Chapter 82: Canes Pugnaces*
31 March 1980
#0107 Bellume St.
"Oh brilliant, you both are here, too." Peter strode into Headquarters with his head high and a note from Dumbledore clutched in his hand. He held it up as James and Sirius joined his side. "What do you reckon Dumbledore needs us for?"
"No idea." James clapped him on the shoulder in greeting. "His message sounded serious though."
"Whatever it is, I hope it won't take long." Sirius craned his neck to try to catch a view of the grandfather clock in the hallway.
"Mate, we've still got a few hours before the moon'll hit 'em," James said. "Whatever Dumbledore need from us, it didn't seem exactly urgent."
"I just hate not being there for moons."
"But it's war." Peter rolled his eyes. "And-and Dumbledore asked for us specifically. Surely they know this is more important."
"Important or no, I just—I don't like missing moons, okay."
Peter didn't respond. They were missing the point, clearly. Merlin's sake, if they could stop thinking about the werewolves for a fucking second. They'd been called upon by Dumbledore. Them. Dumbledore needed them for something, something important. He had chosen them. Peter shook his head. They'd shake off this distraction once Dumbledore told them the mission. They'd forget about the moon and focus on the three of them, what they needed to do.
"Ah, yes, here you are." The Headmaster appeared from around the corner. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."
"Are you sending us off on a mission, sir?" Peter puffed out his chest and lifted his chin. Yes, the mistakes of the Samhain attack had been forgotten, but his bravery and willingness to fight had obviously been noticed.
"No, no, quite the opposite, in fact."
Peter's body immediately stilled. A shadow crossed his eyes and his upper lip twitched. Dumbledore gestured toward the kitchen, his eyes turning to James and Sirius.
"Come, let's have some tea. It's a rare moment to have a quiet day in this house. Best to enjoy it while it lasts."
They followed the Headmaster where he led, standing awkwardly in wait just beyond the doorway as Dumbledore opened a cabinet, rooting around for a moment before pulling out a tin crudely marked A. Moody. "Best not, don't you think?" He winked at the trio and put the tin back before pulling out another box of tea. With a wave of his wand, the kettle set to brewing, and Dumbledore sat at the kitchen table, waiting for the others to join him.
"Sir," James began as he tore his eyes from the kettle to stare at the Headmaster. He sat down. "If there's no mission, what exactly do you need?"
"Oh, but there is a mission, my dear boy." Dumbledore pursed his lips into a sad smile. "The attacks of the Death Eaters are growing more violent and more widespread. We are but a small company of those who are determined to fight for the Light. I am afraid we will need all the help we can get in the coming times."
"If the mission isn't for us, sir, who is it for?"
Teacups settled in front of them all. Sugar and milk drifting around, waiting to be plucked from the air. Peter pushed his cup to the side.
"Miss Granger and Mr. Lupin."
"What?" Sirius and Peter spoke in unison.
"Them?" Peter questioned further. "But they-they don't fight."
Sirius nodded along, his brows furrowed. "Sir, they—of course, they're plenty capable, but Remus is a strategist. And-and Hermione—"
"It must be them, I'm afraid." The Headmaster took a long sip of tea before speaking again. "Voldemort—" The boys tried to hide their twitches at the name. "—has been pursuing other allies, dangerous allies. We can no longer be complacent in our numbers. We must do the same to recruit for the Light."
"And who exactly will they be recruiting?" James looked at Sirius whose eyes had widened in understanding.
Sirius looked at his brother, his heart in his throat. He breathed, forced his mind to settle before turning to Dumbledore. "Werewolves. You want them to seek out other werewolves."
James' face flashed between emotions. Peter remained quiet. Dumbledore only nodded.
"Yes," his voice was oddly calming. "We have limited intelligence on the known werewolf packs, but they are secluded and distrustful of outsiders. They also have the potential to be a powerful ally, or a ruthless enemy. It is imperative that Voldemort does not gain this upper hand."
