A/N: Thank you to my lovely Beta, lozipozivanillabean.

I posted this a wee early because I have a major report tomorrow and I have to study it all night lmao. Suffice to say, I know a lot about thyroid cancer now hahahahuhuhu. Enjoy!

xxxxxi.

the tide is brave, but always retreats

(East by Sleeping at Last)

December 25, 1980

Hermione watched in amusement at how James's parents and Anya cooed at five-month-old Harry.

She thought it was hilarious and lovely at the same time how they were reduced into pools of gooey emotions every time she brought Harry over to the Potter Manor. Anya, as usual, was lovely with Harry, but Hermione could feel that her mother's words and actions towards Harry were sweeter than how she'd been with her and Peter. Euphemia, the perfect picture of a Pureblood socialite most of the time, was reduced into a giggling mess every time Harry would roll over their carpeted floor, gurgling happy, incoherent sounds that melted Euphemia's heart. Fleamont was terribly boisterous, always making up an excuse to lift Harry into the air just so he could elicit a soft giggle from the healthy, bright boy.

It was really true, how a baby changes a family's dynamics. The grandparents were undoubtedly extra sweeter towards their grandchildren, leaving their own children wondering why in Merlin's name they weren't like that during their youth.

But she really couldn't blame the grandparents. Harry was steadily growing into a bright, happy boy. He'd already discovered the wonders of rolling around on any flat surface he was lying on, eliciting delighted laughs from the adults every time he successfully rolled on the carpet. Harry had started to become more energetic too, and despite exasperating his very tired parents, Hermione was just happy he was healthy. Harry had yet to speak his first word, though, and James made it a point to always say 'Dada' every time he was around, hoping against hope it would be the first thing that slipped from Harry's tiny mouth.

Harry's presence had made this world a slightly better place for everyone. But despite this, Hermione was still sometimes plagued with the prophecy about her son. There were nights when she'd press a sleeping Harry tenderly against her chest, tears dripping down his messy, raven hair. James had caught her in that state numerous times, but her husband had been a great comfort, gathering his small family in his arms until Hermione's tears had abated.

Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath and willed those ridiculous thoughts away. It was Christmas after all, and her family didn't deserve her melancholy today. She focused all of her attention on a giggling Harry, gurgling out gibberish whilst Fleamont made ridiculous faces to make him laugh more.

"Is everything all right, sweetheart?"

Her blue eyes met her mother's worried ones, forcing her to lift the corners of her lips in a passable smile. "I'm all right, Mum," she placated. "Just a little tired. Harry woke up several times last night, so I didn't get enough sleep."

A booming laugh escaped from Fleamont's lips. "I knew from the first moment I saw the infamous Potter hair he'd be a menace like his father," he said, lifting Harry in the air to draw out merry giggles from his mouth.

"We didn't get enough sleep either when James was born," Euphemia added, her eyes fond as she reminisced about James's youth. "He tried very hard to wake everybody up at night when he was feeling uncomfortable."

"The moment I saw Harry's eyes, I knew he'd be difficult like his mother too," Anya supplemented with a laugh. Upon seeing Hermione's sheepish look, she continued, "You were a curious little babe, sweetheart. You tried to climb out of your crib one too many times. Peter was a quiet, sweet boy when he was a baby but you!"

"He's so full of energy. I can barely keep up," Hermione chuckled, fondly gazing at her son. Harry caught her eyes and started to open and close his hands in her direction while expelling soft whines – his own sign of wanting to be held by his mother.

Hermione sauntered towards Fleamont and lifted Harry into her arms. He gurgled happily and started to grip her curls, tugging them merrily like one of his toys. She winced in pain, but let Harry continue his happy assault of her hair. She'd learnt the hard way that when she tried to pry her hair away from his grip, Harry's messy wails would ring loudly against her ear.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

She peeked through her tangled hair and spotted James grinning widely at them both. His hazel eyes were alit with amusement, prompting Hermione to merely laugh. "Harry's a menace," she sighed. For his answer, Harry gurgled happily and tugged her curls harder. "Thank Merlin I love you very much, you sweet, sweet boy." She placed a kiss against one of his chubby cheeks and grinned widely when Harry gave her a gummy smile.

James approached them both and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.

"Have you eaten, James?" Euphemia asked. "You've missed Christmas dinner. I'll ask Pokey to prepare you a meal."

"As much as I'd like to stay, I'm afraid I have to steal my wife for a few hours."

There was something in the tone of his voice that made her brows furrow in concern. But one glance at James didn't betray any cause for concern, as there was still a wide smile on his face. "Well, okay," Hermione said, already shifting Harry in her arms to trail behind James.

"Alone," he firmly said, leaving no room for argument.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw gleaming amusement in Fleamont's eyes. "I hope we won't be receiving news about a new baby quite so soon," he teased.

Hermione felt her cheeks flooding red, but James merely laughed, a cheeky grin settling on his handsome face. "Harry's already a handful," he pointed out. "I think we can all agree we will wait until he can dress himself before we even talk about Baby No. 2."

"I'd really love a granddaughter soon, though," Anya helpfully offered, sending a dazzling grin at her daughter. This only made Hermione's cheeks flush redder.

James laughed once more as he pulled Harry away from Hermione's arms. The brunette winced when Harry tugged her curls for the last time before reluctantly letting them go. He started to show his usual tell-tale signs of a tantrum and Hermione tried to reach out for him again just to soothe his cries. But James firmly held her hand, a strange glint in his eyes.

"We'll be back soon," James reassured, depositing Harry onto Euphemia's lap.

Hermione could see the identical worried looks on their parents' faces but James was already tugging her out of the Drawing Room.

