A/N: Hey Everyone! I hope you had a wonderful and happy Easter season. Here's a fresh new chapter to sink your teeth into.

xx - Kitten


All I Remember

By Kittenshift17


CHAPTER SIX


Sunday, 11th November, 1979

Hermione's Flat, Diagon Alley

By the time she finished setting up her bookshelves and the spare bed, the pizza was gone. She'd unpacked a number of her books as she wandered about, setting up the shelves and filing the books by hand while eating with her free hand. The boys had continued drinking their Firewhiskey until that was gone, too. Remus had fallen silent, for the most part. Sirius did most of the talking, regaling his friends with tales of his Auror training. Peter was snoring from the couch and James was dropping toward sleep again the more he drank as Hermione unpacked.

"Oi, Treasure?" Sirius asked softly from the couch.

Hermione turned to look at him, shoulder deep in her bag as she fished for more of her books. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"You know Undetectable Extension charms are illegal, right?" he asked, smirking.

Hermione froze. Sirius laughed at her.

"I might be willing to let it go, just this once, if you don't mind us camping over," he bargained. "Don't reckon Peter or James would get home, even if we tried to send them through the Floo."

"You want to stay here?" she asked, frowning.

"That a problem?" he asked.

Hermione darted a glance over the four of them for a moment, her eyes lingering on Remus. He watched her carefully in return, obviously still thinking himself in trouble and thinking she might throw them out because he'd annoyed her with his plan to seduce her and bail. Knowing that she needed to better befriend them and to repair the rift if she was going to survive here and going to protect them from Peter's betrayal, Hermione shrugged her shoulders.

"There's fresh sheets on the spare bed, if you want it. Blankets in the hall closet if you need them."

Sirius grinned.

"Just..." she paused, trailing her eyes over the four of them carefully. "Refrain from breaking in the new bed tonight, yeah?"

Sirius looked shocked when she looked pointedly at him before flicking her eyes at James indicatively.

"I don't swing that way, Treasure," he laughed. "Neither does Prongs."

"Really?" she challenged, raising one eyebrow. "Funny, I could've sworn you two were caught snogging under mistletoe in your fifth year."

Sirius blushed. "Shit. Heard about that, did you?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "It wasn't like that. We were stuck."

"I heard he pinned you to the wall and snogged you stupid even after the mistletoe magic broke," Hermione replied, grinning knowingly. "Don't blush. I don't care who you shag or who you fancy. Just refrain from doing it in my spare bed this evening. If anyone's breaking in the beds in my flat, it'll be me."

Remus and Sirius both stared at her, wide eyed for a moment.

"Bloody hell, witch! If that's not an offer, I might cry," Sirius admitted with a groan.

"I'll get you a handkerchief, shall I?" Hermione smirked, stacking more books on the shelves.

"You really are immune to my charms, aren't you?" Sirius said, sounding puzzled. "Don't reckon it's because of my reputation, either. Moony's almost as bad as me but you two still have enough sexual tension to choke a dragon. What's the deal? Usually witches fall into my lap."

Hermione glanced at Remus for a moment, who blushed at Sirius suggestion about their sexual tension. She looked Sirius over for a long moment.

"You're prettier than me," Hermione told him after raking her eyes up and down his reclined form.

"Love, I'm prettier than most people," Sirius grinned cockily.

"I have enough insecurities in-built with this hair without the type I'd get from comparing myself to you," Hermione shrugged. "I prefer my men rugged. Your features are so aristocratic and pretty it almost hurts to look at you."

"Yeah, but imagine the kids I'll sire," he winked.

Hermione actually laughed.

"Black if they had your looks and my hair, I'm pretty sure they'd look entirely too much like your cousin for anyone's comfort. Thanks, but I'll pass."

Sirius blinked at her words.

"Bellatrix?" he asked. "Shit. Didn't even think about that. You're right. Still though, it should be noted that you're the first witch to turn me down for my looks."

"A record I'll treasure forever," Hermione grinned impishly. "I think I'll have a plaque made to put on my mantel. Maybe buttons, too. I'll pin one to my robes every day, proudly boasting the title of 'First Witch to turn down Sirius Black because he's too pretty'."

Sirius was laughing, shaking his head at her.

"Moony?" he asked.

"Mmm?" Remus hummed.