"Will it be dangerous?" Sirius finally voiced the question that had been sinking his heart.
"I have the utmost faith in our young lycanthropes."
"Sir—"
"It may indeed be dangerous." Dumbledore viewed Sirius over the edge of his glasses. "Werewolves isolate by nature, and we are asking Hermione and Remus to breech established packs. They themselves are unconnected through pack bonds. There is no way to know how they will be received."
"Then we should go with them."
Dumbledore held up a hand. "I'm afraid that won't be possible. As dangerous as it may be sending two werewolves to meet the packs, it would almost ensure catastrophe to send them on with someone unafflicted with the curse."
Roots of anxiety stretched their way through Sirius' body. "When do they leave?"
"Immediately. It is crucial that they start reaching the packs as soon as possible." Dumbledore started to herd them toward the front of the house again. "In this fight against the dark, we need all the help we can get."
"But—"
"We understand. Thank you, Professor." James grabbed Sirius' sleeve and pulled him along. Peter followed behind, looking like he wanted to say something, but he remained quiet. When the three reached the fireplace in the front room, they turned to Dumbledore one last time.
"I must insist you do not return to your home until tomorrow, Sirius." Dumbledore's voice was soft but stern. He leveled Sirius with a knowing look before passing his eyes over James and Peter as well. "They will have to face the coming full moons on their own, with no friendly help. You would only be doing them a disservice."
The trio stood in silence as the Headmaster exited the room. Sirius eyed the floo as if he was moments from throwing himself through it to rejoin his friends at the Shelter. Peter's head was angled down and his jaw was clenched.
"You heard the Professor," James sighed. "You're welcome to come to the house. Lily's home, and I know she'd love to see you both."
"Yeah, thanks, mate. I, er, think that's probably best." Sirius took a handful of powder and stepped into the fireplace. "Potter Manor," he called out before disappearing in a burst of green flame.
"Okay, well I guess we'll see him there, then." James shook his head but managed a smile. "Pete, you coming?"
Peter's throat felt like it had closed over. His lip curled and he shook his head. "No." The muscles in his chin twitched. "Think I'll head home. No need to stick around, right?"
"Sure, mate," James shrugged. "Whatever you want." He opened his mouth to speak again to his friend, to try to convince him to join them for a moonlit vigil, but Peter was already gone.
Potter Manor
"Pete's not comin', so it's just us," James called into the house as he stepped through the floo.
"In here, love!" Lily shouted back. James followed the sounds of her voice mixed with Sirius' until he found them seated around the fireplace in the den.
"—but just the two of them?" Lily was saying when James reached them.
"I know." Sirius shook his head. "I don't know what Dumbledore is thinking."
"Mate," James started before pressing a kiss to Lily's head. "He's Dumbledore. He knows what he's doing. We have to trust him. If he thinks Moony and Pup can do this, then they can."
"We don't know anything about these packs. How many are there? Who's in charge? We need more time to-to research, to set a plan. It's too soon. That's what it is, it's too soon and we're not ready."
"Oh, Sirius." Lily reached out to lay a hand over his. "It's not a we, it's them."
"No," he grimaced, shaking his head. "No, no, no. It's a bad plan."
"Sirius." James' tone was warning.
"No, I know. Fuck, I know. It's Dumbledore. Of course, he's right. I just—I just—"
"It's us, mate. Spit it out. We can talk it through."
Sirius dropped his head in his hands unwilling to look his friends in their faces. "Fuck." He breathed harshly, his memories running wild. "Fuck." He picked his head up to meet James' eyes. "The last time, you remember? The last time Pup went through disruptive moons?"
"Mate—"
"And they'll be alone?" Sirius rose to his feet and started to pace. "You know who runs one of those packs, don't you? The fucking—the fucking motherfucker who bit Remus." Lily gasped. "Yeah, that's right, love. Dumbledore's asking Remus to fucking meet his maker."
The small swell of fear James had been burying inside rose up in his chest. He grabbed Lily's hand to ground himself.