"What's wrong?" she hissed once they were outside.

The pleasant smile on James's face fell and Hermione could now properly see how weary he looked. "There's a reason why I missed Christmas dinner," he softly murmured. Instant dread crawled in Hermione's heart when James met her eyes. "Dumbledore's in the Order Headquarters. He wants to talk to us."

Now that he mentioned the Order leader, Hermione's dread grew. Their journey towards the East Tower was in tensed silence, but Hermione didn't dare break it, still trying to ready herself with whatever awful news she'd receive.

When they strolled inside the East Tower, Hermione was surprised to see that Dumbledore wasn't alone. The Marauders were there, and so were Lily and Sev. Dumbledore was sitting in his usual spot in front of the phoenix banner, flanked by Moody and Kingsley. Her eyes swept back towards the Marauders once more, noting how both Peter and Sirius looked as bone-deep tired as James.

"What's going on?" she fearfully whispered.

No one answered her question. Just when Hermione's impatience started to get the better of her, Dumbledore spoke. "There has been an attempted attack on the Longbottoms," he quietly started.

Hermione's breath hitched, her dread now growing into fear. "Attempted?" she managed to breath out.

Kingsley cracked a small smile and nodded. "Attempted," he echoed. "They've been on high alert ever since they heard about the prophecy and had placed more complex wards around their home. Your knowledge has proven helpful too, Hermione. Last night, Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband, and her brother-in-law, attempted to break into their home, but their intrusion alerted us and we were able to get there just in time."

She tightly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Please tell me they were captured," she pleaded.

"They were," Moody firmly replied. "Pompous bastards thought they could get away from us."

Hermione expelled a sigh of relief and opened her eyes once more. "The Longbottoms are okay?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said, but there wasn't any relief in his eyes. His lips were pursed into a thin line, his serious, blue eyes intently staring at Hermione. "But we've all decided it would be best if they went into hiding now that Voldemort has heard about the prophecy and is taking any necessary action to eliminate his opponents."

"Harry," she breathed out, the fear increasing tenfold.

"You want us to go into hiding too," James deliberately said, his tone of voice strangely tight and strained.

"It's for the best, lad," Moody appeased. "The Longbottoms have already agreed to be placed under a Fidelius Charm and we've all also agreed that you and your family must be placed under one too."

"For how long?" Lily whispered.

Moody pierced her with his electric, blue eyes. "For as long as necessary," was his cryptic answer.

"Why?" Sirius hissed, eyes narrowing in confusion. "We only have one horcrux left to destroy. Why can't we just destroy that, search for that slimy bastard and kill him once and for all?"

"Excellent plan, Black," Moody drawled sarcastically, an ugly sneer now appearing on his face. "I don't doubt it at all if you do not survive this bloody fucking war."

All the colour drained from Sirius's face as his grey eyes glinted dangerously. Remus yanked him down when the shaggy-haired Auror tried to stand up and brandish out his wand.

"What Moody's trying to say," Kingsley quipped whilst shooting a disapproving glare at the Senior Auror, "is that we are talking about Voldemort here. An evil bastard who'd evaded us for years, reigning terror over the Wizarding World. Although we already know what his weakness is, he strategises and he has an army. Now that he knows about a prophecy that may lead to his downfall, he'd be more rigorous and at the same time careful. We'd rather no premature war will happen with a lot of casualties before we've concocted a sound plan."

"Is there already a plan?" Remus insisted.

Kingsley frowned. "We're working on it," was his mere reply.

Hermione thickly swallowed and willed to banish her rising panic. Dumbledore's gaze was still intently glued onto her when he added, "Am I correct in assuming the other Potters of your own version of future went into hiding too?"

"Yes."

"Under the Fidelius Charm?" Sirius asked incredulously. Hermione's gaze briefly landed on him, noting the shock painting his handsome face. "But they… they—" His words died down, his tumultuous grey eyes heavily latching onto James, no doubt thinking about a future with a dead James Potter. Hermione had never explicitly told her friends what James and Lily Potter's fate had been in her own future, but she believed they'd all arrived at the same conclusion anyway.

"They were betrayed by their Secret Keeper," she softly revealed, tears now gathering in her eyes as she refused to look at the other people inside the room.

Collective surprised intake of breaths resounded off the walls. "Who?" Peter vehemently asked. The shock and fury on his face was clear and evident. Peter only knew that James and Lily had died protecting Harry, but he didn't know how. "Who dared to betray them?"

Her tears increased, unable to look into the eyes of the man who would have undoubtedly betrayed his friends if Hermione hadn't been beside him throughout his whole life, steadfastly pulling him towards the straight path.

"It doesn't matter," she hurriedly murmured, swiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She lifted her gaze back towards Dumbledore, a deep and calculating look in his eyes. "If you think it is best we go under the Fidelius Charm, then so be it."

"When do you reckon we should do it?" James asked.

"As soon as possible," Kingsley replied. "We'd rather there weren't any attempted attacks on your family, like what Voldemort and his Death Eaters did to the Longbottoms."

"This will only make Voldemort persistent," Remus gravely pointed out. "The attacks will increase. More murders will be committed."

His ominous warning drew the whole group into silence.

"The pinnacle is approaching," Dumbledore gravely said. "Far too quickly, if I were to be honest."

"If you place the Fidelius Charm on my family," James firmly started, "I want you to be our Secret Keeper."

Hermione shook her head, an empty smile growing on her face. "Dumbledore's already the Secret Keeper for the Order Headquarters," she pointed out. "He can cast the spell but he can't be our Secret Keeper too. It'll compromise both the safety of the Headquarters and our hiding place."

