A/N I am so busy and have so many things going on right now. I haven't even been crocheting. Homeschooling and co op drama and volleyball and soccer and babies and family drama and housework and distracting podcasts. I just finished 27 after much work and many plot holes. Now I am stumbling over yet another snag ugh I hate not having more pre written. Next time I will finish a fic before I start uploading lol I had an idea for a crack fic involving Harry and Draco somehow being sent to the Blaze and the Monster Machines world. If you have kids and watch their shows it might appeal but it will DEFFINITLY be finished before uploading if I write it.

Chapter 25

There had been a few weeks during the war, while they'd been on the run, that Remus Lupin had been with them. George couldn't now remember why he'd been with them, but he thought it had something to do with Tonks. During that time, there had been a new moon. Remus had been so exhausted, so hardly functional they had feared for his life. Only his infrequent snarling if they bothered him overmuch assured them he was still alive.

After experiencing the dark and moonless night for himself, George thought he understood a bit of what the older man had felt.

Ever since the full moon, George had felt just a bit different. He'd expected the stronger, almost lurid sense of smell. And the sharper reflexes—though he suspected he still had nothing on Remus—were not surprising either. There was a… something though. He couldn't quite put into words how it felt. Thankfully nobody had asked him to explain it.

Hermione had subtly changed shampoos after noticing him trying to hide his disgust when she'd stepped out of the shower their first night in France. When George had found Fabian reading in the middle of the night, having been awoken by the turning of pages and occasional sighs, Gideon had joked they'd need stronger silencing charms when they brought ladies round. But there had been no probing questions, as he'd expected there to be.

Whether they were respecting his privacy or simply genuinely uninterested—something that, knowing Hermione, he rather doubted—they'd not mentioned it. While it was nice at first, he was beginning to feel the need to discuss it with someone.

And after the shit night he'd just had, he was feeling especially curious. It was too bad he couldn't talk to Bill. George missed him fiercely, especially now. It was grand and all being like an older uncle to him, but every now and then he needed an older brother's wisdom.

The strong, and decidedly welcome, scent of an invigoration potion laced builder's tea preceded Hermione into their room. Her hair was dampening the shoulders of her t-shirt and a folded parchment stuck out between the fingers that held her own mug. Just then, all George cared about was the tea.

"Finally up, I see. Feeling better?"

He nodded, reaching for the caffeine she offered. It burned down his throat, a blessed, wonderful feeling. "A fair bit, ya. I was so sore… and tired." He took another long sip of his tea as she gingerly sat on the bed beside him. "Reckon I'll be alright now though."

Glancing at the parchment again, his eyes caught on her lip, trapped between teeth as she eyed him curiously. He smirked. There it was. "Something you'd like to ask me, love?"

A faint dusting of pink graced her cheeks and her eyes widened slightly. Realizing she'd been caught, she turned away to hurriedly finish her own tea. "What? Of course not, don't be silly." Before he could assure her it was alright, she passed him the parchment. "This came early this morning. It's from Kingsley."

Laughing softly—so they were minding his privacy after all—he scanned the note.

I've done some thinking. I know you aren't likely to trust me with whatever it is you're up to, and I know you're up to something, but I've become disillusioned. I can't accept what was risked in order to get to you. After you left, Moody and I tried to discover the truth to no avail. He still somehow has lingering faith but I've not had decades of friendship to secure my allegiance.

I hope to hear from you soon. I may be able to help.

Kingsley Shacklebolt

George nodded and finished his drink, setting both the mug and note down on the bedside table. "Figured we'd hear from him again. A bit surprised it took two whole weeks, if I'm honest." Sliding from bed, his bare feet slapping against the cool wood floor on the way to the wardrobe. "Reckon he's right though. Don't see how we could trust him properly, not yet at least."

Behind him, Hermione flopped onto her side, digging in her pocket with some urgency. "No… I suppose we could meet him and I could do some legilimency if he's keen… damn extended pockets… see if he's being honest… oh ouch! Damn it!"

George tugged a white t-shirt over his head and turned in time to easily snatch the galleon she'd tossed at him from the air. It was more than a little hot, she really needed to adjust the spell. "Has he figured out a way to infuse his nastiness into every message? I don't remember these burning my fingers when we used them in school."