"And Pup?" Sirius laughed darkly. "She's never even told us how she turned, or-or what happened to that werewolf mentor she had. For all we know, Fenrir bloody Greyback turned them both. For-for all we know, he could have some fucked up alpha wolf pull over them."
"Sirius—"
"No, I can't—and they're at home right now. Waiting for me. Waiting for us." He dropped back into the chair in defeat. "But of course we won't be there. Because Dumbledore asked. And Dumbledore's always right."
The air in the den stilled, Sirius' anger dissipating in a sudden wave of exhaustion. Lily loosed the tight grip she'd taken over James' hand. She took a breath and stood, moving to the small chest of drawers behind the couch. She moved around to Sirius' side, kneeling beside him and placing a small stack of parchment and a quill in his lap.
"Let them know you're not coming, Sirius." Her voice was soft and warm and kept the anger inside of him still. "They are strong, the both of them. We know it. Dumbledore knows it. They know it. And we will worry and fret until they come back, but they will come back." She held out the quill for him to take. "Let them know you'll miss tonight, but you will see them in the morning. They may be going off on a mission just the two of them, but as long as they have people here who love them, they will never ever be truly alone."
The Flat above Ancient & Antiquated
Peter started destroying things the second he stepped into his apartment. He threw books, scattered furniture, smashed plates. He lifted a glass, cocking back his elbow before he finally realized what he was doing. He pulled the cup into his chest and looked out at the mess he'd made. They weren't worth this.
Peter lit a few candles to light the place before stepping to the counter in his kitchen, rooting around empty bottles and rotting food to locate whatever remnants of alcohol remained in his possession. Finding a few unfinished bottles, Peter dumped their contents into the cup before bringing it to his lips. He coughed and sputtered. The mixture was rough, harsh and disgusting. He forced himself to drink again. It was fine. He could take it. He lifted the cup to catch a bit of light from the burning flames, a bit of dried blood still clung to the grooves in the edge. He drank again. This time he swallowed easily.
With the heavy rush of whiskey flooding his system, Peter's thoughts turned back to events at Headquarters. What a fucking waste of time. Dumbledore had called him to the house to-to what? Tell him he'd been overlooked again? Tell him he wasn't needed and should in fact stay out of the way? What the fuck was going on? Peter caught a look at himself in the reflection of a mirror. He thought about throwing the cup at it, breaking apart his visage, but his hand stayed clamped on the stem. He drank again and stepped up to the mirror.
"Take a good look, Pete. Take a good look at what you've become." He watched himself drink again from the cup. His eye twitched. He laughed at his reflection. "This the life you always thought you'd lead?"
A deep thud echoed out as if to affirm his trail of thoughts.
"That's right," he sneered, pointing the cup at his mirror self, whiskey sloshing over the side. "You tied yourself to a group of bastards who couldn't care about you any less."
Another bang.
He licked up a line of whiskey running down the edge of his hand and stumbled back toward the kitchen. There had to be more left, more whiskey. He emptied bottles over the cup, not even caring if anything fell out.
The thud came again. Knocking, it would seem. "Go away," he muttered as he drank again.
What a joke. What a laugh. His life. His friends. Him. A joke. Nothing. Pathetic.
Didn't he deserve more?
The banging on the shop door downstairs rang out louder and a creak of weakening wood broke Peter out of his thoughts. His vision blurred for a moment. Merlin, was he drunk already? His head rushed as he rose to his feet, scampering about the room toward the door that led downstairs. The banging continued as he swore under his breath. How many curses could he come up with to inflict on these intruders? By the seventh, he had made it down the stairs to the shop door. He wrenched it open, his wand out and aimed at whomever he'd find on the other side.
Two figures shifted to eclipse the streetlight. Peter swallowed thickly as he stared up at the faces of Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange.
"I told you we'd be back." Rodolphus's lip curled in a mephisophelian smirk. "Where's the cup, Pettigrew?"