Despair flitted on James's face, clearly believing they'd be safer if it were Dumbledore who became their Secret Keeper. Hermione knew it would be ideal too, because despite how she disliked Dumbledore's way of handling Order business, he was still a powerful wizard. He'd be unlikely to betray them.

"I'll do it."

Her heart leapt into her throat at Peter's earnest offer. Her eyes filled with more tears when they landed on her brother, and for a moment there was an image of a different version of Peter Pettigrew, cowardly and filthy as he grovelled at a weary Sirius and Remus, begging to be forgiven for all the sins he'd committed. But when Hermione blinked away her tears, she saw her brother once more – a far cry from that coward Hermione Granger had once known.

"It can't be you, Petey," she softly said. "You're Harry's godfather and my brother. Voldemort will instantly target you and you might relay to him where we live."

"I would never!" he vehemently cried, slightly shaking with profound sureness despite the tumbling tears from his blue eyes.

Hermione gave him a small smile. "I know," she placated. "But you're too obvious, Peter. If… if we want to truly hide from Voldemort, it has to be someone he'd never think we would pick."

"I believe I am the most suitable."

Her eyes widened, landing on Sev who'd spoken for the first time. She knew that the other Marauders and Merlin, even Lily were already readying themselves to loudly declare themselves as their Secret Keeper, but her best friend had already beaten them.

"Not a chance, Snape," James harshly spat.

Despite the obvious disgust in James's voice, Sev smiled. "You've said it yourself, Hermione," he said, choosing to ignore her furious husband. "We have to choose someone he'd never think you would pick." He jutted a thumb towards James, still holding her gaze. "I may be your best friend but Potter clearly hates me. Voldemort surely knows that."

James's eyes widened, realising that what Sev was saying made sense. Hermione knew he had a point too and judging from Dumbledore's gaze, he was approving. Beside him, Lily tightly held his hand, her emerald eyes shining in fondness at his brave offer.

"Make me your Secret Keeper," he insisted. "I… I owe you a lot of things, Hermione. Let this be my repayment."

But Hermione was already shaking her head. "You don't owe me anything," she corrected. "I did it for you because you're my best friend."

"Then let me do this because you are my best friend," he said, an uncharacteristically soft smile on his face. "Let me do this to protect you and your family."

Hermione brightly beamed at Sev, disbelieving the words coming out from his mouth. She met Lily's eyes across the table, noting that her eyes were glittering with unshed tears too, but the pride in her gaze was unmistakable.

"If you betray us, Snape, I'll—"

"And hurt Hermione?" Severus scoffed. His dark eyes bore into James. "Never."

His passionate vow flummoxed her husband, James's eyes widening in shock. He held Sev's intense gaze, though, and only looked away when Hermione touched his arm. "I trust him," she whispered. "He will not betray us."

James's lips drew into a thin line, before stiffly nodding thrice. "Fine," he said.

A smile flitted on Dumbledore's face, softening the sharpness he'd worn a while ago. "Very well," he replied. "I will be the one to perform the Fidelius Charm. New Year's Day seems a fitting day to perform the spell, don't you think?" The Potters merely nodded their heads in reply. "In the meantime, do whatever necessary things you must prior to hiding." He turned to Moody and continued, "I'm sure you'll be able to make up an excuse as to why James Potter won't be going to work for a while."

The Senior Auror gruffly nodded his head.

Dumbledore glanced at Hermione and James again, the smile on his face faltering. "You have to be prepared soon," was his gentle order.

Underneath the table, Hermione reached for James's hand. She slightly flinched at how tightly he held her hand, but Hermione knew her grip was just as equally tight.

-ooo-

A fond smile appeared on her face at James's booming laugh, his chest rumbling with Harry rested on his chest.

After their meeting with the Order leader, she and James went back to the Drawing Room, only to be accompanied by the other Marauders. James had invited the Snapes to hang around too, clearly ashamed at how he'd behaved when Sev had offered to become their Secret Keeper, but the couple had Christmas dinner with Lily's parents. They both engulfed Hermione in a tight hug, though, bringing more tears to her eyes, before they left. Dumbledore, Moody, and Kingsley also bid them goodbye, with the oldest wizard promising to contact the Potters once everything was arranged for their hiding.

Now with the Marauders gathered in the Drawing Room like nothing had happened made her heart ache. The happiness on their faces was obvious, with them exchanging anecdotes that never broached their current situation. James's parents and Anya were still in the Drawing Room after all and they didn't want to worry them yet. Not when it was Christmas and they were gathered together as family.

Hermione had opted to be more of an observer, her head still too frazzled from their meeting. She'd tried her very best to put on a small smile, just to hide the brewing turmoil inside her. Everybody seemed so happy and she wondered how the Marauders had so easily slid back into their cheeky, carefree selves, as if perfectly oblivious about their current predicament.

Tears filled her eyes when James broke into another laugh. She zeroed in on his face and looked for any tell-tale signs of despair, but her husband looked marvellously relaxed, his hand now absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles on their son's back. Although it comforted Hermione to see that James was at least all right, she couldn't help but notice that his eyes were a tad too bright, his smile a tad too shaky, and his laugh a tad too loud. It was as if he was trying his best to show that he was happy today.

'My brave Gryffindor,' she fondly thought, wanting nothing more but to crawl towards him and their son, and curl up beside them in comfort. But Hermione feared she'd burst into tears, snuggled against James, and she didn't want to alarm anybody.

Hence, she chose to stiffly sit on one of their squashy armchairs, weakly smiling when someone cracked a joke, or offering a few, whispered replies if the need arose.

