A couple of days later, Hermione was sitting alone in the corner of the library, surrounded by a stack of old tomes she was half-heartedly trying to focus on. Her mind was still a whirlwind of recent events—the prophecy, Lily's confrontation, and her growing concern over Peter. She barely registered the footsteps approaching until Sirius slid into the chair opposite her, his expression caught somewhere between guilt and determination.

"Minnie," he began, his voice softer than she was used to hearing from him. "I know I already apologised, but… I'm sorry. Again. For what I did after the attack on Diagon. I should've trusted you and respected your boundaries."

Hermione sighed, closing the book in front of her and rubbing her temples. "Sirius, I forgive you. Really, I do. But you've got to think before you act. Your recklessness… it's going to be your downfall one day if you're not careful."

Sirius's face tightened at her words, a flicker of pain crossing his features. He nodded, looking chastened. "I know. I've heard that a lot, but it's different when it comes from you." He paused, trying to shift the mood to something lighter. "Speaking of things that could be my downfall, how's the leaf going? You still have it tucked in your cheek, right? And do you need any help getting your hands on the other Animagus ingredients?"

Hermione blinked, caught off guard by the change in topic. The truth hit her like a splash of cold water: she'd completely forgotten about the leaf. The frantic events in Knockturn Alley, the near-disaster with the twins, and everything that had happened since had pushed it from her mind entirely. Worse, she realised she had swallowed the blasted leaf during their panicked escape.

"Well, about that," she said, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve, avoiding Sirius's keen gaze. "I… sort of lost the leaf. With everything going on lately, I slipped up and… it's gone."

Sirius looked at her, his expression softening with sympathy rather than frustration. "That's tough, but honestly, you've had a lot on your plate. Don't beat yourself up over it. This stuff happens. I remember James had to restart three times because he kept losing his leaf while showing off during Quidditch practice."

Hermione managed a small smile, feeling relieved that he wasn't upset. "Yeah, I suppose it's just part of the process. I'll get another one and start over. I'm not giving up."

Sirius grinned, nudging her shoulder playfully. "That's the spirit. If you need help gathering the ingredients or need a hand with anything, just let me know. I've got your back."

Hermione appreciated the genuine support in Sirius's offer, but she couldn't help but sense the lingering guilt behind his enthusiasm. It was clear he was trying to make amends for his earlier missteps, and while it might have been a bit opportunistic on her part, she wasn't about to turn down his help. She had far too much on her plate already—between her secret work with Dumbledore on the mystery potion, Occlumency lessons, her own new side-project, and the looming N.E.W.T.s, the pressure was mounting from all sides.

She gave him a grateful nod, her mind already whirring with plans. "Thanks, Sirius. I might take you up on that. There's just… so much to do, and I've been feeling behind on everything."

Sirius's grin widened, his eagerness to help clearly evident. "I get it, Minnie. You're juggling a lot, but not to worry. Delegate the grunt work to me."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the image Sirius conjured—a pureblood heir like Sirius Orion Black III doing anything remotely menial. "Oh, I'd pay to see that. The mighty Sirius Black, fetching herbs and stirring cauldrons. It'd be quite the sight."

Sirius feigned an affronted look, puffing out his chest dramatically. "Oi, I'll have you know I'm excellent at grunt work when I put my mind to it. I'm versatile, you know. Besides, you're the brains of this operation—I'm just the charming assistant."

Hermione shook her head, still amused. "I'll hold you to that, then. If you're serious about helping—"

"Of course, I'm Sirius."

Hermione flung a quill at him, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a grin. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

Sirius caught the quill mid-air with a swift flick of his wrist, twirling it between his fingers with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "It's almost like you set me up for it on purpose, Minnie."

"More like I've just gotten used to your terrible puns," Hermione countered, her tone light despite the lingering weight of everything on her mind. "But seriously—"

"See, now you're doing it," Sirius interjected with a playful wink.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head as she reclaimed the quill from his grasp. "Merlin's beard, there really is no winning with you."