"I reckon this one's trouble," Sirius told him. "I'm not sure we can trust someone impervious to my charms."

"Why? I'm impervious to them. So are Wormtail and Prongs."

"Mmm, that's why I don't reckon we can trust her," Sirius said and Remus snorted. "Even Evans isn't impervious to my charms. This one's trouble. Wily, I reckon. And she's delighted to have turned me down for a shag. Cheeky, that is."

Hermione couldn't help laughing at him as he watched her.

"She snogs like the devil, too," Remus told him.

"Oi! Don't taunt me with knowledge of something I'll never have, mate. It's rude."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Go to bed, Pads. You're plonkered."

"Am not," Sirius argued.

"Spare room, you said?" Remus asked, slanting a glance at her.

"Across from mine," Hermione nodded. "Take Potter in there, too. The bed's big enough."

"James will squeal if he wakes up with me spooning him again," Sirius told her, grinning impishly as he attempted to get to his feet and failed, slumping back against the couch when his drunken legs didn't want to cooperate.

"Just don't shag him in that bed until I break it in, Sirius," Hermione laughed, offering him her hand to pull him to his feet. She steered him down the hall while Remus got up and began levitating James down the corridor as the stag-animagus snored on.

"It was one snog, woman! One! And it meant less than fuck all. I prefer girls and Prongs is so mad for Evans that I doubt he'll ever shag anyone but her. So, leave off with the suggestions that I'm nailing my best mate, yeah?

"You need an extra blanket?" she asked of Sirius rather than acknowledging his words. She knew both men were straight. She just liked flaunting the knowledge she had of their snog - Sirius had drunkenly shared it with her one night before he'd died - as it helped make her tale of attending Hogwarts with them more believable.

"If you've got one," he nodded. "Prongs steals the covers. And that quilt won't cover three. Unless you're inviting Moony in with you?"

Hermione hid her eagerness for that idea, even if she had gotten annoyed with Remus for that very notion earlier.

"Unlikely, Pads. She's put out with me for snogging her under false pretences."

"Ulterior motive doesn't negate the attraction sparking between you two," Sirius argued.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You know what? Put James in mine and you two can giggle and gossip in the spare," Hermione told them, doubting they'd want to all cram into the small double bed and not trusting herself with the idea of sleeping next to Remus, even without shagging him first.

"Oi, now Treasure… There's no need to get your wand in a knot over our need to ensure you weren't a Death Eater."

"You already knew I wasn't a Death Eater after accosting me in the shop, Sirius," Hermione argued with him. "You'd already seen my scars."

"Had to make sure," Sirius shrugged. "Your story doesn't add up. You might've been an imposter, posing as the girl I met today."

"The next time you doubt me, why don't you just ask, rather than hurling two hundred pounds of animal magnetism at me and then dashing my hopes with a cold splash of reality?" Hermione retorted. She heard Remus stumble slightly at her blunt description of him and her hurt feelings at being honey-potted.

"Well now, where's the fun in that?" Sirius wanted to know. "You realise James will literally wake up screaming if I put him in with you, right? And Evans will get her wand in a knot if she finds out."

"Do you actually imagine me molesting the poor bloke?" Hermione scoffed. "With that hair? Please."

Sirius sniggered.

"Do it, Moony," he said. "Pop James in Granger's bed, I can't wait to see his reaction in the morning."

"He'll kill us," Remus protested.

"Well, it's either put him in with her or squeeze the three of us into the spare bed, mate," Sirius shrugged. "She's cranky and not going to let you crawl in with her. And she doesn't trust me."

"It's fine. I'll just sleep on the couch," Remus muttered.

"Nah, I want to see James panic in the morning. Here, help me get his shirt off, would you?" Sirius was smirking and sniggering as he peeled James out of his shirt without waking the wizard. He pulled his glasses from his nose, too, setting them on the side table. Hermione found herself staring in open-mouthed shock to learn that James Potter had a tattoo. A huge one. Taking up the full expanse of his back was a silhouette tattoo of a rat, inside a dog, inside a stag, inside a werewolf. Just the heads of each animal, except the rat, the Werewolf and the dog were done in black ink, the stag and the rat left skin-coloured, but their shapes were nonetheless distinguishable. The four Marauder forms, all right there on his back. The werewolf howled, the tip of his snout reaching the first thoracic vertebrae at the base of James's neck and the rat sitting right in the spot where girls usually got a tramp-stamp.