A greedy flame lit in Peter's chest as his mind skittered upstairs to the messy apartment, the candles still burning, and the golden chalice holding the last few drops of his whiskey.
The Shelter
"They're not coming." Remus handed Hermione the letter that James' owl had just dropped off. She batted it away.
"It's Dumbledore, isn't it? Bloody—"
"Don't say that."
"But it is." Hermione sank into her chair, closing her eyes.
"Well, yes, but I'm sure there's a good reason."
"It's not fair, Remus." Damn it, she wouldn't cry. She wouldn't.
"I know."
"What if something happens to them—"
"I know."
"—and we can't fucking do anything—"
"I know."
"—because we're fucking werewolves—"
"Hermione! I know!" Remus' voice grabbed her attention, the Alpha surging forward to comfort, protect. When Hermione opened her eyes, he had knelt before her, his hands coming up to cradle her face. A warmth surrounded her, rooted in her shoulder and weighing down her anxieties. Remus wiped a thumb across her cheek, catching a fallen tear. "Believe me, I know."
They spent the next few hours in a fragile silence, stuck to each other's sides but unwilling to speak to the feelings plaguing them. They went outside early and sat under the big tree, eyes somewhat hooded as they watched the grounds, the house, and the sky. Their minds had wandered so far from their bodies that they started to slip into the change well before the pain broke through. And as a call and response of howls filled the spring night air, miles away a shaggy dog paced in front of a fireplace, counting down the hours.
1 April 1980
The Shelter
When they woke up, Hermione and Remus were crowded together on top of the blankets they had strewn about under the big tree. As the chill of the new morning set in, they nestled their way underneath, wrapping themselves in blankets and cuddling closer, not for warmth but for comfort.
Eyes closed, they stretched under the sun, moving and shifting to find warmer patches of grass. Their arms and legs extended to wake up their muscles, heads burrowing back into the blankets beneath them. Deep sighs exhaled from their chests before they picked their heads up, blinking their eyes to adjust to the day. Catching each other's gaze, Hermione and Remus readjusted, pulling at edges of blankets to settle further back into the remnants of sleep. Remus yawned. Hermione wrinkled her nose as she tried to avoid contagiously copying him. They traded off slipping back into a light slumber and blinking out at the early morning world. And when they finally did start to make their way back to the house, it wasn't like the mornings with the rest of the pack where they rushed to reconnect with their humanity. Instead, they spoke in grunts and growls, sniffs and touches, Hermione trailing behind Remus and getting caught underfoot as they gathered food from around the kitchen.
They sat down, and just as their animal influences finally began to fade and settle in the background, the floo erupted. Heads perked, ears trained on the sound, they turned with eyes wide and ready to greet Sirius. But it wasn't Sirius who had arrived.
Stepping forth with sure footing and pausing just to brush away the ash clinging to the edges of his robes, Albus Dumbledore stepped into the Shelter for the first time.
All at once, Pup surged back into Hermione's mind and she took a step in front of Remus. The only notice Dumbledore deigned to give her was a slight twitch in his eyebrow. He nodded at them before stepping toward the little kitchen.
Hermione's heart lurched. "Where's Sirius?" She could feel Remus stiffen behind her. "Is he okay?"
"Yes, yes, he is completely well and fine." Dumbledore angled his gaze as if he was speaking to a child. "I have only asked him to give me a moment of time."
The two werewolves let themselves relax, although Hermione maintained her stance between Remus and Dumbledore.
"Fascinating," he said, his eyes darting about behind his half-moon glasses as he surveyed their home.
"What's fascinating?" Hermione couldn't help the slight snarl of her lip. Remus cleared his throat behind her. She almost rolled her eyes. "Sir?"
Dumbledore's eyes returned to them. "We see you in your robes and house colors in the shadows of the castle, but once you leave those halls, you create such wonderful spaces for yourselves in this world. It has always fascinated me to see the way our students craft their lives outside of Hogwarts."