Sirius leaned back, his smile warm and carefree, a rare reprieve from the tension that had been hanging over all of them lately. "Well, that's what you get when you make friends with a Marauder. And don't worry, Minnie Mouse. I'm here to help with whatever you need. Just say the word."

Hermione's smile softened, touched by his unwavering loyalty. "I know, Sirius. And thank you. I really mean it."

The first weekend of the new term brought with it a fresh layer of snow, blanketing the grounds of Hogwarts in a crisp, white silence. The castle was still shaking off the drowsiness of winter break, and students were slowly settling back into the rhythm of classes, homework, and the hum of everyday life. But for Remus and Hermione, the start of the new term had brought an unspoken tension that neither of them had yet addressed. It had been hanging between them ever since Boxing Day, the night when they'd almost found their way back to each other before everything else had spiralled.

After her brief absence from the castle and the inevitable chaos of the first week back, Hermione found herself feeling restless and out of sorts. She had wanted to talk to Remus—really talk—but the timing never seemed quite right. Classes, study sessions, and her clandestine meetings with Dumbledore left her feeling pulled in a dozen different directions, and every time she saw Remus, she could sense that he, too, was struggling to find the right moment.

It wasn't until the weekend, when most of their friends had disappeared to Hogsmeade or were busy catching up on coursework, that Hermione found herself walking along the edge of the frozen Black Lake, deep in thought. She wasn't surprised when Remus appeared beside her, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat, a tentative but genuine smile on his face.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, his voice gentle against the stillness of the afternoon.

Hermione smiled back, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "Of course not. I could use the company."

They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes, the cold air nipping at their cheeks as they watched their breath fog in the crisp air. Finally, Remus stopped, turning to face her with a seriousness that made Hermione's heart tighten.

"Mina," he began, his tone earnest, "I've been meaning to talk to you. I feel like… I feel like we've been skirting around a lot of things since you got back, and I just—I don't want to keep doing that. Not with you."

Hermione nodded, feeling a knot of tension ease slightly at his words. "I know. I've been feeling the same way. There's been so much going on, and we've barely had a chance to catch our breath, let alone talk."

Remus ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words. "I just want you to know that… I believe you. Everything you said on Boxing Day, about being on our side and trying to help—I believe it. I haven't stopped believing it, no matter what's happened since. And I'm done second-guessing everything—about you, about us."

Hermione's breath hitched, his sincerity cutting through all the uncertainty that had been clouding her mind. "Remus, I—" She hesitated, emotions threatening to overwhelm her. "I'm so glad to hear you say that. I've been afraid that everything that's happened… Sirius, me leaving, all the secrets… would make you doubt me again."

Remus shook his head firmly, stepping closer. "I won't lie, I've been struggling with my own doubts, but they've never been about you—not really. It's… it's me. My own insecurities. I've spent so much time feeling unworthy, feeling like I'm not enough, that I started projecting that onto everything else. But you… you've always been honest with me. Even when you've had to keep secrets, I can feel that you're doing it for the right reasons."

Hermione reached out, taking his hand in hers, the warmth of his touch anchoring her in the moment. "You are enough, Remus. I don't want you to ever doubt that. I'm here because I want to be, and I'm doing what I'm doing because I believe it's the right thing."

Remus squeezed her hand, his expression softening. "I know. And I want to be here with you, too. I want us to be honest with each other, even when things get complicated."

Hermione nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I'm not perfect, and I've made mistakes, but I'm trying my best. And I don't want us to keep holding back."

Remus pulled her into a gentle hug, his chin resting on the top of her head as he held her close. "Neither do I. I'm done holding back. I just… I want us to move forward together, whatever that looks like."

Hermione nestled into his embrace, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against her cheek. The weight of unspoken words, worries, and what-ifs seemed to fade in the warmth of his arms. They stood there for a long moment, wrapped up in each other and sharing a chaste kiss, the softness of it a promise of understanding and shared determination.