She wished, as she stared at the tattoo, that Harry was here to see this. The tattoo, his Dad shit-faced, his godfather and Remus similarly intoxicated and obviously finding the practical joke of putting a dedicated James into bed with a woman, not his girlfriend, to be utterly hilarious. Harry would be wide-eyed with surprise and happiness at the sight, she knew. The pang of missing her best friend hit her hard and it occurred to her, belatedly, that in the time she'd left, Remus had been the one aching for friends he'd lost. In this time, that would be her cross to bear instead and she felt a wave melancholy crash over her at the thought.

Sirius was too busy sniggering as he stuffed his best mate into bed, but Remus picked up on her shift in mood almost instantly. He raised one eyebrow at her, his shoulder propped in the doorway. Hermione pretended not to see, squashing down the urge she suddenly had for someone to give her a big hug. Instead, she turned back to the hall cupboard and fetched a spare blanket to put on the end of the spare bed.

When she was done, she made for the bathroom, not bothering to say goodnight to either young man before closing the door so she could strip and shower. The notion that the four Marauders were sleeping in her flat with her for the night amused and alarmed her in equal measure as she washed her hair. When she got out of the shower, Hermione stared at her reflection in the mirror.

She still looked tired and too skinny. The effects of the war hung upon her face and her regrets seemed to dance in her eyes. Honestly, she wouldn't even mind letting Remus have her now if it would shut off the crashing waves of despair and longing to see her own best friends again. Seeing the Marauders so young and so carefree hurt a part of her that she hadn't known existed, not only for Harry, but for herself too. She tried to imagine, for a moment, the life she might've had if she hadn't time-travelled and if Peter had never betrayed his friends. Would she have been invited to James and Lily's place to visit Harry at the holidays? Would she sit across the dining table from Remus and Sirius, either or both of them dragging a bimbo along with them whilst coyly flirting with her just to watch her blush?

She didn't doubt she'd still have had a crush on Remus. How could she not? The man was too... everything. Too sexy. Too wild. Too dangerous. Too barely-restrained. Too funny. Too kind. Too sweet. Her lips were still tingling from the kisses they'd traded, and she didn't know if she should be offended or grateful that he'd broken the kiss to ensure she wasn't an imposter. The reminder of who and what he was in this time ate at her. She craved him desperately, but she recalled with too much clarity that Remus had once confessed to only shagging girls in his youth for the sake of placating Moony, never risking more than a night or two with a girl before moving on because he didn't want anyone to figure out his secret and he didn't like for anyone to see his scars.

Not that she blamed him, exactly, but she didn't want to be on the long list of the girls he shagged and ditched. She wanted to be the one who would snag his heart and convince him that his condition meant nothing to her. She wanted him forever, not just for one night. And she would get him, even if it killed her. But not tonight. Smoothing a hand through her curls, Hermione sighed before fishing into her beaded bag for her pyjamas. Aware that she might encounter all four Marauders in the morning, she donned one of the Bulgarian Quidditch team jerseys she'd pinched from Viktor when she'd briefly dated him. She'd almost pulled on one of Harry's old ones, but she didn't want to risk having the boys see the name Potter on it. That would, undoubtedly, raise a few questions. That being said, if they followed the Bulgarian league, they'd be confused by the name Krum stamped across her shoulders, but she didn't care. Pairing it with a pair of blue bed-shorts, Hermione used a towel to squeeze the water out of her hair as she left the bathroom.

She was nowhere near ready to sleep yet, despite the need to be up and heading to work in a little under six hours. Heading for her tiny kitchen, Hermione pottered about, making a cup of tea for herself and unpacking more of the items she had stored away in her bag from their camping trip. It would need a good clean out, now that she was here, but she wanted to ensure she would always have all of the essentials with her, just in case.

She barely thought about it as she mindlessly made lunch for herself and for all four of the Marauders in preparation for the following day. She doubted they would have time or feel well enough in the morning to make anything for themselves and they would all need to be out the door early. It never occurred to her how odd that might seem in the morning as she bagged them all up and labelled them with a marker, so used to feeding Harry and Ron that it was second nature.

