tags: time travel (implied); marauders/first wizarding war era
prompt: "I like him, and I want to be like him." - richard siken

choosing to believe
-1/1-

The music was a dull roar in the background; faded, like she was hearing it through three walls, washed out by time and distance. She watched him dance as if he was caught, suspended in time. Slow and beautiful, weightless, wearing a smile that promised endless joy. From here, if she forgot everything else, all the pain and sorrow to come, life seemed so simple. He was untouchable. All of them were. What she would give, and do, to make that true. If she could just shape and mold the world between her fingers; smoothing every wrinkle, adjusting every misstep, culling the worst and healing the best. But even with all her knowledge, there were no guarantees. No certainties. No matter how she tried, how hard she fought, she could lose him. Them. Everything she worked so hard to make right.

"Hard to enjoy a party from the outside."

Hermione blinked and tore her gaze away, turning to see Sirius a few feet away, shoulder resting against the wall. The porch was dark enough that she might not have made out his features if it weren't for the cigarette dangling from his mouth, the tip a bright red-orange. "Not sure I'm in the partying mood."

"Moods can change if you let them. Hard to do when you've confined yourself to the outside looking in."

"Poetic." Hermione tucked her hands into the pockets of her trousers and stepped back. "Thought you'd be in there joining them. Standing on furniture, singing your heart out."

His mouth inched up before he plucked the cigarette from his lips, dashed it out on the wall and flicked the butt away. "Plenty of time to hear my solo. The drunker they are, the more they appreciate my singing."

"Ahh, not quite Freddie Mercury then?"

"Only in spirit." He crossed the space between them and hopped up to sit on the porch railing. "Prongs was asking where you wandered off to."

Hermione hummed. "Needed some air."

Rolling the sleeves of his shirt up his arms, revealing various bracelets and bangles and tattoos as he went, Sirius stared through the same window she had. "Won't get easier, will it? This war."

Swallowing down a lump, she shook her head. "War never really does."

Nodding, he scratched at his chin, showing off chipped sparkly blue nail polish. "Suppose we have to get through the worst of it to enjoy the best."

"Optimistic way of looking at it, I suppose." Hermione tilted her head back and felt the cool breeze rustle her hair, making it sway. "It changes you. At your core. The way you look at yourself and others and the world. It pushes every boundary you've ever known. Makes you do things you never thought you could. Makes you live with decisions you're not sure you can carry. And when you don't think you can go on, it makes you. Because the only other option is not to, and even when everything hurts, that's not who you are."

The weight of her words hung in there one long, heavy moment.

"Are you scared? To do it all again?"

Hermione's eyes stung. "Terrified," she whispered.

"It'll be different though, won't it? The things you know, they'll turn the tide some."

"Some," she agreed. "But not all of it."

He nodded his chin toward the window. "No. But you'll have us."

"I had good people then too." Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Neville, Fred, George, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Arthur, Molly, McGonagall, Hagrid— The list went on and on and on. "People I loved. People I lost. People I will never see again, not the way I did before."

"But better," he insisted. "If we do it right, they'll be better off, won't they?"

Hermione swallowed thickly. "I hope so."

Sirius turned to gaze at the field ahead. "We can't replace them. But we can help you. We can love you." He shrugged, his gaze finding hers once more. "We already do."

A sigh left her and she shook her head. "He doesn't—"

"He does." Sirius raised an eyebrow, his mouth curving up in an all-knowing smirk. "Face it, Granger. You've changed the world already, whether you meant to or not. The world will keep changing, for better and worse. Some of us will make it and some won't. No controlling it. But if I've learned anything, it's that the only way to make it through is to enjoy what little good you have. The only thing that kept me going when my shit family would sooner leave me for dead were them." His eyes turned back to the window. "The Puff's get all the glory for loyalty, but I know one thing for sure… Once you're one of us, we'll always have your back. And you're ours, Hermione."

Licking her lips as they trembled, she let out a heavy breath. "I like him. I like all of you. It's the optimism, a bit. The courage to believe that no matter what the world throws at you, if you just keep getting up, eventually it'll stop knocking you down." She nodded. "I like him, and I want to be like him. Because I haven't felt that kind of hope in so long."

"That's the thing about James; he believes it enough for both of you. Until one day, you believe it too."

Hermione nudged his knee with her elbow. "Is that what he did for you?"