They stood for who knows how long, gazing out at the shimmering surface of the lake. The water reflected the pale light of the setting sun, painting the scene in hues of orange and pink. Everything felt peaceful, a rare moment of calm amid the whirlwind of secrets and dangers that surrounded them.

Hermione sneezed softly, a delicate sound that broke the quiet moment between them. She pulled back, sniffling slightly, and gave Remus a sheepish smile.

Remus chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Alright, love, that's our cue. Let's get back to the castle before you catch a cold. I don't fancy getting scolded by Madam Pomfrey for letting you freeze out here."

Hermione laughed, rubbing her nose with the back of her glove. "Yeah, I'd rather avoid the Hospital Wing if I can help it. Besides, you're one to talk—you're the one who's always running around in the middle of the night."

Remus grinned, his grip on her hand tightening just slightly as they turned back toward the castle. "Fair point, but I've got a bit more experience dealing with chilly nights. And trust me, I'd rather not spend this evening warming up by the fire alone."

"Is that an invitation?" Hermione teased, glancing sideways at him as they walked. The air between them felt lighter now, the tension that had been hanging over their heads dissipating with every step.

Remus's smile was soft, his eyes warm. "Always."

As they made their way back to the castle, the setting sun casting long shadows across the grounds, Hermione felt a renewed sense of hope. They had a long way to go—both in their relationship and in the battles ahead—but at least now, they were on the same page. For the first time in a long time, she felt like they were facing the future together, and that was enough to keep her going.

The next two weeks passed in a blur of research and study, with Hermione pushing herself to the limits of her endurance. The dimly lit corners of the library became her second home, and the scent of parchment and ink filled her senses as she pored over obscure texts. Despite her best efforts, Hermione was starting to realise that she might need outside help to crack the puzzle of the potion guarding the Horcrux. She was good at Potions—competent, meticulous—but she wasn't brilliant at it, and she certainly wasn't inventive enough to reverse-engineer a potion based solely on its known effects.

Her mind kept drifting to Severus Snape. As much as she loathed to admit it, there was no denying his genius in Potions. He could likely solve the problem in his sleep, and Hermione couldn't help but wonder if he might be willing to help, if only she could find the right way to approach him. But then she thought of his current loyalties—his obsession with Dark Magic, his dangerous connections—and decided it was far too risky. She hadn't spoken to him in weeks, and there was no way to know where his true allegiance lay.

Then there was Lily. Brilliant, intuitive Lily, who had pieced together Hermione's origins and had kept the secret locked away ever since. She was a dab hand at Potions as well, inventive and creative in a way that was probably on par with Snape. Maybe Lily could help, but Hermione knew she'd have to ask Dumbledore first. It would all hinge on Lily's Occlumency progress, Hermione supposed.

She sighed, leaning back against her chair in the library, the weight of the decision heavy on her shoulders. She decided to push the thought aside for now and focus on what was coming next: the full moon.

Remus had been on edge as usual, his agitation growing with each passing day, but this time was different. Instead of pulling away from her, he sought her out, wanting to spend time together. His moods were erratic—one moment snappish, the next contrite—but he apologised immediately whenever his temper flared, and Hermione could see how hard he was trying to keep his emotions in check. There was a possessiveness about him, too, a need to be close that Hermione didn't mind one bit.

One afternoon, just two days before the full moon, Remus caught Hermione's arm in the corridor, his expression tense but his eyes soft with longing. "Mina," he said, his voice husky as he pulled her into an unused classroom, shutting the door behind them. "I just… I needed to see you."

Hermione barely had time to respond before his lips were on hers, urgent and searching, as if trying to chase away the shadows that lingered around him. She kissed him back fiercely, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pressed closer, losing herself in the heat of the moment. It was reckless and passionate, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to care.

Remus broke away just enough to rest his forehead against hers, his breath ragged. "I'm sorry," he muttered, though his hands remained firmly on her waist. "I'm just… I don't know what's wrong with me."

Hermione shook her head, her own breathing uneven. "Nothing's wrong, Remus. You're allowed to want this. I want this."