It took her perhaps an hour for Hermione to finally realise she wasn't the only one who was acting reserved after the meeting. She met Peter's glistening gaze when Sirius started to recount his misadventures with his beloved motorcycle a week ago. She knew her brother so well that she understood he wished to talk to her alone, and from the way his eyes widened in such desperation meant he'd rather talk to her sooner rather than later.

"I'm going to ask Pokey to fix us some tea," Hermione softly announced, already sliding up from the couch.

"Let me accompany you, 'Mione," Peter said a tad too eagerly, scrambling onto his feet and quickly striding towards his sister.

They didn't bother waiting for anyone's reply before exiting the Drawing Room. Peter grabbed onto her elbow once they were outside and instead of directing her towards the Potter kitchens, he tugged her arm until they'd reached the library.

"What is it, Petey?" she asked, warily watching her brother as he started to wear the carpet down, his face crumpling in a myriad of emotions that Hermione couldn't pinpoint individually.

He drew to a sudden halt and tightly held both of Hermione's hands. Tears were now steadily streaming down from his wide, blue eyes and worried, she reached forward to brush his tears away.

"I was the one who betrayed the Potters, wasn't I?"

She froze with her small ministrations as her eyes widened at his claim. Hermione desperately tried to come up with a lie because Peter, of all people, didn't need to know that. But it was already too late. Her brother had seen the stricken look on Hermione's face, prompting his face to crumple in horror and disbelief.

"Peter—"

"I-I didn't want to believe it," he started, "but when I asked who the Secret Keeper was or who'd betrayed your version of the Potters, I saw your eyes, Hermione. And then… and then you couldn't even look at me." Grief bloomed on his face as he held Hermione's gaze. "Is… is that the real reason why you refused to make me your Secret Keeper?"

"What?" she sputtered out in shock. "Is that what you've been thinking?"

Peter haphazardly wiped his tears and tiredly sighed. "It's a logical reason," he pointed out.

"No, it's not!" Hermione cried, reaching forward to clutch onto both of her brother's shoulders. "I didn't agree for you to become our Secret Keeper because it was too obvious. Like we've said, you are Harry's godfather and my brother. It would be dangerous if you were our Secret Keeper, so please, please, please get rid of that ridiculous belief that I didn't choose you because of… because of him."

Huge tears welled in Hermione's eyes as she fiercely wrapped her arms around Peter. "You're not the same as him," she vehemently cried. "That Peter Pettigrew was a spineless rat, blindly following whomever was the most powerful at the time because he was a bloody coward. I still don't know why he betrayed his friends, but whatever it was, I'm sure his reasons were bullshite."

Peter crumpled the back material of her blouse and buried his face into the nook of Hermione's neck. "I won't betray you nor James nor Harry… nor anyone," he firmly stated, his voice muffled from his tears and Hermione's neck. "I can't even imagine—" His words were left dangling, choked up with overwhelming emotions that prompted her to tighten her hold.

"I know, Peter. I know," she soothed, smiling gently despite her steady stream of tears. "I've grown up beside you for years, blimey. And I know, without any ounce of doubt, that you are nothing like him. You're a true Gryffindor, a hero in his own right, who'd do anything to protect the people he loves."

He resolutely pulled away and met her eyes. "I'm going to protect you and your family," he loudly proclaimed, his glistening blue eyes turning steely with his impassioned words. "I'm going to do whatever it takes, even if it means I have to give up my life." He held both of Hermione's hands desperately, as if afraid she'd never believe him. "You have to believe me, Hermione."

"I do," she replied, fervently nodding. "But I've lost too much already, from this war and the one Hermione Granger was fighting in before. I'd rather I didn't lose my brother too."

She'd spoken the last sentence very softly, wondering if Peter had heard her at all. But then, Peter pulled her close and warmly embraced her once more.

"No one's going to die," she breathed out – a hope, a promise. "I'll make sure of it."

December 27, 1980

"What are you all doing here?"

James narrowed his eyes, suspiciously glancing from one Marauder to the other, but the innocent smiles on their faces didn't give any indication as to why they were at the Potter Manor once more. He craned his neck to look at Hermione, but his wife merely shrugged her shoulders, a small, amused smile on her face. She was soon distracted by Harry, who was sitting on her lap and happily suckling on one of her curls.

"How about hanging out for the day, Prongsie huh?" Sirius said, striding forward to sling an arm over James's shoulders. "Just the blokes." He glanced at Hermione and widely grinned. "Sorry, kitten. Much as we love you, this is strictly a Marauders only kind of thing."

"I thought I was the truest Marauder?" she quipped, quirking an eyebrow.

Sirius snorted. "Please, you and I both know James only placed that on the Marauder's Map because he's a bloody, besotted fool," he pointed out. The bespectacled wizard's cheeks turned red whilst Hermione chuckled. "So, what say you, James? For old time's sake?"

James slowly frowned and glanced at Hermione and Harry once more. "I'm not sure…"

"Come on, James," Remus cajoled. "Just for today! Technically, you've been 'reassigned' by Moody to the Italian DMLE branch today, so you're not exactly busy."

James still looked uncertain. "Well—"

"We'll be fine," Hermione reassured, already understanding why he was hesitating at his friends' request. "Harry and I will have so much fun today, too, so you can spend time with the boys."

"I want to spend time with you and Harry, too," James weakly protested. "You know, before…" He trailed off as a lump formed in his throat. James desperately trampled down whatever overwhelming emotions had started bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

He and Hermione agreed it would be best to spend their remaining days at the Potter Manor before Dumbledore performed the Fidelius Charm on their house in Godric's Hollow. They still hadn't broken the news to their parents, but he knew they were starting to get a bit suspicious at their behaviour. He thanked the blessed stars above for Harry, because his son was able to distract his grandparents before they started asking more difficult questions.