Remus looked around the Shelter, one half proud, one half humbled at the home they'd created. Hermione's eyes never left the Headmaster.
"Professor," she said, using the title only for Remus' benefit. "Can I ask what brings you to our home?"
Dumbledore stepped fully into the light of the kitchen. From the folds of his robes, he produced two gleaming healing potions. From their sight, Hermione could tell they were well brewed, expensive, and definitely not the sort they had on hand for themselves. Her traitorous mouth watered at the relief it promised. Remus likewise was torn between keeping his eyes on Dumbledore and greedily staring down the potions.
"Please." Dumbledore held them out toward Hermione and Remus, nodding at them in permission. "I imagine you both had a rough night."
They downed the potions quickly, sighing at the blissful relief as the aches in their muscles faded, the pounding in their head released, and their energy began to return to their bodies once more. It was only when the rush faded did Hermione remember Albus Dumbledore never did anything for free.
She turned back to the Headmaster, eyes narrowed but focused on keeping the edge out of her voice. "You've come to ask us for something, haven't you?"
"Unfortunately, I have, Miss Granger." Regret tinged his words, but Hermione knew he was merely playing at the part of reluctant leader.
"Of course," Remus wiped at his mouth. "What can we do for you, Headmaster?"
She should have known. In hindsight, it should have been obvious. She knew Remus had spent some time during the first war trying to convince the packs to join the Light's cause. Now here she was, another werewolf in the Order. Of course, she would be sent along with him.
But what she did know was that it didn't work. The werewolves didn't join up and fight alongside the Order. In fact, it was probably the seed that grew into the suspicion that surrounded Remus later in the war. And now she was being thrown into it, too. Hermione narrowed her eyes. What was Dumbledore's angle? Did he really think this would work? Did he trust them? Her? Or was he merely trying to get them out of the way, get her out of the way?
As Hermione's thoughts crowded her head, Remus said his goodbyes to Dumbledore and headed up the stairs with a purpose-driven spring in his step. The creaks of drawers opening and clothes being thrown around waved away Hermione's distraction. Eyes darting toward the ceiling above, she stepped away from Dumbledore to grab her wand. He was saying something to her, but she paid him no mind as she waved out a muffliato to cover them.
The Headmaster must have noticed the shift in the air as his body started slightly before he turned away toward the fireplace.
"Why are you really sending us away?" Hermione grabbed onto Dumbledore's wrist as he reached for floo powder. "You know they'll never join you. I think they're more likely to abstain from picking a side than siding with you."
For a moment, Dumbledore just stared at her hand on his before stepping back to face her fully. "To act, even at the risk of failing, is bravery indeed, Miss Granger."
"Don't Miss Granger me." Pup growled from the depths of her throat. "This is a fool's errand."
"Are you refusing to go, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore's eyes looked pointedly toward the stairs. "Remus has already given his word."
"Of course, I'm going to go. For him. Not for you."
"Then I suppose that's that, and there's nothing more to discuss."
Hermione could only steel her jaw as Dumbledore disappeared amongst the flames.
Sirius returned to Hermione and Remus packing. Dumbledore had given Remus a small dossier of information on the packs. It was thin, thinner than any of them were comfortable with, but they refused to voice their worries to each other. If they didn't voice it, it wasn't real, and they could pretend everything would be okay.
They spent the rest of the day packing and planning, leaning over the meager information Dumbledore had provided to come up with some semblance of a plan. They didn't talk about Sirius missing the moon. They didn't talk about the moons to come. They didn't talk about Greyback or their pasts. They focused on the mission at hand.
But when the sun set and the residents of the Shelter parted ways, they couldn't stop their minds from drifting once more to the fears, the dangers, and the possible revelations yet to come.
"Don't go." Sirius had slipped into Hermione's room almost as soon as she had settled herself under her covers. He crawled into bed behind her, spooning her body with his own.
"I have to." Her hand found his and clutched it tight to her chest.