He looked at her, his eyes searching hers for any hint of doubt, but all he found was acceptance. With a low growl of relief, he pulled her in again, and they spent the next few minutes snogging like there was no tomorrow, a shared escape from the tension of the moon. For all the challenges the full moon brought, Hermione found herself appreciating this one unexpected perk.

As they finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, Remus gave her a sheepish smile. "I might need to drag you into classrooms more often."

Hermione laughed softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "I think I'd be alright with that."

For now, the future and its complications could wait.

The full moon was promising to be a particularly bad one. Hermione cursed silently glancing up at the sky that was cruelly clear and bright. If only she hadn't lost the mandrake leaf in all the chaos, she would have already completed this critical step and stored away her crystal phial. But now, she was starting over—again. Sirius, ever supportive, had slipped her another leaf the day before, and she vowed not to make the same mistake twice.

As Hermione made her way to the Hospital Wing early in the morning, she could feel the weight of worry settling in her chest. Remus's transformations were always brutal, but the clear moonlight indeed seemed to have made things worse this time. When she pushed open the door, the familiar smell of antiseptic and potions filled her senses. Remus lay on one of the beds behind a privacy screen at the far end.

Hermione's heart clenched at the sight of Remus, his usually composed face now contorted in pain even in his unconscious state. The sheer number of cuts and bruises made it clear that this full moon had been especially vicious. The bandages wrapped around his arms and torso were already stained with blood, and she could see the faint traces of new scars forming beneath the surface of his skin.

Madame Pomfrey, her brow furrowed with concentration, glanced up briefly as Hermione approached. "He put up quite a fight last night," she said, her voice tight with a mix of frustration and concern. "I don't know what got into him, but the clear moon never does him any favours."

Hermione nodded, her throat tight. She knew Remus's transformations were always a battle, but some nights were worse than others, especially when the moon was as bright as it had been. She took a step closer, feeling helpless as she watched him struggle even in his sleep.

Madame Pomfrey finished her current round of healing charms and turned to Hermione with a sigh. "You're here early, Miss Delacour. I imagine you'd like to help?"

Hermione nodded, eager to do something—anything—that could ease Remus's suffering. "Yes, please. Just tell me what I can do."

The nurse handed her a basin of enchanted water, the surface shimmering with a faint blue light. "Keep these compresses cool and apply them to his forehead and neck. His fever's been stubborn, and he's not responding as well as I'd like to the potions. We need to get his temperature down."

Hermione took the basin and a clean cloth, dipping it into the cool water before gently placing it on Remus's forehead. He stirred slightly, a faint groan escaping his lips as the cold cloth made contact. Hermione's heart ached at the sound, and she murmured softly to him, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I'm here, Remus. You're going to be alright."

As she continued her task, Hermione's mind wandered to the night before. She had no doubt that the other Marauders had been with him, doing their best to keep him safe. But the cuts and bruises told a story of a struggle that went beyond the usual bounds of their full moon escapades. She had a nagging suspicion that they had left the safety of the Shrieking Shack, that the wolf had been driven to fight against something—or perhaps, someone—outside its usual territory. But she didn't ask; there would be time for questions later, once Remus was awake and ready to talk.

Madame Pomfrey continued working alongside her, the silence between them broken only by the soft sounds of potion bottles clinking and the faint, rhythmic beeping of a monitoring charm. Hermione kept up her vigil, changing the compress as often as needed, the repetitive action grounding her in the present moment. It wasn't much, but it was something she could do for him, and that was enough for now.

The minutes stretched into hours, and slowly, the tension in Remus's body began to ease. His breathing grew steadier, the fever gradually subsiding under their combined efforts. Madame Pomfrey gave a satisfied nod, her expression softening just a fraction. "He's a fighter, that one," she said quietly, almost to herself.

Hermione nodded, her eyes never leaving Remus's face. "Yes, he is. He always has been."

Madame Pomfrey tutted softly, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Shouldn't you be in class, Miss Delacour?" she asked, her tone gentle but firm.