"You'll be able to do that once the new year comes, love," Hermione reassured, her lips stretching into a small, sad smile he wished she didn't show at all. As the days passed by, he noticed that Hermione was growing wearier. But his witch was bloody brave and strong, still able to smile and keep up pretences.

James swallowed down his feelings of foreboding and fear, ashamed that he was allowing himself to feel this way when Hermione and Harry needed him to be strong. There were a few moments he thought he'd crack and breakdown, but he'd immediately excuse himself to gather his wits, before joining the others and easily slipping back into their conversation. It was a miracle he hadn't gone insane yet, what with all the pretence he needed to show.

"Are you sure?" he tentatively asked, realising he hadn't spoken for a long time.

"I'm sure," Hermione said with a resolute nod. "Harry and I will be waiting for you tomorrow. But today, it'll be just the two of us." She then pressed Harry against her chest and rubbed her cheek against his. His son, delighted with his mother's cuddling, gurgled happy sounds from his lips and started tugging her curls again. "Oh, Harry, who's Mummy's favourite boy?" For his reply, Harry emitted a string of incoherent sounds, giggling madly when Hermione pressed kisses against his plump cheeks.

James found himself softening at the sight, thinking once more that Hermione looked the prettiest when she was interacting with Harry.

"Ack, the googly eyes must stop!" Sirius exclaimed with abject disgust. He glanced at Peter and scowled. "Tell him off, Wormy. Unleash the Selwyn within."

Peter merely snorted and rolled his eyes. "So, will you come?" the sandy-haired wizard asked, a small smile on his face despite Sirius's antics.

"Well…" James rubbed his nape, before deftly shrugging. "I don't see why not."

-ooo-

James wasn't really expecting anything, but going to the Shrieking Shack was admittedly something he didn't predict. "The full moon has passed already," he pointed out when Remus told them about their plan.

The werewolf glanced at him and laughed. "We used to still roam around the Forbidden Forest and Hogsmeade even when I wasn't in werewolf form," he explained. "It'll be fun. Honest. It'll be like the old times."

"Does Dumbledore know?" James asked with a frown, trailing behind his overly excited friends as they walked towards the imposing gates of Hogwarts. "I mean, I'm sure he'd want to know since technically, we're trespassing."

"Well, he does," Remus deliberately drawled. "He just warned us not to get caught."

The bespectacled wizard snorted. "And how'd we do that?" he sniped.

Sirius threw him a wicked smile whilst Peter's blue eyes shone with mischief. Remus snorted at his ridiculous question and, with wide eyes, James felt like he was looking back at the younger versions of his friends, pranksters through and through.

"Are you a Marauder or what?" Sirius barked, followed by a loud guffaw. Beside him, Peter pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map he'd last lent to Hermione. He'd somehow forgotten about these treasures, too preoccupied with his Auror missions and life generally. Unable to help it, a huge smile appeared on his face, a sudden rush of excitement he'd used to feel before, spreading through his veins up to the very tips of his fingers.

"Last one to throw a hex at Filch will buy drinks for us all," Sirius then suggested.

Remus, ever the voice of reason in the group, pulled a face. "Is hurting Filch really necessary?" he growled. His golden eyes landed on James, his lips stretched into a firm line. "Please tell this buffoon hurting someone won't be necessary."

"Well," James deliberately started, the corners of his lips twitching into a small smirk, "theoretically, nobody would get hurt if we just throw a harmless charm. Like, for example, a Tickling Hex."

Sirius grinned widely. "Ah yes, Prongs always has the best suggestions," he said. He then turned to Remus, his smile turning triumphant. "So yes, theoretically, Filch won't get hurt if we threw a wicked Tickling Hex. The bloke might even thank us for making him laugh, because honestly, he's always been grumpy and dreary. It will be a nice change." He then gestured at Peter. "What do you think, Wormy?"

Predictably, Peter just shrugged his shoulders. "I mean, it does sound fun," he said with a sheepish glance at Remus.

"Fine, blimey," Remus said with a disgruntled sigh, but James could see that even he was bloody well excited for their stupid, stupid prank.

"Messrs," James said, squaring his shoulders like the true leader he was. "All in favour of pranking Filch say 'aye'."

"Aye!" they cried in unison, blinding smiles stretched widely on their faces.

James beamed brightly in return.

Perhaps, this would be a nice distraction after all.

-ooo-

"YOU BERK!" James roared loudly, sprinting away from the enraged caretaker. "We said a Tickling Charm!"

Sirius was madly laughing, racing past James, followed by Remus, whose sprints were faster thanks to his werewolf abilities. Behind James was a sheepish Peter, his blue eyes dancing with mirth and his cheeks coloured red.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't help it," Peter panted, hastening his footsteps to keep up with his friends. He paused to gulp a lungful of oxygen before breaking into a large grin. "But admit it, you wankers. What I did was brilliant!"

"I think," Remus started, "Wormy might actually be the truest Marauder of us all."

"POT—HAHAHAH—TER—HUHUHU!"

James halted in his running and doubled over, large, raucous laughter escaping from his lips. "Bloody fucking hell, this is brilliant," he gasped in between his laughter, wiping away the tears that spilled down from his eyes from too much laughing.

"Don't stop running!" Peter hollered, pushing James to urge him to start running again.

The bespectacled wizard grinned and glanced over his shoulder. Argus Filch was having a hard time running after them, pausing often to let a laugh slip out of his mouth. The three Tickling Charms they'd sent definitely did the trick and made the caretaker release loud laughs they'd never heard him emit before but Peter, the great buffoon, thought it would be hilarious if he sent a Crying Charm instead. Now, the poor man was alternating between loudly laughing, incessantly crying, and furiously berating the pranksters that had tormented his life for seven whole years.