She tossed him his wand. "Sounds like something he'd do, git." A pot of burn cream had appeared from her ever present beaded bag, and she busied herself with applying it to her fingers. "I'll have to adjust the spell. Could just be one of the changes I made this time reacting poorly."

George tapped the coin with his wand and squinted to read the message.

"I've found another… mod pm spell worked perfectly… 1 o'clock, usual place."

He frowned. "Mod pm spell? What does that mean?"

"Oh! Excellent!" Hermione pulled a folded parchment from her bag and tapped her finger down the list he knew to be on it. "Modified Point Me, to track the coordinates."

"Ah." Grabbing his boots, he rejoined Hermione on the side of the bed. "Another horcrux down already. That complicated mess Yuri gave you must have worked." He bent over to tie his laces. "Didn't you say it needed a new moon? Must have had a spare bit of Voldy Shorts under his bed to have one already."

Hermione nodded."Late last night he sent me a message to let me know he had the coordinates. Must have decided to go after one."

"The diary I'd wager. He's close mates with Malfoy isn't he?"

Standing again, George took Hermione's offered hand and pulled her from the bed. She promptly wrapped her arms around his waist. "Yes, I seem to remember hearing something about him being Draco's godfather? Though I can't remember from where." She reached up on her tiptoes, kissing him on the cheek and pulling away. "Come on, we've got hats to send off before we meet him."

Shaking away the lingering sleepiness and fading ache, George eagerly followed her. "If we leave early enough, we might have time to do something about the Death Eaters watching the house."

GH

As it turned out, they didn't need to leave terribly early after all. Yuri had been correct in his assessment of the Death Eaters that had been assigned to watch them. Not Voldemort's best. Hermione guessed that must have been their only task; surely he'd have sent worse had they been meant to engage.

It had been four against two and they'd taken them by surprise. They had debated what to do with them. Gideon wanted to kill them. Ultimately they had decided to take Kingsley up on his offer of help. He'd been more than happy to escort the two obliviated and bound Death Eaters back to the Ministry. It was an olive branch to the Order member and they'd agreed to meet again soon.

Problematic company dealt with, the quartet headed into muggle Londen. They'd arrived ahead of Severus again this time, but he wasn't long in coming. He frowned at them in amusement as he passed Fabian and slid into their booth, straightening his beat up denim jacket and mumbling about "posh gits" under his breath but merely said, "Nice plaid," once he'd settled.

"Thanks." Gideon grinned ridiculously as he subtly cast a muggle repelling charm. He and his twin had chosen to split a green plaid suit. Garish to Hermione's future sensibilities, but stylish in 1978. Though, she supposed, a bit posh for their usual dive bar. "Hermione tells us you've found another one. Bloody well done, mate!"

Severus shrugged and reached into an inner pocket. "Don't be too excited, we've still got three more to go, nevermind the Dark Lord himself." He drew out the chest and a scroll of parchment, passing the chest across the table. "Here. I'd rather not keep those at mine if it's all the same to you."

Fabian nodded and took the chest, slipping it into his own breast pocket. "What's that then?" He indicated the scroll as Severus unrolled it on the table.

"The coordinates of the other three. I believe you'll see why I'm rather less optimistic."

Hermione, George and Gideon leaned in closer, Fabian resting a hand on the table where he stood at the end to get a better look. There were six sets of numbers. The two he'd marked as 'diadem' and 'diary' were the same. Their current location. One had a hastily scrawled, 'cup? Lestrange estate' beside it that filled Hermione with anxious optimism—surely that would be easier to swing than Gringotts. At least Bellatrix didn't keep dragons.

That only left Little Hangleton for the ring and…

"Why aren't those last two labeled?" Fabian had cocked his head to the side to see better, as if he thought he wasn't seeing something correctly. The fleeting optimism abandoned Hermione as fast as it had come.

"Are they… is he… wearing the locket?" Her voice grew more hysterical with each word. She remembered the chaos of the break in at the Ministry. The poor muggleborns, the dementors, snatching the locket from Umbridge's pink frilled neck. How would any of them, even Severus, manage to get so close to Voldemort? It was impossible!

A warm hand took hers in a firm grip, reminding her that she was not alone in her panic.

Snape was giving her a startlingly familiar look of irritated disdain from across the table. "I haven't seen him since performing the spell. He might well have it in his breast pocket for all we know. Either way, I don't see how we'll be able to get hold of it."