Hermione shook her head, her gaze firmly on Remus. "No, I'm not leaving him. Besides, I've got a free period first thing." She tried to sound nonchalant, but the determination in her voice was clear. She was exhausted, the weight of everything pressing heavily on her shoulders, but she was resolute.

Madame Pomfrey tutted again but didn't push further. "Very well. But if he starts to wake, call me immediately. He'll need monitoring, and he's likely to be disoriented."

Hermione nodded, her focus unwavering. "I will."

The nurse bustled away, leaving Hermione alone with Remus. She resumed her careful watch, adjusting the compresses and murmuring soft reassurances whenever he stirred. The minutes ticked by, marked only by the faint rustling of sheets and the quiet hum of the Hospital Wing. Hermione's thoughts drifted, tangled with memories of their conversations, the moments they'd shared, and the unspoken promises that lay between them.

She didn't care about missing class; she didn't care about anything else right now except being there for him. As she looked down at his sleeping face, pale and worn, she felt the fierce protectiveness that had taken root in her heart. He had fought battles she couldn't even begin to imagine, both with his condition and his own self-doubt. And now, with everything else that loomed over them—the Horcruxes, the war, her own secrets—Hermione knew she couldn't bear to lose him.

Hermione watched as Remus's expression tightened, his brow furrowing as if he were caught in the throes of a nightmare. His breaths became shallow and uneven, a soft, pained whimper escaping his lips. Hermione's heart clenched at the sight, her worry deepening with every moment he remained restless. Without thinking, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his cheek in a gentle, soothing motion.

"Hey, Remus," she whispered softly, her voice barely above a murmur as she stroked his cheek. "It's alright. You're safe… you're here with me." She kept her touch light and her tone calm, hoping to reach him through whatever darkness his mind was battling. "I'm right here. You're okay. Just rest, love."

She continued to murmur softly, talking to him about anything that came to mind—about the upcoming Potions exam, a book she'd been reading, or even the ridiculous antics of James and Sirius. She kept her voice low and soothing, her touch constant, like an anchor to reality. Slowly, she felt the tension in his muscles begin to ease, the tightness in his brow softening as her words seemed to seep through.

His breathing steadied, and the pained lines of his face smoothed out. Remus let out a quiet sigh, leaning unconsciously into her touch, seeking the comfort it offered. Hermione continued her gentle caresses, whispering sweet nothings that she hoped would follow him into more peaceful dreams.

"There you go," she murmured, her thumb brushing against his temple. "Just let go. You're safe now."

A soft smile tugged at her lips as she watched the change in his expression. He seemed calmer, more at ease, and it filled her with a quiet sense of relief. Despite everything—despite the wounds and the exhaustion, despite the weight of their burdens—this was something she could give him: a small moment of peace.

Hermione reluctantly left the Hospital Wing at Madam Pomfrey's insistence at lunch, the nurse's stern but understanding look making it clear that she needed to take care of herself too. Remus still hadn't woken, and it pained her to leave him there, even if only for a short time. She'd spent hours by his side, and now, as she made her way to the Great Hall to eat, her mind was still with him.

As she slipped into her usual seat at the Gryffindor table, she caught sight of Lily's concerned expression. Lily leaned in, her voice low and edged with worry. "Where were you? You missed Arithmancy."

Hermione glanced around, noting Marlene's sharp gaze from across the table. She lowered her voice, not wanting to draw more attention than necessary. "Hospital Wing," she whispered, trying to keep her tone casual, though the strain was evident in her eyes.

Marlene's brow arched knowingly, her curiosity piqued. "Everything alright?" she asked, a hint of suspicion creeping into her voice.

Hermione thought quickly, coming up with the first excuse that sprang to mind. "Bad cramps this morning," she said, wincing slightly as if to sell the lie. She cast a sideways glance at Lily, who immediately caught on.

Lily nodded sympathetically, picking up on Hermione's need for discretion. "Yeah, she wasn't feeling too well," Lily added, her tone laced with genuine concern as she played along. "It happens, doesn't it?"