"We're so sorry, Filchy!" Sirius yelled over his shoulder. "This will be the last one! Promise!"

The four Marauders finally broke through the double oak doors of the castle. Remus immediately sent a well-aimed and sharp 'Finite Incantatem' towards Filch to stop all the spells they'd sent towards him while Peter immediately spelled the door shut to give them some time to get away.

The boisterous men immediately clambered towards the banks of the Black Lake, their laughs now mellowing down into small, serene smiles as they watched the Giant Squid swim various strokes around the otherwise calm waters of the lake.

James's cheeks already hurt from laughing too much and truth be told, he couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed like this. He was too preoccupied with the war and the prophecy, of a possible future that petrified him until he couldn't breathe. Laughing silly like there was no tomorrow had seemed like a huge waste of time before tonight.

"For the record, Wormtail will be the one buying the drinks," Remus said, breaking the calm silence that had settled among the four.

"No fair," Peter said. "I wasn't the last one to send the spell!"

"You broke the rules, Wormy dearest," Sirius clucked. "That's the price you pay."

"What a funny thing to say," the sandy-haired wizard said with a glower. "When we worked our very hardest not to adhere to them in the first place."

James snorted in amusement. "The truest Marauder of us all," he teased, his hazel eyes glinting brightly under the pale moonlight. "But Petey's right; since when do we follow the rules?" A small, fond smirk appeared on his face, remembering all the times he'd run around the hallways of Hogwarts, mercilessly pranking unsuspecting victims which inevitably landed him in another detention with Professor McGonagall.

He stared at the Giant Squid, heart clenching a bit at the thought that he didn't know when he'd next see his friends, once he and his family went into hiding. "Drinks are on me instead, lads," he said.

No one even pointed out that he was the first one to hit Filch with the Tickling Charm.

-ooo-

Peter in his Animagus form jumped down from Remus's shoulders as he scuttled towards the protruding knot in the bark of the Whomping Willow. It's dangerous dancing of thick branches stilled, letting the four Marauders pass through.

Remus bent down to place Peter back onto his shoulders and was the first one to duck inside the narrow cave. Sirius in his dog form, clutching a paper bag full of snacks between his sharp teeth, soon followed. It was James, also in his Animagus form, who brought the rear of the group, cases of firewhiskey perched on his back, held magically to stop them from toppling over.

As soon as they appeared on the first floor of the Shrieking Shack, the Animagi shifted back into their human forms. Remus flicked his wand at the fireplace, fire licking out of the tip to consume the remaining logs inside. Peter pushed the ratty furniture away and cleaned the dusty floorboards while Sirius deposited the food and beverages they'd bought at Hogsmeade.

The bespectacled wizard blinked widely, his eyes roaming around the shack they used to hang out in. Each scratch and piece of torn furniture spoke of a memory from their happy Hogwarts days. When he gazed back at his friends, he couldn't help but imagine them as students once more, loose, red Gryffindor ties hanging around their necks, white sleeves rolled up to their elbows, as they tried to perfect their Animagi forms.

"What the bloody hell are you gaping at?" Sirius cajoled, his grey eyes almost blue in amusement. "Come sit down, mate."

James grinned and settled on the floorboards between Peter and Remus, the latter now pulling out the Wizard's Chess Board they used to play, back when they were too exhausted to return to Hogwarts after a full moon. Sirius flicked the bottle tops open and passed around the firewhiskey.

"I think I shouldn't drink today," James deliberately said.

"I borrowed some of Hermione's Sobering Potion," Peter stated, his focus solely on arranging the white chess pieces. "You don't have to worry, James."

James's lips lifted into a smile, before tipping the icy bottle of firewhiskey, the fiery liquid leaving a burning path down his throat, which he welcomed wholeheartedly. James briefly closed his eyes and savoured the taste and the feeling.

"Who gets to play first?" Remus asked, now that the pieces were arranged.

"It's you against me, Moony-pie," Sirius said with a feral smile, his grey eyes now glinting menacingly like a raging storm. "This is payback for the last time."

The werewolf snorted, a challenging look in his eyes. "You're on."

-ooo-

The moon was at its highest peak, but the Marauders were still very much awake.

James's head was already fuzzy from too much firewhiskey and although he had never been a fan of drowning one's sorrows with alcohol, the fiery burn in his throat was a welcome distraction from all his tumultuous thoughts. Added to the distraction were his boisterous best friends, their drunken Wizard's Chess game nowhere near finished.

"What's taking you so long?" Peter whined, cheeks already flushed from too much alcohol and the toasty heat from the burning fireplace.

"Shut up, Wormy. I'm thinking," Sirius growled, his eyebrows pinched together as he blearily glanced at the chessboard. Even the little chess pieces were stomping their feet in impatience, but the shaggy-haired wizard merely bared his teeth in annoyance.

Sirius hovered his fingers over a rook and surreptitiously looked at Remus. The werewolf looked bloody triumphant, his golden eyes wide and glassy from inebriation, and his lips stretched into a winning smile. Rolling his eyes, Sirius slowly transferred his fingers over his queen, and the brightness on Remus's face instantly dimmed into a dark scowl.

"CHEAT!" Peter accused, pointing an accusatory finger in Sirius's direction. Remus realised what Sirius was doing and grew thunderous.

"Years have passed but you're still shite at this, Moony-pie," Sirius gleefully cackled, ducking to dodge a hurtling screaming pawn aimed at his head.

