Disclaimer: All of the characters and world recognised below belong to the author. I do not own any of it, this is pure entertainment.

And the Fire Bright

Chapter 13: Right Through our Hands

And all things end

All that we intend is scrawled in sand

And slips right through our hands

And just knowin' that everything will end

Should not change our plans when wе begin again

All Things End - Hozier

It was Christmas, although it did not feel complete with Mr Weasley in St Mungo's and Harry marked to die. It was her second Christmas without her mother and father and Hermione realised that to her now, time was categorised by the people lost and the time spent missing them, rather than chronologically. She saw it in Remus' eyes and Sirius' sad smile, it never went away. But it hurt less. Hermione was sad this morning, but it had more to do with the uncertainty of the future than the pain of the past.

But it also had been a year since she kissed Fred Weasley at the Yule Ball, so it was not all that bad. She woke up with his arms tight around her and her head buried in his warm, bare chest.

Looking up, his eyes were closed and serene, long eyelashes casting shadows upon his freckled cheeks. He was the most beautiful thing she had seen. She was getting too used to waking up like this almost every morning and she knew it was only going to get harder once Fred graduated from Hogwarts, but right now, she didn't want to think about that, she had to make sure Harry survived first.

She placed a small kiss over his right breast. 'Happy Christmas Fred.' she whispered, unsure if he was awake to hear it. A small smile on his lips confirmed that he was, and when he opened his eyes she was met with his comforting sapphire blue irises.

'Happy Christmas, my love, and happy anniversary.'

'Happy anniversary.' She replied and was met with a soft kiss, his hand caressing her face. A year of loving Fred Weasley, of kissing him, and each kiss still took her breath away and caused sparks all the way down to her toes. She nuzzled into him, content to stay there forever.

'If you both are going to be this sickening all day, I'm going to get Ginny to bat bogey hex you.' George's groan came from across the room and Hermione stifled a giggle. Fred rolled his eyes and whispered conspiratorially in her ear.

'He's just pissy because he misses Angelina.'

'I heard that.' George groaned again and then a pillow came flying from his side of the room, hitting Fred's back. Hermione giggled louder.

'Merry Christmas to you too George.'

'Merry Christmas you tossers, now go back to sleep, we have at least an hour 'till mum beats down our door.'

Hermione Lupin-Black hated not being good at something. She worked hard to be the best, gathering all information from books to ensure that she was always good enough, always on par with her peers.

So, therefore, when she had struggled with the Patronus charm since summer, she was extremely disappointed and angry.

She was even more disappointed and angry when the Weasleys and Neville seemed to be able to cast a corporeal Patronus after two weeks.

'You need a happy memory Hermione,' Remus told her, feeding her some chocolate. Fred patted her back.

'I'm trying.' She cried out in frustration. It was incredibly difficult, she had such happy memories but her mind was always such a whirl of thoughts, some negative, some positive, mostly logical, that she struggled with concentrating and centering on a certain emotion.

'You're doing well love, be kind to yourself, it's Christmas!' Fred said encouragingly, as though he hadn't cast a corporeal magpie in front of her just days before. It had been her idea to get in a quick training session on Christmas morning before they opened presents at St Mungo's with Mr Weasley, sure that she would be able to get the charm this time. She was normally happy on Christmas.

'I think we should pause today.' Fred overlooked her towards Remus, who had a grim expression.

'No - I can get this.' Hermione cried in frustration. I have to get this! She didn't realise she had said this out loud, the pain and desperation in her voice startling her boyfriend and her father.

'We're stopping.' Remus said firmly, Hermione opened her mouth to argue but something in her father's eyes stopped her, so she closed it again, pursing her lips in displeasure. Remus' expression softened.

'You can't do everything 'Mione, it's not a moral failing.' Hermione closed her eyes tightly, as though she could shut out the thoughts that swirled around her head. It did feel like a moral failing, she was failing her brother, her family, Fred, everyone. Her biggest fear was to fail, not because she needed to be the best or for clout or achievement, but because failing means death. If she failed, people - people she loved - died.

Tears formed on the outside of her clenched eyelids, the frustration making her stomach and magic whirl.

What if Harry died because she couldn't protect him?

It had taken a lot to get Hermione to stop and that worried Remus deeply. A lot worried Remus at the present moment. Harry, his adoptive son and the only living remnant of his dearest friends, was marked for death; and seeing Hermione take on that burden seemed as though he and Sirius had failed. No fifteen year old should feel that way. He wished he could have protected his children the same way he wished he was protected from the war, but it seems despite his and Sirius's best efforts, they had intervened too late, at the age of thirteen, both of his children were already pieces of the battle, Harry was a piece from his birth.

