wise woman, and I'm sure she'll be able to provide clarity on any muddy situations in the future."
"Now I feel like you're talking in circles, Hermione."
"Nevermind. I'm just being silly. Let's go grab some food and then head to bed early tonight. You're going to need all the rest you can get."
Remus was not appeased by her answer, and informed her of such. Hermione shrugged, and tugged him forwards.
"Vow?" Remus asked with an exasperated sigh. They'd reached the top of the staircase, and began their awkward descent—their height differences and Remus's fatigue only impeded their movements, but Hermione refused to relinquish her hold on the werewolf.
"Yes," Hermione replied. And there was no further discussion on the matter. Remus was frustrated by the vague declaration, but he dismissed it and they lightly spoke about the Puddlemere United game against the Arrows this coming weekend. It was ludicrous how not even the worsening war had stopped the Quidditch leagues from playing.
A twinge of guilt tugged at Hermione's heartstrings during their conversation. Remus was blissfully oblivious that she and Draco planned on leaving on Monday. Draco wondered why they couldn't wait until a few days before Hermione Granger's birthday, but at Hermione's adamant insistence he agreed to push up their departure date.
Hermione hadn't told Draco that a weird pressure had built in the crook of her elbow over the past few days. Nor had she notified him of the strange numbness that'd weighed down her tongue this morning when she woke. Time was warning her that her grains of sand in the past were limited.
Hermione drank in every second at dinner, she sat in James's lap and playfully cut up his food and fed him. Afterwards, she snuggled into Lily's side as Draco and Sirius played the piano side-by-side. The two men laughed as they messed with rhythm and tempo. Hermione should have noticed the strange looks an exhausted Remus was shooting her, but she was distracted.
Remus eventually slipped into a deep slumber in an armchair by himself, and that was when the rest of the pack chose to call it a night. Draco and Sirius helped situate Remus on James's back, and he carried his friend through the Manor and up to their wing.
When they arrived in Remus's room, Draco stripped Remus out of his clothes and Sirius aided him in putting some pyjama bottoms and a plain black t-shirt on the werewolf. The others readied for bed, and not even fifteen minutes later, the lot of them were piled into Remus's king-sized bed. The arrangement from the left was as follows: Sirius, James, Lily, Hermione, Remus and Draco.
Hermione wished she had more time, but she'd already had far more than she should have. Every single moment with the Marauders had been a blessing, a wondrous addition to her story that shouldn't have been possible. Despite that she couldn't help being greedy. She wasn't ready to let them go. But she knew that time waited for no mortal, and she was no exception.
Thursday, September 6th, 1979
Potter Manor
Full Moon
Hermione hadn't slept well last night. She was unsettled. An uneasiness slithered just beneath her skin. It was hours before the sun's ascent would begin, but in her restlessness, Hermione silently slipped out of bed. She paused to take in Draco's features smoothed over in restful sleep; there was a boyish innocence to his angular face when he slept, and she could have watched him for hours.
Hermione headed over to Draco's wardrobe, and gently tugged open the doors. They creaked, and the sound was oppressively loud in the darkness. Hermione shifted her eyes in order to see better— it was half-empty—and grabbed the first set of casual black robes she caught sight of.
She had no real destination in mind after she left Draco's bedroom. Her mind swam through a marsh as she contemplated whether she'd made the most of the chance she'd been given. If she'd lived her life as well as she could have, if she had loved and cared for her boys enough to make up for the inevitable suffering they had yet to endure.
Tears glistened in Hermione's eyes as she thought of her brother. She thought of those first few days when they were all getting used to one another. When Draco was quiet and reserved, but quick to throw out a witty comment. James was immensely pleased to have siblings, but was wary at the same time.
Knowing James Potter was one of the greatest gifts life had given her.
Hermione blinked and discovered she was outside of her potions room. It was peculiar that she would wander here. She reached out to twist the knob and push open the left door. She entered with soft footfalls and a disquieted mind.