Marlene, while still watching them closely, seemed to buy the excuse. She gave a half-hearted shrug, deciding not to pry further. "Well, hope you're feeling better now," she said, though her eyes lingered on Hermione a moment longer than necessary.

Hermione forced a smile, feeling the weight of their little deception. "Thanks, Marlene. I'm fine now," she said, grateful for Lily's support. Beneath the surface, however, she knew Lily understood the real reason she had been missing: she'd been by Remus's side, holding his hand through another harrowing full moon aftermath.

As they returned to their meals, Lily squeezed Hermione's arm lightly under the table, a silent reassurance that she had her back. Hermione gave a grateful nod in return, knowing that while the excuse had worked this time, their tightrope of secrecy was getting harder to balance.

Hermione's plan to slip back to the Hospital Wing after lunch was dashed the moment she uttered she was fine already in response to Marlene's curious eyes. The blonde was sharp, and Hermione knew any sudden disappearance would only fuel her suspicions. So, instead of trying to sneak away, Hermione forced herself to focus on the task at hand: Herbology.

The greenhouse was humid, filled with the earthy scent of damp soil and the slightly acrid tang of magical plants. Today's lesson involved handling venomous tentaculas, their writhing, snake-like vines snapping at anything that came too close. Professor Sprout had warned them repeatedly to keep their attention sharp—these plants had a nasty habit of lashing out when handled carelessly.

Hermione and Lily worked side by side, their gloves pulled tight and their wands at the ready. Hermione's movements were mechanical, her mind still half-occupied with thoughts of Remus lying pale and battered in the Hospital Wing. She could feel Marlene's occasional glances from the other side of the table, the scrutiny sharp enough to keep Hermione tethered to the present.

"Careful, Mina," Lily whispered as one of the tentacula's vines lashed out, narrowly missing Hermione's arm. She quickly snatched it back with a flick of her wand, binding the rogue vine with a firm, practised movement.

"Sorry," Hermione mumbled, shaking her head to clear it. She tightened her grip on the plant, keeping it at bay. "Just… distracted."

Lily shot her a sympathetic look, her own focus wavering for a split second as she adjusted the grip on her own plant. "I know. But keep it together, yeah? These things don't give second chances."

Hermione nodded, forcing her concentration back to the writhing creature before her. They worked in a tense silence, each of them hyper-aware of the dangerous vines snapping inches from their fingers. The lesson was a blur of flickering green and the constant, careful dance of keeping the tentacula's fangs at bay.

Across the table, Marlene moved with practised ease, her eyes flicking over to Hermione and Lily now and again. Whether she was genuinely worried or just nosey, Hermione couldn't quite tell, but the last thing she needed was more questions.

"Need a hand, McKinnon?" Marlene's partner called, his tone edged with the same kind of faux cheeriness Marlene often used when prying for information. Marlene's response was a distracted shake of her head, her focus still split between her own work and Hermione's every movement.

The tension in the greenhouse felt like the coiled vines of the tentaculas themselves, ready to snap at any moment. Hermione gritted her teeth, determined to get through the class without any further missteps. For now, she would keep her head down, get through the lesson, and find a way back to Remus as soon as she could. The venomous tentacula hissed, and Hermione met its challenge with a firm, decisive binding spell, refusing to let her mind wander any further.

When Hermione finally made her way back to the Hospital Wing after Herbology, her heart lifted slightly at the sight that greeted her. Remus was awake, propped up against a mound of pillows, though he still looked pale and weary. His feverish sheen had lessened since the morning, and his eyes, though tired, were alert and tracking her movements as she approached his bed.

"You're back," Remus rasped, his voice hoarse but laced with relief. He offered her a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, the edges of his exhaustion still evident in every line of his face.

Hermione squeezed his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch, but she couldn't hide the surprise in her eyes. "I didn't think you even knew I was here this morning. You were so out of it…"

Remus let out a weak chuckle, though it was tinged with weariness. "I might have been half-conscious, but I knew. It's like… I could always feel you, you know? Even when everything was fuzzy and the pain was too much, I knew you were there."