But seeing Hermione as frazzled as she was showed Remus that this had a deeper psychological effect. She was so young and had lost so much, the thought of losing Harry could unravel her.

Imagine if she was biologically a Black, all that hereditary mental instability.

He hoped that in this case, the nature versus nurture debate leaned towards nurture, he and Sirius loved those children so much, hopefully it was enough to shield some of the horror they have witnessed. He could only hope. He hoped it was not too late.

It seemed like a bleak Christmas, a shame that a time full of happiness and family was tinged with the shadow of death and the looming sense of war. It brought him back to those dark years, when even the Marauders were entrenched in fear and distrust…

No, this time was different; this time there was no Dumbledore pulling the puppet strings for his own selfish agenda; no miscommunication or hormones that affected sense. No Wormtail. He and Sirius were in charge and not alone, they had allies, and they had Harry and Hermione. They had a plan. They would be okay.

He could only hope.

A part of Sirius wished it was hours earlier, when the faint, wintery sunlight peeked through the blinds and he woke up to Remus's mouth around his cock. For a brief moment, he was able to revel in the love of his life and happiness, before the weight of reality set in.

It did not feel like before, it felt much worse.

He hated those Christmases in the first war, when no one could see each other and each meeting, each celebration was treated like the last. With Arthur in St Mungo's and Harry marked for death, it felt like this was once again, the last Christmas. It was a weight in the air, marking everyone's cheer with black despair. The adults tried to make it special, but the children were too astute to ignore the trouble ahead.

He saw it in Hermione's almost crazed, desperate expression; in Harry's quiet contemplation - he brooded worse than James did, in Ron's renewed focus, in Ginny's fight.

They reminded him of himself, his friends, when they were younger and he hated it.

He hated that even though all they went through in that last year, the victory they had in capturing Pettigrew, in the fight to keep Harry alive, they were once again in the fight of their lives. All revolved around his godson, one of the only people in this world he vowed to protect.

He could not protect Regulus from the darkness of Voldemort, he couldn't protect Lily and James, would he too fail his loved ones? Would he lose them again?

He was afraid.

In a lot of ways, Sirius felt like he couldn't be, he had to be the strong one for when Remus physically could not, and for his children, for the people he led as the Lord of House Black.

They had to survive. Or at least, Harry and Hermione had to. He would do everything in his power to make sure they saw the other side of this war.

Even if he did not.

Harry was used to the feeling like he was about to die. He had felt it almost every year he was at Hogwarts, he felt it so keenly in the graveyard in June. For a long time, he lived in the ambiguity of the unknown.

In fact, for a long time, he revelled in it. It was no surprise that before Hogwarts he had little reason to live. He was hated by his family, he had known nothing about his parents beyond the old story of their untimely demise. Even in his first years of Hogwarts, he was ready to sacrifice himself, even though he had Ron and Hermione. But now? Now that he, for the first time, had a family, did the prospect of death seem daunting. Harry James Potter did not want to die.

It was hard to see the people around him suffer, and know it was because of him. They thought they were protecting him, hiding their pain behind fake smiles and overenthusiastic Christmas cheer. It made his stomach churn. He did not want to die, but he also did not want his family and friends to die because of him. Just by association, they were in pain, targets permanently etched onto their backs. Over the years, just by association, he put people at risk. Knowing Harry Potter was a death sentence.

Mr Weasley was proof of that. The man that had welcomed him into his family and loved him unconditionally had almost died.

Who would be next?

Ron? His best friend and biggest champion.

Sirius? His godfather and the one who saved him from the Dursleys.

Remus? The man that connected him back to his parents and taught him so much.

Hermione? His sister.

Cedric?

He had almost lost his boyfriend the previous June and he could not imagine how different his life could be without Cedric. He was his support, slightly removed enough from the whole situation that he could make Harry forget that he was marked to die.

He wished he could see Cedric. He felt suffocated in this house and it was not because of the physical surroundings, although he could understand why Sirius refused to have their family home there.

He was suffocated by the overwhelm and fear he did not have enough time. That he too, like his parents, would be taken young and before he had a chance to find out who he could become.

He was suffocated by the weight of the fate of the entire wizarding world on his shoulders, no matter how much the adults in his life tried to assist him in shouldering it; deep down Harry knew that it would simply be him and Voldemort at the end, he just needed to keep as many people he loved alive until he was ready to face him.

He was suffocated by the need for him to act normal, as though he wasn't affected by it all, for himself but also for his family and the Weasley's. The constant need to shove the dark thoughts to the back of his mind, because if he did not, he would go mad.

He needed to get out. Of this house, of this situation.

He needed to live, but he did not know how.