Her thoughts a slowly spiraling mess of instantly discarded ideas, Hermione was startled when Fabian rapped his knuckles on the table and spoke. "We'll have to do them both at once then… or wait until he hides it. Either way, they were the last two we'd planned on. Let's not worry too much about this just yet." He held up a hand to stop Hermione from interrupting. "I know you were keen to get this over with as soon as possible, we all were. We're still decades ahead of where we were in your original timeline, even if we can't get it done overnight." He looked at her seriously. "We're not leaving it to schoolchildren this time."

Taking a breath, Hermione pushed the chaos from her mind. He was right, they could still do this. George looked thoughtful beside her but smiled reassuringly down at her when she caught his eye.

"Anyway…" Severus drew their attention back to himself. "I have a question before we part ways." He shifted in his seat, looking vaguely uncomfortable as he addressed Hermione. "Did you by any chance know a Malfoy at Hogwarts?"

Taken aback by the sudden change in topic, Hermione actually had to think about it for a moment. "Ah… yes. Draco Malfoy. He was in my year. Slytherin, of course."

Severus looked relieved for a moment, then frowned. "Do you happen to know his birthday? Did he have any other siblings?"

She shook her head slowly. "He was an only child so far as I know. I think his birthday was in June? Around the end of term."

"And when were you born?" He had pulled a scrap of parchment from somewhere and was taking notes.

"Um… September, 1979. I'm sorry, why do you need to know that?"

Before Severus could answer, Gideon, of all people, answered. "Narcissa's having trouble staying pregnant, and they asked for his help with some kind of new potion I'd wager." When he suddenly had three pairs of eyes on him demanding how he knew that, he shrugged. "We're related, on both sides. And they've been married long enough most families like theirs already have an heir. Fertility issues aren't uncommon in pureblood families—ours the exception of course. That and the last time I popped round to visit Auntie Muriel it was all she could talk about."

He shook his head, looking extremely put mupon. "Honestly, bloody nosy old woman. Why should I care if the Malfoy family ends with Lucius, I asked her. They're all Death Eaters and blood purists anyhow. 'They're an ancient and Noble house, just like ours and our families have been intermixed for centuries and the continuation of the old families is critical to the future of the wizarding world.' I don't know, load of old lady nonsense."

George and Fabian nodded as though that made perfect sense, George congratulating him on a perfect impression of their aunt. Still a little stunned at this sudden insight, Hermione turned back to Severus. "Is that true?"

Now looking thoroughly annoyed, Severus sighed and tucked his notes into an inner pocket. "Gossiping old women. Yes, that is true. Not that it's anyone's business. I'm glad to know I must be able to help them eventually, though it must not be without failure or I'm sure they would have had more children."

"I wonder if you helped them last time…" George frowned. "Well, in our future. Maybe you didn't and they just eventually got lucky."

Severus shook his head. "No, I think he would have asked me to help even if I hadn't shown up unannounced shortly after another loss." He tapped a slender finger against his chin in thought. "Though it is possible he'd have waited."

Even though she had no love for Narcissa Malfoy, Hermione felt suddenly moved to help too. Following George out of the booth, she turned around for a final word. "Those kinds of potions usually require complicated arithmancy as well, I'm quite good at that… if you find you need any help."

Out on the street, George looked at her as though she'd grown another head. "What? Draco was a prat but I wouldn't wish him out of existence."

The right corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile as his eyes scanned the crowded street ahead of them. "I suppose not." Dropping his arm around her shoulders he kissed the top of her head. "So, what do you think about a lazy evening? I could use a bit of a kip after that and then maybe we—"

From one step to the next his jovial mood evaporated, replaced by rigid focus. His arm suddenly pulled her in closer, solid protection against some new threat. Lingering adrenaline surged as she craned to look around his shoulder, the hair catching in her eyes increasing her panic.

"George, what…" She slid her wand from its holster. "Are there Death Eaters?"

He relaxed a fraction but his voice was gravely when he finally spoke. "No. Maybe worse." He gestured with a nod across the street. "Look."

Brushing aside her hair, Hermione looked in the direction he'd indicated.

"Bollocks."

He was right. It was worse. A Death Eater, they could fight. Remus Lupin, on the other hand, was potentially a huge problem.