James watched in amusement as Remus angrily gathered the protesting chess pieces in his hands and tried to one-by-one flick them towards Sirius. The grey-eyed wizard laughingly dodged away, doing ridiculous moves to add a flourish to their new bloody game. Peter was keeping count, loudly commentating every time Remus would hurtle a piece towards Sirius. He would whoop in glee if Remus hit Sirius, and then burst into boisterous laughter when Sirius tried to retaliate.

Laughter bubbled out from James's lips, scooting away from the ridiculous men to save himself from their stupid game. His lips were stretched far and wide in amusement, whooping with Peter if Remus was successful in his assault.

"You bloody wankers," he laughed, thinking they were slowly turning into a bunch of adolescent boys again with an adventurous streak that would only be quenched with a fulfilling quest. "I'm going to miss you all, fucking hell."

His little declaration faltered his smile. The fact that he might not see them for a very long time once he and his family went into hiding crashed heavily into his mind. Added to that, was the revelation that Hermione Granger's version of James Potter wasn't able to survive the war.

His eyes slowly swept from one bloke to another, wondering what had happened to their other versions when Voldemort broke into the Potters' hiding place and killed Harry Potter's parents. Were they able to live a long life, grieving their best friend's death for years? Were they able to still fight with the Order, continuing to trudge on despite the heavy loss they'd experienced? Were they able to stay beside Harry Potter, protecting him, taking care of him, loving him, because their own best friend wasn't able to do so? All these questions had plagued him for days, and he was mighty tempted to ask Hermione because she knew what would happen to all of them. But a part of him felt like he wouldn't like the answer and he'd decided to be blissfully oblivious of a future that had already drastically changed.

Perhaps it was the firewhiskey, or the blazing, cosy fire enveloping each and every corner of this shack they'd used to call their own. Because unwittingly, emotions bubbled up from James's stomach like a great tidal wave and, to his utmost horror, the laughter slipping past from his lips morphed into terrified sobs.

Try as he might, he couldn't make them stop.

Wide-eyed, he placed a hand against his mouth. The panic that seized him refused to recede. He'd been successful thus far, in keeping his emotions intact and letting everybody believe he was fine. Because he couldn't afford to panic and have a breakdown, not when his wife and his child were expecting him to be strong.

"Fina-fucking-ly," Sirius whispered, the relief on his face clear as day. Their ridiculous game had ceased upon James's first sob, and all three of them were now sadly looking at James.

Despite the tears, he furrowed his eyebrows. "W-what?" he asked, removing his glasses from his face to hastily wipe away his tears.

"You were starting to scare us, James. Honest," Remus said, a corner of his lips lifting into a forlorn smile. "You looked like a bloody Inferius these past few days, especially after Dumbledore told us the prophecy. You weren't… you weren't you."

James weakly snorted.

"We were expecting a breakdown," Peter revealed with a reverent nod. "I can imagine what you are going through because Hermione's… she's my sister and—" He choked up as tears steadily gathered in his eyes. "You need a bloody fucking good cry, Prongs."

James took a deep shuddering breath and stared at the ceiling. "Fuck this," he sobbed. "I'm not supposed to feel this way."

"Feel what. Afraid?" He lightly glared at Sirius, whose grey eyes were strangely glassy.

"Hermione—"

"—is not here," Remus softly insisted. His golden eyes had softened. "Hermione is not here, James. I know you want to show her that you're managing but trust me, it's hard to lie to everyone and say that you're okay when you're feeling anything but." A wry smile cracked on his face. "Trust me, I'm a bloody werewolf."

James's face crumpled as he hid his face behind his hands. The bottled-up emotions he'd tried to hide just flowed like the amber liquid of firewhiskey, pouring onto the dirtied floorboards until he was shaking and empty and tired. In the safety of the Shrieking Shack, surrounded by friends he'd long considered his brothers in all ways but blood, James finally stopped lying to himself and murmured strangled words of fear for his friends to hear. There were random pats on his back and sloshing of alcohol when Sirius would coax him to drink a few more sips.

He felt mightily ashamed of all the dark feelings he'd hidden inside, but his friends never offered any words. They just stayed silent, listening to his lamentations, with occasional sniffs from Peter or awkward chuckles from Sirius because surely, he was the most uncomfortable amongst the four of them. But he appreciated this, nonetheless. He appreciated how Remus slipped a half-eaten chocolate bar towards James when he was recounting what Hermione had told him about the other James Potter who'd willingly faced Voldemort and died in the end. He appreciated how Peter cried with him when he voiced out his fears of choosing Snape as their Secret Keeper because bloody fucking hell they weren't even friends. And he appreciated how Sirius, awkward and teary-eyed, had slung an arm over his shoulders when he confessed he'd thought of running away from everything, once, and had felt dirty and ashamed for even entertaining such thoughts.

His heart ached, but he felt better after his tirade.

James wasn't sure how his breakdown ended. One moment he was finishing another bottle of firewhiskey, and the next he was cracking his eyes open, with a dry throat from raw crying and dehydration and a throbbing headache from a massive hangover.

He blearily gazed around the Shrieking Shack, his vision a little blurry since he wasn't wearing his glasses. He noted that the four of them had all fallen asleep. Sirius was sprawled like an eagle in between Remus and Peter. The werewolf was muttering incoherent sounds underneath his breath whilst Peter tried to awaken the entire Hogsmeade village with his loud snores.

James realised he had passed out on one of the couches in the Shack. Judging from his painful neck, he'd fallen asleep at an odd angle.

"Bloody hell," he groaned, his fingers lifting towards his temples to massage his hangover away. He tried to search for the Sobering Potion Peter had promised he'd brought, but moving too much made him nauseous.

Instead, he pulled out his wand and summoned the Sobering Potion. A glass vial popped out from one of Peter's pockets and zoomed into James's hand. In three mighty gulps, he'd finished the potion and his head felt instantly better. He also conjured some water to soothe his scratchy throat.