With lunch handled, she puttered about, noting that Peter looked extremely uncomfortable on the couch. She wondered if he was a traitor yet. Part of her wanted to attack him, but she wouldn't risk it. Not yet. Not when she might instead influence him away from joining the Death Eaters. Not when it might cost her Remus. Sighing, and going against her better judgement, Hermione fetched a spare pillow and a spare blanket from the hall closet and brought them back to him.

He woke with a lurch when she touched him to lift his head, his hand jerking his wand from his pocket and his eyes wide. She smiled gently.

"Sorry to wake you," she murmured. "Here."

She pushed the pillow under his head.

"Why are you being nice to me?" he asked suspiciously, slurring slightly and obviously still drunk, but alert enough to fret.

Hermione blinked at the question.

"Have you given me reason not to be nice to you, Peter?" Hermione asked in return even as she shook out the blanket and spread it over him. "Is there some reason you think that, perhaps, you might not deserve to have someone be nice to you?"

He narrowed his beady little eyes on her for a moment, trying to figure her out.

"Where are my friends?" he asked, rather than answering her.

"James is passed out in my bed. Remus and Sirius are in the spare. There's probably room there if you'd prefer to crawl in with them."

He shook his head.

"They both bark into their sleep," he muttered more to himself than to her. "Why's Prongs with you?"

"Sirius thinks it will be funny in the morning when he wakes up next to someone who isn't Lily," Hermione shrugged.

Peter snorted.

"Will be," he murmured. "Thanks for the pillow."

Hermione nodded, watching his eyes drifting closed again. He fell back to sleep quickly, and Hermione again had to fight the urge to murder him. It would be so easy. A soft curse and he'd never betray his friends. Shaking her head and clenching her fist to herself as she moved away from him, she told herself she'd just have to keep an eye on him whenever possible.

Glancing around her flat, Hermione nibbled her bottom lip. She felt full of restless energy despite the alcohol slowly clearing her system and despite the fact that it was nearly one in the morning. Knowing there was little left that she could unpack right then and not wanting to do something that would wake the boys, Hermione tossed up between reading a book or working on her defence moves. She needed to stay sharp, and reading wouldn't burn off her energy, though duelling would likely mean she'd need another shower before work in the morning. Frowning to herself before shrugging, Hermione pulled her hair up into a ponytail and let herself into the training room she'd made out of the third bedroom.

Tucking her beaded bag into the waistband of her shorts, Hermione charmed the three dummies in the room to attack her with Stinging jinxes so that she would know where her guard was down. Barefoot, she began to duel, flicking hexes and sending the dummies reeling as quickly as she could. They flung hexes at her every chance they had and soon she was ducking, weaving, rolling and panting, trying to catch her breath and running purely on the adrenaline.

Slipping into a state of hyper-alertness, Hermione slashed vicious hexes at the dummies, having charmed them repair themselves and continue attacking after a moment whenever they went down. She flung Slicing hexes, Stinging jinxes, Entrail-Expelling curses and Dolohov's famed fire-curse that had left the starburst of purple blazed across her chest. After surviving it, she had done all she could to learn it for herself. Sweat poured off her, her breath growing ragged and her limbs beginning to shake the longer she fought. She kept at it, hissing and grunting every time she caught a Stinging hex, until she could barely lift her arm.

When she was getting hit more often than she was firing back, Hermione cancelled the spell, ending the training session to lean against the wall tiredly. Merlin, she needed sleep. She needed rest and peace and the chance to simply disappear into a book and never come out again, if she was being honest.

But there was no time for such things. She was at war. Here, in this time, she was at war against the clock and against Fate. She needed to circumvent as many bad things as she could. She knew, too, that for everything she altered, the timeline and the fate of the world would change. Every person saved would continue to affect their surroundings instead of ceasing to exist. Every life saved was another to weave a more complex pattern in the fabric of the world.

Hermione knew that, but she would do it, just the same. She would save those she could and if she lost those who mattered most to her, she would spin back the clock once more and let it play out all over again, altering different things until she was satisfied with the result. Plan firmly in mind and her body aching from the number of Stinging hexes she'd taken, Hermione caught her breath and pushed slowly away from the wall.

She nearly hexed Remus stupid when she found him leaning in the doorway, watching her.