"He believed I was worth something. A friend, a brother, better than the family I came from. Spent a long time wondering if he was right. Now I know he is." Sirius' turned to her, uncharacteristically serious. "Betrayed by my best mate, twelve years in Azkaban, and I still broke out to protect my godson. I fought to the very end for what I believe, for who I love. War can't take that from me."

Hermione half-smiled. "No, nothing could."

Hopping off the rail, he held out a hand for her. "C'mon. War can wait for tomorrow. Tonight, you're busy."

She only hesitated a beat before she took his hand and let him lead her inside. As soon as they crossed through the door, the music was so much louder. The noise of laughter and overlapping voices could have been overwhelming, but there was a comfort to it. Like memories of the Gryffindor Common Room or a Weasley-filled Burrow.

Sirius towed her over to where James and Marlene were bickering about Quidditch while an indulgent Remus threw in the odd comment just to cause more debate and angrier hand gestures. Chaotic little shit, she thought fondly.

"Here." Sirius passed Hermione over to James and then stole the drink right out of Remus' hand.

James wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his side, never so much as a pause in his relentless defense of a Quidditch move she was unfamiliar with, though against simply on the grounds that if it were James it meant it was dangerous.

"Where's Pete?" Sirius wondered. "Pete!" He wandered off into the crowd with Remus hot on his tail. Hermione watched as Remus caught Sirius in a headlock as he finished off the last dregs.

Dorcas appeared then, grabbed Marlene's hand, and pulled her away mid-sentence.

"We're not done here, Potter!" Marlene shouted back, pointing aggressively.

James grinned and raised his drink in cheers. Turning to Hermione, he looked her over. "All right?"

"Fine. You?"

"Lonely. Where'd you wander off to?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You were not lonely. You were dancing a bit ago and you seemed perfectly content arguing with Marlene."

"Keeping an eye on me then?" He grinned. "I'm flattered."

"Not you, specifically," she denied. "I kept an eye on the party as a whole. Moody would have a field day with the lack of—"

"Constant vigilance!" they shouted in tandem.

Hermione's chest warmed as a laugh spilled from her mouth.

"Good thing we didn't invite him. Think he'd bring the mood down a bit."

"Yeah? You're telling me you don't think a drunk-off-his-arse Moody wouldn't entertain you?"

"Doubt he's the type to let his hair down and really let loose," he mused. "Would pay a fair few galleons to see it though."

"Even if he did, as soon as he sobered up, he'd obliviate anyone from remembering it."

"Maybe when the war ends, we'll see a new side of him. A drunker side that likes to sing falsetto and dance on tables."

"A witch can dream." She leaned into his side, her arm looping around his waist. "What do you see? When you imagine the world after the war? What's it look like in your mind?"

James hummed. And then he gave her a squeeze and said, "Here." He tugged her along and left behind the noise of the party, drawing her through the winding hallway to a library. As she stepped inside, eyes already hungrily taking in the brimming shelves, he closed the doors behind them, effectively silencing all noise. He grabbed her hand and brought her over to a sofa, plopping down in the corner and bringing her with him.

A fire roared to life in the grate and wall lamps dimmed a little, giving the room a warm glow.

"You asked me what I see after." He turned, pulling one leg onto the sofa with him. "Life. I know it's not as simple as picking up where we left off. There will be rebuilding and fixing what went wrong so it won't happen again. But the most important part is that we live. Not hiding in our houses, fearing the next attack or just trying to survive to the next day. But living. Walking down Diagon Alley, hand in hand, not having to look over our shoulders. Going out to the pub with mates, playing Quidditch, getting married, having kids. Seeing them grow and thrive and knowing they won't have to see or do what we did. That we made the world better for them." He reached for her hand, his thumb rubbing along her knuckles. "Growing old. And making you laugh every day along the way."

Hermione squeezed his hand. "It's hard… to dream the way you do. For me. It's hard to see life beyond this. Beyond fighting and surviving."

"I know." He nodded, and his smile was reassuring in a way she couldn't quite verbalize. "I can dream for both of us."

A tear escaped Hermione's eye. "I want to. I want that. I…" Her breath caught. "I want you."

"Good. Because you have me."

A bubbling laugh left her smiling mouth. "It's going to be better. I believe that."

James tugged her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "We'll make it."

Burying her face in his neck, Hermione breathed him in and chose to hope.