It was always up to Fred and George to cheer people up. It was their specialty, and in some ways, Fred always thought it was their role. While he could not remember the first war, he remembered sadness, his mum crying and it wasn't because of the fact that Ron was an ugly baby or she thought she was pregnant with another boy. It was because of something more sinister, and it wasn't until he was older he realised his mother had lost her brothers and that in some way, that loss affected her relationship with her twin sons that embodied them. He couldn't always blame his mother for that, he understood to some extent, although perhaps also resented living in his dead uncles' shadows as well as that of his older brothers. There was an instinctive need to be different, to be loud, to be remembered that he and George had always embodied. A need to announce who they were. Maybe that was something they were still figuring out.

Christmas was normally one of Fred's favourite times of the year. After all, it was a time of merriment and mischief, filled with family, food and of course, fresh snow. Everything seemed lighter at Christmas, even a war. It was for this reason that he had made his move with Hermione and first kissed her. It was when he realised that she was it for him.

And yet, despite what all his parents, Sirius and Remus were doing, it felt different. And it was up to George and himself to fix it.

They needed a prank, not one that would make the situation worse, but bring festive cheer and merriment to Grimmauld Place. It was a fine balance, something that both he and George had not always perfectly struck. He felt an unusual amount of pressure to do this, even though he knew logically that there could be a big chance that they would not be successful, considering the weight of all that happened.

But he couldn't do it alone; no, the good thing was that he was never alone, he always had his wingman, the co-creator of his schemes. George complimented him as he complimented George. He was sure, using the almost indescribable twin bond that he had with George, that his other half was already thinking of a scheme. Just as he was.

It was a wonder that they were not in Slytherin.

In all, it was a good Christmas; they had visited Mr Weasley in St. Mungos, who was on the mend and in good spirits, and Hermione, Harry, Ron, Luna, Ginny, Sirius and Remus had even accompanied Neville to see his parents. Hermione could see how hard it was for her parents to see their old friends in such a state, and the visit took a lot out of poor Neville. They were scared they were going to overwhelm Frank and Alice, so only a few actually went in the Janus Thickney Ward, but Neville had seemed as though he had appreciated the sentiment and support. He told her that he was grateful that he did not have to hide this part of his life, but Hermione recognised the pain behind his eyes: it was not easy to see everyone with their loved ones, even though she had Sirius, Remus and Harry, she missed her parents every day and knew that Neville did too. But she would never forget the look in Alice Longbottom's eyes.

They were strangely blank, but somehow, Hermione could almost see life within the very depths, as though it was trapped. It was hard to see them so unresponsive, especially after Sirius had told her how formidable they had been before the attack. It was especially harrowing to consider that she shared some sort of biological connection with the woman who had done it. Even though she was disowned in the family, it made her shiver. It made her wish she understood the cruciatus curse in greater detail, and be able to use the brains she had been given to help one of her eldest friends.

The Black's were a powerful family, she definitely knew that. Even just looking at the Black family members she knew: Sirius, Naricssa, Andromeda, and in that vein, Tonks and Draco, they all had extremely powerful magic. She had seen that power used for good, but to be reminded of how it could be used for evil scared her, whilst simultaneously thrilling her.

What if I could harness that power?

It was a tempting thought, to use the family legacy of dark magic to achieve the ends that she desired. To save Harry. Make sure everyone she loved got through this war alive. To reverse the damage done to Neville's parents.

But that would make her no better than Bellatrix, than everyone in her family, the legacy that Sirius has worked so hard to revoke and change. She couldn't do that, even with the best of intentions. She would be like Dumbledore. For the greater good was a trap for power, she did not trust herself with it, to be good.

She shook her head at the thought of being like someone who caused so much pain. It was a slippery slope and even justified why others had taken that path. But she had to be better, for her family at the very least.

For Harry.

For Sirius.

For Remus.

For Fred.

She thought of her boyfriend, who had surprised her for Christmas with an invitation for a muggle date for the two of them, which Hermione appreciated as she loved to spend time with him. She thought of how he stayed at Hogwarts, partly for her, but also for his siblings, even though the world of academia was not for him. She thought of the love and consideration, the pride, he put into his pranks and inventions, all to make the world a better, more entertaining place. She envied that about him, but also loved that about him.

She loved him and everything about him.

She just hoped that they could have a future beyond the war that was brewing.

A/N: Sorry this is a few days late, my beta has just flown to Canada! I promise the other one will be posted in a week and a half instead to get back on schedule. This chapter is the one that gave me writer's block for two years so I am so glad that it got out there. Also may be going through some name changes DaniWeasley7 has become DaniLupinBlack14 and may change again in the future!

Show the chapter some love and let me know what you all think!

Dani xx