"I know," he sighed into her hair, whispering against the curls taking over the pillow. "But I had to ask anyway. I know you have to do this. I get it. I understand. Just—just as long as you come straight back to me when you're done."
"Sirius, I—"
He shifted, pulling Hermione's shoulder until she turned to face him. "The second something seems off or too dangerous, come home. I mean it."
"I promise." It was easier in the dark to promise.
His eyes fell to the freckles across her cheeks down to her lips. Hermione wet them, suddenly heated under his attention. Sirius moved slowly, sitting up on one arm before leaning closer to her. His gaze returned to her eyes, just watching her expression until his own fluttered shut as their lips met.
They'd shared kisses before. Many kisses. Some sweet and loving, some hungry and fierce. But this one just about broke Hermione. Sirius consumed her. He nipped at her lip before soothing it with his tongue. His hand fisted at the nape of her neck, pulling at her hair so deliciously. His other hand fell to her hip, gripping it like a lifeline. Hermione found power over her body again and reached back for Sirius, kissing him back. To someone who didn't know him, the strength behind his grip and the pressure to his lips may have seemed hungry, lustful and needy, but as the taste of Sirius was marred by the salt of her tears, Hermione knew that wasn't what this was. The same kiss didn't taste of sweetness or hunger or fire, but of hope.
Sirius panted against her skin, burning where he touched her as he peppered kisses across her mouth, her jaw, her neck. As the fire cooled into a steady flame, he started whispering into her hair. Hermione didn't know if it was meant for her, or if he just had to get the words out.
"I just—I—Fuck. There's so much I want to say to you, Pup."
"Sirius, you know this isn't like that. It's not goodbye." She reached for his face, forcing him to face her as she cradled him.
He turned to kiss her palms, a kiss on each hand, and when he met her eyes again, there was an apprehension that scalded her heart. He kissed her again, taking her lips hard enough to leave bruises blooming in his absence. "I love you." He kissed her again, breathing into her the breath he'd stolen. "You don't have to say anything. And-and I think you already knew, but I just needed to say it."
Hermione closed her eyes, realizing then that she had known for a while now. Her eyes stayed shut as he kissed her cheeks and forehead.
"Open your eyes, Pup. Please." His voice was almost begging. Hermione shook her head. He whispered this time. "Come on, Pup. Just for a second."
So she did. Hermione opened her eyes for a total of three seconds. And for those three seconds, she held onto her control as hard as she could. She could see a fraying rope in her mind, and as each second ticked by, no matter how hard she focused, the rope frayed even more.
But for those three seconds, Hermione stared deep into Sirius' eyes. She watched sparks of gold dance out from the edges of her periphery and spread a faint golden light on the man in front of her. She took him in for a moment before letting out the breath she was holding. And then her eyes were shut again.
Sirius placed a kiss feather-light over each eye before removing himself from Hermione's bed. His tongue darted out to taste the salt of her tears. Hermione opened her eyes again and watched him head toward the door. "I better go, I think. I—If I stay too long, I'm going to—I don't want to cheapen your last night before you go, Pup."
She immediately felt the missing space beside her, but she nodded nonetheless.
"Remember, Pup, you promised." Sirius' tone was grave. "You promised you'll come back when you're done. Don't forget."
"I won't forget, Sirius."
2 April 1980
The Shelter
"I'm here!" Peter's voice came from within the house as the noise of the floo died down.
"We're out front, mate!" James called back, as he turned back to Hermione and Remus. "And you're sure, you have everything you need?"
"We've already gone over this twice." Remus smiled down at Hermione. "Pup's got it all figured out. It's all in that little bag of hers."
Hermione managed a smile as her hands gripped the strap of her beaded bag. Remus' brows furrowed, but Peter's emergence from the house served as a decent distraction.
"Sorry, I'm late."
"Fuck, Pete, you look like shit." The words were out before James could stop them, but it was true. Peter's hair was raggy and there were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes.