Hermione blinked, touched by his words. She hadn't realised how much her presence meant to him, even in his most vulnerable moments. "I just couldn't bear to leave you like that. You were burning up, and I was worried…"

Remus squeezed her hand back, his thumb brushing gently against her knuckles. "It made all the difference, Mina. Knowing you were there… it helped more than any potion. I just… I didn't want you to see me like that."

Hermione's brow furrowed, not letting go of his hand. "Remus, if I were sick with a fever, would you take care of me?"

"Of course I would," he said, without hesitation.

"Then what's the problem? You get 'sick' every month—it's no different."

Remus shook his head, frustration mingling with his exhaustion. "It's not the same. I'm not "just sick; I'm a werewolf. It's dangerous—"

"If I had a chronic illness, something unpredictable like an autoimmune condition, would you take care of me?" she pressed, cutting him off.

He looked confused, the term unfamiliar. "Auto-what?"

Hermione chuckled, a soft laugh easing some of the tension between them. "It's a Muggle phrase, never mind. The point is, if I had something that made me ill on a regular basis, would you still be there for me?"

"Yes, but it's different," Remus insisted, though his resolve was waning.

"No, it's not," Hermione said firmly. "If anything, the predictability makes it easier to manage because we can plan for it. And you're not dangerous right now—you're vulnerable. I want to help you, and I need you to let me."

Remus sighed, the last of his resistance melting away under her unwavering gaze. "I just don't want you to feel burdened by this."

"You're not a burden, Remus. You're my friend—or more if you'll have me—and I care about you," she said gently. "There's nothing about you that scares me, so stop pushing me away. We're in this together, whether you like it or not."

He finally smiled, albeit weakly, squeezing her hand in return. "Okay. I'll try."

Before Hermione could say much more, the Marauders sauntered into the Hospital Wing, their usual swagger slightly subdued by the sight of Remus lying in bed. She watched the subtle shift in Remus's demeanour, the way he tried to put on a brave face for his friends despite the lingering exhaustion. It was like he'd put on an invisible mask, determined not to show just how awful he still felt.

"Oi, Moony!" James greeted with a lopsided grin, though the concern was still clear in his eyes. "When's Pomfrey springing you? We've got plans, mate."

Remus sighed, his smile strained. "She's keeping me overnight," he admitted ruefully, his voice rough.

Hermione's heart sank at the admission. She hadn't realised things were still this bad, and it seemed his friends hadn't either. A palpable tension filled the room; it was rare for Madam Pomfrey to keep Remus beyond the first day after the full moon.

Sirius, usually quick to crack a joke, fell uncharacteristically silent, his brows knitting together in worry. "You've got to be kidding me. That bad, huh?"

Remus shrugged, trying to downplay it. "Guess I just need the extra rest."

But Hermione could see the truth in his eyes, the quiet frustration of feeling weak and vulnerable in front of his closest friends. It was moments like these that Remus's insecurities bubbled to the surface—the ones where he felt unworthy, undeserving, a burden. It was the same script that played out over and over: one step forward, two steps back in the ongoing battle of making him understand that he was worthy of love and care.

Hermione bit back her irritation, not at Remus, but at whatever lingering ghosts of his father's words still haunted him. Lyall Lupin and his outdated prejudices—Hermione wished she could drown him in a spoonful of water for whatever poison he'd instilled in this kind, beautiful man.

James gave Remus a firm pat on the shoulder, careful not to jostle him too much. "Well, we'll keep you company, mate. Just say the word if you need anything."

Sirius nodded in agreement, though his eyes were still clouded with concern. "Yeah, you're not getting rid of us that easily."

Peter offered a tentative smile, but even he seemed unnerved by the sight of Remus looking so worn. "We'll be right here when you're ready."

As the Marauders settled in, filling the room with their familiar banter, Hermione watched Remus carefully, hoping that beneath his brave facade, he knew he didn't have to face this alone.