He felt like shite and he didn't doubt he looked terrible too. He banished any evidences of his breakdown from his face and searched for his glasses.

Once the world had become clearer, James slowly stood up from the couch. He knew the blokes meant well, stealing him away from his family just to let him have his inevitable breakdown, but James had to see Hermione and Harry to make sure they were all right.

He scribbled a quick note telling them he'd gone home and with a pop, he Disapparated from the Shrieking Shack.

December 28, 1980

Hermione's eyes flew open when she heard a 'pop'. Glancing at the clock beside their bed, she noted it was only three in the morning.

Alarmed, she patted her hand underneath her pillow to grasp for her wand. Hermione briefly threw a glance at Harry in his bassinet, relieved that the infant hadn't been roused from his sleep. Her fingers brushed the wooden handle of her wand, but upon seeing James's hazel eyes in the dark room, she calmed down. "James?" she asked, voice cracking a bit because of sleep.

Her husband wordlessly padded towards their huge bed and slipped beside Hermione. Her nose wrinkled a bit, noting the smell of firewhiskey on his warm breath. "What are you doing back home?" she asked. "I wasn't expecting you back so early."

"I missed you," he whispered, pressing his face against her shoulder.

Her brows furrowed, noting how shaky his voice had become. "You're drunk," she blurted out.

He lowly chuckled, his arm around her waist tightening. "I hung out with my friends. What did you expect?" he said. He placed a brief kiss on her shoulder and added, "I already took a Sobering Potion."

Hermione lightly smiled, guessing he had had fun with his best friends tonight. James had been tense for the past few days, strangely sombre most of the time, and Hermione had wondered what he'd felt deep inside. She bloody well knew he was just putting on an act so as not to worry her, but truth be told, his shoddy pretence made her worry more.

"What shenanigans did the Marauders get up to this time?" she teased.

"We pranked Filch."

"What?"

"He didn't get hurt," he immediately added. She felt his sleepy smile against her skin, prompting her to roll her eyes. "Just some harmless fun, Whiskers." A chuckle escaped from his lips, his warm breath washing over her exposed neck. "Then we played drunken Wizard's Chess in the Shrieking Shack, like the old times. As usual, Moony was being his cranky self and Pads was incorrigible. Wormy was… he was…"

The smile on her face fell, eyes widening when she felt some moisture on her neck. It took her a few moments to realise that James had started to cry.

"James?" she worriedly asked, trying to bend her neck downwards to glance at her husband.

But James tightened his hold around her. "Please don't look at me," he whispered. "I look like shite. Just—I need a few minutes."

His breathing had turned shallow and she could feel him starting to shake.

"James…"

"I'm scared, Hermione."

Tears instantly filled her eyes at his earnest confession. "And I-I feel like shite because of what I'm feeling," he harshly spat. "I'm supposed to stay strong for you. For Harry." He pressed his face harder against her neck. "I don't know how you do it, Hermione. You are… you're amazing and brave while I'm sobbing like a cowardly buffoon and—" The words died down from his lips as he took a deep shuddering breath. "I don't deserve you."

Hermione, ever stubborn, forced him to loosen his grip around her waist until she could shift on the bed and fully face him. James was still refusing to meet her gaze, but Hermione held both of his wet cheeks and lifted his head until his hazel eyes met hers.

He wasn't exaggerating when he said he looked like shite. His eyes were puffy red, as if he'd been crying even before he'd come home. There were dark smudges underneath his shining eyes, no doubt from lack of sleep and constant worrying.

"Oh, love," she whispered, eyes filling with more tears as she gingerly brushed his tears away.

He closed his eyes in shame. "I-I'm sorry," he said. "I'm not supposed to bloody feel this way."

Hermione sighed and leant her forehead against his. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm scared too," she whispered. James slowly opened his eyes and looked at her. "Hermione Granger has already been too involved in war but this… with Harry and you, this is entirely different, and the fear is magnified a hundred times more."

She lightly pulled away to meet his swimming eyes, a small, sad smile growing on her face. "It's all right not to always feel brave," she reassured him. "Especially if it's just the two of us. You can show me how you truly feel, James. I'd rather you don't keep up pretences because they will break you in the end."

Her tears increased, remembering her Harry Potter, with emerald eyes that steadily dimmed as the war stretched on. Hermione appreciated Harry's effort to show that he was brave, especially to those who'd truly placed their trust in him, but she hated how it dehumanised him, making him broken beyond repair. She didn't want that to happen to James too.

Hermione gingerly kissed his remaining tears away and allowed him to tightly hold her until the sun had risen from the horizon, drawing as much comfort as he needed from her.

A/N: One thing the HP movies failed to emphasize was how tragic the fate of the Marauders was. Imagine that scene in DH, when Harry used the Resurrection Stone to meet his dead loved ones. I think that scene will be really painful if they showed how Harry was almost the same age his parents. I know they're a bunch of rowdy, reckless Gryffindors but I'm sure this war – and now with Hermione's dark past revealed – had forced them to grow up. They're all so, so young and it hurts my heart ahaha, hence, this long, emotionally exhausting chapter. And I really think James will be the most shaken of them four, because I've pointed out before he was the most privileged, what with his upbringing. Of course a breakdown is inevitable haha. My poor, poor James.

So… maybe there are some things that don't make sense to you anymore but hopefully they will make sense in the following chapters. It made sense to my Beta and I trust her ahaha so here's to being hopeful hehe.

See you tomorrow!

With love,
WickedlyAwesomeMe

P.S. Follow me on tumblr (kimmy-writes).