"Well, thanks. Appreciate it." Peter grumbled as he joined the little group. "Had, er, a rough night of sleep. Too much activity in the Alley."
Lily turned to Remus and Hermione, fussing over them and running through a checklist of anything they might need. James smiled at the scene before he turned to Peter, his grin falling into a concerned frown.
"Ever think about moving, Pete? Might be quieter? Safer, too, probably."
"Hmm, yeah, I suppose," Peter responded before muttering under his breath, "but not all of us have family manors laying around to inherit."
"What?"
"Nothing, mate."
"I just can't believe you're leaving!" Lily interrupted the moment, pouting at the werewolf pair as she burrowed into James' side.
"It's Dumbledore's request," Remus said, a hint of pride in his voice. "We couldn't say no even if we wanted to."
"You can't leave us. We'll never survive without you!" James laughed but clung on tighter to his wife.
"James' right," Sirius said, emerging from the Shelter. "We're not going to last a day without you two."
Hermione couldn't help but blush at his appearance. "You'll do just fine." She blinked and looked back at Lily and James. "Listen, the sooner we leave, the sooner we'll be back here."
"Don't take too long." Lily pulled herself from James to hug Remus and Hermione.
"We'll do our best."
Hermione's heart darkened for a moment. "Believe me, I'm already dying to come back."
Her voice broke a bit as her words died off. The shake and crackle noticed by everyone. Sirius took a step towards her. James and Lily shared a knowing look, and even Peter picked his head up. It reminded each of them in that moment that the two werewolves weren't just setting off on another adventure. This wasn't sneaking out to Hogsmeade. It wasn't a moonlit stroll within the protected grounds of Hogwarts. It was dangerous, deadly. They would be on their own with no contact to their friends. And they weren't guaranteed to come back.
James stepped forward, reaching out to pull in pack members into a grand embrace. It was uncomfortable and limbs were tweaked and twisted, but it was needed. The weight of bodies against her steeled Hermione enough to keep from crying. When they finally pulled back, Remus moved down the path, waiting. Sirius lingered back, and Hermione hated to admit that despite their goodbye the night before, she felt disappointed he wasn't stuck by her side.
"Be safe." He muttered, nodding at her before shaking his head and striding toward her. "Don't wander off." Her eyes softened as he stepped closer. "Don't do anything stupid." His hand twitched at his side.
"Same to you." She could only manage a whisper.
He reached out, taking a final step forward and stroking his thumb across the scar by her eye. "Don't forget your promise." She nodded. He straightened, seemingly realizing their friends were watching. James smirked. Sirius looked back at Hermione. "Fuck it."
His hand slid to the back of her neck as he crowded into her space. Hermione had only a moment to realize what he was about to do before he descended on her. For just a heartbeat, she thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he pulled her into him, clutching her tight to his chest as if he could stain himself into her skin. His face buried itself in her hair as unintelligible whispers tumbled forth. His arms held the words barely spoken.
Hermione clenched her eyes as tightly as she could. Her voice in her throat, she managed just a few words. "I do, too, Sirius."
He froze, just for a second to process her words before pulling back just enough to press a kiss into her forehead.
Then, forehead to forehead, they held each other before Hermione broke the moment. She stepped away from him and grabbed Remus. "Well," she forced a laugh as she looked at Lily, James and Peter. "I guess we'd better be off then." She turned and headed toward the little gate, each step feeling like a step closer to the gallows even as Remus' laughter trailed her as he followed on her heels.
"Quite the exit, Pup."
"Oh, shut it."
They paused when they reached the main road. Hermione reached for Remus' hand if only to stop hers from shaking. "Are you ready?"
"No, are you?"
"Not a bit."
"For what it's worth, I'm glad we've got each other." Remus squeezed her hand and met her eyes. A powerful glow of determination shone behind his eyes. "We're missing a few, but we're still a pack, right? You and me?"
"Right." She swallowed, because that was exactly what she was afraid of.
Chapter Title Translation: *War Dogs