"The other key for this room is in your chest right?" Hermione asked. She tipped the small box in hand over her desk, emptying it of some knick knacks and inconsequential things she'd gathered over the years. The lid of the box was engraved with her initials.
"Yes, love," Draco replied. Placing his hands on the back of her chair and resting his chin on the crown of her head. "You don't think this is a bit ridiculous? Why not just put the key to our potions room in Remus's chest?"
"I could do that, but this is more fun. It's like a treasure hunt. Besides, if we don't return as soon as we hope, then it'll give them something to do."
"Or it'll drive them up a wall in confusion at how elaborate this is."
"And your idea to leave that picture James took of the bluff as a hint for them isn't?"
"That's irrelevant." Draco dropped a kiss to her head, and took a step back. "I'm going to grab lunch. James and Lily were being adorable in the kitchen earlier, and I didn't want to interrupt their moment. I was almost positive they were going to shag on the counter."
"Hmm," Hermione responded absentmindedly. Draco's footfalls echoed in her ears as he strode away. Hermione placed the key inside the box, and closed the lid with resolute finality.
Hermione caught sight of the box resting on her desk. Draco was meant to slip it into Remus's possession at some point after she left, the particulars of how hadn't been worked out yet. He had months to figure it out, and he was an intelligent wizard so she had every confidence he would get it sorted.
It might be elaborate and excessive, but they needed to be meticulous and careful. She only hoped that they wouldn't figure it out before their memories returned, however she doubted that was likely. When their memories were hidden away, the boys would forget about their lockets, and be too preoccupied to focus on their chests or their contents.
Hermione had replaced the lock to their potions room with one she'd commissioned from the Goblins. It was finely crafted: the ruby on the door handle was exorbitant, and she knew that's why its price had been steeper than it should have been, but she hadn't kicked up a fuss. She didn't want to end up on the Goblin's bad side, especially since Hermione Granger would one day rob Bellatrix Lestrange's vault. A slight the Goblins would not easily forgive. A number of anti-theft wards were laced throughout the lock. Thus, the room could only be opened with one of the two keys they'd been given.
This is most likely the last time anyone will enter this room for years, Hermione thought soberly. She meandered over to the corkboard to the right of her desk on the wall. It was far tidier than it's ever been, but it was full of theories and complex diagrams. One thing stuck out and caught her eye. Hermione leaned in, peering at the parchment that was jagged and torn at the bottom.
A hand covered Hermione's mouth as she read the note, and her other arm wrapped protectively herself; her fingers pressed into her ribcage. A feeble whimper erupted unwittingly from her lips. The last words broke her. 'We will survive this, and we will be happy. I know we will.' Hermione crumpled to the floor, folding in on herself as she wept.
She needed more time. She needed them to survive, but Hermione knew it was a futile fantasy. Lily Potter would not survive the war, and there was nothing Hermione could do to change that.
Hermione attempted to spend as much time with her family as she could that day, she was clingy and barely parted from either James or LIly's side. The day slipped hastily through her fingers, and then it was nightfall.
Although it was Hermione's final Full Moon that she would spend with her entire pack, it was rather uneventful. As the cruel mistress hung high in the sky, the Marauders roamed the Orchards. Vixen was on Prongs' head in between his antlers as he and Fawn roamed the clearing where Dorea and Charlus had been laid to rest. Paws, Padfoot and Moony erupted from the trees, and rolled over each other in a playful bundle.
Vixen jumped down from Prongs's head, and bounded over to her parent's headstones. She curled up in front of Dorea's, her head resting on her paws. Fawn and Prongs joined her. Moony, Padfoot and Paws took note, and several moments later trotted over to the rest of their pack. The canines were worn out from rough housing, and their tongues lolled out of their mouths as they panted heavily. Not even five minutes later, the Marauders were slumbering peacefully.
The moonlight shone through the canopies, bathing their coats in the crisp light; the clearing was awash with it. A rustle of wind brushed over Vixen and the scent of daffodils burst around them. And so they slept, wholly unaware of what was to come the following day. Unaware of how their lives were about to be irrevocably changed.